Sam can’t count in his fingers how many times did he have to step forward for the better. He does remember the first though, when his sister Sarah had broken the vase that was gifted to their mom by a friend from church. It was a Lalique something, he forgot what exactly, but his child self knew the cost of it was expensive enough to buy him at least seven Nintendo Entertainment Systems. Sarah didn’t mean it, she threw her doll at him in annoyance as Sam dodged. The vase happened to be behind him. And Sarah had been crying so hard her shirt was soaking and her eyes were cerise. As much as Sam loved annoying Sarah, he didn’t like seeing her cry and get scolded.
When his mother had asked, Sam said it was him who broke the vase by accidentally swinging his baseball bat and hitting it.
Sam wasn’t allowed to see his friends for a week.
Each time, Sam knew of the various consequences he’d get whenever he takes responsibility. It doesn’t help him, certainly, but it helps others, and that enough was a good bargain for him.
This time isn’t much different.
Sam unstraps a thigh holster and throws it on the bed. Bucky paces behind him with an indignant groan, picking up the equipment and striding towards Sam.
“No, you’re not doing this, Wilson. Sit the fuck down.” Bucky warns, stopping about two steps behind Sam.
Sam disables his glove gadget that controls his robot companion Redwing. A little whirring sound from his arm indicates its shut down, then he unbuckles Redwing from his back, carefully laying him on the table as if putting him to rest. His hand lingers there for a moment before sighing and turning to Bucky.
The lights are off in the motel room they crashed in for the night. They’ve been chasing Zemo for three days now and they’ve just gotten a lead as to where he might be, and it wasn’t exactly relieving.
Bucky’s eyes glisten as the moonlight hits his irises, the blue intensifying the more Sam stares at them. It breaks Sam’s heart.
“You’re not going there alone. I’m not letting you go empty-handed either. We’re not giving Zemo what he wants, goddamnit!” Bucky yells, the clenching of his fist tightening around the holster he’s holding. “They want you to surrender the shield because you’re the rightful Captain America. You don’t see them doing this with Walker! Steve made sure in his will that it’s yours no matter how much the government claims that the shield is theirs and that they get to decide who should wield it. You know this–”
“And I also know what’s right.” Sam responds, tone low. He’s trying not to break composure because Bucky isn’t wrong. This may be all part of the plan. He might even get compromised. But what if it is for the better? What if this is how they take down Serpent Society, take down Hydra before it fully reforms and cause more chaos?
“There are a million other solutions. We can– I can try and pull some strings–”
“There’s no more strings to pull, Bucky. If I don’t go there and face Serpent Society the way they want me to, everyone else will be in danger. They only need me. We’re gonna complicate it more if–”
“You’re not sacrificing yourself, Sam!”
“You think Steve wouldn’t do the same?” Sam frowns, putting a foot forward closer to Bucky. He sees Bucky’s gaze falter at the mention of Steve. “Tell me, Buck.”
Bucky goes silent. The clock ticks on the wall beside them. Sam has 10 minutes to meet Zemo seven kilometers from here.
“Hell, you’re right. I am Captain America. But this is what Captain America does.” Sam says, determined. “You’re one of the few people who knows that well.”
Bucky wishes he hadn’t known.
“I just don’t wanna lose you too.” says Bucky, his voice cracking at the end. It’s something that comes with being Captain America, really — you slowly lose the person over the moniker. It’d be selfish to say, Bucky can assure, probably because of past experiences, but to hell with Captain America. He wants to keep Sam Wilson. He wants him safe and at bay, he wants to grow old with him, he wants to be with him — he wants to be with him.
“You’re all that I have, Sam.”
Sam knows what Bucky meant and from the start he knew that Bucky would try to stop him. He promises he’ll come back, more to himself than to Bucky. Sam exhales deeply, hoping he doesn’t regret what he’s about to do.
So he closes the distance between them and kisses Bucky for the first time. Bucky shuts his eyes tight as their lips collide, letting go of the holster he’s been holding, his hand sliding up to Sam’s neck. He kisses Sam back in a moment he’s been waiting for, eager — until he feels the sudden drowsiness.
Bucky lurches backwards and Sam catches him, the glimmer in his eyes apologetic. Bucky’s vision is slowly getting hazy but he still saw a stray tear drop down Sam’s face.
“Sam, wh…” Bucky’s voice trails off as Sam sits him on the nearby chair. He’s visibly confused and disoriented.
Natasha had left a lot of things in the compound, all of them recovered underneath the rubbles of the building during the aftermath of the battle with Thanos. He kept most of it in a vault — her ballet shoes, her boxing gloves, her favorite Hello Kitty mug — and some he took, like the spy lipstick set she had that temporarily tranquilizes a person who ingests it. He keeps the balm one.
Sam never thought he’d use it ever, especially on Bucky.
“Wh… what’d you…” Bucky tries to speak, speech slurred, eyes forcing themselves to close. Sam caresses Bucky’s face gently, clenching his jaw at the decision he made.
“I’m so sorry.” Sam whispers as he connects their foreheads together for a while before activating his wings as he starts heading to the door. He takes one look at Bucky on the chair, his metal arm attempting to reach for Sam weakly. Sam turns away, hoping it wasn’t the last.
“But I can’t let them take you too.”