True to his word, Bucky rolled for Wanda whenever she asked. She felt bad for using his weed and not paying for it. But every time she offered he'd tell her there was no need, that he didn't mind sharing. She would pay him back somehow, she just had to figure out a way.

You locked me in my room.

She sits up with a start, palms sweaty as she grips her sheets. Dreaming of vision and their limited time together was something that happens often, but the dreams changed. They morph and shift into things that didn't happen, worsening the outcomes or creating something new entirely. Her recent dreams have been no different.

Leaning over to her side table, she takes her phone, fingers moving across the letters.

U awake?

She only has to wait a few moments before her phone vibrates, signaling a response.

I need a smoking buddy. Doors open.

Wanda grins.

Bucky would act like he didn't know how fragile she is, while everyone around her acts like she can snap at any time. He just treated her like — normal. And she relishes in it.

Slipping on a loose knit over her tank top, she exits her room, tiptoeing down the hallway and stairs until she reaches his bedroom, flicking her wrists to open the door.

Bucky's leaning against the wall by the window again, a blunt already smoking in the ashtray. Eyes shut, his head is partially tucked out the window, the night air brushing his ever growing tendrils into his face. He's wearing a cut off, his arms and upper shoulders exposed.

Wanda couldn't help but stare.

"You gonna keep gawking or you gonna help me smoke this?" His voice cuts through her and she snaps back from her staring.

A blush creeps up her neck as she hurries to her normal spot below the window, curling her legs beneath her. Plucking the blunt from the tray, she takes a deep drag, holding it in. He cracks one eye open, looking at her skeptically.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, and she exhales, shaking her head. He hums, closing his eyes again. "You should see someone about that."

Wanda purses her lips but says nothing. He's one to talk. It took him months to go to therapy, and everyone knew he really only went as part of his rehabilitation program. The moment he had finished his allotted time, he'd never gone back.

Reaching forward, Bucky silently takes the blunt from her, and raises it to his mouth. "You dreaming again?"

"Something like that," she mumbles, maneuvering herself so that she sits against the wall, shoulders brushing. She tucks her feet beneath her once more, craning her neck back. "Not sure dreams is the right word."

"Night terrors," Bucky says, tone deep and solemn. "I get 'em too."

She doesn't want to have this conversation.

He holds out the blunt and she takes it, inhaling deep before blowing it out. She immediately inhales once more. Lifting her arm to ash it, she brings it to her mouth again, and takes another hit.

"Careful, sweetheart," Bucky warns but his voice was light, and she can tell he's very high. "Might knock yourself on your ass if you're not careful."

Wanda giggles, enjoying the way her muscles seem to relax, her eyelids heavy as she blinks slowly.

Bucky takes her wrist with one hand, and with the other removes the blunt from between her fingers. "Don't be selfish, I need some too."

"How come?" she asks, turning her head too fast and the world tipped for a moment before settling again. Bucky shrugs, taking a drag.

"I had some dreams tonight too."

"About?" She wants to know. What did a big strong soldier dream about?

He's quiet, staring at the blunt between his fingers.

Wanda raises her brows, and pokes his arm. "You can tell me." Bucky chuckles, but says nothing.

Wanda sighs heavily, dropping her head to his shoulder. His skin's warm beneath her cheek, and she knows if she wasn't so high, she'd be absolutely appalled at herself.

"I can keep a secret," She presses into his shoulder. A beat. She feels Bucky move his other arm, presumably to take another drag.

"Yeah?" he says after a while. His voice is thick, quiet.

She lifts her face, nodding quickly as she peers up at him. He looks down at her, eyes bouncing around her face.

"I — in the dream, I kissed a girl," he says quietly, "and then I hurt her."

Wanda nods slowly. "I doubt you meant it."

"Of course I didn't,'' Bucky sighs, raking his hand through his hair, movement causing Wanda to shift to give him space. "But she didn't know that. She looked at me like—"

"Like?"

Bucky takes a drag, the blunt sputtering as it finishes, and he angrily tosses it out the window. "Like she didn't know me. Like, kissing her isn't something I'm supposed to do, because all I'm really capable of is hurting her."

Wanda twists her bottom lip between her teeth, leaning her shoulder against the wall so that she is facing him.

His hair covers the sides of his face and eyes, and she can't look at him.

Raising her hand, she conjures a blunt from his side table, the thin stick wavering in the air before placing itself in her hand. "Maybe, you should tell her that you dream about kissing her,"

Wanda offers, reaching for the lighter on the sill.

Bucky chuckles, looking at her through his hair. "Think so?"

Placing the blunt between her lips, she nods vehemently. "Yes. Maybe that'll rest your fears."

Bucky seems to contemplate this.

If Wanda had been sober, the news that he's been dreaming about another girl would've saddened her deeply, but through her haze of high, she's able to put on a brave face. Lifting the lighter, she tries to flick it on, but fails. She tries again, this time a light spark flying out. She grumbles in frustration, lifting her thumb to press down again.

"Wanda, I dream about kissing you."

Her eyes fly open as she presses on the lighter hard, and the flame ignites, mixed with her magic, little sparks fly upward. Bucky jumps and curses, and Wanda drops the still unlit blunt as she holds her burned hand to her chest.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," she whimpers, thumb pulsating. Bucky sits up, leaning on his knees as he reaches for her.

"Shit you ok?" he says, brows lacing in concern. Wanda feels embarrassment coil within her stomach as she nods tearfully.

"Just... burned the hell out of my hand." Bucky gently takes her wrist, turning the damaged appendage to take a look. "I — I'm so sorry, I almost set your room on fire."

Bucky raises a brow, before looking down at her hand again. "You nearly chard your finger and you're worried about my room? It's no biggie."

"No really, I should be more careful," Wanda chokes. Suddenly she's too high, too raw. Did Bucky really mean that? Or was he just fucking with her? Regardless, it was too much, and she needs to be alone.

She slides off the bed, Bucky's fingers still on her wrist.

"I should go," she says, not looking at him, and tugging her wrist free. "I — I'll see you later?"

Bucky drops his hands, leaning on his haunches in defeat. He looks so sad, his eyes downcast. Wanda fumbles for another apology. "Yeah, okay. See you later."

She's out the door a moment later.