Sam peers outside through the cracks, listening for any outside movement.
The cars continue down the Autobahn, and there's no other sounds.
He looks back at the garage, making sure there's no movement.
Steve is sleeping in one of the cars, Barnes, off to the side. They both wanted to stay watch but he volunteered first.
Nothing.
He sighed quietly. If you told him that within a 72 hour time period, they would be responsible for a suicide bombing, a law that would make their job illegal unless they secured a governmental leash around their neck that was made to choke, get arrested, become fugitives and somehow, in the midst of all that, find Barnes, he would have told you you would out of your damn mind.
But yet, here they were.
A part of him craves a cigarette, beer and bed all at once.
Remembers when he picked up smoking in the base during watches. He gave it up the moment his tour was up, because he figured if you survived something impossible, why be stupid and try to kill yourself? Didn't mean he was going to be in denial and say he wouldn't mind one now.
He started to sit down, suppressing a groan as he leaned against some kind of metal shutter.
He was glad Steve was getting some rest; with the adrenaline wearing off, the pain and fatigue was starting to come back in, like opening your eyes to hangover. His back was a mess, and he knows he was left off easy by Barnes back at the facility. His jaw starts to slowly throb, like a sunrise along the horizon.
Still, he's luckier than the other guys there.
The smell of the auto shop reminds me of the gasoline some of the Humvees would let out as they parked them close during nights back in the Army days.
He remembers his first watch, a nervous mess with the face of someone who looked like they'd done in a hundred time.
He had a few siblings, so it isn't the pressure that got him jittery, no. It was the possibility of missing something.
Your ears have to hear things they've never bothered to pay attention to, your eyes have to see even an ant moving a pebble, and all the while, telling your fingers to simultaneously calm as you get them ready for any shitstorm war throws at you, that's something you learn. And never forget.
Because you're responsible, not just for your base, supplies, gear. But your brothers.
Hears as moan as Sam goes into alert mode, looking around.
He gets up, looking around. It's coming from Barnes' end.
Sam puts his hand over the small flap where he keeps his knife as he walks toward the area, looking for Barnes' figure.
Sam stops, his hand loosening as he sees Barnes alone, the sounds he heard coming from him.
He's muttering in his sleep, his breathing growing harsher as he face twists with the uncomfortable familiarity of nightmares he knows too well.
Sam carefully gets on one leg, extending his hand out to gently shake Barnes awake. As he does so, before he can even say half of his name, Barnes pushes away instinctively, his eyes fearful.
"Hey, easy. It's me."
Bucky pants, looking at Sam, his breathing slowly coming down. Takes him a few seconds before he closes his eyes, Sam swearing he hears him mutter "Fuck."
"...You okay?"
Bucky swallows, his previously dry shirt back to being speckled with wetness from sweat. "....Yeah." He pinches the bridge of his nose with his left, as Sam sees his right slightly shaking. He takes off his hand, looking at Sam. "....Thanks."
"You're welcome." He replies, as he stands up.
His eyes look darker, a momentary glance into whatever HYDRA did
He starts to get up, as he turns to Sam. "I'll take wa-"
"No, you sit back down."
Bucky sighs, exasperation and fatigue exhaled more than the air he breathed out. "....I get it. You don't trust me."
Sam paused, considering his answer. "I trust Steve. If Steve trusts you, so do I. It doesn't mean I'm jumping all hands on deck."
Bucky looks off into the distance, as Sam is able to see how dark the circles around his eyes are.
"....But I'm not telling you not to stand watch because I don't want to trust you. I'm telling you because you look worse than me & Steve combined. And that's saying something as I don't look like a bucket of roses, and Steve's practically a Ken doll."
Bucky chuckled at the bare minimum, his breathing near normalized.
"You can take watch in an hour. In the meantime, get some rest."
Bucky looks at him briefly before nodding slightly begrudgingly, remaining in a sit-up position.
Sam walked back to his end, peering again outside briefly.
He was telling the truth; whoever Steve trusted, he would. So in an extent, that needed building (a lot, he thought, remembering 2 years ago and just a few short hours ago), he did trust Bucky.
And as he looked back, seeing Barnes back to staring off to the side pensively, he realized that he wasn't feeling mistrust wasn't what he was feeling as he sat back down.
It was remorse, familiarity, anger. It was that it didn't take a rocket scientist to see Barnes was the worst case of a PTSD POW in the best possible outcome.
He saw that same look in the eyes of the vet meetings. The ones that will never be the same, only with Barnes, he sees it doubled, guilt seemingly forever inlaid into his irises.
And he feels a newfound anger for HYDRA, which he didn't think possible. Another level of disgust, another level of what the fuck.
He knows Barnes isn't going back to sleep. Sam's own nightmares were enough to get him on a jog, he doesn't think he can imagine what Barnes' are like.
But the idea is important. Because it's the thing that keeps you going.
And he knows, Barnes is stronger than either of them can fathom.