Listening Techniques

By: M14Mouse

Summary: Bucky and Sam show each other their scars.

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

"Where did this one come from?" Bucky said as his fingers trace the scar over Sam's shoulder.

"That one? Fragments from a missile. I flew a little to close when it went off. Flipped Riley's ass out," Sam said.

He grumbled.

He understood how Riley felt. He would flip out if he was there. Under his fingertips, he could feel the uneven texture of skin. Slowly, his fingers moved away and traced down to another scar on his lower back.

"This one?"

"Skateboarding. I tried for the first time when I was seven. It ended badly. It was also my last time."

He chuckled. He tried to imagine little Sam in knee pads and helmet. It was hilarious.

"You are laughing at me back there?"

"I just was imaging you as a kid."

"You know the museum has a picture of you when you were eight. You were rocking the bow tie, man."

His face flushed a little. His sister would give them those pictures.

"Thank you.'

Sam laughed.

"What about this one?"

"Where are you at, man?"

"Your hip."

"Hmm…could be two things? A wrestling match with my brother or the time that I crashed my bike into a fence."

"First skateboard…now a bike. It is a wonder that they gave you a pair of wings."

"The most important thing that you learn is that isn't how you fall, it is how you land. I land pretty good, thank you very much."

He snorted.

"Well…you did land me."

"You didn't make it very hard," Sam said.

"Neither did you. I just had to…" He said.

"be an asshole?" Sam added.

"Haha…Look who is talking."

"This is why I hate you, man. All of this lip."

He grinned.

"How about this one?" He said as he brushed his finger along Sam's elbow.

"Ran into a counter top. Grandma had those cookies a little too high."

He listened as Sam talked about each of his scars that his fingers trace over. He listened about Sam's sister dropping a frying pan on his foot. He listened to the story about his best friend and him trying to climb the tree in the park the fastest.

He hummed softly when Sam finished up the story about him getting a fishing hook caught in his finger.

"Okay…it is my turn," Sam said.

"What…I don't have any…" He said.

"You have been feeling me up. It's my turn. Now turn around."

He grumbled as he turned around. He felt Sam's hands on his shoulders and slowly began to rub deeply into them. He groaned as he felt his muscles tense up.

"Relax, man."

"I can't…It's hard."

"Is there a reason? I can stop if you want."

"No…No…it just that…I didn't sleep well last night."

He knew that Sam knew this. Sam never asked what he was dreaming about. He was just there. It was a solid presence that he was so graceful for and marvel at everyday. After all of the evil that he has done, when did he get something as so precious as this?

Sam hummed slightly but continued to rub the muscles in his shoulder deeply.

"I dreamt about Rome. It was a diplomat and his family. I remember a little girl coming down to see where her papa was. I made it quick."

He felt Sam's hands move from his shoulders to his back. He moaned softly when Sam hit that spot in his back.

"Hong Kong. A weapon dealer."

"London. A scientist."

"Moscow. A teacher…a president of a company…too many, really"

He couldn't speak of the horrors. He couldn't speak on how he killed them. He spoke of the places and who they were. Why Hydra may have wanted them dead? Sam didn't speak the entire time but his hands never stopped moving. They felt like they were everywhere at one. His hands rubbed against his muscles as if relieve him of his burdens. Somehow or another, he found himself lying in their bed with his eyes barely open.

He could feel the heat rising from Sam's body and his arm lying across his back. He felt something that he hasn't felt in a long time.

He felt at peace.

End