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The nightmares were a constant plague for Bucky. He’d learned to live with them, with the night-terrors that sometimes appeared once in a while, and with the insomnia. He’d gotten used to waking up in cold sweat, his heart in his throat, and being three seconds away from a panic attack almost every night. It was practically a nightly routine for him at this point, so when there were days where he was able to get more than an hour or two of sleep, he’d find it a bit suspicious. Sure enough, the next night he would be terrorized constantly out of sleep, the demons of his subconscious haunting him even while awake—he’d see them any time he blinked.
Tonight wasn’t any different.
Bucky was currently sharing a room with Sam, much to his dismay (and Sam’s). Luckily, they didn’t have to share a bed. (Though, they did argue a bit over who got to have the bed. In the end, they’d decided to draw lots, because Sam was too stubborn to let Bucky sleep on the floor—he still got the bed.)
Bucky pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and checked the time on his phone, the screen glaring back at him as it shone brightly and displayed the numbers 1:34. He let out a sigh, setting it down. The carpeted floor would surely leave some burns on his skin by the time the sun comes up, but it was fine, he’s slept in worse places before. A few carpet burns were nothing.
Looking at the ugly patterns on the hotel room’s wall, Bucky tried to make himself fall asleep by counting the diamonds on the yellow wallpaper, to avoid his mind from conjuring any horrifying images. Surprisingly, it worked, because Bucky was out like the light in just a few minutes. Though, that peace wouldn’t last long enough.
It was three in the morning when he shot up from the floor, hyperventilating and trying to hold back his tears. Seeing that he was in an unfamiliar room worsened his anxiety, and he tried to find something to focus on while he tried to calm himself down. But the images from his nightmare were still fresh. Flashing lights danced behind his eyes, the sound of screaming that wasn’t there was shrill, and the figures his mind had been able to conjure—Jesus Christ.
“Bucky?” Sam’s voice suddenly startled him, making him jump slightly. Fuck. Fuck. He can’t see me like this. Bucky quickly wiped his eyes and glanced away, avoiding Sam as he sat up and leaned over the bed to look at him. “Buck, are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just go back to sleep.” He said, his head turned away as he got up, still avoiding his eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna go take a walk.”
Even though he couldn’t see him, Bucky could already imagine the expression on Sam’s face. The furrow of his brows and the worried frown on his lips. He must be looking at him concerned. “Alright, but I’m going with you.”
Why does he fucking care so much? Bucky asks himself, annoyed at how much Sam actually cared for him.
“I want to be alone.”
Sam let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Do you?”
Does he?
No, not really. He admits to himself, the tears welling up in his eyes, despite trying so hard not to continue crying.
“Bucky, you know you don’t have to go through this alone. You can talk to me, I’m here for you.”
And that was it. That’s what broke down all his walls in one single swing, making Bucky feel almost ashamed of letting himself be so vulnerable with just a few words. Maybe it’s because he was tired of dealing with this shit alone or...because it was Sam the one who was offering him support and a shoulder to cry on. And damn, now he felt even worse for ignoring the Falcon’s calls and text messages. He was truly the worst.
Slowly, Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, his back turned to Sam. “C’mere.” He heard him say, feeling a sudden warmth as his arms wrapped around him, and Bucky let himself collapse onto his chest, his body going completely limp. He shook with the sobs that wracked his body, letting everything he had been holding back go. And Sam held him the entire time, rubbing soothing circles onto his back as he cried.
Once the catharsis was over, Bucky felt extremely light, as if he had taken a weight off his shoulders he didn’t even know he was carrying. Sam still didn’t let him go, not until he was completely sure Bucky was feeling better. “How do you feel now? You good?” He asked, worry lacing his words. Bucky sniffled and nodded slowly, too tired to even speak. He was pretty sure he couldn’t speak, anyway, with how raw his throat felt from crying.
“I’m glad. You know? This isn’t so bad,” he chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “We should do this more often.”
This made Bucky laugh a bit. Even though he hated to admit it, he enjoyed this. He enjoyed the warmth of someone else pressed against him, comforting him, and—just being there for him. Especially if that someone was Sam.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “I’m sorry for getting snot on your shirt.” Sam laughed, his arms tightening around Bucky a bit. “It’s fine, man. It’s going in the laundry anyway.”
“And thanks...for this.”
“Mhm.”
Bucky slowly felt his eyelids growing heavy and exhaustion began to take its effect on him, but before he could fall asleep, he heard Sam ask: “Do you want to stay like this?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. C’mere.” Sam moved a bit to give Bucky enough space to get into the bed. The latter pulled himself up onto the bed, and let Sam wrap his arms back around him and pull him into his chest.
“Goodnight, Buck.” He heard him whisper as his eyes closed. He felt sleep taking over him, just as he felt Sam’s lips pressed against the top of his head, before he finally fell asleep.
That was the first time he’s ever slept well since being in Wakanda.