Chapter Text
His hand snaked up at the back of his neck, scratching lovingly at the small brown curls, drawing the man closer as he bite back a sigh or maybe even a cry at the oh so soft touch.
"I've got you, I've got you, I've got you." Whispered Buck into his ear, manoeuvring them both so that Bucky's weight was nearly completely held up by Gale.
The high strung adrenaline that somehow had kept him walking for four days disappeared into thin air, and the weight of his wounds and the pounding of his headache hit him like a truck. His vision blurred and his knees buckled, so close to collapsing onto the muddy trench of the Stalag. Only before he could, rough hands grabbed him and hoisted him up, distant yells of concern. His mind though was too gone to accentuate any of the words spoken. He let his head hang down, touching his chin to his chest in exhaustion and allowed the men he trusted to help him.
Bucky was like dead weight.
"No, not dead weight." Gale reminded himself, keeping the worries of his death locked away, so that his focus was entirely focused on the very much alive Bucky in front of him. Well alive, but not well.
Together with Brady, Murph and Demarco they managed to carry Bucky towards the cabin and lay him onto the nearest bunk.
It was perhaps the first time he truly got a look at his face. Blood was smeared everywhere, his left eye blackened with how bruised it was, bruises decorating his nose, cheekbones and jaw. Blood lay crusted on the edge of his temple. Buck frowned.
As gently as he could, he moved Bucky's face to the side and looked at the bloody mess of his head. Blood, dirt, and so much more infected his beautiful hair, but underneath Gale was sure he would find a wound. His fingers slowly massaged John's head, checking at each point whether he could find a wound. A sharp gasp made the men jump.
"Mmhm," groaned Bucky in his near unconscious state.
Buck turned to Murph and Demarco, and urgently hurried them to get the doctor. Then he took the bowl of water that they kept in the room, and with a cloth that Brady passed him, began cleaning his head, the water very quickly becoming murky and disgusting.
It took a while and many bowls of water, before Gale could distinguish the wound on Bucky's head. It was a jagged, harsh line clearly showing that he was struck by something sharp and heavy. His heart plummeted with how much his boy had gone through.
A gentle touch woke him up. Murmurings filled the room and Bucky was too warm to feel the need to disrupt it.
But the hand on his forehead was very insistent. Begrudgingly he squinted his eyes open, and blinked up at the ceiling of the bunk. Immediately a head of golden brown hair popped into his vision and he smiled dazedly. The face was his very own Buck, his eyes tired but relieved. A small smile made it's way at Bucky's ridiculousness.
"How are you?" He asked tentatively.
"Just great, now that you're here." He replied cheekily.
"Never could get a straight answer from you John, could I?" He murmured, but even in his drunken like stupor he could see that Buck was amused.
"Any pain?" He kept pushing, "and please tell the truth, we need to know."
Tired now, he nodded slowly, whispering "Head and chest."
Buck's whole demeanor tensed up, as he looked at Bucky's body, as if trying to sniff out where the pain was. But in reality there was nothing he could do. The doctor had already arrived, there was no pain relief in a POW camp and they were definitely not getting rescued anytime soon.
Trying to hide his worry, Buck smiled at his lover and tucked his curls away from his eyes.
"Rest Bucky, you'll feel better."
Even though Bucky was exhausted, fear suddenly filled him at the thought of leaving Buck, and his shoulders tensed.
Gale noticed this, perceptive as always, and stroked his hair, reassuring him "You'll be alright. I'm right here, we're all right here. You're safe."
As Gale continued his ministrations and his soft words, Bucky allowed the deep blanket of sleep to take him under, cherishing the feel of his lover so close to him, alive and safe.
He gasped awake. The smell of blood and trees hung in the air. Every part of his body was touched by something, cold and heavy. Turning his head, bodies of men lay around and on him, his stomach upturning and threatening to jump. He breathed in and and out, calming himself as he knew he had to leave. However, a sound beside him grew louder and words began to form. Prayers to the lord.
"The bastard will get himself killed if he doesn't shut up," thought Bucky.
Turning to the other side, he faced the man, but the sight was not what he expected.
Gale Cleven, his Buck was laying beside him, whispering to the lord with his eyes closed. His once golden hair was stringy and stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood. His voice kept getting louder and Bucky knew if he didn't stop he would die.
"Buck, be quiet they'll hear you!"
Yet the man didn't even notice Bucky, still praying and getting louder every second.
"Please, Buck, please be quiet!" He tried so hard yet to no avail, he was invisible to Buck.
Bucky could hear the German men getting closer. Anxiety closed his throat and he begged Buck to shut up.
"Buck! Buck, Gale please please be quiet, please please!"
Tears started streaming down his face, because Buck would not stop.
It was too late.
A shovel smashed Buck's face, hot blood sprouted on Bucky, in his eyes, lips, everywhere.
He silently sobbed as the men retreated back to their job.
"Buck...." He pleaded, his lover's face no longer even recognisable.
"Bucky!"
"Please Gale, no..."
"Bucky!"
He gasped awake, tears streaming across his face, his breaths rattling his chest with the intensity of his panic.
"Hey! Hey Bucky, look at me."
And there he was. Alive.
"You-you-" he could barely speak as sobs erupted from his chest. He grabbed onto Gale as hard as he could, shaking violently.
"Oh Bucky, it's alright, shhh," whispered Buck, pressing soft kisses to his temple and cradling him, rocking him from side to side.
"You- you were dead," he cried, "you didn't listen, you didn't, you died, you-" sobs interrupted him, the nightmare still so close to heart.
"Shhh you're okay, my love," he whispered, "we both are. I'm not leaving you."
He kept saying that over and over, until Bucky's sobs quietened and turned into sniffles and sighs.
"That's it. Everything's alright."
He was exhausted now. Bucky could barely keep his head up, and was laying completely against Buck, listening to his warm heartbeat.
"Hey baby. You need to rest." Buck whispered.
Bucky's body tensed in fear, and he turned to face Buck, begging him not to make him sleep.
"I ca-can't, please Buck, i-i"
"I'll be here, I promise."
Bucky sighed, knowing it was inevitable.
Slowly but surely, they got Bucky to lay back down, but before he could fall asleep, he turned around and faced Gale.
Hesitantly he asked, "can you lay with me?"
Buck smiled warmly, his concern so visible in his eyes, but he agreed, and whispered "As long as I get to be the big spoon."
Bucky chuckled but said nothing, sinking into the creaky bed, relaxing into the comforting warmth of Buck behind his back with his hands hugging his middle.
A kiss was placed on his cheek with a small whisper, "Go to sleep darling, I'm right here." Like a puppet with his strings cut off, he immediately fell asleep.