stupid
They arrived to Karlis vacated camp in a matter of minutes, the blood still on Sam’s hand, and on the shield. “You okay?” Bucky asked as Sam stood beside the motorcycle, Bucky leaning against it.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” Bucky could see through that as easily as you can see through glass. “No, you’re not.” Bucky said softly, and watched as Sam’s face became softer, the way his eyes told Bucky all he needed to know. No, he wasn’t, but he didn’t want to say it. Because if he didn’t stay, then maybe it would all be okay. But it wasn’t. But it really wasn’t.
Sam had a child's blood on his hand. He had to watch the symbol he had stood behind murder an innocent child. He was far from okay. Sam sighed, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bucky. The cool vibranium was set on his shoulder, Bucky’s thumb brushing against Sam’s shoulder. “John’ll get his punishment, that kid will get his justice. You didn’t kill him.”
“But that symbol did. The symbol on my back has a kid's blood spread across.” Sam muttered, close to tears. Bucky nodded, a lump in his throat. Bucky knew what he meant. Bucky knew that this would stay with Sam for a long, long time. If Walker doesn’t get what he deserved, then Bucky doesn’t know how Sam would be. He doesn’t know how he’d be. Bucky’s stood behind that symbol for a long time. As long as he’s had full control, that was the symbol he fought for. And now it had blood smeared across it.
“C’mon, let’s get changed.” Bucky suggested quietly, his hand slipping behind Sam’s neck, resting along his shoulders. They made their way inside, hearing the sound of helicopters above them, no doubt the GRC trying to track down Karli. Or Walker, for that matter.
~~~~~~~
Sam was scrubbing the blood from the shield, from his hand, and he felt like he was gonna pass out. Could it have been from the constant action and little to no sleep? Could it have been watching a child die in front of him? Could it have been the blood loss? It was probably all those things, realistically, but the feeling of wiping blood that wasn’t his off of Sam’s hand would never be easy. Especially when it was a kid. He rarely ever did it himself.
Sometime in this process, Sam had started to feel tears well in his eyes. He didn’t really notice he was crying until he felt Bucky presence in the doorway of the hidden room Sam had isolated himself in.
“Sam.”
“I’m fine.”
“Clearly.” Bucky paused, his eyes darting around the room. The shield, the red, Sam’s hand, the rag. “Here, lemme help you.” Bucky said, walking into the room slowly. Sam would’ve put up a fight if he wasn’t so tired. He only nodded, and watched as Bucky knelt down beside him.
He noticed that Bucky was out of his one armed leather jacket, and dressed in the next all black outfit he could find. Sam smiled at him softly, and handed Bucky the blood soaked rag. The shield was cleaned, Sam made sure of that. But his hand. Most of it had either dried, some of it was wiped off on Bucky’s jacket on the way here. A bit of it was cleaned off by the rag while Sam was cleaning the shield, but there was still a lot of blood.
Gingerly, Bucky held Sam’s hand in his metal hand, palm facing Bucky. The rag pressed lightly against Sam’s hand, wiping off the semi-dried blood. Sam didn’t know what it was, what had taken him over, he buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, shutting his eyes tight.
Bucky was evidently thrown off by this gesture, and froze. If Sam noticed, he didn’t say anything. After all, it had been a long day. Not knowing how to react, Bucky just kept washing the blood from Sam’s hand.
Once Bucky had finished, he realized that Sam’s even breath against Bucky’s neck meant Sam was sleeping. Realizing he was trapped for at least 10 minutes, Bucky started to check Sam for smaller wounds, making sure not to wake him up.
As Bucky predicted, around 10 minutes later, Sam stirred awake, a soft look on his face that Bucky had to pry his eyes from to stop himself from staring. The rag was resting next to the shield, Sam’s hand and wounds cleaned.
“‘M sorry for fallin’ asleep on ya.” Sam murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. Bucky shook his head softly. “It’s fine. You deserve it. And I deserve the quiet.” Bucky replied with a smile. Sam rolled his eyes, wearing a smile that matched Bucky’s.
“Torres texted me. He should be here in 20 minutes tops.” He informed Sam, and the younger man's only response was a nod, and got up, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you off to go take care of Zemo?” Bucky only nodded to Sam’s question, and slipped out of the building, finding the motorcycle he had ‘rented’ still outside.
Bucky took off into the street, feeling a prickle of regret as he left Sam, vulnerable and not looking for help, but he knew he needed it.
Sam got like that all the time, he was like that when Bucky first met him, when he wouldn’t talk about his nightmares, when he wouldn’t talk to Bucky when he offered him help. It was aggravating as much as it was heartbreaking. Obviously, Bucky got like that too, but seeing Sam like that was something that broke Bucky’s heart.
~~~~~~~
At the moment, Bucky was on a plane, heading back to New York. He had a plan. First, he’d go back to New York, and pack a bag. He doesn’t know where he’d go, but he isn’t staying in New York, he knows that. Then, he’d go find Zemo.
Seemed like a good plan. Maybe those ‘long separate vacations’ Sam mentioned were kicking in. Bucky doesn’t know when he’d find Zemo, or where, for that matter. And Sam… Bucky doesn’t know what’s up with him and Sam. After months of ignoring Sam, hating Sam, blaming Sam, they fell into their routine a bit more than he thought they would. Banter, small moments, insults at each other's (and others) expense. It was nice. But then Bucky left. And he doesn’t know when he’s coming back.
But that doesn’t matter right now, because Bucky arrived in New York, and he has a plan.
~~~~~~~~
His apartment was cold, and he missed rent, and his fridge looked like a green house. Dear god. Bucky moved away from the kitchen as quickly as possible, and walked into his room, and he really should’ve cleaned it out more.
After several minutes of digging through the mess of stuff piled up, he finds his duffle bag and a few outfits. While he was digging through all his stuff, he found a picture of Steve and Nat, undoubtedly taken by Sam. He was always really sentimental, printing off pictures, and he never deleted them off his phone. Bucky didn’t know if it stemmed from him telling Sam that “romance was dead” because no one actually carried around pictures of their partners anymore. Sam only rolled his eyes at Bucky, but ever since he said that, Bucky started seeing more pictures in the apartment.
Bucky stared at the picture for a bit longer before pocketing it, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He was making a quick detour.
~~~~~~~~
The plane ride was quick, Bucky was too preoccupied in his thoughts to really concentrate on anything else. The quickly changed, however, when he was walking down the street on the way to Nat, when he noticed a torn up pride flag in a window. Breathing got a bit harder.
Bucky thought- he thought it was okay. He thought everything was okay. He thought he was okay. He didn’t have to hide when he was with Sam. Well, he did, but for a different reason. Wasn’t the world better? Wasn’t it just a bit kinder?
Guess not.
~~~~~~~~
“It’s been a rough couple of months, Nat.” Bucky said softly, kneeling down to set the picture from his pocket. He stayed there for a bit, his eyes catching the locket he and Sam put there, months and months ago. He wondered if Yelena came back monthly. If Sam came back. They probably did. Bucky hadn’t.
He sighed, scrolling through his phone, his mind was still distant, distracted.
Racial profiling- the problem, the stats, the victims
“I’m such an idiot.” Bucky breathed out. Sam couldn’t take the shield not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Because the world wasn’t fair, because of who he was. God, Bucky was so stupid.
“Nat, I’m so stupid.” He has to make this up. He has to understand. He has to try. God, Bucky should really think more often.
~~~~~~~~
The entire plane ride to Sokovia, Bucky reads up in racism in America, the privilege he has as a white man, racial discrimination, America’s dirty history, and Bucky’s downright fuming. This is- why didn’t he realize this sooner? Why didn’t he just listen?
Bucky never should’ve interfered with Sam’s decision, Bucky never should’ve said the words “just give him your ID.” Bucky should’ve listened. Bucky never should’ve called Sam a coward. At the end of all of this, Bucky was definitely the coward. He was so in the wrong, he was so, so wrong.
~~~~~~~~
Sam: I have the shield, I think I might take up the mantle
Bucky stared at the text, just as he was landing in what Sokovia used to be. Thank god, Bucky thought, because as long as John ‘Murder’ Walker didn’t have it, it was all fine. Bucky was glad Sam was taking up the mantle, he knew that no one else was better for the role, but now that he knew, now that he did simple research he should’ve done months ago, a pit of worry settled in him. He knew better than to tell Sam what to do (he learned that the most heartbreaking way possible) but that doesn’t mean he can’t worry about Sam.
~~~~~~
“You want me to design Mr Wilsons new suit?” Shuri questioned, her excitement clear in her smile. Bucky arrived in Wakanda with the Dora after they dropped off Zemo, and Bucky knew what he needed.
“Yes.” Bucky answered, a small smile on his face as he watched the giddy girl scrabble around her lab. “Well, do you have any ideas?” She inquired, already getting out her proper materials to make the suit. Bucky hesitated, because no, not really. Except…
“Um, he had this bird, he adored it, it was so annoying. Uh, Redwing. But a Flagsmasher kinda, you know, destroyed it. So maybe you could make him another one, or something.” Bucky suggested, almost shy. It didn’t help that Shuri was grinning at him so knowing and so amused.
“You got it, Barnes. Let me know if you have any other suggestions.”
“Thanks, princess. You know when you’ll be done?”
Shuri shrugged. “As soon as I can be.” Bucky smiled at her, nodding in thanks.
~~~~~~~
“It looks, it looks fantastic, Shuri. Thank you, so much.” Bucky said upon seeing the finished Cap suit, 8 hours later. “I try.” She responded, a proud smile on her face. The case closed with a click, and Bucky picked it up by the handle.
“Well, I should go drop this off.”
“You were seriously going to take one of those public planes you’ve been taking all this time?” T’Challa’s voice came from the doorway, making Bucky turn quickly. Bucky hesitated before replying.
“I just-”
“Whatever your excuse is, we don’t want it.” Shuri dismissed quickly. “We will bring you to Sam’s, won’t we brother.” T’Challa only nodded, and turned to walk back down the hall, gesturing for Shuri and Bucky to follow. With a sigh, Bucky followed. What a family.
~~~~~~~~
“Just dropping this off, you can sign for it, and I’ll go.”