Sam's POV
POV Sam Wilson
I wake up to the sun pouring through the window, falling across my eyelids.
I open my eyes, squinting in the light, becoming aware of the fact that I’m in Bucky’s bedroom instead of my own.
In Bucky’s bed instead of my own.
His chestnut hair spills across my chest as his cheek rests gently on my skin, his breathing is slow and even as he sleeps with a serene look on his face.
I smile to myself, brushing my fingers through his soft hair once, as lightly as I can.
I kissed him last night, and he kissed me back.
My fingers brush gently along his lips, he still doesn’t wake up.
He must’ve been tired.
A sudden wave of nervousness fills me as I look at him.
What if he regrets it when he wakes up?
He was all messed up from his nightmares, what if that’s all this was?
Comfort from the nightmares?
I shouldn’t be here when he wakes up, I should give him the chance to think.
Carefully, I slide out from under him, replacing my body with my hands as I lower his head onto the pillow and pull the blanket up around his shoulders.
I leave his room quickly, without looking back.
Once in my own room, I throw on a shirt and my shoes.
A run should clear my head, and give me an excuse to be out of the house when he wakes up.
I take off down the steps of the apartment complex, running down the street as the sun continues to rise.
What if I overstepped?
What if he didn’t feel the way I did?
That coursing electricity from his lips to mine, the burn of his hands on my skin.
I run faster, ignoring the looks from people on the sidewalk as I barrel past them at full speed.
My phone beeps in my pocket, and I slow to a walk as I reach in to answer it.
“Yeah?” I breathe into the speaker.
“Hey uh—” Bucky grunts. “We got company.”
Shit.
“I’ll be right there.” I answer, turning on my heels and flying back towards the apartment.
We knew they were in New York, and we knew they were coming, but Hydra agents attacking a residential area?
That’s risky even for them.
The apartment finally comes into view, an unmarked black car sits out front.
That’s when the gun fires.
Four shots echo through the parking lot, and I push my legs and lungs harder than ever before to get up the stairs and to the apartment.
The door is swung open haphazardly, and the room is completely wrecked.
“Bucky?” I call as I step inside, keeping my back to the wall. “Bucky talk to me.”
I make it to my room, grabbing my gun from it’s spot under the mattress before walking towards Bucky’s room.
“Bucky?” I call again, kicking open his door.
Three men lay on the floor in a pool of blood, each shot in the exact centers of their foreheads.
Bucky sits on his bed, his back to the door as he breathes heavily.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, clicking the safety on my gun as I slide it into the waistband of my pants.
He nods, not turning around.
I walk closer.
He doesn’t look at me, keeping his eyes trained on the window.
“Did they say anything?” I ask quietly.
He shrugs.
“Nothing important.” He mutters.
I nod, looking down at him as I get closer.
His face and grey t-shirt are slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his face as he clenches his hands into fists.
“Buck I’m sorry I wasn’t—shit Bucky did you get shot?” I ask as my eyes fall on a growing red blotch on his torso.
He looks down, shrugging again.
“Bucky we have to get you to the hospital.” I say, reaching down to pull him up.
He shakes his head, laughing darkly.
“I’m a super soldier Sam, a bullet won’t kill me.” He replies.
I look down at him with a glare.
“And you can’t just leave it in there, we have to get it out.” I shoot back.
“So leave. I’ll take care of it.” He says flatly, his eyes flitting to the side table where a large knife sits on the top.
“Absolutely not.” I answer, reaching down and forcing him up, expecting him to fight more, but he doesn’t.
He lets me pull him out to the kitchen, sitting him in a chair as I wash my hands and pull out a first-aid kit.
I walk back over to him, kneeling in front of him.
He looks straight past me, staring at the wall.
“We’re going to have to take your shirt off.” I tell him in a low voice.
He nods, wincing as he pulls the blood-soaked fabric from his body and drops it onto the floor beside him.
I fight back a gasp, taking in the view of his body for the first time.
His chest and arms are heavily scarred, especially around the edge of his metal arm.
He’s muscular, strong, but somehow soft and inviting.
“Are you going to pull the thing out or not?” He asks, finally looking at me.
I nod, looking down at the bleeding hole in his abdomen.
“This might hurt.” I warn, pulling the tweezers out of the kit.
He nods, closing his eyes.
As gently as I can, I stick the tweezers into the hole, feeling for the metal casing of the bullet.
Bucky’s hands ball into tight fists as I hit the bullet, opening the tweezers around it.
“Deep breath Buck.” I whisper.
He listens, breathing in deeply, and as he exhales I yank the tweezers from the hole, pulling the bullet out with them.
“Good.” I whisper.
He nods, his fists relaxing slightly.
“Let me cover it.” I say in a low voice, and he nods again.
I pack the hole with gauze before taping a gauze pad over it.
“There.” I tell him as I press the last piece of tape down. “Good as new.”
I let my fingers linger against his skin, looking up at him.
His eyes meet mine, questioning me.
“Where did you go this morning?” He asks.
He doesn’t tell me to move my hand, so I keep it against his skin, trailing it along the muscles lightly.
“Went for a run.” I answer.
“Why?” He asks.
“I always go for a run in the morning.” I answer.
He nods, not looking away, not stopping my hand.
I trail my fingertips along one scar on his side.
“Do you regret it?” He asks, his voice low and unsure.
“Regret the run or regret last night?” I ask.
“Both.” He answers.
“I regret leaving this morning.” I answer. “But I don’t regret kissing you.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Do you regret letting me?” I ask.
Again, he doesn’t say anything.
His silence tells me all I need to know.
I nod, standing up and walking to the sink to clean the blood from the tweezers in my hand.
I drop them into the bottom of the sink, and as I move to turn on the water, strong hands grab onto my waist, turning me around.
Bucky’s lips are on my own before I have the chance to think, his hands pulling me closer as my fingers slide up his body and twist into his hair.
“I don’t regret anything, Sam.” He murmurs against my lips.
“Good.” I murmur back breathlessly, kissing him again.
He sighs contentedly as he kisses me back, and I feel his lips twitch up into a smile.
The sound of a man clearing his throat behind us sends us both jumping apart, spinning around to the source of the sound.
“Uh, hi.” An Asian man in a blue jacket says. “Jimmy Woo, FBI.”
He flips his badge down, showing us his credentials.
“Got a report of shots fired?” He says awkwardly. “Hydra agents?”
I nod, pushing myself in front of Bucky and throwing him his shirt.
“Right, they’re in the back room.” I tell Jimmy, stepping over to him and reaching my hand out. “I’m Sam Wilson.”
“Oh, I know who you are.” He says, shaking my hand eagerly. “Pleasure to meet you Captain.”
I smile at him as I shake his hand.
“This is uh, Bucky Barnes.” I say, gesturing to Bucky behind me.
“I called you guys.” He says gruffly as he steps forward, shaking his hand.
Jimmy shakes his hand just as eagerly as he shook mine.
“Pleasure to meet you Sargent Barnes.” He says. “I’ll go check out the damage.”
We nod as he goes towards Bucky’s room with a couple other agents, looking at each other as they disappear from view and immediately bursting into fits of laughter.
“You called the damn FBI while you were fighting off Hydra agents alone?” I ask, looking at Bucky incredulously.
He continues to laugh as he looks at me.
“Not my fault you’re slow.” He laughs.
“Well, now the whole bureau is going to know that we’re uh—” I trail off, unsure how exactly to finish that sentence.
Bucky steps closer, his hands returning to my hips.
“Going out to dinner tonight?” He asks, looking up at me with his soft blue eyes.
I smile at him as my hands fall on his chest.
“Going out to dinner tonight.” I answer, kissing him quickly and stepping to the side as footsteps near the kitchen.
“Well, Sargent Barnes, you’ve still got it.” Woo says as he steps into the room. “Three clean shots, three less Hydra agents.”
Bucky shifts uncomfortably beside me, and I automatically take his hand.
I know he hates how easily his assassin skills come to him, and knowing the name probably isn’t helping.
“He’s just Bucky.” I tell him, squeezing Bucky’s hand.
Woo smiles slightly.
“Right, sorry Bucky.” He says. “We’ll get everything cleaned up, nice work.”
Bucky nods, and I pull him out of the kitchen, into my bedroom.
“Your shirt’s ruined.” I tell him as I shut the door. “You can borrow one of mine.”
He rolls his eyes at me as he takes the bloody shirt off again.
“If you wanted me to take it off you could just ask.” He says in a low voice.
I smile, looking across the room at him as I pull a shirt from the drawer.
“You’re pretty smug for a guy who just got shot.” I mumble, sliding my hands along the slightly bumpy surface of his skin.
He sighs, a shiver running across his body.
“Give it an hour, it’ll be healed by then.” He murmurs back.
I slide my shirt over his head, slowly pulling the fabric back down over his body.
“So you’ll be in top shape for dinner then?” I ask, trailing my fingers along his jawline.
“Tip top.” He answers, leaning down to kiss me again.
I laugh as I wind my fingers into his hair, completely content with my super soldier.