It was cold again, the concrete ground underneath him was covered with a thin layer of ice. Frost had crawled over the heavy metal door that prevented him from leaving. The iron that clasped his wrists together was freezing, it numbed the injuries that covered his arms. Still, he loathed the cold. 

The only sound that echoed in his ears was the chattering of his teeth. He couldn't seem to stop. 

He had remembered and then he had not. There had been voices in his head, strangely familiar voices. They hadn't liked that, they had been very unhappy with him. But who were they?

Who was he? 

What a silly thought, he didn't need to know who he was. Because he wasn't supposed to exist, he was a weapon in the making. They assured him, told him he was theirs. But what had he remembered? Why didn't they want him to remember? His mind was a scrambled mess. 

He had remembered and then he had not. 

Then the heavy, rusty door creaked open. He didn't care who entered, he was too cold, his mind seemed to be lagging. 

What was it? A dove? A gleaming pair of apple green eyes squinting against the sun? Walking to a train station to say goodbye, but to who? What silly, silly memories. 

"You've been a bad, bad dog." 

He stopped breathing, tread pooling in his stomach at the sound of the gravely voice of an old German officer. In his hands was a tiny device, seemingly harmless. He could see the officer toying with it. 

No, that was bad. Bad memories. Awful, memories. 

And then the Officer caused the man on the ground to cry out with a simple click. He yelled out, babbling about how sorry he was, begging for the officer to stop. It was the clicking, click after click that drove him insane. 

The clicking was always followed by pain, of pictures of enemies, of words that he was supposed to remember, of orders he had to follow, if he did as he was told, they'd stop with the clicks, but if they clicked the tiny device, he knew he had been bad for them. Had failed them. 

But the man kept on clicking, and the jagged collar around his throat kept squeezing his neck tighter with each click. Click, click, click... 

And then he ripped the collar off and attacked the officer, he clawed at him, his sharp teeth and claws piercing through his flesh and bone like a rabid wolf jumping on a weak lamb. Deep growls vibrated through his scarred chest, his eye unseeing as he destroyed the man, tearing him open and tossing his guts into the cell around him. But no matter how much he clawed or how loudly he growled, the clicking didn't stop. 

The noise was following him, it was hanging over him like a death sentence, squeezing the air out of his lungs and no matter how tightly he tried to squeeze himself into a small ball and cover his ears, the sound of clicking was still ringing in his ears. 

"I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll stop remembering, I'll be good. Ich werde gut sein, versprochen. yes? yes. Please, I'll be good."  He was begging for them to stop with the clicking, but they never did. 

"You're not there." 

He was still mumbling into the darkness, covering his ears with his hands and swaying back and forth in the corner he had pressed himself into. He had squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't want to see anymore. 

"It's not your reality anymore." 

The clicking, it was slowly dissipating. But it would come back, they always made sure it came back. Always made sure that he knew what followed him after the clicks. 

"That's it, you're doing so good."

What was that? 

"You're in New York, in your room. You are safe, they can't get to you here."

His breathing slowed down, and although he had pressed his face against his knees and covered his head with his hands to prevent any hits there, his eyes flew open once the calm voice started registering in his brain. 

"You are going to be okay, it was just a bad dream." 

The words were reassuring him, a painful contrast against the gentle, quiet voice was the tiny whimpers of an animal. The sound brought reality crashing down immediately, but he was too ashamed to raise his head and face them. It had just been a night terror. 

Instead, he pressed himself against the wall, trying to keep himself together, to not crumble. 

His weapons, where were his weapons? He didn't have them, they had been taken away, but he needed his weapons. 

"You are safe here, no one will touch you if you don't want them to touch you." he repeated again, his voice the epitome of calm and collected. It was gentle, so very gentle it made Will want to cry. 

When had anyone been so gentle with him? 

He dropped his shoulders, raising his head to rest on the palms of his hands, his eyes still squeezed shut. He didn't want to face him, it was too embarrassing. He didn't uncurl his legs, resting his elbows on his knees to lean away from the cold wall. 

He had dared to fall asleep, he had switched places when he realized the mattress was too soft for his back. The ground had been much better, he had promised himself five minutes. 

"You with me?" 

He let out a shaky breath, knowing he couldn't hide from the reality any longer. He slowly opened his eyes, looking up through blond strands that had fallen over his eyes. The light from the hallway was on, lighting up his dark room. 

Bucky was crouching  on the ground, wearing dark blue pyjama bottoms and a grey tank top, all his scars visible against the warm light. His flesh hand was curled around Dog's collar who seemed to be withering on the ground, panting anxiously as her honey eyes were solely focused on Will. 

Bucky seemed to be searching his eyes for something, and when he found what he was looking for, he released the dog who came crawling over to Will. Her head was low, fluffy tail wagging rapidly as she pushed her snout between Will's heaving chest and his knees, forcing him to relax and straighten his legs to let the big dog crawl onto his lap with a content huff as she laid her head on his chest. 

His fingers immediately curled into her fur, clinging onto the animal who had become oddly still and calm against him. He felt like he was going to suffocate under all of that fur, but in a way, the warmth of her body was melting away the frost covered concrete ground. 

"Welcome back." 

He looked back up towards Bucky who was now sitting down as well, only then did he note the other man standing in the doorway, hands crossed over his chest as he, too, stared at William. 

Steve's gaze was cold and sad, unlike Bucky's. The Winter Soldier was offering him an encouraging smile, giving him space and time to come back from the night terror. 

Unless someone had broken in and decided to attack the furniture in the room, William had also ruined half of the space. Pieces of feathers flew in the air, a broken table leg was laying in front of the bed, only then did he detect the stinging in his hands.

 "Fuck." he mumbled, ready to bury his face into Dog's fur and wallow in self pity and embarrassment. 

"Hey now, don't do that. It happens, it's okay. The furniture is replaceable. No one's mad at you."

Bucky had never talked so much, and although he detected the fact that they were both there, he also appreciated the calm timbre of his voice that had slowly pulled him out of the hazy memory. 

"Steve, go and make three cups of tea, we'll be down shortly."

Steve hesitated, but he trusted Bucky and he was willing to learn. So if it happened again, because he knew it would, he now knew how to handle it. Steve would just have to be patient but they had all the time in the world, so it would be okay. He left the room with a heavy feeling in his chest, leaving the two alone. 

Will was still stuck, his mind was somewhat clear, he could see Bucky in front of him, a safe distance away. He could feel the dog laying her head on his chest but his body was still frozen. He had woken up like this many times. He would usually stay in a fetal position for hours, either unmoving or rocking his body left and right. 

It was always the clicking the caused this, but this time was different, his mind was convinced by the warm smile and reassuring words. It was something that had never happened before. 

"You ready to get up? There's a hot cup of tea waiting for you."  

Tea, he couldn't even remember the last time he had had tea. Wait, had Tony given him tea? Even that memory was a bit hazy.

He blinked groggily, loosening his grip on Dog's fur as he gently slid them through her tangled fur, the texture and softness helping him clam down his breathing even more.

Was he becoming dependent on the dog?

He stared back at Bucky who was patiently waiting for a reply. He wouldn't move until he was given one. He was too familiar with the situation, knew that in order to make sure Will would get at least a little bit of sleep in an hour or so, he had to get up and move out of the destroyed environment. If he stayed, it would be guaranteed that he would be in the same position for hours, falling back into an emotionless shell even Dog couldn't drag him out of.

Will wasn't in the mood for tea, his legs felt heavy and it wasn't because a ginormous dog was sitting on him.

He wanted to lock the door, find a weapon and curl up to process what he had seen. Facing Steve and Bucky after that was another kind of torture.

Before he could decline, Bucky opened his mouth again.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, I was a sergeant for a reason, Will. Get up."

Despite his words, his voice remained gentle.

Silence hung heavily between them, but when William slowly started pushing himself up from the floor, Bucky let out a relieved sigh and got up as well.

He padded over towards the closet, grabbing two hoodies. He threw one of them towards Will and slid the other over his head, he didn't much enjoy walking around with his arm on display, even when there was no one but Will and Steve around. He feared it would make the younger Rogers uneasy. He had yet to notice a worried glance from him, but he suspected that Will was constantly overwhelmed by everything around him and hadn't yet realized that Bucky's arm was a metal one.

Or maybe he really didn't care. Either way, Bucky felt better with most of it hidden under fabric.

He headed towards the hallway, his steps slow as he made sure Will followed. Although his steps were silent, Dog's prancing would be heard from miles away.

He was really becoming fond of the pet, especially now when she leaning into Will's legs, making sure the man knew she was there. What a peculiar animal, Bucky had always thought that any kind of emotional support animals would take years of training. If it was true and Will had found her on the side of a road, well, then someone had made a really stupid mistake.

When they rounded the corner, Steve had already placed the three mugs on the living room table. He was seated on one of the armchairs, facing the large tv as some type of show was on.

Bucky grabbed a mug and sat down on the sofa further away from Steve, leaving the last place for William.

Oh dang it, the only place available would be between them.

He wasn't sure how he felt about it, so he halted and stared at the layout.

If he sat down, he would still be a good feet away from Bucky and Steve, but still, they would be on either side of him. That felt crowded to him.

Neither of them said anything as they allowed will to process the sitting arrangement. Bucky was closest to the door, and Steve was closer to the windows, so, if anyone were to attack, they would be the first line of defence.

But also, sitting between them would mean they could gang up on him if they wanted to.

Now, was William completely convinced that their intention were good? Absolutely not.

Was he going to sit down? Going against his better judgement, yes. Yes he was. 

Reluctantly, he made his way towards the only seat available and sat down, Dog immediately placed her head on his knee, staring up at him.

He glanced towards the large TV, frowning as people dressed in suits were fighting in an office. Even though he had seen colourful TV's a few times now, the concept of one was still so bizarre.
His eyes then trailed towards Steve who was completely relaxed, nursing a mug of steaming tea in his hands. Strands of his hair stuck out in odd places, giving him a dishevelled look. It was clear as day that Steve had been asleep, and somehow, Will had woken him.

He couldn't tell what time it was, but it was still dark outside so he suspected it wasn't that early. 

"I don't usually watch any shows, I watch the news. I'm not sure what it is, it's called The Office, so I suspected it had something to do with... Offices." Steve said with a deadpan look, realizing how odd his whole monologue sounded.

Yeah, he was thinking too hard.

"Well, at least you know how to switch the channels." Bucky murmured into his mug, taking a sip of his drink.

At least you know how to turn the bloody thing on, Will wanted to add but remained silent.

"You should give it a try."

Bucky said after silence had settled around them again. Will glanced towards him distrustfully, still sliding his fingers through Dog's fur, the only sign of anxiety he was giving them.

Buck had thrown his head back against the headrest, his eyes closed as one arm was stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie and the other was holding the mug, resting it on his lap.

He looked quite relaxed as did Steve, who had turned most of his attention — at least seemingly — towards the office show on television.

Suddenly Bucky held out his mug.

"Here, you can have mine if you don't feel particularly fond of the cat mug."

It wasn't about the odd looking white cat painted on the red mug. But neither did he feel like taking Bucky's drink from him. Sure, it was tested, he had seen him drink it. It would be safe, safer than the untouched one on the table. 

When he didn't take it, Bucky pulled his hand back.

"Or you can take Steve's."

Before he had even ended the sentence, Steve was holding his mug out to him. And since he was a bit closer than Bucky, he nearly hit Will in the face with it.

He blinked at the black mug, the tears of my enemies written on it in big, bold letters.

Why yes of course, he liked this mug a lot better.

Was this a test? He hadn't seen Steve drink from it. But he had to admit that the scent of the drink was really making him curious. He got a hint of citrus, honey and some sort of spice he couldn't detect.

Going against his better judgement the second time that night, he took the mug, obviously surprising them both.

Steve retracted his hand, trying to hold back a beaming smile as he grabbed the other mug off the table.

It really was because of the mug more than it was about the contents of it.

He sniffed it, looking at the dark honey coloured liquid before taking a small sip. The light taste of alcohol mixed with mint made him widen his eyes, the strong taste would for sure kill off any tastes of poison unless it was something very strong.

"Many people do not believe in it, but Whiskey goes well with tea. Do you like it?"

Another confusing question, does he like it. Like? What does it matter if he does? What does it matter if he doesn't? You do not stay alive for simply liking something.

He scowled into the drink, wondering over it. Did he like it? He thought he did, it was good. What a silly question.  But what did bad tea taste like? Had he ever had any bad tea to compare it to? He couldn't recall.

What a silly question indeed.

"You are allowed to like and dislike things."

He crunched up his nose in annoyance, the calmness of Bucky's voice was upsetting. It was wrong.

"Yes." he answered into his drink, his knuckles turning white at his inner turmoil. It was oddly difficult to try and answer a simply question. If there were such things as simple questions.

He raised his eyes from his drink, deciding to see what the office show was about. Will completely missed the triumphant look Bucky and Steve shared. 

After awhile, Will realized he had completely relaxed in the quiet atmosphere. The darkness made him feel safe, the noise from television drowned out the silence that would have been louder than his nightmares, the tea had warmed up his belly, making him content and Dog, well, Dog was making sure he didn't fall apart completely. 

Her honey eyes were closed in bliss as he slowly kept rubbing the white fur between her eyes, the softness was always such a warm welcome to what he was used to. He was becoming quite attached to the animal. She was really burrowing herself a home in his heart. 

"So, do you feel like you would be ready to answer some questions? It's really okay if you'd rather not today." Steve said quietly, slouching the cold tea around in his cat mug. 

Not today, but one day. Why was any other day better for it than now? But he understood, they were giving him a choice. Letting him decide. 

"Now is okay." 

****

It's by far not everything I wanted to include, but since it's been quite awhile and I believe you all really need it, I decided to update. 

Beside, I needed soft Bucky in my life right now, hope you did too. 

Tell me your thoughts, don't be shy! 

Special thanks to everyone who commented on last chapter: 

TheFvckedFinger WHITEKNIGHT- germpatriot Confetti438 mac_is_lost Levant Wanderer _Anonymous_Rosetta sAlLyfAcE- Iustatia Lovegoods_ moreyrodriquez juviadreagneel16 Withouthope7 Holy_Water_123 Taedak-ho

and of course, all of my ghosties as well! Don't think I have forgotten about you all 🤗

Like always, school is really stealing my sleep hours, kept writing this chapter through homework breaks. What about you guys? How's school/work going?

Until next chapter,

byeeee