Twisted Ends

“I look ridiculous.”

Bucky glanced sideways, rolling his eyes as Sam pulled at the turtleneck of his sweater, stretching and yanking at the ridiculously expensive fabric. He reached out and gave Sam’s hand a quick swat, hissing lowly under his breath.

“Samuel Wilson, who raised you? Fuckin’ wolves?” Bucky spun around to face him, resisting the urge to let his gaze wander. Now wasn’t the time for personal…feelings on how certain people looked in tight, form fitting, VERY little to the imagination clothes.

Blue was VERY much Sam’s color, contrasting beautifully with his smooth skin.

God damnit. No. He had a mission to accomplish.

The first being to get them into the club without being gunned down at the entrance. That would be nice.

And they weren’t going to make it at this rate, not with Sam pawing at himself like a dog with a hotspot. He was starting to stick out like a sore thumb, blatantly looking as if he didn’t belong.

“Why are you always so hostile?” Sam whined, itching now at his bicep, the motion causing the muscles to flex and strain against the thin fabric, threatening to tear at the seams. Bucky felt his mouth go dry.

Fuck.

God…he really did need to get laid.

‘Focus, Barnes.’ He shook his head ruefully, fighting back the blush that was creeping up his neck and heating the tips of his ears. Now was absolutely, without a doubt, not the time to let seventy-five years of pent-up celibacy raise its ugly head and get them shot.

“I’m not mean.” Bucky grumbled under his breath, reaching out to straighten Sam’s sweater, the turtleneck collar somehow twisted underneath itself.

His fingers brushed over the lean column of Sam’s neck, the skin smooth and heated underneath the satin. He could feel the vibration of Sam’s heartbeat over his pulse point, its strong and steady strum seeming to throb through his fingertips and into his gut.

The smell of Sam’s aftershave and the heady scent of cocoa butter were filling his heightened senses, making his head feel fuzzy with want and…

Need.

Bucky quickly snatched his hand from Sam’s neck as if it had scolded him, earning him a befuddled stare.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam contorted himself to peer at his shoulder, looking around with eyebrows raised. “Was it a bug?” Sam froze, turning serious eyes to Bucky.

“You’d tell me if it was a Madripoori spider, right?”

Bucky swallowed against the cotton that was forming on the tip of his tongue. He gave a casual sniff, feigning boredom as he tugged at the ends of his leather jacket. He nodded seriously.

“Of course, Samuel.”

“You sound weird.” Sam shot back immediately.

“No, I don’t.” Bucky internally grimaced at the subtle crack in his voice.

“Uh, yeah. You do.”

Bucky pinned Sam with an inscrutable glower, quirking an eyebrow in a pitiful attempt to draw attention from his rapidly heating cheeks.

“I wouldn’t tell you about a roach.” He pettily snarked, tongue in cheek.

Sam gave an unbecoming shriek, toe tapping in place as he spun himself around, clutching and clawing at the turtleneck. He looked like a tweaker who had gotten a bad stash, Bucky thought somewhat amusedly, and luckily for them, that was a common occurrence in Madripoor.

You were either drunk, murdering, or tweaking. They had options.

And Sam was blending in with the clubbing crowd beautifully.

Thank fuck, because Bucky didn’t feel like adding anymore bullet holes to his never-ending collection.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Christ sakes.” Bucky grasped at one of Sam’s shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. “I was fucking with you.”

Sam pulled his shoulder out from underneath his grip, giving him an affronted look. “You’re an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Sam rolled his shoulders back, sighing as he glanced up at the strobing sign above them, the colors painting them in a sickly green. He turned his gaze back to Bucky, gritting his teeth as people walked past, not giving them a second glance. “Did you really have to make me look crazy?”

Bucky steered Sam along, drifting them into the long line that had formed outside the club. He plastered on a charming, hazy grin, leaning himself onto Sam’s shoulders. Sam’s arm came up around him immediately, drawing him in close. Bucky pointed his chin to their left, where two armed guards were eyeing the growing crowd.

“Course I did, darlin’.” Bucky drawled out, glancing around them through lowered lashes, keeping a close eye on the hired guns. “Had to make sure you were fittin’ in.” He brought his lips to Sam’s ears, keeping his face loose and relaxed. “Madripoor is a party city, Wilson. Better to look high and off your shit then to be acting as if you don’t belong.”

Sam turned his head, their lips almost brushing at the proximity. Sam gave a toothy grin, blatantly gawking at Bucky’s lips. “Well, if you say so, baby.” He pulled Bucky even closer, his arm slinking down to wrap tightly around his waist, placing them him and hip. “I can play the part of party boy.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, heart thrumming wildly in his chest. “Can you now?” He said lowly, eyes diverting briefly to scan their surroundings. They were almost to the front of the que now, the vibrant flashes of strobing lights visible through the open doorway.

He turned his attention back to Sam, who was eyeing him like he was a piece of steak at a hibachi restaurant. There was an untamed heat in his gaze, his pupils were blown wide and ink black. He gave Bucky a simmering stare, licking his lips as he looked him up and down in appreciation.

“Sure can.” He said, his voice low and husky. It made Bucky’s hair stand up on ends, his tongue going dry.

“ID’s please.”

Bucky tore his eyes from Sam, flashing a faux grin as he handed over their fraudulent ID’s. The bouncer peered at them with beady eyes, not bothering to give their licenses a glance.
“What are your plans tonight, sweetheart?”

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead leaning heavily onto Sam and giving his side a quick squeeze. “Oh,” He batted his eyes through lowered lashes, turning to look up at Sam with mock excitement. “We’re here to have a good time, ya’ know? Party, drink, fuck.” He bit his lip at the bouncer, who gave him an unimpressed look.

Huh. That usually worked.

The bouncer turned to Sam, handing him back their ID’s. “How’d you manage to snag a pretty little thing like that?” He jabbed a thumb towards Bucky, his beady gaze turning dark and predatory. Guess it did work, then.

He could feel Sam slowly intake a breath, hold, and a gradual release. His grip had tightened marginally on his hip, his thumb having found its way under Bucky’s jacket and rubbing small circles at his hipbone.

“Oh, you know,” He pulled Bucky close, biting dominantly at his earlobe. His lips released their suckling with a pornographic pop that made Bucky’s skin shiver, a strangled whimper fighting its way out of the back of his throat at the unexpected contact.

He fought to keep his face relaxed and cocky, resisting the urge to glare daggers in Sam’s direction.

Sam gave the bouncer a cocky grin, his eyes flashing dangerously and with the hint of a challenge. “Just gotta give em something to remember you by,” he turned back to Bucky, his tongue darting out to trace the veins along his neck before abruptly biting down, sucking at his pulse point with an unexpected ravage.

Sam pulled back with a satisfied nod, his arm the only thing keeping Bucky’s knees from collapsing. He could feel the bruise already taking form on his neck, how Sam’s saliva was slick and cooling.

What the fuck.

The bouncer gave Sam a dark glower, motioning for them to offer their hands for their stamps. Sam’s hand clamped protectively around Bucky’s wrist, offering it while still asserting his dominance.

To whom, Bucky wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that this mission was quickly becoming more and more difficult to maintain, his focus slowly glazing over into a hazy mirage of want and desire.

Fucking Sam and his surprising commitment to this role.

What the actual fuck?

Bucky took in deep inhale to ground himself, everything suddenly freezing around them as the bouncer’s beefy hand reached out, hand grasping painfully onto Bucky’s arm in a vicelike squeeze.

Bucky looked down at the hand squeezing his forearm like a rabid viper, feeling his lips twinge as he fought back a snarl. He could feel his blood turning cold, regardless of the unyielding humidity around them.

“If you ever get bored of your friend here, just know I’m always interested in pretty things like you.” The bouncer leered, flashing rotting teeth as he gave Bucky a nauseating smirk.

Sam’s arm quickly snatched out, man handling Bucky around his side and out of reach, standing to shield him from view. He gave Bucky a quick glance over before turning back to the bouncer, all that earlier sunshine and rainbows disappearing to make way for the storm that was a pissed off Sam Wilson.

Bucky found it obnoxious. And attractive. Obnoxiously attractive.

God damnit.

Sam gave the bouncer a curt nod, walking up to stand chest to chest, head cocking dangerously to the side.

“I think he’s good.” Sam gritted out, all smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The bouncer gave Bucky one last look, eyes raking over his body before shrugging, motioning them to make their way into the club entrance.

“Have fun, pretties.” He called over his shoulder, turning back to continue his task of collecting ID’s.

Bucky let out a long breath, rubbing absently at his arm as they made their way through the entrance.

They were greeted with strobing florescent lighting, a disco ball spiraling above their heads, shimmering colorful hues onto the walls. The stench of marijuana and the raunchy tang of sweat slapped Bucky’s nostrils, his nose crinkling at the affront of so many smells hitting his heightened senses.

Sharon sure knew how to throw a party; he’d give her that. The club was packed to the brim with patrons, bodies pressed tightly together in a mingle of flesh and sex on the dance floor, hands up to the sky as they grinded down on each other.

Bucky turned to Sam, who was ogling the scene with a stunned expression.

“What? Never been to a party before, Wilson?” Bucky grinned, watching as Sam struggled to control his emotions as a girl leapt down wildly onto all fours, whipping her ponytail in tight circles as a stranger grinded on her from the back.

Sam turned to him with wide eyes. “Yes, I’m not a virgin, Buck. Just been a minute since I went clubbing, I guess.” His eyes swiveled back to the couple, mouth opening and closing as things became more graphic.

“Oh my god.”

Bucky repressed a sigh, reaching out to take Sam’s hand.

This was the guy that not two seconds ago, was sucking bruises on the side of his neck like it was desert.

“Fix your face, Wilson.” He pulled him towards the bar, fighting to squeeze between the groups of intoxicated dancers, hands grabbing and tugging at their clothes and hair. “You’re going to get us shot.”

“Me? I’m not doing anything!” Sam shouted, his voice barely audible over the base of pumping music that was making the floor beneath them shake.

Bucky rolled his eyes, sitting them down at the far end of the bar. He made sure to sit with his back flat against the wall, eyes scanning the crowd and exits. He could feel his knee beginning to bounce, every little vibration putting his teeth on edge.

He hated environments like this. His senses were all but useless, a double-edged sword as everything came out too colorful, too loud, too…everything. It was almost impossible to filter through any of the input, the overflow of stimuli a constant barrage his senses.

He motioned for the bartender, turning back to face Sam with an annoyed huff, ignoring the stiffness that was beginning to take up residency at the base of his skull.

“Where’s all that plucky energy from earlier, Wilson? You know, back when you were dragging your tongue all over my neck.” He then turned back to the bar, giving a lopsided grin as the bartender came to take their drink order, cocking his head doggedly. If he couldn’t use his over-heightened, freak senses, guess he’d have to go about things the old-fashioned way. Plus, fucking with Sam was an added brownie point.

“What can I do for you?” the bartender asked hotly, pulling out her pad with a huff. She looked overworked and exhausted but was attractive by all standards, auburn hair falling out of a haphazardly placed bun. She also had a kind eye, a rare thing for Madripoor.

Should be a piece of cake. Just had to attack from the proper angle.

“Well,” Bucky drawled out quietly, leaning over the counter while making a show of giving her a respectful look down, making sure to keep his body language open and soft. “He’ll take your best whiskey, neat if you wouldn’t mind.” He jabbed at Sam, who was giving him a critical glare from his seat. Idiot.

Bucky continued, digging deep to try and find that cocky soldier from the War who could woo any dame. “And I’ll have whatever the beautiful goddess in front of me recommends.” He gave her a quick wink, crinkling his nose for extra flare.

Her expression quickly morphed, a hand going over her chest as she guffawed. “Oh!” She gave his shoulder a gentle slap, blushing as she gushed. “You better stop, otherwise I’d think you’re flirting with me!”

Bucky leaned in a little closer, lowering his lashes as he bit his bottom lip, giving a dreamy smile. “Oh,” he said breathily, “I thought I was bein obvious, doll.” He watched as her face continued heated up, her eyes darting down to stare at her pad of paper.

“Oh, well then.” She leaned down on her elbows, pointing at the menu on the counter. “I’d recommend the sex on the beach, if I were you.” She gave him a wink, Sam squawking next to him. Bucky gave his knee a swift kick.

Bucky rocked back slightly. “Alright then, sex on the beach it is. Long as you’re the one makin’ it.” She gave him a flustered nod, quickly scribbling their order down. She then tore off a corner, writing out a name and a number. “My name’s Erin. If you need anything, sweetheart.” She gave a sweet smile and another timid wink, her hand patting down on his before she walked away.
Bucky kept a sly grin plastered to his face, watching as Sam slowly drifted into his vision from the corner of his eye.

“Uh,” Sam motioned towards Erin, “The fuck was that?”

Bucky sniffed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He raised an eyebrow. “That,” another sniff, “was flirting, Wilson.”

Sam nodded absently. “Uh-huh. I noticed.”

Bucky gave a slow blink. “So, you do notice things.”

Sam just blinked back. “Didn’t know you were capable of that.”

“I’m capable of a lot of things, Wilson.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Whatever makes you think that?”

“Is this because I gave you a hickey? You said we had to blend in, and that guy was eyeing you like a piece of meat, so I showed initiative-“

Erin appeared back with their drink order in record timing, flashing Bucky a sweet smile. “Hope that tastes alright.” She said quietly, twirling her auburn hair on a coy finger.

In another world, another time, she’d have been his type. Or rather, one of his types.

Bucky brought the drink slowly to his lips, keeping eye contact as he took a sip. He gave a smile. “It’s perfect.” He murmured, reaching down to flip the piece of paper from earlier between his fingers. He made a show of putting it in his pocket, winking as he took another sip.

“I’ll be back to check on you. Holler if you boys need anything!” Erin then scampered off, disappearing into the sea of chaos behind the counter.

Sam frowned at his glass. “I don’t even like whiskey.”

Bucky smirked, taking another drink. “I know.”

Sam sat back, pointing an accusing finger. “You are mad!”

Bucky gave him a shrug, continuing to nurse his drink as he scanned the mirage of faces. “Never said I was mad, Wilson.” His eyes caught a flurry of motion at the corner closest to the DJ, a few guards congregating in a circle.

Curious.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to overstep.” Bucky turned back to Sam, keeping an eye on the gaggle fuck in the corner, a frown pulling at his lips.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Sam.” He swirled around his drink, watching as his cherry sank to the bottom. “It was good for cover.”

“It wasn’t just for cover, and you know that.”

Bucky kept his eyes on his drink, watching as a few bubbles popped up between the ice. He didn’t want to see that expression on Sam’s face, not right now. The one that was open and wanting to communicate, every little ounce of emotion just out there. An open book.

He couldn’t do that. Not right now. He could feel his self-control holding on by the barest of threads.

Later. They’d do this, just later.

He tilted his head towards Sam, keeping an eye on the counter. “Not right now, Sam.” He risked a glance. “We will, I promise. Just…” He looked back at his drink, frowning as he gave it another swirl, bits of liquid splashing down his fingers. “I can’t. The mission.” He took a deep breath, turning to face Sam fully. “I need to focus.” He motioned to their surroundings, grimacing as another techno song threatened to rupture his eardrums, the base seeming to thrum into his ever-aching skull. “I can’t rely on my senses in here, so I can’t be distracted. I’m essentially blind.”

Sam nodded slowly, poking at his glass that sat untouched. He gave Bucky a soft smile, eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Okay,” he placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Later then. And thanks.”

Bucky frowned. “For what?”

Sam motioned towards him. “For telling me. About the senses thing. I didn’t even think about that.” He picked up his drink, pulling a face as he went to take a sip. He placed it back down, sticking his tongue out at the taste. “You’re a dick for ordering this, but I appreciate you trusting me with that information, Buck. I know it’s not easy to do.”

Bucky gave another shrug, turning to eye the crowd over the brim of his glass. The group of guards had dispersed, no longer in the far corner.

“Yeah well, if there’s anyone I trust, it’s you, Sam.” He looked at Erin, watching as she scurried around behind the counter. “I’m not actually trying to get with our bartender, you do know that, right?”

Sam scoffed. “Of course I know that.”

Bucky leaned back, giving Sam a scrutinizing stare. “But do you, though?”

“I assumed you had something maniacal up your sleeve.”

“Wow.” Bucky reached in, pulling the cherry from the bottom of the glass. He popped it in his mouth with flourish, smirking as he caught Sam watching the motion. “You think I’m maniacal?” he said around pieces of fruit.

“I KNOW you’re maniacal, Buck.”

“Rude.”

Sam grinned, glancing around the room as the beat changed yet again, the disco ball basking them in a blue hue. “What are you up to, though?”

Bucky could feel a smile pulling at his lips, reaching into his drink and chucking a piece of ice at Sam. “It’s called being a spy, Samuel. It’s something you should really pick up. Could come in handy.”

Sam let out an indignant squawk, picking up a napkin and dabbing at his turtleneck. “Hey!” he pouted, soaking up the droplets of ice off the fabric. “This is a nice sweater, don’t be messin’ it up! And I can spy.” He frowned. “Just not very well.”

“You don’t say.” Bucky deadpanned.

“You’re such an asshole, can’t remember if I told you that or not tonight.”

Bucky bit back a grin, bringing his head back as he chased down the rest of his drink. God, he missed the times where he could get flat on his ass, piss drunk. At least he could relish the sweet burn of it slipping down his throat, the familiar sensation warming his stomach.

He set the glass down on the counter with a few taps, enough that Erin caught the motion from across the bar. She made a hand gesture, mouthing she’d be over in a few moments.

“I think you’ve mentioned it. As far as what I’m doing,” he pushed the empty glass to the edge of the counter, smiling sweetly as Erin began to make her way back over. “I’m using my charm to get intel, dingus.”

Sam squinted, crossing his arms defensively over his chest as the bartender practically came bouncing over. “Need another, sweetheart?” she purred, taking the glass delicately in one hand.

Bucky gave a lazy grin, nodding. “That would be wonderful, angel. If you wouldn’t mind, of course.” He cut his eyes to Sam, draping an arm heavily over a shoulder and giving his back a solid smack.

Sam grunted.

“I was wonderin’ as well,” he said, giving her a coy huff, “if yal were looking for employment? My buddy here, well…” he leaned in with a hushed whisper, “he’s really needin a job, and he’s not much good at anything. Little shy is all. Was wondering if I could talk to someone as far as seeing if he could get a job here.”

Erin nodded solemnly, giving Sam a quiet smile. “Well, sure thing. There’s always room here.” She glanced over her shoulder, Bucky following her gaze towards a door towards the end of the hall, just past the bathrooms. She turned back around, pulling out her notepad with a quiet frown. “I think the boss is out at the moment from the looks of it, but I can see if I can’t go find him?” She gave the room a look around, huffing as she shook her head. “I guess maybe we got an unexpected shipment in.” She blew out a huff. “Lots of those these days.”

Bucky nodded along. “That sounds like it could be quite the pain.”

Erin just gave a small shrug, her eyes still scanning the crowd. “It’s okay.” She sighed, finger tapping on the empty glass. “Keeps things moving, so I can’t really complain.”

Bucky nodded again, humming in agreement. “Of course, idle hands and all.”

Erin grinned, giving his shoulder another gentle swat. “Exactly! Great minds think alike, huh? I can’t stand not having anything to do. Makes the time drag by so slow.”

“Great minds…” Sam grumbled from beside him, taking another swig of his whiskey. He immediately began to cough, sputtering as he slapped his chest. “Fuck sakes, what is this? Rubbing alcohol?!”

Erin quickly reached from underneath the counter, grabbing more napkins and dabbing up the spill. She gave Sam an amused smile. “I take it you don’t like whiskey?”

Sam, fighting back tears and still choking, gave a watery smile. His voice was rough and gravelly. Bucky felt himself fighting back a grin.

“Oh no,” he slowly turned to face Bucky, eyes squinting slightly. “It’s my favorite. Just love the uh, the burn. Makes me feel like I’m sterilizing my insides.” He gave a curt nod, downing the rest of his drink. He let out a long, wheezing exhale, slapping the counter for good measure. “Let’s get another round, shall we?”

Erin gave him a slow nod, eyes cutting to Bucky. Bucky just shrugged. “He’s a masochist.”

Erin made a low hum, quickly reaching for the cup. Sam gave a weak wave of thanks, swiveling around in his seat to catch his breath.

“Hey, Erin, darling?” Bucky leaned forward, catching the bartender’s attention. “You think we can get him somethin’ a lil less, uh…” he risked a glance, wincing as Sam was staring up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. “a little less strong?”

“Like a margarita?”

Bucky smiled sweetly. “Why, yes ma’am, I think that’ll do him just fine. And do you think you could do me one more favor?” Erin blushed, giving a timid nod. “Think you could find your manager? I’d love to put in the good word for my friend here.”

Erin gave one more nod, reaching to her left and setting the empty glasses down. “Sure thing, sweetie. It might be a minute til I get those drinks then, is that alright?”

Bucky made a show of grasping at his chest, making his eyes big and wide. “Why of course, doll. Take your time.” He lowered his lashes, making his voice husky. “I’ll be waiting.”

Bucky waited until he caught the last glimpse of amber hair before turning aggressively in his seat, slapping Sam upside the head.

“Ow! What the fu-?!”

“What is wrong with you?” Bucky hissed, standing up quietly. He scanned the room, biting his lip at the lack of guards. “Thought you said your uncle made moonshine?”

“Uh, he did.”

“Well, obviously it was shit.”

Sam squinted, watching as Bucky subtly patted himself down, ensuring all his weaponry was in its proper place. “You take that back, Barnes. Uncle Roy made the most delicious cherry pie moonshine in the bayou.”

“Right.”

“What are you doing?”

Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What does it look like?”

“Like you’re about to do something incredibly stupid.”

“Interesting choice of words coming from you, Samuel.”

Sam made to stand up, Bucky quickly reaching out and pushing him back into the barstool. “What are you doing, Bucky?”

Bucky motioned towards the doors on the opposite side of the bar. “I’m going to get intel.” Bucky pointed a finger at Sam. “And you, are staying right here.”

Sam frowned. “You’re going? By yourself?”

Bucky lost the battle to stop his eyes from rolling. “Yes, isn’t that what I just said?”

“That wasn’t a part of the plan.”

“It’s called improvising, Wilson.”

“Every time you improvise, you almost die.”

Bucky scoffed. “I do not.”

“You are NOT going by yourself. That was the whole point I’m here, that you coming by YOURSELF was a terrible, terrible idea.”

“It’ll be fine.” Bucky sniffed, giving his shoulders a lose shake. “Besides, I need you to watch the hallway for our bartender or anyone with guns.”

Sam guffawed. “Oh, is that all? So, is that your plan? Just walk into a room, snoop, hope you don’t get caught, and walk right back out?”

Bucky gave a shrug. “Yes.” He snarked.

Sam gave him a dark look. “Are you serious right now? How have you made it to the age you have? What about the cameras?” Sam pointed to the camera directly above them. Bucky slapped his hand.

“We need to work on your subtly, Wilson.” Bucky grounded out. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, giving the screen a few lazy taps, keeping the corner of his eye on the security camera.

The power in the club gave a faint flicker, the music pausing for the briefest of moments before resuming its relentless beat.

Bucky gave a satisfied huff, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Won’t be a problem now.” He said, watching as Sam looked up in confusion.

“What did you do?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Inquiring minds like to know things, Barnes-“

Bucky bit back an irritated groan. He could feel his patience beginning to fray, the adrenaline for the upcoming task starting to surge through his veins. There was also something else, something dark and ominous poking at the back of his subconscious.

“I disabled the cameras from my phone. You know, because I know what I’m doing?” Bucky shot out. Sam gave him a concerned look. “I know you know what you’re doing, Buck. I just need to be more in the loop here.”

Bucky gave a jerky nod towards the dance floor, biting his lip as his mind raced. He needed Sam to stay put. To stay safe.

A warning bell.

So that was what the problem was. Sam.

They were treading dangerous waters, and his senses weren’t at their best. He wouldn’t be able to keep him safe. Not here.

‘They’re at their worst.’ His subconscious unhelpfully snubbed out.

“I need you to watch for Erin and the guards, Sam. The blackout will only last four minutes. Long enough to give me time to try and find what we need, but not so long where someone will notice.”

Sam nodded, moving to stand up. Bucky gently forced him back down. “From here, Sam. Watch for anything suspicious, or if the bartender comes back, tell her I went to take a leak.”

Sam tensed underneath his hand. “I can watch from in the room, Buck. This isn’t a detailed plan. We need more contingencies-“

Bucky felt his face darken. He could feel his anxiety beginning to spike, the overstimulating environment making his nerves spark. He needed to get this done, and he couldn’t drag Sam into it.

He’d have no way to protect him, not in his current state. It was taking everything in him to keep his composure, fighting back winces at the overbearing sounds and smells.

He needed to do this alone. He couldn’t risk anything happening. Not to Sam.

“I am the contingency.” He pulled his hand away from Sam’s shoulder, turning to walk towards the hallway. A hand reached out, gripping his wrist.

Sam was peering at him with wide, concerned eyes, his lips pursed tightly. His mouth opened and closed, before he finally gave a weary sigh, hand releasing its hold. “Be careful, Buck. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bucky gave a tight nod, turning and swiftly making his way back through the crowd. Hands pulled at his shirt, his belt, his hair, but he continued his trek, keeping his eye on the open door a few hundred feet to his right.

He could feel Sam’s gaze on his back, the sensation causing the hairs on his neck to stand on edge. The staunch smells of the club continued to assault his nostrils, bright lights flashing into his eyes, burning his retinas.

He glided his way through the remaining groups, sticking his hands casually in his pockets as he walked towards the bathroom. A quick glance around proved that everyone was too invested in their current entertainment to pay him much mind, so he quickly slunk through the open door.

The room was dark and chilled, a drastic climate difference to the raving through the other side of the doorway. A sudden tingle ran down the length of Bucky’s spine, his teeth gritting down as his senses screamed at him, all hairs standing abruptly. He felt his breath catch, all muscles locking up as he tilted his head to the side.

It was quiet.

Dead quiet. No input from the outside world was reaching this room. Bucky quickly glanced around the shadowy corners, his heart beginning to hammer wildly at the sudden surge of adrenaline.

There was nothing, only the encompassing silence.

No cheering. No blasting of the base, or the sudden screams at the announcement of shots. Just that heavy, unnatural silence.

Bucky whipped around, silently padding back towards the doorway.

Maybe he should get Sam-

He stopped, observing the party scene directly across from him, just a few feet away, everything moving and flashing, but no sound reaching his ears except his own heartbeat.

Sam would be fine where he was. He could handle a quiet room. There were worse things, after all.

He looked up, a small, black device catching his eye. It was sitting precariously on the top of the doorframe, a faint blue emitting from the center. The glow was so faint that Bucky could barely tell it was there, his advanced eyesight only catching it in waves at certain angles. The blue haze seemed to be wrapped around the entire room, flickering in and out of sight.

‘What the fuck?’

Bucky cautiously reached up with his Vibranium hand, wrapping his fingers delicately around the device. He could feel an electric charge as he tried to pull it from the doorframe, but it seemed to be held there by some invisible force.

Bucky frowned, retracting his hand as he walked the perimeter of the room. Better to not barbeque himself on mystery technology.

“Interesting tech.” He murmured, quietly stalking over to the empty desk. “Why the need for such privacy, Sharon? What do you have going on in this little room?”

It seemed to be just an ordinary office with a few lounge chairs, a small fridge, and an expensive looking oak desk tucked at the back corner. Bucky walked over, lifting his eyes as he observed the club from a completely unincumbered view.

From this angle in the room, you could see directly into the club, specifically the entrance and bar. Smart.

The corner of a folder caught his eye, the very tip of it peeking out from the desk’s bottom drawer. He raised an eyebrow, casting another glance around the room. Subtle.

He gave the handle an experimental tug, huffing as it made an annoying click.

So. It was locked. Rude.

He squatted down, tracing Vibranium fingers along the drawers’ outer edges. From what he could tell, there weren’t wires leading anywhere, so hopefully he shouldn’t blow up. Key word being hopefully.

He gave the handle another pull, grinning to himself as it easily slid open, lock shattered into little pieces.

“Well, that was easy enough-“

A sudden cloud burst from the drawer, coating his face with particles and filling his lungs.

‘You just had to say something, didn’t you?’

He slammed his eyes and mouth shut, jerking himself back with such velocity he tumbled down and through a wooden chair. He heard wood shattering and his own panicked breathing coming in shallow gasps.

Of all things, poison hidden in a drawer was NOT on his bingo card for how he expected this evening to go. The mystery vapor was filling his lungs, his throat and burning his body from the inside out. He hacked, wiping his face to try and dislodge the powder from his eyes and nose.

There was no odor. No taste. God fucking damnit.

He could feel it absorbing into his bloodstream, his limbs beginning to feel heavy and leaden.

“What the actual FUCK!?” Bucky roared, spit dribbling between his lips as he clawed at his eyes, tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks. It felt as if he’d been pepper sprayed with a ghost pepper, every nerve ending on his body lit on fire.

So, a neurotoxin then. He could feel it already corrupting his body, every movement agonizing. God. Fucking. Damnit.

It probably wouldn’t kill him, thanks to his Super Soldier metabolism.

Probably.

The smallest vibration made him pause, the floorboards to his left creaking. He felt himself tense, tilting his head as he stayed crouched on his hands and knees. His left ear caught another small squeak, his hands picking up the subtle shift as a mystery weight shifted the wood underneath.

He ripped his eyes open, ignoring the sting as he quickly jolted backwards, back smacking onto the floor behind him. He watched as a fist barely missed the left side of his face, a blur appearing over his body.

Instinct took over as he threw out his Vibranium arm, closing it around a throat. He heard a man’s voice curse, followed by sputtering.

He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he squeezed, shouting out as he felt a sharp stab at his collarbone. He looked down, raising his eyebrows at the knife hilt sticking out of his chest.

Well. It wasn’t a bullet hole, so that was something.

Small mercies.

He looked back up, baring his teeth as he gave the mans neck another squeeze. He could hear the garbling better than he could see it.

“Shouldn’t have fucking gone and done that, pal.” He tightened his grip, feeling something under his fingers give way, a slick pop filling the air. The man went boneless above him, his dead weight making Bucky’s muscles scream.

Bucky threw him off to the side, groaning as the motion pulled at the knife currently embedded in his flesh.

“God damnit.” He whined, slowly hoisting himself upright. His whole body was burning up, his muscles spasming and contracting as they fought off the neurotoxin. He reached for the knife with a twitching hand, grasping unsteadily around the hilt. He gave it a quick jerk, crying out as it came back bloody.

He looked down in mild concern, watching as blood continued to flow out of the wound at an alarming rate. Normally his healing factor would have already kicked in, but as he watched the crimson river currently coating his black t-shirt and leather jacket, he gathered something in the toxin might be hindering that.

Fuck.

That was…unexpected.

He quickly pressed a hand to the wound, cursing as everything tilted sideways. He could feel sweat dripping from his forehead, the nauseating smell of sweat and blood mixing in the air. Blood ran hot between his fingers, gushing down and onto the floor.

Bucky slowly pulled his feet underneath him, struggling to stand. He could feel his knees threatening to buckle, the dark room swirling around him.

Bucky gritted his teeth, releasing pressure to reach down and grasp at the folder that had fallen to the floor. “Not getting fucking stabbed to death just to forget you, you stupid piece of paper.” The floor tilted violently underneath him as he straightened, the wall his only saving grace as his legs almost gave way.

“Fuck…” He squinted down at the file, barely able to make out the font as his vison swam. His eyes were still leaking tears, every fiber of his being burning.

Except for his right pinkie toe. That seemed to be persevering.

His ears picked up on the sound of footsteps, causing him to pause against the wall. All he could hear was the rhythmic pattern of feet hitting the ground, along with his own haggard breathing. No music. No laughter.

‘What the fuck?’ He slowly turned around, ignoring how his stomach churned at the motion. He felt himself freeze in place, gaping at the sudden doorway that had appeared at the back of the room.

He blinked. Then blinked again, watching as small figures gradually grew closer, the new hallways bright, fluorescent lights making his head feel fuzzy. They were shouting, that much was clear, and something pinged off the wall, just a few inches from his face.

Bucky frowned, looking at the new hole in the plaster. A bullet.

Well, guess that was his que.

Bucky spun around, cursing as his knees fought his every move. He leaned against the doorway, wheezing as the corners of his vision went grey. He could feel himself slowly losing the battle to stay conscious, his breath coming in heavy gasps.

“No. Absolutely not. I am not passing out in this fucking room.” Bucky gritted his teeth, screaming as he fought his own failing body, thrusting himself into the chaotic atmosphere of the club.

He was ambushed by strobing lights and the sudden booming of music, the overpowering percussion sending him to the floor. He cursed, fighting wildly back to his feet as he mingled into the crowd, catching a glimpse of guards as they emerged from the office.

He fought against the flow of dancers, every bump, every grind, every touch sending agony through his body. He clutched desperately onto the folder, eyes scanning the bar for Sam.

Sam, who, as always, failed to listen to him. Because his barstool was empty.

Panic seeped into his bones, eyes frantically scanning the dance floor, the exits, the hallway he’d just crawled from. Nothing.

He spun around wildly, yelping as he collided with a solid body. He looked up, internally grimacing as he came face to face with the bouncer from earlier, who was currently looking at him with a predatory gaze.

Bucky gave a weak grin, waving halfheartedly. “Well, fancy seeing you here-“

A fist came flying for his face. “Oh, fuck-“

Bucky flew backwards, crying out as he slammed onto the ground, the vibrations of the dance floor ricocheting into his bones. He gasped as a boot came from his side, only able to watch weakly as he took a hit square in the temple and knocked him onto his back.

Stars danced across his vision, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood spilling from his lips, darkness slowly encroaching his vision. The bouncer’s beefy face towered over him, and his sudden weight across his chest emptied his lungs.

Bucky felt that familiar, feral fear leap in his gut, unwanted memories violently shrieking to the surface. He bucked his hips against the intrusion, grunting as the bouncer’s finger found its way into the knife wound.

“Shame for something so pretty to be muffed up so terribly, isn’t it?” The bouncer grinned, his foul breath slapping Bucky across the face. His eyes darkened as he sat on top of him, looking down with an undressing gaze. His weight felt like a crushing, unmovable force, pinning Bucky’s arms to his sides. “Looks like you need a new partner.”

Bucky kicked his feet out, wheezing as he failed to move the man above him. The mans thighs gave his sides a vice like squeeze, Bucky’s ribs screaming in protest.

Bucky could feel terror leap into his throat, eyes wildly searching the vicinity for anything, anyone, he could use to get away. But no one was paying them any mind, too busy dancing or getting high.

There it was again. That untamable, petrifying terror. The familiar leer, something Bucky had seen too many times in his long life.

It was always the same look. Same look, different eyes, different bodies, different faces. Always wanting something from him. TAKING from him. Destroying him. And even now, with all this strength, he was powerless to stop it.

Funny how things worked out. He never wanted this science experiment of a body, yet here he was. Wishing like anything in the world to just have an ounce of his usual strength left in his weakened limbs, his body beginning to quiver violently in fear.

That terrifying, uncontrollable fear. He could never escape it.

“Get-“Bucky ground out, fighting back hot prickling tears. “Off- Of-ME.”

The bouncer just leered back, hooking his finger into the knife wound. Bucky bit back a moan, struggling as the pain blew his vision red. He could feel bile at the back of his throat, tears streaming down his face at the onslaught of sensations. Of knowing what would come next.

The oppressing weight holding him down, his failing body too weak to fight back, to do ANYTHING, the hot, vile breath blowing onto his neck-

He was flashed back to 1945. Back then, he’d been so sure Steve would come. That Steve would save him. Would rescue him from the hell he’d found himself trapped in, whisk him away and make everything alright.

But Steve hadn’t, and Steve was gone, fucked off to the past and living a whole life away from the horrors and terror of this timeline. And Sam was nowhere to be found.

Bucky could feel fresh tears falling freely from his eyes now, sniffing back a sob as the man leaned further across him, his face inches from his lips, his body flush with his.

Where was Sam?

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut against the flooding of memories, a gasp leaving his lips as the crushing weight was abruptly heaved from his chest. His lungs screamed at the welcome air, ribs aching as he took in a few, heaving, desperate breaths.

Bucky flinched as a hand appeared into view, waiting for the blow.

There wasn’t one.

“Buck?” Came a soft voice. Even over the blaring thrum of music, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Bucky slowly opened his teary eyes, sighing as Sam stood over him, the bright light from the disco ball painting him like a vengeful angel. One hand was held out to him, the other clutching a small knife, the tip covered in blood.

A quick glance to his side showed whose blood it was, the bouncer laying lifeless on his stomach. Sam followed his gaze, his eyes hardening as he gave the bouncer’s body a snarl.

“Don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.” Sam knelt down slowly, keeping his hand where Bucky’s eyes could follow. Bucky’s heart felt like it was on the verge of leaping into his throat, tears making everything blurry and distorted. “Are you alright?” Sam asked gently, scanning him over with growing horror. “Probably a stupid question.” He added gently.

Bucky weakly nodded, closing his eyes as he dropped his head back down to the ground. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, the threat of vomiting still potentially in his future.

Everything hurt and he could feel himself beginning to lose the battle to stay conscious.

He licked his lips, beyond the point of caring as his voice cracked with emotion.

“Me?” Bucky sniffed, fighting back another sob. “Oh, I’m- you know, I’ve been better.” Bucky felt a hand softly reach behind his head, slowly hoisting him upwards, placing him in a sitting position.

Warm fingers found the nape of his neck, massaging the spasming muscles underneath.

God, he was so tired.

He struggled to open his eyes, jutting his chin towards the forgotten folder near their feet. “By the way, please don’t lose that.”

Sam wrapped an arm delicately around Bucky’s waist, the other taking a firm hold of the folder. He slowly lifted them to a standing position, giving Bucky a moment to blink away the floaters that danced in his vision. His knees gave out, a groan escaping him as his shoulder avidly protested.

“Ow…”

“Now would be a bad time to say I told you so, right?”

“I fucking hate you-“

Sam was the only thing standing between him and kissing the ground, his grip gentle but firm. Bucky could barely make out anything else, everything beginning to get hazy around the seams.

“Sam…” Bucky felt a whimper escape his lips, feeling himself slip away from his body, an icy chill slowly creeping into his bones. “I don’t- uh, feel so great.”

Sam shifted his weight, moving them closer to the outer ring of the club. “C’mon, Buck. We are getting the fuck out of here.”

Bucky nodded, his head feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton. “Yeah.” Bucky’s body gave a violent flinch as a man bumped into them, mumbling a drunk apology before diving into the crowd behind them. He fought back a shiver, focusing instead on chewing his bottom lip. “That would be great.”

Sam moved them stealthily along the wall, his head on a swivel as they grew closer and closer to the exit. Bucky could practically see their escape, watching as taxis and headlights flashed from behind the glass. It felt so far away.

And then there was something, a sensation or a sound. Maybe even something caught by his subconscious.

Bucky wasn’t sure what it was, but something caused him to plant his boots firmly to the spot, stopping Sam in his tracks. He could feel his instincts fighting their way to the surface, muffled and weakened, but screaming.

Sam huffed, looking at him in concern. “Buck?”

Bucky gave a slow shake, eyeing the exit wearily. It seemed unimposing, but there was something not quite right.

“I don’t think we should go that way, Sam.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Bucky squinted, a shadow flickering in and out of view, obscured by the dumpsters just outside the door. Once his vision somewhat cleared, silhouettes took shape. Guards, and from the looks of it, quite a few.

Under normal circumstances, he’d like those odds. But given his current predicament and the amount of blood slowly dripping onto his boots, he’d rather not come to blows if he could help it.

Something glistened in one of their hands, shimmering in the dim streetlight. A weapon Bucky was eerily familiar with. And they were walking back towards the exit door, each looking as if they were carrying an excessive amount of firepower. His stomach dropped.

Oh. Fuck.

“Bucky, we need to get you the fuck out of here, NOW. Before you bleed out! Let’s go!” Sam gave a gentle tug towards the door.

Bucky swallowed against the bile fighting its way up his esophagus, leaning his weight onto his heels to push them back towards the crowd. He gave his head another quick shake, ignoring how his body was growing weaker by the second.

“Unless you want to get blown into little pieces, I suggest you listen to me.”

Bucky pushed further back, hissing as the guards slowly filtered into the club, boxing them in. “Now, Sam!”

Sam wasted no time, quickly shoving them into the center of the dancefloor, the sudden shift causing the room to tilt sideways. But Sam was there, his arms deftly wrapping themselves underneath his arms, dragging them chest to chest.

Bucky rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, wheezing as he fought to find equilibrium. “Now you listen to me.” He groaned as they were pushed further into the hoard, being slammed on all sides as the music changed. The crowd cheered, the screaming causing his eardrums to vibrate in his skull.

Sam leaned himself backwards, keeping Bucky close as he moved them in slow circles, his arms a soothing balm. He risked moving one arm out from underneath Bucky’s elbow, reaching up and resting it on his cheek. Bucky felt his eyes close against his will, Sam’s hand warm and solid.

Everything else was starting to turn cold.

“-Bucky? Stay with me now.” Bucky fought his eyelids back open, struggling as they tried to close shut. Sam gave his face a gentle tap, enough to jar him back to awareness.

“Huh?”

“We need to get out of here, Buck. NOW.”

“Hm.” Bucky hummed, squinting tired eyes as he scanned the room. There were guards on all exits now, as well as some entering the outskirts of the dancefloor. He peered towards the bathroom, feeling a sliver of hope as it seemed empty.

That could work.

“Get us to the bathroom, Sam.” Bucky grunted, attempting to place a foot in that direction. Sam stopped him, looking towards the hallway in confusion. “We can take a leak later, Barnes!”

“Sam…I’m about to bleed out and probably die from a neurotoxin, do you really think I want my last breath to be in a fucking bathroom?” Bucky moaned, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out Rhodey’s lighter.

He held it up for Sam to see, motioning with his eyebrows back towards the bathrooms. “We use this to set of the smoke alarms, and we disperse with the chaos.”

Sam sucked a tooth, nodding slowly. “That makes sense.”

Bucky blinked. “Of course it makes sense.”

Sam glanced around, turning his gaze back towards the restroom. “Alright terminator, let’s cause a felony.”

Bucky felt his face twist into a bewildered frown, looking at Sam as he practically dragged them through the crowd. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“I don’t like making a habit of breaking the rules, Buck. What can I say?”

Bucky cursed as a dancer bumped into his side, causing him to almost slip from Sam’s grasp. Sam caught him before he could completely collapse, hoisting him back upright with ease. Bucky gave Sam a disgruntled huff.

“You do remember you just killed a guy, right? Not even five minutes ago.”

Sam’s face darkened as they made it to the hallway, taking a moment to give Bucky a firm glare. His eyes had gone dark, his expression turned stony and cold. Bucky felt himself shrink back just slightly. It wasn’t a look he’d ever seen on Sam before.

“Think I can live with that one, Buck.” Was all Sam gritted out, turning back to the mission at hand. Bucky could feel how he’d suddenly gotten tense all over, his arm keeping itself wrapped protectively around his middle. “We’ll talk about all this later, okay?” He added quietly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles at Bucky’s hipbone.

Bucky sighed, leaning more of his weight against Sam’s shoulder. “Fair enough.”

They made it to the restroom entrance without resistance, Sam peeking his head around the door to confirm no stragglers were taking occupancy. He then aggressively grabbed Bucky’s collar, dragging him around the door as a guard turned the corner.

“Fuck!” Bucky cursed as he slipped, barely escaping a concussion as Sam yanked him back to his feet. Bucky leaned heavily against the tile walls, squeezing his eyes shut as the world spun around him violently. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Just aim it away from me, please.” Sam quirked, walking to the napkin dispenser and yanking out an obscene number of napkins. Bucky raised an eyebrow, observing as Sam continued to make a large ball.

Sam caught his look, giving him an annoyed frown. “What?” He snapped.

Bucky just shrugged, ignoring how his whole body had gone eerily numb. “Nuthin’.” He sucked a tooth, eyeing the wad of paper. “That’s just a lot of napkins. Seems kind of wasteful.”

Sam gave him an incredulous look. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’m always serious, Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, groaning as he slid down the length of the wall to sit unceremoniously on the cold, damp ground. He at least assumed it was damp and cold, he couldn’t really tell much of anything at this point.

Sam was at his side in moments, all annoyance gone and concern flooding his features. “Buck! Hey now, what’s going on?” He reached out and clasped Bucky’s face delicately into his hands, trying to meet his eyes. “Look at me, Buck.”

Bucky lolled his head, fighting his gaze up Sam’s face. He was just so tired. Maybe he could just rest here for just a second.

“Bucky!” Sam’s voice was thick with fear, his fingers smacking Bucky’s cheeks with annoying insistence. Bucky finally met his eyes, watching as Sam seemed to grow more apprehensive.

“Hm?” Bucky feebly motioned towards the discarded ball of napkins, tapping his Vibranium fingers a few times on Rhodey’s lighter. “Should probably get goin’ on that, Wilson.” His voice was beginning to slur, his tongue heavy and cumbersome in his mouth.

That probably wasn’t good.

Sam looked down at the napkins, quickly turning back and snatching the lighter out of Bucky’s hand. He moved like lightning, or at least, seemed that way to Bucky. It was becoming more difficult to tell the passing of time, everything was ebbing and weaving around him.

He must have blacked out, because one minute he was watching Sam fan a small fire, smiling deliriously at the stupidity of their situation, and the next Sam was bolting them out of the bathroom, plunging them into a panicked crowd.

Sirens were blaring over the speakers as guests screamed and panicked, shoving each other viciously to make it to the exits. Bucky looked around in mild amusement, Sam continuing to tug them towards the front entrance.

“Definitely chaotic.” Bucky mused, grunting as he was rammed by a struggling dancer, her hands clawing desperately as she was pushed by the current of people away from the doors.

“You think? Jesus.” Sam’s eyes were darting around the room wildly, his grip on Bucky’s hip and shoulders borderline painful. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah, that definitely would be the best idea-“Bucky flinched at the sound of gunfire, a few bullets whizzing past their heads and shattering the florescent lighting above them.

Sam pushed them to the ground, covering his body over Bucky’s as a hail of bullets flew above them, glass falling like deadly daggers around them. Bucky reached out desperately to cover Sam’s head, eyes widening as he caught sight of a guard pointing in their direction.

The guard shifted his body, heaving something up from beyond view. Bucky felt his gut churn, that familiar, killer instinct shrieking at him, screaming at him to MOVE.

Everything slowed to a stop as he flipped Sam’s position, reaching an arm out and gripping Sam’s forearm with uncontrolled force. He could hear Sam yell his name, cursing as Bucky bolted to his feet, dragging Sam beside him. He ignored every fiber in his being that screamed he wouldn’t make it, that his body was too weak to handle the strain, because if he didn’t…

Well, good thing he didn’t have time to think about that. He let his instincts take over.

He blew through the rest of the crowd, his superhuman strength knocking people down like bowling pins. He yanked Sam to his chest, carrying him bridal style as he jutted his chin downward, shielding Sam with his body as he used his shoulders like a battering ram to explode through the glass door.

He heard the familiar ping of a trigger releasing, followed by the whizz of a rocket. He clenched his teeth, forcing his legs to move faster as he turned sharply to the right, his boots ripping off at the traction. He sprinted barefoot across the street, everything blurring as he unleashed all his strength into his strides, cradling Sam’s neck to prevent whiplash.

He heard the explosion before he felt it, the percussion of the missile landing just a few feet to his left. The shockwave blasted him off his feet, hurdling them into a parked car. Bucky quickly tucked himself around Sam, absorbing the brunt of the force as they struck, a pained wheeze escaping his lips as they landed on the asphalt.

Everything suddenly erupted in white, and for just a moment, he could only hear his own haggard breathing. He stared up blankly at the sky, feeling blood continue to trickle from his shoulder as he fought the darkness fighting to take him.

He saw a metal silhouette fly above them, as well as another, with metallic wings that were oddly familiar, watching weakly as they released a retaliation set of small missiles. The sky above them lit up in an array of colorful explosions, the ground beneath him shaking at the impact. Sam appeared again in his vision, blocking out whatever else might be going on.

He stood by it, and he’d never admit it, but Sam looked like an angel like this, haloed by fiery explosions.

God, he really needed to stop letting this shit happen. It was beginning to become a habit.

He turned his focus back to Sam, whose lips were moving but no sound seemed to be coming out. Bucky frowned, blinking as Sam’s voice began to warble into his hearing.

“-ucky, hang on! Just hang on, okay? Torres is here with Rhodey, they’re taking care of Sharons goons. Just hang in there, okay? Don’t fall asleep! Help is on the way, okay? We made it! Don’t fall asleep, Buck.”

Bucky just blinked in response, feeling a low whine leave his lips as Sam put pressure on his shoulder. His eyes were growing heavier by the second, his hearing continuing to weave in and out.
“S’m,” Bucky whispered, licking his dry lips. “Sam, I’m…I’m really tired.”

Sam cradled Bucky into his lap, continuing to keep firm pressure on the wound. His fingers where beginning to shimmer with red. “Nah, now.” Sam’s eyes were beginning to tear up, rocking them back and forth. Another explosion rocked the world around them, setting everything alit with vibrant hues. Sam continued; eyes focused on the fray down the street. “You’re never tired, Buck. Can’t get lazy on me now.”

Bucky scoffed, or attempted too. All that came out was an indignant cough, his lungs burning and spasming as the neurotoxin continued to absorb into his muscles. He coughed, poking Sam with a finger. “I’m not-“ he hacked, groaning at the strain on his body, “Not lazy.” He weakly finished.

“Totally are.”

“M’ not.”

“Then stay awake and we can talk about it.” Sam turned back, leaning down to rest his forehand on Bucky’s. “Don’t fall asleep, Buck. Please.”

Bucky could feel his eyes beginning to prickle, fighting with all his remaining strength to keep them open. But he could feel the rest of the fight leaving his body, the adrenaline rush slowly ebbing away.

His ears could make out the sound of a jet, a pair of boots hitting the ground. The feet were rapidly hitting the concrete, coming closer by the second. Bucky fought to push himself into a sitting position, but Sam gently pushed him back down.

“It’s alright Buck, it’s just Torres. You’re going to be okay.” Sam cooed in his ear. Bucky heard the sharp intake as Torres turned the corner, followed by Sam barking a flurry of orders.

“Get over here, now! Hold pressure on this wound!”

“Oh my god, why is he bleeding so much? I thought the serum-“

“Just do it, Joaquin!”

Bucky tried, he really did. But he was just so tired, his spasming muscles continuing to sap the remainder of his strength. The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was the soothing sound of Sam’s voice, and the booms of explosions.