the half of us

Missions go wrong.

That's a fact of the business, something Bucky was always told to remember. It's 'imperative' to keep it in mind if there are any mistakes on a mission. Mistakes happen. Things go wrong.

But this wasn't just a mistake. It wasn't just a slip up, a mishap that nearly gets them caught, nearly puts them in danger, nearly blows the mission.

Oh no.

They finished the mission, but if it ends up being that the cost was Sam's life, Bucky will personally fight everybody who ever told him "mistakes" are a good thing on a mission, that they're progress. Missions shouldn't go wrong, not like this.

...

The hospital bed remains still, and the man lain upon it does not stir. Bucky watches from the chair next to the bed, gazing along Sam's injuries, watching every time he twitches or shifts ever so slightly. He knows his partner isn't conscious, that's passed out from a mix of pain and high amounts of drugs. But everytime he moves Bucky swears his heart stops momentarily, leaping to the front of his rib cage and beating even quicker, hoping the man beside him will wake up eventually. He wants Sam to wake up already.

"Sam." He says slowly, "I know you can't hear me. If you could I'd scold you for being a reckless idiot. But you can't. So I won't bother."

He stops his talking to laugh softly, taking in Sam's features, so much more relaxed and young-looking while captured by slumber.
"But... I still think... I mean, you are an idiot, but you better wake up. Can't have you dying on me, can I?"

...

The silence that follows is overwhelming.

Bucky bit his lip and glanced away, afraid to look anymore at the unconscious man. He doesn't like what he sees.

"Sam." He says again. He doesn't know why he expected a reply this time, but it still hurts. It hurts that the room is so empty. It needs another voice.

He ought to make that call about now, he really should make that call, but he just can't. He doesn't think he can face anybody else right now.

———

His eyes slowly began to flutter open, and as he adjusted to the light, he staggered to lift himself upright to lean against the wall. Pain shot up his spine like a bullet and he groaned, trembling under his own suddenly overwhelming weight.
"Shit."

A moment later, the door to the hospital room creaked open, scraping along the floor. Standing in the doorway, Bucky froze to the ground and stared on blankly at Sam like a deer caught in headlights. The brunette's face softened a little, and he smiled faintly.

"Look who's awake.." Bucky chuckled slightly, and walked over to Sam's hospital bed, handing him a bottle of water. Sam raised an eyebrow as he took the water.
"And look who's being civil." He yawned.

Bucky huffed irritably and perched on the chair beside Sam, watching intently as Sam sipped his water, allowing him to swallow it before beginning conversation again.

"So you uh... you're okay, are you?" He asked nervously, seeming to shift strangely as if he doesn't know what to do with his hands.

"Maybe."

Sam closed his eyes gradually.

———

Bucky pressed his finger to his mic, straining his hearing to the faint whirring noise.
"Sam? Where are you, I'm waiting by where we agree we were going to exit from."

There came no reply, and he felt his heart drop to his stomach.
"Sam, answer me. Answer. Me. Please..."

Silence.
"C'mon... come on..."

There was now muffled, shaky breathing from the other end of the system, and his heart lurched again.

"Sam. Keep breathing, I'll come find you." Bucky growled, staggering to his feet and clambering out from his hiding spot. He ran out of the room, recklessly not even checking the space around him. The place was silent and last he heard from Sam, most of the guys were unconscious (and a few might have died).

"Sam!"

Sam's eyes barely fluttered in the dim light, glancing wearily up at Bucky running into the room before closing again. A gaping wound spread across his arm, more deep scratches scattered across his exposed face. Blood seeped through his top, dripping down onto the ground and pooling a little underneath him.
"Holy shit.." Bucky whispered, hands trembling violently as they slowly traced over Sam's wounds, hovering over his chest and shaking, "Sam, can you hear me?" He whispered hoarsely, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.
"Think I'm... gonna... pass out...?" Sam rasped, leaning forward a little, before stopping and falling backwards, smacking his back against the wall and sinking against the bricks.

Bucky's heart almost stopped.
"No.. no. Sam. Sam. Sam! Wake up. Please, oh my god, wake up..."

Getting Sam back to the car blurs in his head. He doesn't remember how it happened, he just remembers putting Sam into the car, making sure he was safe, smacking his head down onto the headboard and yelling out in frustration.

That's as far as his memory will allow.

He quickly drove them to the nearest hospital, where Sam was immediately admitted to a room. They bandaged and stitched him up, and then left him in a hospital room.

Bucky had just waited outside the doors of the hospital room and waited to be permitted in.

He waited.

———

“Maybe isn’t really the answer I was hoping for.”

“Did you want me to lie? Because I don’t know. I don’t feel anything. Did they drug me?”

Bucky almost laughed.
“Yeah. Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Good. Cos if not, I’d reckon the numbness meant something was wrong.” Sam mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and wincing a little, “Nevermind. I felt that.”

“Guess they aren’t working all that well then, hm?” Bucky said with a small smile, closing his eyes and finally feeling his shoulders relax as he sank back in to the chair.

Sam looked away, casting his eyes to the other corner of the room. He felt like he was staring at Bucky, and his patience had already been wearing thin before today. He exhaled shakily, biting his lip and shifting anxiously.

“How did you get us here?” He asked quietly.

“The car.”

“We don’t have a car.”

“I stole it from them.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There fell an awkward silence, which began to get under Bucky’s skin. It felt like there was something he didn’t know, something he should know, but there was no noise, no words to tell him, no faces to show him, nothing. The ache of worry in his heart still hurt slightly, but why? Sam was here, he was clearly alive and breathing, his condition was recoverable, what was there left to be concerned about?

But that was just it, wasn’t it? He looked at Sam, but Sam didn’t look back. The man turned away and stared to the ground, body still except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Sam was silent, he didn’t say anything. He just… sat. And stared, but not at Bucky. He stared at the ground, or the wall, just anywhere other than Bucky. Look at me.

Bucky wasn’t having any of this. He got to his feet swiftly and then gingerly placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, cautious not to startle him.
“Sam.” He soothed, “What’s going on? Are you in pain? Talk to me.”

Sam leaned into the strangely warm touch, taking a quick shaky breath and then turning away.
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

That wasn’t a lie. Sam was tired. He was tired of feeling shitty, he was tired of not understanding himself and why he felt the way he did about everything, why his thoughts insisted on being such a way. He thought being enamoured by Bucky would just last for a short while, maybe just for a month, because they weren’t made for eachother, were they? Bucky needed stability, and Sam knew he would totally fuck that up, he’d fail Bucky again and again and again. Time after time.

But his heart had other plans, apparently. And Bucky touching his shoulder, his voice being so soft, was too much. Stop it, stop it, stop it, because he might just give in if Bucky isn’t careful.

Bucky saw straight through that response.
“Tired of what?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he perched beside Sam and leant into his shoulder. The question took Sam off guard, and he froze up completely. Bucky looked worried.
“Sorry, uh, was that an overstep?” The brunette asked, but Sam slowly shook his head, breath hitching in his throat.
“No. I just don’t know the answer to your question.” Sam whispered, looking to Bucky and smiling weakly.

The smile was a surprise. Bucky blinked frantically, now losing his ability to speak, heat creeping ever so slightly up his face. It was just unexpected, that’s all. Nothing more.

“Oh.” He breathed.

Bucky’s eyes drifted over to Sam’s face, taking in all his features and landing at his eyes.
“Do you think the drugs are strong enough that you won’t remember this conversation when you next wake up?”

“Weird question but maybe. Depends if you say anything I need to remember.” Sam laughed nervously.

“I hope you don’t feel the need to remember this then.” Bucky muttered.

Suddenly, Sam felt another pair of lips connected to his, pressed against his face as a warm hand cupped his cheek. Sam’s eyes blew wide open before he realised where he was and he relaxed into the kiss, closing his eyes and sinking backwards.

The kiss ended a second later, Bucky pulling away and getting up from the bed.
“Oh my god what the fuck.”

Sam felt his stomach lurch, and he choked on his breath. Had Bucky not wanted that? What was wrong?
“Is something.. wrong?”

“No! No…” Bucky trailed off, clearing his throat, “I just didn’t expect you to kiss back, actually.”

“Oh.”

“I guess I hope you choose to remember that part now.”

“I will.” Sam whispered.

“I uh… sorry. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I was tired of waiting for that.”

Bucky’s heart sped up, nearly crashing through his chest. He stared dumbly at Sam’s smug smile, turning red in the face, before smiling back and sitting back down.
“Fucks sake, Sam.”
“What?”
“I’ll find something to be mad about. But you know what? I thought I was never going to get a chance to do that. I’d never have forgiven myself.”

Sam smiled, laughing sweetly.
“You should’ve done it earlier then.” Sam teased, resting his heavy head upon Bucky’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
“Sorry to make you wait.” The brunette said quietly.
“You’ve got plenty time to make up for it. Starting now.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he reddened even more. God. Was he actually falling in love with Sam Wilson?

Yes, definitely.

———

“You should get some sleep. I’ve gotta call Banner, he’s waiting on a call.”

Sam yawned and leant back into the bed.
“You go do that, then.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Bucky left the room.

Once the door was fully closed, Sam pressed his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut and internally freaking out.

Okay, what the fuck?

“Damn it..” he hissed.

———

Bruce finally saw his phone buzz and he jumped to his feet, quickly picking up.

Clint and Thor watched him, eyebrows raised.

“Was beginning to think you were both dead.”

“Not quite.” Came the reply from the other end of the line.

“Something about that doesn’t sound good.” Bruce inquired, furrowing his brows.

“Sam got injured. Badly. He’s okay though, he’s alive, he’s awake. He’s gonna be fine pretty quick, but we got a scare.” Bucky explained.

Bruce froze, and then sighed.
“Was it near-fatal?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sorry. Give him our best, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I will.”

Clint must’ve picked up on who the conversation was between, and got to his feet.
“Did you kiss the man yet or no?”

Bruce roared with laughter, and even Thor snickered.

The other end of the line went silent, and then Bucky grumbled something incoherent, followed by,
“Die in a hole.”

…

“Yes I did.”

Clint yelled, “Fucking finally!”