[ there are very, very few times in Andyr's life that he's ever thought he needed protecting, ever wanted it, or would ever have accepted it. he'd been so 'be my own hero' since his third or fourth month in Hapsburg, and it was a philosophy he clung to like a lifeline. chanting it like a mantra to himself that he could stomach this, that he could bring himself through it, that he was strong enough for it.
but it's times like this that break him.
it's what has him nodding his head, as his body slumps against the cradle of bucky's chest, the towel slipping free with andyr not at all concerned about how bare it leaves him. ]
I'm yours. [ he murmurs, against the roughness on Bucky's jaw, those words not easy for him to say. he'd spent so, so long fighting tooth and nail, quite literally, to be able to call his body, his mind, his soul in some way his own. to at least fight for it to be his own. to never surrender it. but it's things like what happened at the slaver post that make him feel like he can't breathe to get the words past his throat. they're stuck there, choking him with the lie he knows it is. so, yes, he's bucky's, because he can't protect himself, he can't even fool himself into thinking he ever could protect himself right now. he's bucky's, until he can be his own again. ]
I trust you. [ andyr whispers, with the hand covering bucky's moving up to grip the metal of his forearm, up further to curl over the mechanical bicep. it's a symbol of the horror done to him, and it's also something that's made him so, so strong, and that's what Andyr feels safe in. like that bond of shared trauma promises something to him. there's so, so few people Andyr can let himself go into the care of, maybe only one or two besides. Bucky's now part of that list, even as small tremors quake through Andyr's hands, his shoulders, his legs. a quiet shake he can't control either. ]
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but it's times like this that break him.
it's what has him nodding his head, as his body slumps against the cradle of bucky's chest, the towel slipping free with andyr not at all concerned about how bare it leaves him. ]
I'm yours. [ he murmurs, against the roughness on Bucky's jaw, those words not easy for him to say. he'd spent so, so long fighting tooth and nail, quite literally, to be able to call his body, his mind, his soul in some way his own. to at least fight for it to be his own. to never surrender it. but it's things like what happened at the slaver post that make him feel like he can't breathe to get the words past his throat. they're stuck there, choking him with the lie he knows it is. so, yes, he's bucky's, because he can't protect himself, he can't even fool himself into thinking he ever could protect himself right now. he's bucky's, until he can be his own again. ]
I trust you. [ andyr whispers, with the hand covering bucky's moving up to grip the metal of his forearm, up further to curl over the mechanical bicep. it's a symbol of the horror done to him, and it's also something that's made him so, so strong, and that's what Andyr feels safe in. like that bond of shared trauma promises something to him. there's so, so few people Andyr can let himself go into the care of, maybe only one or two besides. Bucky's now part of that list, even as small tremors quake through Andyr's hands, his shoulders, his legs. a quiet shake he can't control either. ]