Over the next two weeks, Barnes visited me every day. Sometimes we would sit in comfortable silence, and sometimes we would talk. He would tell me stories about him as a child, and I would tell him some of mine. Sometimes I would cry, and when I did, he would hold my hand. One time, he stroked my hair. It was such a simple gesture, yet is warmed my heart so much. I didn't mind being trapped in the hospital bed, it wasn't so different in comparison to being isolated and an outsider in the group. Natasha came and visited me twice, mostly just to get updates on how I was feeling. She was a tough egg to crack. Both times she came, I would crack joke after joke, and then joke some more about how she didn't mind me funny, but she barely cracked a smile. It was boring.

- TW: SH, DRUG ABUSE-

As much as I loved Barnes' company, I was still crushed about the team's feelings towards me. I couldn't drink or get high, and I couldn't cut, so I had no release, except for turning up the dosage of morphine Bruce had given me. He said that because he couldn't monitor me himself every hour of the day, when the pain was worse I could just turn it up myself. So I did. I turned it up until I felt so drowsy, the fingers on my hands duplicated in my vision. It was nice to become so out if I couldn't think. If I couldn't think, I couldn't get sad. It was a nice little operation in my head.

It was nice until a week after Bruce discharged me, he found me sliding the morphine drip into my veins.

"Y/n, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" He rushed forward and ripped the needle out of my arm. Tears streamed down my face as I spoke.

"Please, please Bruce, it helps me not think. It turns her voice off, please Bruce I need this. I need this Bruce please. Please!" I got hysterical near the end. I lamely tried to grab the needle back, but he easily held it out of reach. He wasn't much taller than me, but I wasn't in a proper state of mind to get it back.

"Y/n, you need to sleep, and you need to stop using this as a way to help you function. You're going to end up with a serious problem. I'm going to call someone." I got nervous at this, and began speaking rapidly as he tapped a few buttons on his phone.

"Who, Bruce please, don't worry anyone about this please Bruce, just give me the morphine and-" I was cut off by the door opening, and Barnes, somehow looking exhausted and alert at the same time stride in and scooped my legs out from underneath me, causing me to lose my balance and land my upper body in a cradled position in his arms. Bruce muttered a quiet 'thank you' and I was carried out the door, completely a mess. I closed my eyes and leaned my face into his chest, not wanting to look at anything. I felt us turn around, and his back pushed a door open. I was laid down gently on a extremely comfortable bed, and had a big fluffy comforter tucked around my shoulders.

This wasn't my bed, and I was so grateful. I felt a warm, large body slide in next to my freezing one, and felt myself being tugged over. I knew I was in Barnes' room- I recognized the smell. I felt his flesh arm beneath me and I rested my head on his bicep. My hands were curled up in front of me chest, and I almost yelled when I felt a cold metal hand uncurl them. He held my hand and my head as I laid there, shaking.

"Shh, you're okay here. Just rest." I tried to do as I was told, and did my best to even my breathing. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I know I did, because when I woke up, we had changed positions without me being awake for it.

My head was on his chest, and is flesh arm was wrapped around me, while my hand rested, wrapped around his torso. It was a nice way to wake up. I wouldn't lie, Barnes had taken more care to me than anyone on the team had in years.

-BUCKY'S POV-

I woke up to a robotic man's voice alerting me of an emergency in the medical room, one that I was immediately required for. I threw myself out of bed, and ran full speed to where I was needed. As a came closer, I heard a hysterical female voice crying and pleading something. Y/n. I ripped the door open and saw her pale face, streaked with tears. Bruce said something about morphine and I knew what was happening. I thought during my visits that sometimes Y/n seemed a bit dopey, now I knew why. I walked towards her and picked her up without a problem. She buried her face in my chest and wept silently as I carried her back to my room. I knew from our conversations that her room made her feel trapped, so I thought maybe she'd sleep better in mine.

I laid her down gently on the bed, with the covers thrown back from my previous sleep already, and brought them up around her shoulders. Her whimpers slowly softened into occasional sniffs, or a sigh here and there. I climbed into the bed next to her and pulled her close to me, given her juts a small dose of physical affection. The first day she woke up for the attack she had asked me to hold her hand, and said how she hadn't been given physical affection my anyone in nearly a year. I spoke to Bruce about it afterwards and he suggested that it could be her love language.

From then on, when I could see she was visibly struggling I would hold her hand, or squeeze her arm comfortingly. As she slowly became more comfortable in the embrace, I felt the muscles in her back ease. After about twenty of minutes of her breath trying to even out, I checked to see if she was asleep by softly blowing in her face. When she didn't even twitch, I felt comfortable closing my own eyes to rest. We fell asleep locked in each other's arms- an event that would become a habit in the months to follow.