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In fairness, Sam did ask them if they could debrief in the morning.
They were the only words he’d said since the cleanup crew had told him they had the scene under control. Words he’d repeated before heading up to the quinjet cockpit to take them home even though Union Square to Avengers Tower was a programmed route the quinjet could fly on autopilot.
They were the words he’d said one last time before they walked into the meeting room, words he’d heard Bucky echo after he’d taken a quick look at Sam’s face.
The team hadn’t listened, like they hadn’t on the field an hourー90 minutes? 45 minutes? 12 hours?ーago, and Sam had, like he knew he would, completely shut down.
“I just don’t understand why you’d rush in and start firing before we had the time to evacuate! For all you know your blasts could’ve maimed half the people there!”
The not-so-distant part of Sam that’s aware of where he is and what’s going on around him at all times would swear Tony and Natasha had this exact same argument when the literal dust had settled, and again in the quinjet, the muffled words reaching Sam even through the cockpit’s door.
“We’ve been in this exact situation at least three hundred times before. He was clearly the most important threat to tackle.”
“Sorry, Tony, did we suddenly lose the ability to do two things at once? There were kids thereー”
“Which is exactly why we had to get rid of wanna be Magneto sooner than later.”
“At their expense?”
There had been kids, Sam remembers, even though the memories of today’s events are already slipping away from him, burying themselves somewhere his brain will know not to look for the time being.
There’d been kids with their families, and kids with their schools.
Three different school trips actually, with two classes each, including North Harlem elementary school's first and second grade classes.
“There weren’t any casualties, so why are we even having this conversation?”
“Because that’s what debriefs are for, in case you’d forgotten.”
No casualties. Sam clings to the words with all his tired might. They’re gonna see him through.
No casualties. None of the second graders were hurt, none of the first graders either. They’re all okay. They’re fine.
But I’m not. I’m not okay.
“You gonna weigh in on this, Cap, or are we just gonna argue here for the rest of the day? My evening’s ruined anyway, but I’m sure you all have more pressing things to do.”
I told you we should debrief in the morning.
His lungs won’t cooperate. Neither will his throat or his lips.
“Cap. Sam. Say something.”
“Sam? Sam, you alright?”
I fucking told you. I asked.
“Okay, enough. We should all go home.”
“And who’s gonna do something about the fact that Cap’s gone catatonic, Barnes?”
“I am.”
That voice doesn’t belong here. Steve is supposed to be in Brooklynーhome?ーpainting. Writing. Something.
“Thought you weren’t meddling in Avengers business anymore.”
“Bucky texted. And I’m not here for the Avengers.”
For a second, the air feels even heavier than it already was, then Sam feels a hand on his cheek. It’s gentle and familiar and Sam wish he could smile or say something to reassure Steve. Steve already worries too much.
“Hi, sweetheart. I’m gonna take you home. You’re gonna be okay.”
Am I?
Someone clears their throat. “Think we should move this to tomorrow morning.”
Sam closes his eyes. It’s all he’d asked for. It wasn’t too much to ask.
“Sam, sweetheart. Open your eyes for me? They left. Everyone’s gone.”
It would’ve been the hardest thing Sam had to do today had he not been asked to take down some murderous asshole while his nephew was in the crowd, somewhere Sam couldn’t get to.
Sam opens his eyes, even lifts his head a little, finds big blue concerned eyes and a small smile.
“Sarah called. She said Jody’s okay. Happy to know his uncle saved the world again.” Steve’s smile widens and he kisses Sam’s forehead. His hands are warm and dry on Sam’s face. “Let’s get you home, alright?”
Sam nods, but doesn’t move. It’s not just Steve’s hands, or Steve’s reassuring voice that are familiar. They’d been here before, a couple dozen times, at least. Steve crouched in front of him, strong and steady, ready to take care of Sam.
He leans forward so his forehead touches Steve’s and sighs. His breath isn’t steady, his shoulders won’t come down, but there’s time for that yet.
Sam would stay there forever if he could. Knows Steve won’t falter under his weight.
“Home?” Sam’s voice is low and rough. It’s okay. He doesn’t mind, and neither does Steve.
“Home.”