Chapter Text
I need some sleep
You can't go on like this
I tried counting sheep
But there's one I always miss
Everyone says I'm getting down too low
Everyone says, 'you just gotta let it go'
You just gotta let it go
You just gotta let it go
-"I Need Some Sleep" by The Eels
You're pretty sure you were the first SHIELD agent slash spy to ever say the words, “shit, I forgot my weighted blanket.”
For one, you were glad that at least your partner for the time being, one Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, hadn’t heard you with his super cyborg, super soldier hearing powers. It wasn’t the toughest phrase ever uttered. You tried to save face wherever possible with him; he had a tendency to be sarcastic and tease you at every available opportunity, and this would give him enough material for years.
You slumped back against the small bed in defeat. You needed that weighted blanket. You couldn’t get to sleep otherwise and you knew that from experience. Sleep was important on a reconnaissance mission like this one, where you and Barnes would be observing and then infiltrating a Hydra base to plant a “worm” into their computer system that would infect and destroy everything they had. After that, an alpha team would strike and capture as many of them as possible and rid the Sokovian countryside of the vermin for a while. You needed to be in tip-top shape and sharp as a tack. One small misstep and you and Barnes would be in serious trouble.
You stared around at the sparsely decorated room, hoping inspiration would strike, but no. You only had a woven blanket and sheets and two pillows. The cabin had belonged to a lot of people over the years before it was rented out by SHIELD. It still looked like a cabin in the woods for an old couple on the outside, which was why it was good cover. But you’d flown into the country and your weighted blanket was still at your hotel room miles and miles away.
A knock on the open door jerked you out of your misery. Bucky stood there in his too-small t-shirt, jeans, and boots, his metal arm glinting in the hallway light. “Yo, girlie. Chow time.”
“Right. Thanks, Buck, I’ll be there in a moment.”
“It’s stew,” he said. “Don’t let it get cold.”
“I won’t, I promise, right behind you.”
He grunted in affirmation before returning to the kitchen. You unpacked your weapons and ammo, then some clothing, and then headed down the stairs.
The stew was appropriate, since it was cold up here near the mountains. Your stomach growled as you padded over to the stove. He handed you a bowl and you popped the top off the pot. Brunswick stew, and homemade, no less. Bucky was a good cook and didn’t like a lot of canned or preserved stuff, so you’d gotten to enjoy a few meals he’d made on mission before. He would tolerate some of the boxed kinds of pastry since it was way too hard to make bread from scratch, so a pan of cornbread was cooling nearby. You spooned the stew into the bowl and then grabbed a couple pieces of cornbread before heading to the table.
The two of you had your tablets out and read up on the Hydra base’s layout and security checkpoints as you ate in a companionable silence. You’d run just under ten missions with him by now, so conversation was easy and you always knew when he was in the mood to talk and when he wanted some quiet.
“How’s the stew?” Bucky asked after a while.
You flipped the bowl up at him to show it was mostly empty. “Bloody brilliant as usual, Chef Barnes.”
He tossed you that easy smirk, his blue eyes flicking back to the tablet. “Good. Not too spicy, is it?”
“Nah, it’s right on the money.” You shot him a sly look. “Better quit spoiling me or I’m gonna have to keep you.”
Bucky snorted. “I’d still have cooked if you were a guy, just FYI.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. We both know you’re completely in love with me. You probably draw hearts in your diary with my name in the middle.”
Bucky gave you a deadpan stare. “Did you drop acid before we got here?”
You laughed. “Maybe. Would make the view more interesting.”
You collected the dishes and took them to the sink. “Thank you, though, this was great.”
Bucky grunted again, not looking up, but you could see him fighting off a smile. He pretended to be a big bad wolf—and he was in some regards—but he still liked compliments same as anyone. It was endearing, you thought, and it made him more human.
“We should move out sundown tomorrow,” he said as he walked over to help dry the dishes as you washed them. “Which leaves us with some free time for once.”
You hip-checked him and waggled your eyebrows, adopting a faux seductive look. “Meow. See? What did I tell you? Totally in love with me.”
He rolled his eyes. “There’s cable. That’s what I was getting at.”
“Sure, you were. Admit it. You just wanted to get me all alone in this cabin for a romantic getaway.”
You waited for him to deny it and offer more sarcasm and stoicism, but he didn’t. You glanced up as he moved stealthily behind you, turning around on instinct. He planted his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you between him and the sink, towering over you with a deadly smirk in place. Your soul hit the eject button and vacated your body.
“Maybe I did,” he drawled from just a few inches away. “What are you gonna do about it, girlie?”
You tried not to panic, grasping desperately for your sense of humor. “Oh, ha-ha, very funny. This is Body Language 101. I’m not falling for it, sergeant.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, is it? Enlighten me.”
“Trying to call my bluff by getting close to me to make me nervous, therefore giving you the upper hand in the joke department.”
“That only works if you actually do get nervous when I get close to you.” Bucky stooped an extra inch just to be as insufferable as possible, feigning innocence. “Do you get nervous when I get close to you?”
“Nope,” you lied smoothly. “Steady as a rock. Not the least bit nervous at all.”
The smirk spread into a wolfish grin. “Uh-huh.”
You scowled at him. “Put up or shut up, Barnes.”
He let his gaze drop to your lips for a few tantalizing seconds and then backed off, heading to the stove to get the rest of the stew into a container for leftovers. You fanned your hot cheeks for a second and then returned to dish duty.
The smart-mouthed cyborg was indeed correct about the cable. You showered and changed into your pajamas—which consisted of a large t-shirt and cotton pants—and joined him on the couch. He went for what you considered to be a classic—The Mask of Zorro—and you sank into the squishy cushions and enjoyed the swashbuckling adventure. Afterward, Bucky passed the remote to you. You had an agreement to take turns so no one was a TV hog. You had an older brother who had been one and you hated it when others took over the TV without being considerate of the others watching.
You went with Blazing Saddles. Both of you were laughing it up in no time flat and you hardly noticed it getting late until when you went to pass the remote back, Bucky checked his watch. “Should probably turn in.”
“Oh.” You placed the remote behind your curled up legs. “I’m gonna be up for a while.”
He stood and started to leave, but eyed you first. “Don’t stay up too late, girlie. I need you one-hundred percent tomorrow.”
You tried not to wince. “I know. Night, Bucky.”
“Night.” He headed upstairs. You listened for him closing the door and then turned the volume down so he wouldn’t be able to tell later on that you were still down here. Unfortunately, this had happened enough times that you knew you’d get tired, but wouldn’t sleep without the weighted blanket. Like other neuro-divergent people, you had some habits that when not replicated exactly, they threw off your ability to function. You supposed it had to do with feeling unsafe or alone and that was why the blanket kept you calm and allowed you eventually drift off.
Midnight came and went. Then 1am. 2am. 2:30am. What a long, miserable night.
You had just flipped to Adult Swim’s ridiculous lineup when you heard Bucky’s voice right behind you.
“What did I tell you, girlie?”
You yipped and rolled over to see him standing behind the couch wearing a sleeveless shirt and pajama bottoms, his dark hair sticking up from bedhead, an irritable look on his handsome face.
“I…sorry, I’m just not sleepy yet,” you told him sheepishly. “Sometimes I get insomnia.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. “Why’d you just lie to me?”
“Huh?”
He stepped around the couch and folded his arms. “You don’t have insomnia. I can tell when you’re lying—I’ve run like eight missions with you.”
“Bucky, I’m in the middle of nowhere alone on top of a mountain and we have to sneak into a Hydra base with what we’re guessing is over thirty hostiles. Is it really that odd I am having trouble sleeping?”
“Lie,” he said again, without blinking. “You’re tough as nails. Nothing scares you. I’ve seen you clear a room with ten armed hostiles without batting an eyelash. Try again.”
You let out a haggard sigh. “You’re not my boss, Barnes. It doesn’t matter why I’m not asleep. I’ll have an espresso in the morning and I’ll be good to go.”
Before you could finish the sentence, he grabbed your wrist and jerked you up from the couch. You collided with his chest, staring up at him in shock.
“You see that?” he murmured. “That’s your reaction time cut in half. Shit like that will get you killed tomorrow.”
You struggled, trying to free your arm from his grip. “Bucky, you are way out of line—”
“Stop trying to be such a tough guy and just tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It becomes my business when we’re running an op together.” He studied you for a second and then sighed, letting the anger out of his voice. “Look, if it’s personal, I get not wanting to share, but I meant what I said. You’ll endanger yourself if you have to go in on no sleep. I know better than most how bad it might get, okay? Just tell me. Maybe I can help.”
You shook your head. “Unless you wanna let me hop in the jet and go back to my hotel room, we’re SOL.”
He frowned. “What’s in the hotel room?”
You looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”
Bucky turned your face back towards him. “What’s in the hotel room?”
“You’re gonna think I’m an idiot.”
“Try me.”
You groaned and shut your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction. “My…weighted blanket. I sleep with a weighted blanket every night. I forgot to pack it and if I don’t have it, all I do is toss and turn the entire night without actually going to sleep. There.”
Silence.
“That’s not idiotic.”
You forced your eyes open enough to glare at him. “Now who’s lying?”
“I'm not. I get it. It’s not like it’s a security blanket; it’s psychological. I don’t think you’re a baby; you’re a soldier and it makes a lot of sense that you need one given the shit you’ve been through already.”
You stared at him in stupor. He looked…completely serious. No sarcasm, no insults, no mocking. “Uh. Right. Exactly, so that’s why I’m up.”
“Mm.” He let go of you and glanced around at the cabin, frowning. “And I don’t think there’s anything around here heavy enough even with multiple layers.”
“Yeah, like I said, that’s why I just—”
“Well,” he said, his brows furrowing. “Technically, that’s not true.”
“Huh?”
“How much does the blanket weigh?”
“About fifteen pounds or so, why?”
Bucky ran his eyes over you, head to toe, seeming to calculate something. “I have a bad idea. But it might work.”
You raised both eyebrows. “Uh. Okay. And that is…?”
He licked the edge of his lower lip, hesitating, then finally spoke. “You could…use me.”
You blinked. “Use you?”
He nodded. “I’m heavy. Or dense, whatever you want to call it. If you slept on your side or your stomach, it might work.”
“Are you making fun of me right now?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Are you the one who dropped acid before we left?”
Bucky sighed. “I’m trying to be logical here, alright? I’m not trying to get into your pants. We could share a bed and see if it works.”
“Bucky, you already make fun of me for far less and I’m supposed to trust you to sleep in the same bed with me and not mock me for the rest of my life?”
“I’m sarcastic,” he said frankly. “Not a jerk. There’s a difference. This is genuinely an issue and any idea is better than you staying up the entire night. Even a bad one.”
“At least you know it’s a bad idea.” You looked at the couch again. Really, you hadn’t even drifted off slightly. You were tired as hell, but you knew if you stayed there, no sleep would be had. Bucky’s idea was indeed bad, but…in theory…
You sighed. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. If it doesn’t work after an hour, promise me you’ll drop it.”
Bucky made an X over his chest. You suppressed a groan and shuffled up the stairs to his room. He followed and shut the door, locking it out of pure habit. His bedroom was just a mirror image of your own, nothing new or different about it, just across the hall. His rifle was disassembled on the top of the dresser. You smelled gun oil and other cleaning items. Three of the knives he carried on his body during missions lay beside the rifle, gleaming in the moonlight pouring in from the window.
“Right or left?”
Bucky lifted an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“Right side or left side of the bed?”
He shook his head at you. “Didn’t know that was a thing, but right side. I want to be facing the door.”
“Understandable.” You climbed in on the left as he walked around to the right. You fluffed the pillow a bit and then lay down, drawing the covers up. The bed smelled faintly like him after he’d been in it for a few hours—like leather and Old Spice. You tried to relax your limbs, but it was difficult. You hadn’t slept in bed with a guy in a while. You always felt fidgety.
Bucky scooted until his thighs aligned with yours and curled around you, his broad chest and shoulders molding into your back. He’d been polite and had inserted one of the pillows between your ass and his pelvis. The overall effect was surprisingly similar to the weighted blanket. You were halfway on your stomach and side, so he draped himself across your back and rested his metal arm on the outside of your thigh, away from the more delicate parts of you. His breathing was slow and calm despite the strangeness of the arrangement. Hell, his heart wasn’t even beating that fast. Cool as a cucumber, that Barnes.
“Relax,” he muttered into your hair. “Defeats the purpose of the exercise if you’re too tense to go to sleep.”
“I am lying in bed with a super soldier,” you reminded him. “Sue me if I’m a little tense.”
“Like you wouldn’t kick my ass if I tried to hurt you.”
You preened a bit. “True.”
He chuckled softly. “So cheap flattery does work on you after all.”
“You are more than welcome to actually be nice to me for once.”
“I’m nice to you when you’re not annoying me, which is almost never.”
“I’ll have you know some people find me charming.”
“Yeah, and some people eat raw octopus and find that charming.”
You rolled your eyes before closing them and concentrating on trying to relax again. “Grumpy old cyborg.”
“Less talking, more sleeping.”
“There is literally no guarantee this is going to work.”
“Oh yeah?” His arm wrapped all the way around you and pulled you further back into his embrace, squishing your much smaller form into his muscular upper body. His head tucked itself into your neck, his warm breath on your nape, his hand settling over your belly and stroking from your navel up to just under your sternum. Damn him. He was good. This was mad comfortable.
“Hmph,” you said defiantly. “It’ll take a lot more than this to make me…make me…”
A yawn interrupted the sentence. “Make me fall asleep.”
“Of course,” Bucky said in a playful tone. Then the bastard started humming the song from the end credits of The Mask of Zorro—“I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You.” Jerk. It was soothing as all hell and before you knew it, the room became all fuzzy and your eyelids got heavy.
And, like magic, you fell asleep in the super soldier’s arms.