Chapter 10
Sam awoke to sunshine on his face. It was late. He started to sit up, when he felt a metal arm squeeze him tighter around the waist.
If Bucky’s arm would've let him, he may have fallen off of the bed in surprise. Suddenly, the events of last night came flooding into his brain; every image, every sound. Sam shut his eyes and allowed Bucky to sleepily pull him closer in his hold, like he knew how Sam was feeling, even asleep.
He forced himself back into slumber, since it was clear that Bucky wasn't letting him up anytime soon. Right now, Sam’s reality was a nightmare. But in his dreams? It was all Bucky.
*
When Sam woke again, Bucky was staring at his face. When Bucky noticed Sam looking at him looking, he averted his eyes.
Sam realized that it was up to him to set the mood for the day, for the next few weeks. For the rest of their relationship. If he made this whole bed sharing thing awkward, it would never happen again. And as much as it hurt to be this close to something Sam wanted so badly, he wasn't sure that he wanted to sleep without him.
His attitude toward his assault would affect how Bucky treated him. Sam wasn't an invalid. There’s a balance between being protective and a protector.
“You know, you sleep like a damn octopus, Buck.” It was true. There was a leg tossed over his, and his other cold foot was tucked between Sam’s. Bucky’s metal arm was wrapped around him, and when he'd first woken up, their heads had been right beside one another.
Sam was so warm.
Bucky chuckled, and Sam knew he'd done the right thing with a (very true) joke. “Sorry, Sammy.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sammy, huh? So that’s back?”
He shrugged, as best he could with his entire body wrapped around Sam. “If I fancy it.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”
“I’ll test some more nicknames out then.”
“Buck, Sam is already a nickname.” He shoved Bucky off of him playfully, who shoved back, a little grin on his face.
“It’s not my nickname, though.” Bucky wrestled Sam off of him, and gracefully appeared atop of Sam, smiling all the while.
Sam couldn't help but smile. “Fine, fine. Now get off of me and go make the coffee.”
“Christ, I’ve gotta do everything around here,” Bucky said after doing as asked, and leaving Sam’s room.
“Except pay the bills!” Sam yelled. He could hear Bucky’s snort from here.
*
He didn't really feel like eating much that morning, so he helped himself to one of Bucky’s PopTarts to go with his coffee. Bucky glared at him and honestly looked like he'd legitimately wrestle him to get it back.
It was a quiet Saturday, and after a while Bucky disappeared to the bathroom. Sam read the paper online and sipped his coffee, keeping his thoughts at bay.
After a while, Sam decided to check up on Bucky. “Buck? You alright in there?” he asked with a knock.
When there was no answer, Sam slowly pushed the door open. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the tub with the water running. The plates on his arm were each individually lifted in a way that Sam hadn't seen before. His flesh hand held a wet rag almost completely covered in something red like rust. Like blood.
“Sorry, Sam. Did you need to get in here?” He looked almost sheepish, and turned awkwardly, as if he was trying to hide from Sam.
“No, no. I was just checking up on you,” he grasped Bucky’s human shoulder, and he allowed himself to be turned back toward Sam. “None of that. You know I love looking at you.”
Bucky smirked and raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, I love looking at your arm,” he corrected quickly. “That looks kind of uncomfortable, do you need any help?”
Bucky looked unsure, and vaguely uncomfortable. “No ones done maintenance on the arm. Not since HYDRA. It didn't always…feel good, and sometimes I attacked the techs. Or killed them.”
Sam swallowed. “Buck. Bucky, we’re past that. I’m no technician. If you need help, if you want me to help, then I want to help you.”
Their conversation was eerily similar to the silent one they seemed to have last night. Sam needed help. Maybe without realizing it, Sam wanted Bucky to do something. Bucky did something.
Sam wasn't an idiot. He knew Bucky left last night. And looking at the blood on the wet cloth, and Bucky’s now gleaming metal arm - Sam could guess what he did.
Strangely enough, Sam wasn't upset. He was strangely apathetic to the idea of Bucky killing, or maiming Jeff. A part of him sighed in…relief?
His thoughts were going in a dangerous direction, so Sam sat beside Bucky on the side of the tub. “What do you need me to do?”
Bucky hesitated. “Well I already cleaned it up,” he gestured to the bloody rag. “But there’s a switch.”
“A switch?”
He nodded. “On the inside. More like a lever, really. I think a hanger would do the trick.” He passed one to Sam. “I just need you to reach in there with it and push it up.”
“What does it do?” he asked, curiously.
“It seems to release pressure. The arm can be a lot to carry around. It hurts though. Like a lot. But its so much better afterwards.” he looked almost excited for the relief that was soon to come.
“Alright.” He steeled himself. Sam could do this. “How often did the techs do this?” he wondered aloud.
Confusion crossed his features. “Actually, I’m not sure? Not often?”
“Hey, Buck. You're alright.” he rubbed Bucky’s back gently. “I’ve got you, ok? Right?”
Bucky nodded shakily. “You’ve got me.”
Sam carefully bent the hanger into a point, and directed it toward a plate toward where the metal met his flesh shoulder.
“Grab my hand,” Sam offered.
He shook his head. “No. I might crush it.” Bucky gripped the tub instead. Sam’s heart hurt at the expression on Bucky’s face. It was drawn, fearful. But at the same time, submissive. Like he knew pain was coming, but he was going to bear it, because he had to.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” he asked quietly. “If it’s going to hurt this much…”
“Yes,” Bucky answered, no hesitation. “It’s a mean to an end. Just do it.”
He nodded his acceptance, but before he could stop himself, slid his free thumb underneath Bucky’s palm. With the touch, Bucky visibly relaxed, and shot Sam a grateful look.
Sam angled the hanger to where he could see a lever, amidst all the wires and switches. It was surprisingly simple for tech that probably hadn't changed since the Cold War. The hanger gripped the ledge, Bucky shut his eyes. Sam pushed.
Bucky….moaned?
All at once, his body seemed to go almost limp. If it wasn't for Sam’s quickness, he would've fallen onto the tiled floor. As it was, his entire body was sprawled out atop Sam’s, who was endanger of falling into the tub, because he couldn't support a noodled metal armed supersolider.
Bucky looked positively blissed out. His eyes were shut, his entire figure more lax than Sam had ever seen him. It brought a smile to Sam’s face, though he was grunting in a futile effort to get Bucky off of him.
“Buck I can’t hold you much longer.”
His eyes opened. “Oh shit, sorry Sam.” Bucky slowly lifted himself into a seated position on the floor, leaning up against the tub with a sigh.
“I’m guessing it worked?” he asked, amused.
“Oh,” Bucky sighed again. “Yes.”
“I thought it was supposed to hurt?” Sam asked confusedly. It seemed more like Bucky had just had an orgasm than been in pain, and thought made Sam feel hot.
Bucky froze, and Sam immediately regretted bringing him out of his calm state. “It’s supposed to hurt,” he said, almost like a question. “Why didn't it hurt?” He looked tense, worried about the lack of pain, and Sam was equally full of both rage and sadness.
He slid down on the floor beside Bucky, and pulled him closer. Bucky went without complaint, his head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam held Bucky until he no longer noticed the cold tile beneath them.
Eventually, Bucky spoke. “Sam,” he said quietly. “You didn't hurt me.”
“No,” Sam agreed.
“HYDRA hurt me. On purpose. For no reason except for…that they wanted to.”
“I know, Buck.” Sam whispered.
“But why? It didn't hurt. That means it doesn’t have to hurt.” Bucky buried his head further into Sam’s shoulder.
“I know, baby,” the pet name fell from Sam’s lips before he could take it back. “But I don’t know why.”
“Thank you.” Bucky said, after awhile.
Sam simply smiled softly, sadly, and moved to get up, pulling Bucky with him. He attempted to smile back, though he was still visibly upset.
“Hey, do you wanna go outside?”
It was getting warmer everyday, and Sam led Bucky over to his underused porch swing. They gathered a couple of blankets, and split the remainder of the mornings coffee between them, before relaxing.
“Steve used to come out here a lot,” Sam said. “With snow on the ground and everything. Said the cold helped him think. Guess it didn't have too much of an effect on him.” Sam laughed.
“And you don’t? Come out here?” Bucky asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not often. When I first got out, I did. The summer heat sort of reminded me of my time over there. Not the same though, it was a lot drier. Now? Not so much.”
“I like it,” Bucky said. “I like sitting with you.”
“Me too.” Sam liked it a lot, and he hated it.
*
That night, Sam and Bucky turned in early.
Sam had quietly stressed about it all day, because he wanted to have Bucky’s arms around him again, but he didn't know how to ask. Did friends platonically cuddle for comfort?
But he didn't have to stress. Bucky came to his room straight away, dressed in the same pair of plaid pajamas Sam had given him on Bucky’s first night. They'd quickly become a staple in Bucky’s lounge wardrobe.
“This ok?” he checked in, arms wrapped around Sam.
“More than.” Sam was sure the smile in his voice was evident.
He listened to Bucky breathe for awhile, assuming he was asleep. Sam was content with that, to feel his presence while he was awake. But Bucky spoke.
“Sam?”
“Hmm?”
“I didn't kill him,” Bucky said. “I didn't kill Jeff, in case you were wondering.”
“Oh,” Sam replied to Bucky’s confession. “Ok.”
“You don't sound relived?” Bucky accused. “Do you want me to? If you want me to, I can. I can go - “
Sam’s heart was beating fast. “Bucky stop,” he asked. “Slow down.”
“Thank you,” Sam said slowly. But he meant it.
Bucky looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you'd be mad.”
“I don’t want you killing anyone,” Sam began slowly. “But you protected me in the way you thought was best. So thank you.”
“Of course,” Bucky said incredulously. “You said it yourself, we protect each other. I’m always going to keep you safe, Sam. Right?” Bucky’s eyes bored into his in the half darkness, with an assassins intensity.
“Ok,” Sam said with a shiver. “Ok.”