InsaneJournal

Who: Bucky Barnes and Jean Spangler
What: Bad dreams, bad, bad dreams
When: 1/18
Where: Jean's apartment
Rating/Warning: High - ftb sex, talk of dismemberment/violence/injury
Status: Complete



Bucky had packed up a bag of stuff, enough for two nights - he could go home and swap it out if he needed to, after all - and headed for Jean’s. She said it was weak, but he didn’t mind being there for her. It was kinda what you did as a boyfriend, he figured. So he rang the bell, hoping she wasn’t on edge. “Jean?”

She wasn’t on edge, thanks to a Xanax and a glass of wine. She was in her nightgown and robe, both filmy and silk, long and lacy. She seldom ever looked unkempt, and usually seemed as if she’d stepped out of a movie from the 1950s. “Buck?” Once the door was open, she wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you.”

As usual, she looked perfect. Bucky dropped his bag, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Nothing to thank me for, doll. Not at all.” He understood scary dreams. “Wanna know a secret? I’ve thought about asking to stay with you once or twice for my own dreams. But I figured you’d think I was being fresh.”

She nosed into his neck and smiled. “Sometimes I wish you would be fresh, Buck. You can stay here whenever you want, you know. I’ll get you a key, then you can just come over when your dreams get really bad.” Her long nails gently stroked the back of his neck. “I just ... don’t like being as out of control as I was in this dream.”

“I get that.” All of it. Bucky pulled her close, making sure she could feel his warmth. “We all like being in control, and sometimes we can’t be. But when you’re out of control and you have literally no way to stop it, it’s twice as annoying and scary.” He smiled a little. “It’d be nice to have a key, though. Could come see you whenever. As long as you were okay with it, obviously.”

“Of course I’d be okay with it. Come on in, do you want a glass of wine too?” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear and chuckled out loud. “I wonder if I’ll even dream the next bits since I’m so strung out.”

“Maybe not.” He kinda hoped not, but he didn’t think she’d be that lucky. “And yeah, a glass would be nice. Thank you.” He left his bag by the door, following her after taking his shoes off. “I feel so underdressed, Jeannie.”

“I hope not.” She went to pour him a glass of wine, blinking at his words. “Huh? Why’d you feel like that?”

“Cause you look like you stepped out of a fancy apartment in New York or something.” Bucky smiled, resting his hands on her hips from behind and kissing her neck.

“I actually just wear this because it’s comfortable,” she sighed, leaning against him. “Then again, you’re more comfortable than silk, by a lot.”

“Aw, I take that as a compliment.” Bucky smiled, liking how she smelled. “Just, you always look so put together. It’s really nice. Not like I wouldn’t like you anyway, but still.” He was trying to sort of make sweet small talk. Put her at her ease.

“It was intended as one.” She turned around, tugging him close for a kiss. It reminded her that she wasn’t at the Gilded Lily, shot up with military grade horse, getting ready for god knew what.

Mm. Bucky was fine with that. When he was holding her, he wasn’t adrift in a crippled plane, heading for God knows where. “Ah, Jeannie. What’d you have planned? Just going right to bed? Or we could watch TV, or something.” Nookie, maybe?

“Or something sounds good.” Jean let her robe slip off of her shoulders, kissing him again a little more firmly.

“Think we’d both rather have my hands on you than any dream guy’s.” Bucky kissed her back, marveling at her body. It was still hard to believe a knockout like this was so fond of him. He wasn’t really much to write home about.

“Absolutely,” Jean murmured, eyes closed. She sometimes couldn’t believe that such a handsome guy liked her, with all of her flaws and eccentricities. “Sorta think I’m fallin’ for you, and in the good way. Not in the tripping sort.”

“Yeah?” Bucky felt nerves when she said that, but he didn’t really want to discuss it now. Not when there was a beautiful woman this close and this clinging. “I could say the same thing, Jeannie. I really could.” He kissed her again, hands trailing lightly down her back.

“Yeah?” Jean smiled, looking up at him fondly until he kissed her. Then there was less looking, and more nerves tingling. She loved his hands, the way they seemed to know how to play her just as easily as his piano.

She was a lot more naked than he was. He tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere before going back to kissing her, running his hands up and down her body. Hopefully she knew he’d do this any day of the week and twice on Sunday, though he did want to get her mind off the dreams.

“You’re kinda keen, Buck. Don’t know why you picked a roundheels like me,” Jean murmured. She busied herself with nibbling gently on his chest, trying to walk with him toward her bedroom. Or the couch, that’d work in a pinch.

“Roundheels?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You are talking trash about a lady I’m real fond of, I’ll have you know.” He smiled, one hand in her hair as she nibbled. “Roundheels cheat. Don’t think you’re a cheater.” He did kinda hope she went for his pants, though. It was getting uncomfortable.

“Never ever,” Jean smiled, one hand undoing the button of his jeans. “I know when I’ve got a thing that’s way too good. Mama didn’t raise a stupid baby.”

Bucky breathed out when she got his pants off, laughing a little. “No, she didn’t.” He kissed her lightly, just barely. “She raised.” Another kiss. “A bright.” Kiss. “Spunky.” Kiss. “Knockout.”

Jean just laughed and tugged him onto the sofa with her, kissing him harder and wrapping a leg around his waist. “While I like flattery as much as the next girl, get on with it.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky could help her out with that, though he did pause to grab his wallet out of his discarded jeans. “I swear, it’s just old habit to carry a condom in there.” He managed to get it out and check the expiration date - just in case. 2016. He was still safe.

“It’s common sense, you could have to pick up something gross, or have a friend you want to keep safe.” Jean shrugged. “I have some of my own, you know.”

“Yeah, but then I’d have to get up.” Bucky grinned faintly. It was too difficult to get up right now. He ripped it open and dealt with it, bending his head back down to kiss along her neck, her collarbone, across the tops of her breasts. “Nobody’s gonna get ya, Jeannie,” he promised, shifting to line up his body with hers.

“Not while you’re around?” Jean whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “I’m so lucky I met you.” He made her shiver, but it was true. She felt safe with him, and she truly believed she’d be fine as long as they were together.

The times they’d gone to bed together before had been enthusiastic and even loud, but this time he slowed it down. She wasn’t much of a girl for sweet nothings, but Bucky took his time, instead of being needy. You could be slow and not desperate.

Jean appreciated being loved with action and not words; it made more sense to her anyway. When they were done they were both sweaty and tired, and Jean wanted a smoke. She didn’t have it, if only out of consideration for Bucky.

Bucky felt more relaxed, but he wanted to make sure she did. “Everything good?” he asked, brushing some of her uncharacteristically frizzy hair away from her eyes. He’d get up to clean off when she was settled.

She nodded, letting her head rest on his chest. “Very good,” she murmured, almost purring. “Wanna take a shower, then maybe watch some cheesy flicks before bed?”

“Sounds great, actually.” For both of them. Getting her laughing before bed was a great way to keep her mind occupied.

They duly took their shower, and then curled up in her bed with the TV on. Bucky just smiled. “Your bedroom’s just like I thought it would be.” They hadn’t spent much time at her place; his was closer to work and usually they were too tired to do much. “It’s really girly, but not the kind of girly that’s like a shrinking violet.”

“Is it?” She smiled and let her head rest on his chest once more, feeling drowsy and not at all scared. That had been a rarity; she’d get drowsy and then terrified of her tiredness.

“I think so. It’s not pink and airy-fairy, everything’s solid.” Bucky kissed her forehead. “You’re a strong girl, Jeannie. Between you and me, we’ll both come out okay.” He really believed that. He could be there for her. She could be there for him when he needed it.

“Pink used to be a color for little boys,” Jean quipped. “And I know I’ll be fine, I really do, I just want the damn bad part to hurry up and get here. It’s all this waiting that’s killing me.” She closed her eyes, feeling her body grow more and more weary.

“I can understand that.” Bucky really could. He knew his own dreams weren’t going to end well, and there was a part of him that just wanted them to happen and be done. But for now he was here with her, and they were both warm and safe. “I love you,” he murmured as he felt her drift off.

If Jean had heard him she’d have answered in kind. But she didn’t, too asleep already. Somewhere in the middle of the night, she rolled closer to Bucky, looking for warmth. But something really cold struck her, and she whimpered. “Buck, you’re freezing.”

Bucky was still asleep, tossing and turning. When she touched him he twitched, then woke; it was hard to focus on anything but not being in the plane as it blew up. “Mph?”

Then he was more awake, but he couldn’t be; he was staring at his left arm, cold and grey and metal, feeling dialed into his body but he couldn’t even sense which fingers were his. Jean’s bed and the metal arm were the worst, most awful of incongruities, and Bucky opened his mouth to do what would be called screaming, if he could reach a woman’s high-pitched heights.

Jean’s eyes went wide herself. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, trying to calm herself and Bucky down both. “Buck, baby, I want you to breathe with me. I want you to breathe and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

Easy for her to say; she hadn’t just lost a damn arm to dreams in real life; she didn’t have a dead piece of metal where there’d been a living, functioning hand and arm a few hours ago. But he loved her, and he did his best to listen to her, even though he felt like he ought to throw up, to rewind time to find that bastard who took his fucking arm and oh, God, would Jean still want a half machine man? “Jeannie - ”

“I know, Buck, I know.” She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him lightly. “I can’t - do you hurt? Are you physically okay? Mentally, I know, there’s no being normal ever again, but physically, baby, do you need anything?”

“No hurt.” Bucky managed, eyes closed, trying to burrow into her arms. He’d been dreaming and he could still feel the wind whipping his hair into and around his eyes, even as he felt Jean’s arms around him. “Plane exploded - left arm caught in the window screen.” He hadn’t felt anything at the time, either; just a blinding flash of light, and free fall.

He felt tears burning in his eyes. “Don’t know ... should have no arm, but what is this?” He supposed having a metal arm would be better than none, but he didn’t like that someone had messed with his body; he didn’t like that he couldn’t put the pieces together. “Jeannie, I love you, please don’t go.”

Looking up, she wiped the tears from his eyes and bit her lower lip hard. “I hate these dreams,” she murmured, sounding angrier than most had ever heard her. She was just glad that he wasn’t physically in pain on top of the frustration and fear he must have been feeling.

“I love you too, Buck. I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. You’re staying right here with me.” She’d also never ordered a boyfriend to move in with her before, but she was doing it then, goddamnit.

It actually did him quite a bit of good to hear her angry words, and how strong she sounded when she said nobody was going anywhere. He grabbed onto her tighter with his right arm - his real arm - and buried his nose in her neck. “Needed to hear that.”

“Did you think I’d leave you over a silly nightmare?” Jean stroked his hair, moving his other arm so it was around her as well. “James, I just asked you to move in with me.”

Oh. He’d missed that. “Not the nightmare. The arm.” He’d probably have to learn how to use it, to adapt; he’d lose his job at least for now. He could never wear short sleeves again, and in fucking Southern California, too. To never play music again made him feel sick. But when she said she’d asked him to move in (it was probably the “you’re staying with me” part, upon reflection), he raised an eyebrow. “You want to take care of a cripple?”

“You’re not a cripple. And you’re not a nightmare.” She leaned back to look at him, her own eyes teary. “You said you love me. And I love you too. That means we’re in this together.” Taking both of his hands in hers, she kissed his knuckles gently, metal or no.

Bucky couldn’t help it; when she kissed his hand and he couldn’t feel it, he started crying. You couldn’t feel sensation through metal or plastic. If this were real, he might call it PTSD, but this wasn’t really real; he hadn’t actually served; he was just some fuckwit unlucky enough to be dreaming about losing a limb.

She knew why he was crying. She would have too. Instead, she cried with him, for him, leaning against him and closing her eyes. Bucky was a good man, better than anyone she’d met. It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Feel like I should - go to - the hospital, maybe.” Bucky forced out through tears and hiccups. He wanted to get it looked at, as if it would get him answers, but how in the hell would he explain the big metal apparatus? It looked space age. Not from the ‘40s. If it was. Maybe his dreams jumped forward in time? “I don’t know what’ll happen next, Goddamn it.”

“Maybe we can find someone on the internet, someone who dreams too?” She stroked his cheeks, kissing him lightly. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. But whatever it is, I’ll be here. You’ll be here too. We’ll go through it together.”

“Still not letting anybody get you,” he said, wiping his eyes, not letting her go, still trying to even his breathing. He’d already known she was worth her weight in gold; saying she’d stay with him after all this just proved it. “I’ll bite ‘em to death.” It was a joke he had to say even if he didn’t feel it; she had to stop looking so woebegone on his behalf.

She laughed a little at that, wiping her eyes and sniffling. “Well, at least now you know what I look like when I look like hell,” Jean chuckled. “Want a cup of coffee?” Something normal to get them both grounded again.

“Might as well.” There was no way he was sleeping again, unless he passed out.