your prescription isn't infallible

The rain was beating down heavily outside, streaming down the windows of Steve's apartment. He was leaning against the window, staring outside with his brow furrowed. When he (on Sam's recommendation) had suggested running as a stress reliever for Bucky, he hadn't exactly meant in the freezing rain. Personally, he would have preferred Bucky have stayed inside and exercised with him, but he figured that Bucky wanting to do anything besides wander around the apartment aimlessly was a good thing.

When Bucky finally walked through the door, Steve had to restrain a sigh of relief. His hair hung around his face, soaking his jacket and shirt. He didn't make a move to remove his wet clothes or to even do more than close the door behind him, and Steve quickly realized that Bucky had slipped away once again. Within the time he'd had his friend back - only a little over two months - he had only recently come to trust him enough to not keep him chained up. Even now he was more often than not a non-violent and confused Winter Soldier than Bucky. When Bucky fell away he would do little more than walk around the apartment, if he moved at all. Steve had been forced to deal with the non-responsive man far too often.

Approaching carefully, Steve tried to draw Bucky back out, "You can't go for a run in the rain, Buck. You'll get sick." He knew it wouldn't work – the transition seemed to happen mostly on its own - but he couldn't just not try. Bucky was staring hard at the floor, seeming to not notice as Steve gently took hold of his jacket and began to pull it off of him. It wasn't easy, considering Bucky wasn't helping at all, but Steve finally managed to remove it and left the room only to lay it atop his washing machine. He made a mental note to take care of it later, before returning to Bucky.

Bucky hadn't moved an inch, but was now watching Steve carefully with a cold yet perplexed expression. It was like he was studying Steve, which was worrying enough even if Steve didn't have to go try to change him into something dry. It was vaguely similar to Bucky's first "visit" to Steve's apartment - Steve being practically forced to clean him up. Oddly enough, he'd been complacent up until Steve started trying to ask questions. Now he simply watched carefully as Steve approached him and took him by his flesh arm, leading him silently to his bedroom. After grabbing a towel from the bathroom and clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt, Steve sat beside Bucky and held up the shirt, "You need to change into something dry." Bucky's only response was to blink. Steve's frown deepened slightly, and he moved to pull Bucky's shirt off, not earning any resistance from the other man, and even a little help. Steve simply had to give the sweatpants to Bucky and he proceeded to pull off his soaked pants and replace them with the gray sweatpants. Despite these actions that had spurred Steve to think that Bucky had pushed the Winter Soldier away, Bucky only looked back at him once more.

Steve grabbed the towel rather roughly - he couldn't lie, he was frustrated - and, keeping his voice calm, simply stated, "I need to dry your hair." He didn't wait for a response, simply stood and began to try to dry the tangled hair.

"Why?" The Winter Soldier's voice was low, filled with an explicit confusion.

Steve knew just how stupid he sounded when he responded with, "Because you're soaked."

"No. Why?"

He felt a pang in his chest. He couldn't find a response. He'd been asked so many times by Bucky, but every response he gave didn't feel like enough. So this time he stayed silent, trying to concentrate on drying the hair that seemed to only be getting more unruly. He felt the towel get pulled from his hands and took a step back, looking into the face of his best friend. There were so many emotions playing through his expression: anger, confusion, sadness. Steve couldn't read them all, piled one upon the other, but he understood.

The Winter Soldier's voice came again, cracking ever so slightly, "Why bother? Your friend's gone."

"No he's not," Steve's voice came out strangled, and he sat back down beside Bucky. "You are not gone. You're still my friend and I'm-"

"Going to help me? I'm not your friend, Rogers." Despite the bitterness in his voice, he was no longer looking Steve in the eye.

"You are." Steve rubbed his hands together, letting out a deep breath before continuing on, "Do you think I'd do all of this if I didn't believe that?"

"That's what I don't understand." Bucky was gripping the towel tightly, to the point that it finally tore in half with a loud noise. He flinched and seemed to nearly draw back into himself. Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, willing him as best he could to keep talking. Finally his voice came, breathy, "What makes you think that I-" he shook his head, "hesurvived that fall? Or what they did? I'm not- I'm not your friend, I'm a tool."

Steve's throat closed up as he listened to the words, and he let his hand move from Bucky's shoulder and down to his metal hand. He laced his fingers with Bucky's, surprised that he was allowed. The metal felt cool against his palm, but it still didn't feel like any metal he'd felt before. Somehow, in a way he couldn't comprehend, it felt lifelike. He could feel Bucky's eyes on him, but he was too busy wondering what the hellthey'd done to him. He still didn't know exactly what they'd done to his best friend, and Bucky wasn't exactly eager to talk about it, nor did he remember most of it.

"So, you loved him. That's why." It sounded as if Bucky was mostly speaking to himself. His voice was nearly a murmur.

Looking back up at him, Steve saw the same confusion, but also some other emotion on Bucky's face. He couldn't find it in himself to answer.

"Did he know?"

"Why do you want to know?" Steve felt his own confusion rushing through him now. He could never tell if it was the Winter Soldier, Bucky, or some mixture of the two talking to him.

"I need to know." He sounded oddly matter-of-fact about the subject, no longer quiet.

After a deep breath, Steve finally found the strength to muster up a response, "No, youdidn't. Why do you "need" to know?"

"I need to understand the protocol for the situat-"

"No," Steve pulled his hand away, his face full of disbelief, "There's no protocol for . . . this." He couldn't read the Winter Soldier anymore, who was now staring straight ahead. "Bucky. . ."

"I'm not Bucky. Or," he bent his head down, gripping it with his hand. His voice came out in a growl, "Maybe I am. I don't know."

"Bucky. . ." It jarred Steve, seeing Bucky like this. He reached over, ever-so-carefully pushing Bucky's metal arm down and watching the other fall along with it. Before Steve could fully understand what was happening, he felt the still damp and tangled hair wetting his shirt, both metal and flesh fingers gripping at his shirt desperately. All Steve could do was put his arms around him and try to comfort him as he shook uncontrollably. It was like he was falling apart right in his arms, and all Steve could do was hold him. They stayed that way for nearly an hour before Bucky was no longer shaking and finally pulled out of Steve's grip. He's eyes were puffy and red as he looked up at Steve.

"Will I ever get it all back?"

Steve wanted to lie and say "yes," but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Choking back what might have been a sob, he answered as best he could, "I don't know. I don't know. But I'm going to do my best to. . . help you. Because I'm with you till the end of the line." He saw something spark in Bucky's eyes - the same thing that had sparked in them back on that helicarrier. And then he kissed Steve.

It wasn't a soft, sweet kiss. No, it was full of regret and sadness and pain - oh, so much pain. Bucky's hands gripped at Steve's shirt collar and hair with the same desperation as when he had cried into Steve's shirt. The entire kiss tasted of his desperation, and he didn't stop the tears that wet his cheeks, though he knew Steve would notice them. All he knew was that he needed this, even if he wasn't sure why.

Steve froze at first, entirely unsure of whether he should stop the kiss or let it continue. But it didn't matter, he fell into the kiss. His mind briefly wandered back to Natasha's comment about him needing practice, but the warm tongue slipping between his lips pushed the thoughts out of his mind, so that he only focused on Bucky. His arms fell around Bucky's waist loosely, letting him take his control.

When they finally broke apart, Steve's eyes flickered open and he found Bucky looking right back at him, still holding his face. He started when Steve moved to push his hair from his face, but quickly recovered and fell into Steve's little touches. As Steve stroked his hair he closed his eyes and his voice came in a whisper.

"Stay."

"Why would I leave?"

"I don't know. Just stay."

"Okay." He ran his fingers through Bucky's hair, the corners of his lips tugging up as Bucky rested his head on his shoulder.

"You make it easier."

"That's good. I'll help in any way I can."

"Then just stay."