Sam always loved to try and define himself as an optimist, hell given everything he had seen in the world – both from an Avenger’s perspective and a soldier’s perspective – sometimes it was the only mindset that could keep a man going. Bucky, however? The man was the complete opposite and compared to most people, Sam figured the super soldier had every goddamn right in the world to be a pessimist; that being said, recently Sam had come to the conclusion that things were slowly getting better in a number of things: the relationship that he had with Bucky, Bucky’s developing sense of trust towards him in return and as a consequence the way in which the ex-assassin was breaking new ground in his newfound freedom from the little words that help him captive for so long.
Well, it was going as swimmingly as it could until America’s Asshole, John Walker stuck his – fuck it, it wasn’t even his – shield into matters where it wasn’t wanted and killed an innocent man.
“BUCK!” the name tore itself from Sam’s throat before he could even register where it was coming from, taking his eyes off the fight for mere seconds as he watched his partner crash into the machinery, the exposed wires from the metal poles attracted to the vibranium arm like opium as they coiled around and sent electricity chorusing through.
During his many years on earth, even if he wasn’t truly present for a lot of it, Bucky knew he’d braved several of life’s elements; especially electricity, however that didn’t mean he was fond of it. He could barely feel the pain register in the metal appendage at first; brows settled within an uncomfortable grimace as he saw the Wakandan tech begin to spasm and glitch out, however soon after the bitter albeit familial feeling of his muscles locking into place and tremoring overcame his entire being. Vision becoming dull, everything tunnelled into darkness like the dingy ambience of Hydra’s laboratories and Bucky could almost swear he heard laughter, mocking him, taunting him to sleep.
Добро пожаловать домой, зимний солдат.
Welcome home, Winter Soldier.
Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Bucky rendered so limp and lifeless; not even a grunt of pain came from him as his body slumped to the floor; that amount of electricity should have killed a man, yet Bucky didn’t even so much as cry out as the pain consumed him.
It’s because he was used to it a voice in his head chided him, and it made Sam feel sick.
Reluctantly he tore his eyes away from Bucky’s limp form, for Walker had turned his assaults upon him now that Bucky was seemingly taken care of. The thought of Bucky laying there so vulnerable, and Sam couldn’t even get to him brought fire to his veins, a growl of frustration escaping the back of his throat as he began his fight back. Only one man was stood between him and Bucky, and no way was he about to lose that enigma of a man, not him, not like Riley.
Using a combination of the parts of his thrusters that still remained in tact and combat with the shield that was dislodged from Walker’s grip before Bucky succumbed, Sam mustered agility akin to what only birds themselves could achieve and was satisfied to hear the sound of the bloodstained shield’s rim clattering against the man’s temple and knocking him spark out.
It was strange how easily the shield combat had come to Sam, considering when Steve handed it over it felt foreign in his hands, but he’d think about that later, Bucky was far more important to him.
Racing on over to the super soldier’s body who still hadn’t moved an inch from when he first hit the ground, Sam dropped to his knees and flipped Bucky’s body gently over; the arm had stopped short circuiting, however it haunted him how still Bucky still was. “Bucky? Hey man, can you hear me?” Sam tested the water, hesitant about touching the ex-assassin at first, this was the worst time to start encroaching on boundaries that Bucky didn’t want, not after he’d worked so hard on breaking down the bastard’s walls in the first place – and even then, Sam was pretty sure the fortress that Bucky insisted on keeping up still had a good few walls left standing. However, the mental battle he had with himself was soon over as the overpowering worry for Bucky’s health won; his hand coming to lightly tap against the soldier’s cheek to try and rouse him. “Buck, come on buddy, you good?”
A small groan made Sam’s heart flutter, Bucky’s brows furrowing in that stupidly adorable way that made him look like a kicked puppy, “Sam..?”
“I’m here, he got you good huh?”
Eyes fluttering open, Bucky’s vision swam briefly before being met with the figure of Sam worriedly hunched over him; warm brown eyes swimming with worry. “Walker- wha’happened?” He slurred, body tensing itself as he tried to haul himself up already in defence mode; a protective instinct that was automatic to him. A warm hand on his shoulder settled the fire, and if Sam noticed the way Bucky’s shoulders instantly relaxed at the soothing pressure of Sam’s touch, he didn’t say anything to tease him about it.
“Easy, easy – he’s been dealt with for now, we’re safe. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Bucky said it almost a little too quickly for comfort, an automated response as he kept his emotions guarded; he stared Sam down as he surveyed his partner with narrowed eyes, teetering on the edge of whether to believe him properly or not, however thankfully he relented. Perhaps all it was, was Bucky’s macho ego being bruised for now and he was being pissy whilst he licked his wounds. “Alright, you think you can stand? I don’t know about you but I’m tired as hell and I need a drink, let’s recoup somewhere.” Standing up, Sam reached his hand down and offered it before Bucky, a silent choice which the super soldier accepted and helped hoist himself up.
The walk back to the hideout was silent; Sam because he was tired, Bucky? To Sam nothing was really out of the ordinary save the lack of testing banter, Bucky was usually a stoic individual.
His eyes however, the whole way back were hollow; haunted.
They fell into basic routine back at the small hideout they occupied once they returned; Sam wasting no time in stripping and showering away all the grime from the recent battle; the shield lay gently propped against the wall; thoroughly cleaned until it was gleaming and protected back within its rightful place. Bucky had still remained silent, only murmuring a few choice words when Sam offered him food – which he refused, and bidding Sam goodnight when he retreated into his chosen room and slamming the door shut.
Still licking his wounds, Sam sighed to himself, standing up and retreating to bed himself after checking that the door was thoroughly locked. Bucky would be okay, he was safe, Sam was here to protect him and keep him company until they could make it back to Louisiana – Sam had mentally decided that his home would be their next destination – a break was what they both needed now that the shield was back in their possession.
Sleep came to him easy, the same couldn’t be said for the other room.
Bucky couldn’t even remember falling asleep, he had been burning holes into the ceiling as he fought to get to grips with reality; echoes of laughter and the sparks of electricity crackling and reverberating around the walls of the laboratories; it burned its way into his eardrums, consumed him like waves. Phantom pain spread through his veins, around the scarring of his shoulder and within his skull as he tried to fight off the waves of nausea that accompanied it. “I- I am James Bucky Barnes… I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James Bucky Barnes, I am not him anymore… I am free.” He repeated like a mantra, breathing ragged and his chest heaving as he tried to get a hold on the situation, the panic attack swirling within his chest like a swarm of hornets. Each word dragged, felt heavier and more laden on his tongue, the words slipping away from him; Bucky was losing all forms of touch, all he could see, feel and experience was Hydra.
“He’s not complying, subdue him.”
“He will break eventually, his mind is ours to mould, he will comply.”
NO, I WON’T COMPLY. I WILL NEVER COMPLY AGAIN.
Bucky!
His name was called throughout the pain and the darkness, his name.
YES! I’M BUCKY, I’M NOT THE WINTER SOLDIER!
With blind faith he never usually possessed, Bucky clung on to the voice calling his true name, whoever it was, it felt safe, warm, he wanted to trust the voice.
The voice called out again, this time louder, more desperate, which Bucky didn’t think was possible given how soothing it still felt to wash over him.
You’re James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. You’re safe. Come on Bucky. Wake up!
Lurching forwards with a gasp, Bucky’s eyes shot open, and he instinctively found himself pushing back against the wall, breathing hard and sheened in sweat. Pushing his palms, both flesh and metal into the sockets of his eyes, eventually the haze of Hydra’s laboratories faded and was replaced with the much more welcoming view of his dark room, and the figure of Sam Wilson watching him with concern.
“Hey man, it’s okay just breathe with me. In and out, slowly… and again, there we go; you’re with me.” Sam mumbled gently, palm outstretched in offering but not quite touching him, as if he was a startled animal.
Taking a deep breath, Bucky concentrated on slowing his breathing to fall in sync with Sam’s own. Eventually the tendrils of panic were slowly relenting its clutches upon Bucky’s soul, slithering back into the dark depths until they were disturbed again.
“There we go, you’re back.” Sam assured him, his eyes bearing into Bucky’s own and frowning in sympathy at the dark circles that lay underneath; then, down towards his still outstretched palm. “Can I touch you?”
“Huh?” Bucky spoke dumbly, looking at Sam like he’d spoken a foreign language, eyes trailing down to the offered hand.
“Am I okay to touch you?” Sam repeated.
He was offering him a choice, something so simple that their entire relationship was built on and that neither of them took for granted; Sam was offering Bucky a choice because he’d been denied that most of his life – the Winter Soldier never had a choice. Bucky Barnes always had one as long as he was with Sam.
Not finding the voice to speak, Bucky chose to nod instead, remaining silent as Sam carefully moved and grabbed Bucky’s flesh hand with his own; flesh on flesh, comfort seeping into every broken part of him. In mere seconds, the super soldier had become hooked on the sensation of Sam’s fingers slipping into his own and holding his hand with conviction, like he’d never plan on letting go, whilst his thumb brushed such gentle strokes against his knuckles.
It was the sweetest contradiction, one Bucky had never, ever experienced before.
Bucky was slowly but surely becoming putty in his hands, Sam realised.
“That feel okay?”
A hummed, distracted response.
“Alright, I’ll keep doing it then. You wanna tell me what that was all about?” Sam then probed, trying his hand at getting Bucky to talk to him.
It took a small, delayed response, Bucky’s hazed blue eyes still transfixed on their conjoined hands, but eventually he spoke, voice hoarse. “I was back there… they wouldn’t stop.”
“Stop what?”
“The electrocution.”
Oh.
Suddenly it all made sense, Sam had read files about Bucky’s time in Hydra and what they did to him, all the torture and electrocution they’d put him through to brainwash and subdue him enough to become their killing machine. That explained why Bucky was out for the count so easily when Walker had-
Oh.
Fuck, Sam was so stupid.
Bucky wasn’t okay, Bucky hadn’t been okay from the minute they left that facility, but Sam had been too damn blind to notice; what he presumed was Bucky being usually broody was in fact the ex-assassin’s PTSD flaring up.
A squeeze to Bucky’s hand caused him to glance up for the first time in a while, serene trance broken as he turned his attention towards Sam’s face. His eyes met ones burning with sincerity, guilt, and raw, raw devotion. “They will never torture you again, not on my watch. You hear me?” Sam breathed pure anger, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he lifted their conjoined hands for emphasis.
Bucky had never believed a man’s words so readily in all his years – he wasn’t sure he’d even believed any of Steve’s words as readily as what just left Sam’s mouth; the heart he once believed was winter cold, blossomed under the heat of the amazing man that was Sam Wilson.
He found himself nodding before he could even register it, swallowing a lump within his throat. “Yeah… I hear you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice you weren’t doing okay sooner; I shouldn’t have let it get to this.”
“Bold of you to assume I would have told you if you had.” Bucky countered with a weak, tired smirk, something that helped ease Sam’s guilt slightly, seeing him back to his old, snarky tricks.
Lowering their hands but still not pulling away, thumb going back to tracing idle patterns along the dips and crevices of his knuckles, Sam sighed relenting on mentally kicking himself and going back to prioritising making Bucky feel calmer and more at ease. “I still would have tried, and you know that, but now that I understand what’s wrong, you don’t have to say any more if you don’t want to. You think you can go back to sleep? You look exhausted.”
Bucky hesitated slightly, shifting his focus back onto Sam’s fingers stroking comforting patterns into his flesh; this Sam noticed, which prompted him to add on before the soldier could speak. “I can either stay here, or you can come into my room – just say the word, I’ll do whatever.”
Another choice being dangled gently in front of him, Bucky almost smiled.
“Your room.”
Nodding, Sam slowly stood up and pulled the weary man from Brooklyn with him as they traipsed into Sam’s bedroom, the former slipping into his side of the bed where the duvet was wrinkled and pulling the other side down as a silent invitation for the latter the join him. The loss of contact from the moment Sam pulled his hand away to climb in mentally made Bucky feel more vulnerable than ever, Sam could see it in his stupid puppy dog eyes, he looked like he’d been kicked.
“Come on, I’m freezing here man.”
That was the prompt Bucky needed to slip under the covers into the other side of Sam’s bed, looking awkward and unsure of what to do with himself. At this Sam couldn’t help but chuckle, earning a small glare from the ex-assassin in mock offence. “What?”
“Beats sleeping on the floor, doesn’t it? Stop looking awkward and relax, you need rest.” Sam rolled his eyes, watching as Bucky shifted awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as if wanting to say something, before eventually muttering something inaudible.
“Huh?”
“Can you uh… hold my hand again, it felt good.”
Deciding not to tease him as he could see it was a big deal, Sam instead just nodded and retook his hold upon Bucky’s flesh hand, interlocking their fingers and resuming the stroking motions, unable to hold back the smile as he once again witnessed Bucky melt under his touch. “That better?”
“Mm..” A tired hum drifted back in response, Bucky sinking deeper into the pillows and soaking up the warmth that Sam radiated, eyes growing heavier. Sam vowed to stay awake until he was sure Bucky was sound asleep, waiting patiently with amusement as he watched Bucky battle to stay awake, his eyes drooping shut; blinking open again and soon later slipping back shut again in a small cycle.
“You’re good, Buck. Go to sleep, I’ve got ya’.” Sam whispered, watching Bucky’s eyes slip shut for the final time before remaining that way, the soldier gone to the land of dreams, and hopefully peaceful ones.
Minutes passed and Bucky still remained peaceful, eyes darting beneath his closed lids yet looking as peaceful as Sam had ever seen him; a sight so rare but so beautiful that Sam swore in that very moment he’d do anything he could to give Bucky these moments of peace as much as he damn well could.
The morning broke with both men entangled within each other’s embrace; Bucky’s head tucked beneath Sam’s chin with his arm draped across his waist; Sam sprawled on his back, with one arm cradling the super soldier protectively against him.
Bucky was still fast asleep, no nightmares had plagued him.
Their hands were still entwined.
They would be okay. They were safe.