He will do anything you want.
He will do anything you want.
He will do anything you want.
Bucky's fully aware that all of this is just an act, just an effective way to get the information on the super-soldier serum that they so desperately require. All the same, he's not denying that this plan sucks, that he's hated it since the second Zemo said Bucky would have to become someone he believed was gone. Oh, how he wanted to smack that look off of Zemo's face, that look that told him everything about how much he was going to enjoy doing this to Bucky.
Of course, though, for the sake of the mission, Bucky went with it. He couldn't let himself down, and more importantly, he couldn't let Sam down. The mission is more significant than his damn feelings, after all.
However, being the Winter Soldier - just posing as him - is so much further out of Bucky's range of comfort that a strong urge to back out hit him the moment they entered Madripoor. His mind went haywire and all he could think about was what he did as the assassin, all the people he mindlessly killed because of orders he couldn't say "no" to.
It all started to feel way too familiar way too quickly, and he loathes himself for it.
And with all those thoughts and all that stress and the fucking anxiety that began to overwhelm him, it became evident just how much he despised this plan and how stupid it was and how he was going to pummel Zemo into the ground after this was over and he hated it and he hates it and -
It got them into Selby's den.
Despite the fact that he lost control a little in the bar - the very thing he was afraid of - the plan seemed to be working. He managed to tuck away some of the fury raging inside of him and tell himself that it was going to be okay, that there was just a little left to go and then he wouldn't do this ever again.
Of course, though, things can't be that simple, can they? The universe has never been particularly kind or fair to Bucky, so it was foolish of him to believe that maybe it would spare him some more undesirable feelings for once.
"He will do anything you want."
Bucky swallows a lump in his throat as Zemo slowly, disgustingly, slides a hand down his face, but he does not give any reaction to the people in the room. He can feel Selby's hungry eyes practically undressing him, and all it does is add fuel to the inferno burning inside.
Stay. Calm.
It takes everything out of him not to show it when memories he's tried so hard to repress come rushing back, making him feel as though he's going to collapse in on himself any second.
Oh, God, please…
Members of HYDRA forcing him onto his knees with a mere couple of words, their faces smug when he would comply without fail.
The words he spoke when they ordered him to beg, beg for things he didn't want but didn't get a choice in receiving.
Bucky's inability to breathe as they all took turns with his mouth, spitting orders, humiliating comments, and actual saliva at him. He took it all, though, didn't he? He took it all like the perfect, obedient soldier they made him into. He cried, sure. He cried when they choked him and when they hurt him, but there was never any comfort, nor a single counter-response - not a word, not a movement - to the guffaws and the insults that doubled when tears would roll down Bucky's cheeks.
Eventually, it became a regular thing for someone to drag him to their quarters and have their way with him for what felt like hours. He's always been ashamed of how easy it got to endure.
HYDRA had gotten him to a point where even if it had been a while since his last reset, he wouldn't misbehave when it came to sexual service.
Now, as Bucky tries his absolute best to keep his breathing steady and his eyes locked onto a single spot on the opposite wall, he worries with all his being that he still won't be able to fight back. What if the Winter Soldier part of him that remains to this day won't let him stop someone from assaulting him? What if he goes along with it, letting himself be used again? What if his awareness clocks out, leaving him unresponsive to everything but orders?
No, no, no…
Bucky will never forgive himself if he gives in. All of these terrible fucking memories coming back are bad enough, but if he lets someone touch him, if he loses the ability to think for himself, if all those years of pure obedience come racing back and overtake him once more...how will he come back from that? He's supposed to be free, he's supposed to be a different person. The Wakandans made sure of that. Hell, his therapist tried to make sure of that.
If all of it was for nothing…
As Zemo and Selby talk, Bucky's eyes pull away from the wall and momentarily flick over to meet Sam's. He's not sure why he does it, but the most probable explanation that he can come up with is that he needs a distraction, comfort. He quickly realizes that looking at Sam just makes it worse.
Bucky doesn't know how long the man has been staring at him, but by the way his face is full of nothing but concern, it's obvious that Sam has been paying attention for a while. Bucky can see it in the small creases between his eyebrows, in the way his eyes are narrowed slightly and digging into him, searching around. Sam is still putting on his Smiling Tiger facade, but the struggle in him is obvious as he watches Bucky, probably wondering what's going on in his fucked up head.
Bucky thinks he's been doing a pretty good job of concealing his emotions, but maybe it's because Sam has been around him for a while that he just knows something is off. Feelings worse than those summoned by pretending to be the Winter Soldier are brewing inside of him, and he dreads the moment that Sam will ask about them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He can't let Sam find out about everything. It'll most likely change the way Sam perceives him completely, and then he'll no longer want him. He'll think he's broken, disgusting, revolting. HYDRA had made sure Bucky would never feel comfortable in a relationship, and he's always thought that it would be better if only he knew about the horrors of his past, because then he'd cope with the trauma on his own, but if his partner was aware of it, too…
Bucky hasn't really made any moves to let Sam know how he feels about him, but now such powerful sensations of fear are rushing through him as he thinks of how different everything will be if Sam finds out what he's done, what was done to him, and he doesn't think he'd ever be able to confess his feelings. It'd be too pathetic, and he'll probably never come back from the guaranteed instant rejection
Sam will give him.
There will be no avoiding it after their work job is done. Sam will want to know how Bucky feels, if he's alright, as he always does, because that's just who Sam is. What is Bucky supposed to do then? Relay his entire history of sexual assault? No, that's absolutely not an option.
Bucky tears his gaze away and returns to staring blankly at nothing. He'll cross that bridge when he gets there. For now, he just has to stay relaxed and hide as much as possible from Sam.
Soon enough, way too fucking soon, Selby starts circling around the room, strolling past and behind him. He barely manages to stop a whole-body flinch as he feels her hand on his shoulder, his neck, slowly inching down, down, down, way too far down, groping where her fingers don't belong.
Bucky clenches his jaw so as not to give any indication that he's absolutely much less than not okay with what's going on. He hopes his teeth don't crack from the pressure.
"Yes, sometime in the last two decades," Bucky catches Zemo saying, unsure of what he and Selby are even talking about anymore because of how her tongue gliding up along the side of his neck distracts him and sends his mind into a frenzy.
"All that brainwashing has made you an expert murderer and an expert whore, huh?"
"There you go, swallow it all."
"How does it feel to know this is all you'll ever be used for? For the rest of your life, too. Hm?"
He can feel Sam's gaze on him and he can tell that he's angry. He just hopes Sam is smart enough to not step in and ruin this whole operation, but also unobservant enough to not see and understand the turmoil inside him right now.
"I like him," Selby says, stepping in front of Bucky and inspecting his face carefully. He feels smaller and smaller as Selby traces his bottom lip with her thumb, pulling it down slightly and smirking. "But, I'm going to need some proof of his...abilities."
Bucky's heart sinks.
No, he really feels as if his soul is about to start sobbing all on its own.
Please, God, please don't make me go through this again…
He has to though, doesn't he? If they want information about the serum then he has to comply and display all the...skills he'd developed during his time with HYDRA.
It's alright, he tries to tell himself. This is your choice. You're aware that you're doing this. You have the ability to stop at any time you want, even though you can't because you're on a mission. You are in control, you still have your mind. You're not helpless, James.
You're not helpless this time.
Oh, but Sam…
If he does anything sexual right now, Sam will undoubtedly see the nonchalance in his actions, the speed at which he performs because he knows from years of this shit exactly what to do to make people feel good.
And then he'll know. He'll understand, and he'll never want Bucky's dirty, stained hands to touch him.
Don't do this to me, I beg you. If there's ever been a time to listen to me, it's now.
Please.
As if on cue, just as Bucky's about to start bracing himself for whatever humiliation Selby or Zemo are going to inflict upon him, for every chance he ever may have had with Sam to crumble, Sam's phone rings.
Bucky wants desperately to break into a huge grin from the immense relief, but he stays still and silently thanks anyone who's listening to him up there for this temporary salvation.
The brief consolation doesn't last long at all, though, because a wave of discomfort and fear runs through him as Sam pulls his phone out of his back pocket and glances at the caller.
Fuck.
"Answer it," Selby says from behind Bucky, her voice right in his ear just before she takes the lobe between her teeth. "I think you'd look splendid with piercings, dear. I'll make sure to have that done quite soon." Bucky suppresses a shudder and tries to focus on the persistent ringing.
"Now's not a good time. For the phone call," Sam says, completely emotionless.
"I think now's a perfect time. Don't you?" Selby asks, sliding her hands underneath Bucky's shirt.
Bucky catches the brief sliver of panic that crosses Sam's face at the sight of this before he straightens up and answers the phone.
The conversation with Sarah is tense, all eyes and ears focused on the same thing. The fact that it's on speakerphone - as per Selby's orders - makes it so much worse. Bucky gingerly moves his eyes around the space, noticing all the armed men and women that are ready to take them down in a second, taking note of their positions.
And then everything goes south, just as it always does.
Selby's hands leave his skin as a bullet pierces through her chest, but the echo of her touch stays for much too long afterward. Bucky shakes it off and grounds himself in the moment, focusing on nothing but getting himself, Zemo, and Sam out of here.
That's all that matters.
He'll wallow in his feelings later.
Getting out is a bit of a challenge, as everyone in Madripoor suddenly seems to start looking for them. It's not long before shots are sounding behind them and bullets are ricocheting from the surrounding buildings.
Of all people, Bucky's least expecting Sharon to show up and save their asses, but here she is, gun pointed at the three of them with multiple bodies lying limp in the alley with them.
And, as she leads the three of them away from the riled-up streets, Bucky ignores the questions and comments Sam can't stop throwing at him. He can't find it in himself to speak to any of them right now, especially not him.
All he can think about is how fucking ashamed he is.
The water is as hot as Bucky can take it, just like he always likes it.
He scrubs his skin everywhere several times over, not convinced that all of Selby is off of him. He pays extra attention to his neck, still being able to feel the way she dragged her tongue across it.
Bucky lets himself cringe visibly, knowing it's safe. Finally - relatively - safe.
He shuts away any intrusive, ugly thoughts that fly into his brain, threatening to drag him into the depths of his past that he's been trying so hard to fight and leave for good.
Bucky almost regrets carrying out this mission at all. Almost. They got all the information they needed, so it was worth it, even if he is now suffering from horrible, dug-up memories and intense, unrelenting embarrassment.
When he steps out of the shower, he takes a look in the mirror. It's the same face he knows staring back at him, but immediately he can almost see the salty white liquid dripping off his chin, the tufts of his long hair that are out of place from where it's been grabbed and pulled, the red tinge of his cheek where he's been slapped.
Bucky inhales a shaky breath and closes his eyes, willing the image out of his head.
You're not there anymore.
You are safe.
You have control.
You are free.
Free.
That's bullshit.
I'll never be completely free.
But...at least Sam didn't end up having to see any of that.
After what has to be at least twenty minutes of silence and stillness, Bucky lifts his head, dresses in shorts and a shirt, and finally leaves the bathroom.
Sharon's place contains a lot more extravagance than he's used to, so it's a little difficult for him to make himself comfortable in the lavish bedroom he has been given. The bed is too big - and too soft - the space is too quiet, and the windows are too shiny. Also, Sam is here, leaning against the wall next to the door.
Shit.
"What are you doing here?" Bucky asks, not making eye contact with him.
"A warm welcome from you, as usual."
Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses his towels on the huge cushion chair in the corner of the room. "Did you just come in here to annoy me?"
"I want to ask if you're okay."
And there it is. Bucky knew it was going to happen eventually, but this is too soon. Way too soon.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
Bucky stops in his tracks and finally looks at Sam, who's gaping at him with the most irritatingly concerned expression he's ever seen. "What's the point of asking if you're just going to deny my answer?"
"Because I know your answer is bullshit."
"Leave me alone, Sam," Bucky mutters, pulling the blankets off the bed with ease and dropping them on the floor. He feels Sam watching him curiously, but the man doesn't question his actions.
After a moment of silence, Sam says in a soft voice, "The way that woman touched you earlier...that was fucked up. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Bucky swallows. "Yeah, well, it was necessary."
"Still not okay."
"I know."
Bucky hopes that's the end of it, that Sam sees his unwillingness to talk and gets the hell out of here. But as he works on his makeshift bed on the hardwood floor, Sam doesn't move an inch. What he's waiting for exactly, Bucky has no clue. He's sure not going to give Sam any more information, though, so he can waste his time all he wants.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
"I don't have anything to say."
"Bucky -"
"Why is this so goddamn important to you?" Bucky snaps, shooting Sam a glare.
Sam stares back at him in shock, and Bucky swears he sees a hint of hurt in his eyes, which sends a merciless pang of regret through him.
"Why wouldn't it be, Buck?"
Bucky sighs, clenching and unclenching his fists to release some of the tension he feels creeping into him. "I'm not...we're not close enough for this." I wish we were, though.
"I disagree. I'm here to listen to you whenever. I'm sorry if that's not clear, I just assumed you knew from my history with counseling veterans and all…"
"I…" Bucky bites his lip, feeling his eyes start to well up. Oh, God, no. He can't cry in front of Sam. He can't. Getting felt up by a stranger in his presence was bad enough, but if Sam sees him cry…
Better than him watching you give someone a blowjob.
But still.
"Look, I know I don't say this often, but you mean a lot to me. I just...I don't want you to feel like you have to go through whatever it is you're going through alone."
Bucky would be endlessly flustered at Sam's words if it weren't for the guilt quickly rolling in.
Stop fucking talking.
Bucky doesn't want anyone to care for him, not right now. He doesn't need it. What he needs is to start dealing with his problems on his own instead of dumping himself on other people. As upset as he was when Steve left all those months ago, a huge part of him was glad that his friend would no longer have to carry Bucky like a burden all the time. He wouldn't have to worry and waste energy making sure he's alright constantly.
That's part of the reason he's taking so long to tell Sam about how he feels. He wants to be with him, he really, truly does, but after he's somewhat okay. After he figures out how to stop being such a nuisance that nobody wants.
Feeling like someone's responsibility is the absolute last thing that Bucky wants.
Sam makes everything feel not so hopeless, not so bleak. The smiles he manages out of Bucky become the highlights of his days, and sometimes he's sure he's ready to face Sam and tell him straight out how infatuated he is with him.
But when he does shit like this, when he tries to help…
You're not good enough.
You're not worthy.
You're a waste of everything.
Spare someone else's time and keep to yourself.
"I don't want your help, Sam."
"I think you need it."
"I think you should stop telling me what to do."
"For the love of God, Buck. Don't you realize you're never going to get over your issues if you don't talk to someone about them? You know you can trust me, right?"
Of course I fucking trust you. Christ, I think I love -
Bucky turns his back on Sam and starts folding the clothes on the bed, praying Sam will just give up and leave. He notices his hands shaking as he picks up the garments but dismisses it. It's best to ignore and wait for these things to go away. "I just got put off by the way that Selby woman was touching me." The sound of her name on his lips makes his stomach churn. "That's all it is."
"I know you. I know there's something else there, something deeper. I would be uncomfortable as hell, too, if that were me, but there was more to it. I watched you the entire time. You can't lie to me, man." A minute of silence that seems to stretch on for millennia follows, nothing but the ruffling sound of fabric and Bucky's annoyingly loud and shaky fucking breathing filling the room.
Just go away.
Please go away.
Please stop worrying about me.
I'm not worth this.
I'm not worth anything.
I thought for a while that I may be good enough for you, but not right now. Not with the amusingly long list of everything that's wrong with me.
Bucky just needs time, and at some point, enough of it will pass that he'll get back to successfully repressing those painful memories until he hopefully forgets them one day - although the chances of that are pretty much at zero. Still, it's better than having them be at the front of his mind like they are now. A lot better.
At some point, Bucky thinks Sam has left due to the lack of any words or disappointed sighs. He finally releases his tense shoulders and takes in a deep breath at the same time, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes.
He can cry now.
No one's here to see.
Sam's gone, he can -
A hand on his real arm.
"Look -"
Panic surges through the man and he automatically whips around, shoving whoever it was that touched him back.
"Don't fucking touch me, don't -"
Oh, God.
It was Sam.
Of course it was fucking Sam.
You fucking screw up.
What is wrong with you?
And that's all it takes.
All the restraint, all the effort to keep everything hidden is suddenly gone.
Bucky drops to his knees and bows his head, just letting the tears run free. It's as if a dam broke, a dam holding back so much water that the walls could no longer keep it in. It was finally time for it to collapse.
He tries his best to hide his face from Sam when he kneels down beside him, arms instantly around Bucky and words trying to reach him and pull him out from wherever he is. Bucky's body shakes with sobs, and the terrible shame he feels from the sound of them would normally be enough for him to want to run and jump off a very tall building, but right now he can't find the ability to care no matter how much he wants to. He tries to resist the way Sam's pulling him towards his body, though, hating the way he's leaning on the man and acting so damn vulnerable and weak. He's wanted desperately for a while to be held by Sam, but not in a situation like this.
"Bucky, Bucky," he hears, but it only just makes it worse.
Eventually, Bucky manages to compose himself enough to push Sam away and scramble out of his grasp. He keeps his head down as he inches back, not daring to meet Sam's gaze like this.
Stop crying stop crying stop fucking crying -
"Please go away, Sam."
"I can't leave you like this, are you joking?"
"Please, just...I don't want you here."
"I'm not going anywhere. You can't be alone right now."
He can see Sam start to move towards him again, and that rekindles another spark of alarm within him. Bucky starts to shake his head violently and backs away further. "This isn't worth your time, Sam, just go!"
"I told you -"
"I don't deserve your-your time, just GO! This isn't...I'm not worth your time. I'm-I'm not...I-I…" Bucky's words get swallowed up by pitiful whimpers and fast breaths and chokes as his body tries to keep up with the shit raging through his brain. He puts his head between his knees and squeezes his eyes shut, willing everything to just stop.
And here Sam is again, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and whispering reassuring things in his ear, half of which don't even register. His grip on Bucky's arms never leaves, never even so much as loosens.
He's dreamt of the day that he'll be hugged by Sam Wilson so tightly, so much.
He hasn't dreamt of it happening like this. That's for goddamn sure.
Bucky tries to push him away again but it doesn't fucking work. He knows full well he can easily overpower Sam, but - despite how embarrassing it is - maybe this is just his subconscious telling him to let Sam help, to let him in and for once be alright with it.
Even so, when Bucky stops trying to get away from his friend, he mutters, "I'm not worth this. I don't want you to waste your time on me."
"Waste my-what the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'm not worth this," he repeats, and then in a voice so low he's sure Sam can't hear him, "I'm not worth anything."
But he does, doesn't he? Bucky's close enough to Sam that he can probably pick up every tiny hitch of his breath, every nearly-silent rasp his throat makes in an attempt to breathe and stabilize.
Sam moves away from Bucky to look at him in full, but keeps his hands on him. "You don't think you have value?" His voice is tinged with disbelief. Of course Sam wouldn't agree, but they're only partners. Not even. Just coworkers, just people who fight together. There's no reason for Sam to feel like Bucky is worth anything at all, especially to him.
Sam might mean more than words can express in Bucky's eyes, but he never thought it could be possible the other way around.
"I was…" Bucky hesitated, surprised that he was almost about to reveal everything that's bothering him, talk about the tendrils of fear snaking around his legs and threatening to pull him down.
"Please talk to me," Sam whispers, what seems like genuine interest and care mixed in with his tone. Bucky sniffs, his chest still rising and falling quite rapidly.
He feels like he wants to. It'll ease some of the weight that he's been carrying with him for so long, and Sam's not going to go away or fully leave him alone until Bucky gives in. He hates him for it, but also can't help but admire Sam even more. His stubbornness and dedication are annoying qualities, yet ones that Bucky has always respected and...loved.
Sam sits down on the floor beside Bucky and takes one of Bucky's hands in his own, giving it a tight squeeze. Bucky winces at the gesture, but doesn't try to pull his hand away.
Sam Wilson is holding my hand.
Okay, focus.
"You know that I've been used by HYDRA for years, but...it wasn't only for killing and spying and whatnot, but also for...for, uh -"
Bucky's voice breaks, and he closes his mouth.
No, not a chance. I can't say it.
If I say it, everything will be lost. Sam will never want me.
It's better for him to be disappointed and frustrated with me than aware of the atrocities of my past.
I can't -
"I...I know."
Bucky's eyes go wide and he tilts his head slightly, getting an angle to partially glance at Sam's face. He knows? Was it that obvious?
Oh, God, it's all over.
"You-you do?" Bucky asks hesitantly, trying his best to mask the way his heart just plummeted.
"It's not that difficult to figure out. Besides, Steve...Steve told me about what he suspected HYDRA did to you. I didn't want to believe it, but after watching you today back in Madripoor...I'm so sorry, Bucky."
Bucky looks back down at the floor, inspecting the perfectly polished wood. The fact that Steve guessed correctly, the fact that every time he looked at Bucky he knew about every horrific thing that was done to him...something about that bothers Bucky in a whole new way. He didn't want Steve to see him as...tainted, or damaged. He just wanted to be normal in his eyes again. He figured by not telling him about HYDRA's horrific acts, it was possible.
But if all that time…
What's worse is that Sam has known all along, too. Every time he sets his eyes on Bucky, somewhere in the back of his brain, he thinks, "That guy has been sexually abused."
It's definitely changed the way Sam looks at him, and there's not a chance it was for the better.
Bucky's gut twists, his head beginning to spin. He feels like he's going to be sick.
"I've dealt with sexual assault survivors before, and I can -"
"Please stop talking."
This is exactly what Bucky has been wanting to avoid since Zemo stated he was going to sell him at Selby's, since he first became friends with Sam, since he first reconnected with fucking Steve.
All futile, all useless. All for fucking nothing. Now it's all going to slam him in the face and he'll lose his friend.
He'll lose his...his -
"Listen. I know you don't want to discuss this, but you have to deal with it somehow. I'm sure you haven't talked about it with that therapist lady of yours."
Bucky shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible. "I'm not letting you help, either."
Sam sighs. "Please explain to me why that is."
"Because...because I don't-I don't want to be a burden for you to drag around. I don't want to be your job." I don't want to give you more reasons to hate me. "I don't matter enough for you to worry about me to this extent, and -"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam interrupts, startling Bucky. "Let's stop right there. I'm going to make something very clear right here and right now and I am not going to repeat myself. Look at me." Bucky doesn't move, doesn't even make a sound in resistance. He simply continues to stare at the floor, thoughts going a mile a minute.
I can't look at you.
And then -
A hand on his cheek.
He flinches as Sam touches him, but it's nothing as violent as the previous time. Bucky inhales a shaky breath, heart beating out of his chest, as Sam pushes his face gently but forcefully enough for him to actually move. His eyes come up once his head is turned and they finally meet Sam's.
He can see the concern, the tenderness in his expression, in the way he's holding Bucky's face like it's the most valuable thing in the world.
He resists the urge to look at Sam's lips.
"You are not just some extra load I have to deal with. You are not a chore, or a job, as you put it, and you are certainly not worthless. Bucky, you -," Sam breaks off, his eyes flicking away from Bucky's for a moment. Bucky can feel his hand tremble ever so slightly against his cheek, but why? What's happening? He waits patiently for Sam to recollect himself and return his gaze to Bucky. "You matter more than you know. I know I've never said it, but you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me."
That can't be right.
"You're just trying to make me feel better," Bucky mutters, and Sam clicks his tongue.
"No, man, no, I'm not. I'm being so fucking honest here. I want to help you because I care, and I don't mind you or dislike having you around me. Not even close. You are important, and you deserve to be happy. You aren't just some...unwanted task dumped from person to person, and let me tell you...when I have the time, I'm going to track down every single remaining HYDRA agent on this planet and make them pay for what they put you through. Mark my words."
Bucky smiles a little at that, and he can't believe how good it feels.
"I'm sorry you had to endure all of that shit. I'm sorry you had to relive it again tonight. God knows Zemo's not going to hear the end of it from me tomorrow. I can't believe he put you in that position."
"He couldn't have known it was going to...that I-that Selby was going to start touching me like that."
"I don't care. You shouldn't have been pretending to be the Winter Soldier in the first place."
Can't argue with that.
"Thank you, Sam," Bucky rasps out, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep forever. Thank you, but I understand if you're lying.
I understand if this changes everything.
"I want you to promise me that you'll stop thinking of yourself in this awful way."
"I...Sam, it's just that...I've experienced years of-of humiliation and...and blindly following orders and getting stripped of any free will and identity and just...just being told that I'm absolutely nothing, so...it kind of took root, I guess. I don't know how long it'll take for me to-to stop believing it. I can't control it, I just-it's just there."
Sam takes a deep breath, giving Bucky one of the most sympathetic looks he's ever seen. "It'll take time. These things don't go away easily, but I want you to know that I will be there. Okay? I'm not leaving you. Not for anything. I don't care how many times you tell me to leave you alone, or stop helping, or whatever. I'm staying with you." Sam thinks for a second. "For you."
Maybe he's telling the truth.
Maybe you're not as useless as you think.
Maybe it's okay that he sees this side of you.
He might not want to engage in a relationship with you now, but it seems like he actually wants to help…
That's better than nothing.
Take it.
Bucky manages a small smile and nods his head at Sam. The other man returns both gestures and grabs the back of Bucky's head, pulling him in for a tight hug. The way they're sitting on the floor makes it a bit uncomfortable, but Bucky doesn't care, and Sam doesn't seem to either.
It takes a minute or two for Bucky to gain the strength - and will - to hug Sam back fully. He rests his chin on Sam's shoulder when he finally manages to relax, and it takes everything in him not to go into another breakdown right here and now. As soon as he gets used to it, he clings onto Sam like he's his last hope of staying alive, of remaining above the surface and not drowning.
"I'm sorry for what happened earlier. When I touched you. I thought you'd know it was me."
"It's okay. It wasn't your fault, it's just automatic at this point."
"You know I'd never hurt you, right?"
"Yes. Of course."
Sam and Bucky haven't had an intimate conversation like this in...well, ever, and it's foreign and strange and not something Bucky was ever expecting to occur between them, at least not for a long time, but he's thankful. So, so thankful for Sam. He may not ever gain the courage to confess his feelings, but at least he can be sure that there will be someone by his side to make things easier.
It's something Bucky has no choice but to be grateful for. It's the best treatment he'll probably ever get.
"It's late. We need to get some rest for tomorrow."
"Right," Bucky says and clears his throat, regretfully releasing Sam.
They both get up and stand around awkwardly for a moment, until Bucky makes the first move towards the pile of blankets on the floor.
"Hey, uh...do you want me to stay?"
Bucky freezes, a whole new mix of emotions surging through him. Christ, he's had more than enough of those tonight. "Stay?"
"If you're not comfortable sleeping alone tonight. It helps some people."
"Uh, yeah, sure. If that's okay with you."
"Great, then you're taking the bed."
Bucky raises his eyebrows at him and then shakes his head. "Sorry, but I can't let you sleep on the floor."
"I don't mind."
"I do. Besides, I like the floor better."
"You need to have a good night's sleep for once. A proper sleep. When's the last time you had that?" Bucky opens his mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. "Exactly. Get your ass on that bed and shut up."
In another context, Bucky would crumble from those words coming out of Sam's mouth, especially directed at him.
"Sam, please just take the bed and -"
"Alright, it's either we're both sleeping on the bed or we're both sleeping on the floor. What will it be?"
Sam and him.
He and Sam.
Sleeping together.
Well, not like that, but fucking still…
Bucky sighs, concealing the overwhelming nervousness he currently feels. He's so goddamn tired of feeling. "Okay, fine. Bed it is."
"Good."
I bet if I chose the floor, you would argue until I switched to the bed.
The two quickly move all the blankets back onto the huge mattress, and then Bucky crosses the giant room to turn off the overhead lights. When he does so, all the brilliant light from the city outside filters in through the window, and as much as he dislikes everything about the room, he admits that its got a gorgeous sight.
The tall buildings, the colours, the way it all illuminates everything in the room in a perfect way. It actually helps calm him down slightly as he stares out the window for a moment. He figures it's because it reminds him a lot of Brooklyn.
Finally, he collapses onto the right side of the bed and turns his back on Sam, who is already settled in.
This is so bizarre. If Bucky had been told this morning that within 18 hours he'd be lying in bed with Sam fucking Wilson, he would have called them absolutely bat-shit crazy. But here he is.
He just really, really wishes it could be under any other circumstances. Who knows, though? Maybe he's not emotionally prepared for that yet.
"Hey, Sam?" he calls out an hour or so later. He's only doing now not just because he's been turning the thought over in his mind over and over again - the bed is too soft to fall asleep quickly - but because he's sure Sam's asleep by now. If Sam's asleep, then he won't have to ask, and if he doesn't ask, he doesn't get an answer.
It's foolproof. Genius.
Except -
"Hm?"
Nice. God damnit.
Bucky takes a deep breath. Now or never. Just do it. "Are you repulsed by me?"
Silence. Such a heavy fucking silence.
Bucky realizes how comical it must have sounded, and yet Sam's not laughing.
"What?"
"Nevermind, I shouldn't have asked. Sorry if I woke you up."
"No, no, no. I just don't understand. Please explain."
Bucky takes another breath and closes his eyes. This is it. Unless Sam lies, this is the moment Bucky finds out whether or not all hope for the two of them together is lost. He almost doesn't speak, the fear of being told one of the two possible answers too fucking intense, but he forces himself to continue.
"Well, now that you know for sure about all the shit HYDRA did to me, you're not...sickened? You don't...you're still okay with touching me, right? Even being around me?"
"Are you serious?"
"Y-yes."
Shouldn't have asked shouldn't have asked shouldn't have -
"You're...you're still the same person. You're still Bucky. You're not...repulsive, you're not anything of the sort. I can't believe you think that."
Relief. So much relief. Bucky doesn't even care if Sam's being genuine or not, he's just fucking glad he said what he said.
He assumes the conversation's over, what with the nearly ten minutes of serenity that follows, but then Sam breaks the quiet with, "Bucky?"
The man opens his eyes, his mind running through all the possible questions Sam can ask, both bad and worse. "What?"
"Permission to touch you?"
That was definitely not what Bucky was expecting. Not at all.
You're unreal, Sam Wilson.
"Permission...granted."
Rustling.
Shifting.
The bed dipping.
And a hand.
Again.
Except this time, Bucky doesn't move away or flinch.
No, it doesn't feel wrong, or like it's going to inflict pain. It feels warm and safe and...right.
Sam rests his hand on the blanket where Bucky's waist is, and shit does it feel good.
"Does this answer your question?"
"I-I guess."
"Permission to move closer, Sergeant Barnes?"
Bucky smiles, a soft feeling he hasn't felt in a long time encapsulating him.
"Permission granted...Pararescue Wilson?"
Sam laughs at that, and Bucky swears it's one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. "It's actually Sergeant Wilson, for your information."
"Pararescue sounds lamer, so I'm going to go with that."
"Fuck you, Buck."
Even after that, Sam moves closer, and Bucky's chuckle catches in his throat as Sam's front presses against his back. This is closer than they've ever been before, and it's better than Bucky imagined it in all the countless times he's thought of this. Sam's arm comes all the way around him to where Bucky's side meets the bed, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingle as Sam's breath hits them.
"Does this answer your question?" Sam repeats in a whisper.
"Yes."
It can't be possible that Sam feels the same way, can it? Sure, they've never discussed this, and the position they're currently in seems to give him the answer all in itself, but it's absurd. What does Sam see in him? Why him ? There are so many other people on this planet who are less broken, who are easier to like. If what Bucky is suspecting is true, then Sam chose the worst fucking person to fall for.
If he's right, of course.
Which, judging by all his previous luck, he isn't.
In any case, Bucky will question him about it sometime later, sometime that's not in the near future. Maybe once everything with the Flag Smashers settles down and he finally gets another chance to figure all his shit out, he'll approach Sam.
And maybe Sam will end up making Bucky the happiest person on the planet.
For now, though, the feeling of Sam's arm around him, his body so close that he can feel the rise and fall of his chest, his steady breath hitting his skin, it's enough. It's more than enough. It's more than he deserves.
No. Sam said to stop thinking like that.
It's exactly what you deserve.
You...you deserve this.
I deserve this.