You munched absentmindedly on pretzels you found in the pantry, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of Bucky and his latest mission. You knew this one was going to be a rough one; going back to one of the facilities he was kept in during those nightmarish years was going to be a difficult and damaging situation. You prepared yourself for whatever was to come; the inevitable. Maybe a panic attack, maybe a relapse into his old bad habits, maybe the nightmares would become frequent visitors in the night again, or maybe he would run away again. You cringed at the last one, but whatever his reaction was you would be there for him. You had been there for him in the beginning and you would be there for him now.
In that moment, your front door was thrown open, causing you to bite your tongue. You grimaced, but turned to see a worn down Bucky. His shoulders were slumped and the bag he was holding looked as if it was a thousand pounds. He nudged it off his shoulder and it fell with a thud.
You stood slowly to meet him, “Hey, baby, how was your…” He took large strides toward you, but they were slow and tired. Your words died on your tongue when he reached out for you, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight against his body.
You felt how tense he was, how the mission had affected him physically. He inhaled you, breathed you in, tangled his other hand in your hair. He cradled you to him like you would float away. You didn’t say anything as your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, your nose pressed against his shoulder.
“You’re safe; no one will find you.” You whispered against his skin. You pulled his head from your shoulder, his eyes were glazed over with tears, and you tsked at the sight. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you showered and in bed.”
He remained silent, and it wasn’t until he was tucked into bed, covers pulled up to his neck that he spoke, “Don’t. Don’t go anywhere. Stay with me.”
The idea of turning the lights off downstairs was quickly dismissed.
“Alright,” You nodded, squeezing his hand. He lifted the blankets for you, quickly pulling you against his side.
“I just want to be free of these dark thoughts, of this fear.” His voice broke and a tear or two trailed down his cheek.
You were quick to wipe them away, adjusting your position so you were laying on top of his chest, “Bucky, baby, you’ll get there. You’ve been doing so well. One day, you’ll be able to go a without a bad thought; we’ll take it one day at a time.”
You could tell he didn’t believe you fully, but he nodded nonetheless. His voice was soft and it shook slightly, “Just… let me hold you.”
“I love you, Buck.” You whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his soft, trembling lips.
“I love you… so much. I am so thankful for you.” He whispered back, his arms pressing you even tighter against him.
Hiddleston said: ‘We talked about Guinness for some reason because I told his assistant that I did give up alcohol once, and then I had a Guinness and realised it was a terrible mistake. She said that Steven loves Guinness, at which point he walked in and said, “You talking about Guinness?“
He soon bonded with Spielberg when he realised they were both Guinness fans.