Chapter Text
They’re out in the yard with the shield.
Its rare that they have a free day at home without spending at least a little time out here. What had started as a makeshift training yard has evolved over the months into a decently sized obstacle course, but today instead of timed trials or endurance training they’re just tossing the thing back and forth, a weird game of catch. Its been a long week and they’re both worn out. Sam can feel every one of his joints ache each time he moves. He knows Bucky hasn’t been sleeping much, not that any of them have gotten real rest lately but ten days ago they’d had to tangle with some pretty gruesome reminders of the Winter Solider’s legacy and Sam can’t say for sure if he’s actually seen Bucky sleep since. He must be some, even super soldiers can’t run forever, but it’s clearly not enough if the dark shadows under his eyes are any indication. He’d tried to get Bucky to talk about it, but there hadn’t been a lot a lot of time for that sort of thing either. Not until now anyway.
“So.” Sam says, chucking the shield into Bucky’s waiting hands.
“I don’t want to talk about it Sam.” the other man says, catching the disk with ease and lobbing it back.
“Alright.” Sam says, “Just a reminder that you can. If you want to.”
Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. Toss.
“It was just hard, you know.” Bucky’s focus is on the shield and his voice is pitched low. Sam waits to see where this is going. “All those unmarked graves. I compartmentalize a lot, I have to and that’s ok, but sometimes it makes it hard to remember the…scope of what I, or he, or we maybe, what we did. Its a lot of bodies Sam. It caught me by surprise I guess.”
“I know.” Sam says, even though he can really only try to understand.
Toss. Catch. Toss.
“And I know,” Bucky presses on, sending the shield back to Sam in a perfect arc. “I know that its in the past and all I can do now is try to make amends as best I can but…” He trails off and Sam has to fight off the urge to drop the shield and go pull him into a hug.
“It makes it hard to sleep sometimes.” Sam says instead, winding up for a return throw. “Listen if you want—“ He’s not exactly sure what he’s about to say, its somewhere between ‘we can talk about it more’ and ‘would sharing my bed help’ (because that suddenly sounds like a good idea???) but before he can find out just how much he’s about to put his foot in his mouth a few things happen at once.
First he’s distracted and the shield leaves his hand with a little more force than he intends for it too. Second, Cass comes shrieking off the back porch with AJ in hot pursuit. The screen door slams back into its frame with a sharp CRACK that echos through the evening air like a gunshot. Sam watches in horror as Bucky’s entire body flinches, his attention snapping to the porch while the shield is still hurtling toward’s his face.
“BU—“ Sam tries to shout but there’s no time and all he can do is watch as the shield makes contact with the side of Bucky’s head and he drops. And he dose’t get back up.
“Shit!” Sam spits out, sprinting forward and dropping to his knees beside the unmoving man. “Shit. Buck.” Bucky’s face is utterly slack, a shallow cut at his temple soaking blood into his hairline. Sam’s hands are cold as he reaches out and gingerly cradle’s the other man’s face, one hand slipping under his neck to keep it steady.
“Hey.” He says, tapping gently against Bucky’s cheek with his free hand. “Bucky? Come on man, talk to me.” There’s no response and Sam can feel something like dread beginning to coil in his gut. It wasn’t that hard of a hit was it? He’s seen the super solider take a steel pipe to the face and shake it off. Up close he can see how pale Bucky is, how deep the shadows under his eyes are. Maybe he has to revise his assumption that there has been any sleep at all happening in the last week and a half. Fuck.
“Uncle Sam?” Sam drags his attention up to find both Cass and AJ staring down at him with huge terrified eyes.
“Its OK guys.” He says, praying he isn’t lying. “Can you go get your mom for me please?” It seems to be the right thing to say because the boys nod and race off for the house. Beneath his hands Bucky stirs.
“Hey.” Sam says, all his attention focused on the little crease that has formed between Bucky’s eyebrows, “Hey. Buck. Come on now.” With a soft groan Bucky blinks his eyes open.
“Sam?” He croaks, his gaze unfocused.
“Right here man.” Sam says, applying gentle pressure to the back of Bucky’s neck. “You’re OK.” Bucky says nothing, just drags himself into a sitting position with a grunt.
“Easy.” Says Sam, one hand still firmly gripping the back of Bucky’s neck, the other finding purchase in the fabric of Bucky’s sleeve. “Just breathe.” Bucky does for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. When he opens them again his gaze is clear if a little pinched in pain at the corners.
“What happened?” He asks, reaching up to probe at the wound at his temple with his flesh hand. Sam let’s his attention jump to it for a moment, satisfied to see that it’s stopped bleeding (by this time tomorrow he knows it will be gone without a trace) before zeroing back in on Bucky’s face.
“Why don’t you tell me?” he says, and his words, while soft, must strike something in Bucky because his own expression sharpens.
“Sam don’t—“ They’re interrupted by the sound of the door slamming shut again and Sam can feel Bucky tense beneath his hands. He’s going to have to do something about those springs.
“Sam!” Sarah calls, she’s jogging across the yard to them, her face twisted up in worry. Behind her the boys hover in the doorway, uncertain and upset.
“We’re alright.” Sam calls back, he turns his face to her but keeps his hands on Bucky. “Just a little mishap with the shield, it happens.”
“Should I call Dr. Galen?” She says, pulling up beside them, her gaze flicking from Sam’s face, to his hands keeping Bucky steady, to the blood beginning to dry on Bucky’s skin.
“Nah.” Says Sam, keeping is voice light, Turning his attention back to Bucky he says, “Wanna try standing?” Bucky nods then frowns, clearly still in some discomfort. He gets to his feet under his own steam though. Sam keeps his hands on him until he’s sure Bucky isn’t gong to topple back over and then lets him go and the three of them make their way back to the house.
“Are you OK Bucky?” Cass says, as they reach the porch, his voice a little wobbly. AJ hovers just behind his shoulder, chewing anxiously on his lower lip.
“Course I am kiddo.” Bucky says, reaching out and giving the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “You know me, I got a hard head. Not as hard as your Uncle Sam’s mind you, but hard enough.”
“Aw come on man.” Sam huffs, rolling his eyes in mock frustration. Cass and AJ dissolve into giggles and Sam is struck again at just how damn good Bucky is at this, its a remarkable thing that somehow the years of pain and heartbreak he has been through have done so little to dampen the instinctual kindness he has with any kid who crosses their path. It makes Sam proud and sad all at the same time.
“Boys,” Sarah says, “Go get your Uncle Sam’s shield and bring it in and then go wash up ok? Its almost dinner and I think that’s enough excitement for one day.” The boys, thrilled to be handed such an important job, race back out into the yard and Sarah ushers the rest of them into the house. Sam hangs back to catch the door on its return swing, settling it gently back in place without a sound.
“You go clean up too.” Sarah says, laying a gentle hand on Bucky’s arm briefly and nodding towards the stairs, I’ll make you a plate.” Bucky opens his mouth to argue but Sarah shuts him down with that single raised eyebrow that’s been tormenting Sam his entire life. Bucky is clearly wiser than Sam has ever been because he just turns and heads up toward the bathroom. Sam moves to follow but Sarah catches him by the sleeve.
“What the hell happened out there?” She asks, her voice low.
“I told you.” Sam says, “We were tossing the shield around and he got clocked, it happens. He’ll be fine.” Sarah scows at him like he’s an idiot.
“And that’s why he’s been shambling around like the walking dead since you got here? I don’t think he slept at all last night. Do you know what’s going on?”
“I—no.” Sam says, his gut tightening unpleasantly.
“You need to talk to him Sam, somethings not right but he’ll never say so.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because its the same damn thing you do.” She says, irritation bleeding into concern in her voice.
There isn’t really anything to say to that because she’s right so he just turns and trudges up the stairs after Bucky.
The bathroom door is ajar when he reaches it so he knocks lightly and then pushes it open in the same motion.
“Buck?” He says, “Are you—“ He breaks off as he gets a better view inside the room.
Bucky is on the floor, his back against the side of the tub, his legs akimbo underneath him. The heels of his hands are pressed into his eyes.
“Hey.” Sam says, worry and something sharper stabbing through his chest. He glances out into the hall to be sure no one will bother them, then closes the door behind him and goes to crouch before Bucky. He leaves plenty of room between them. “Hey.” He says again, little more than a breath. “What going on?”
“I”m so tired Sam.” Bucky’s voice is muffled behind his hands but even so Sam can hear how weary it it is, ground glass and broken stone.
“I know man.” He says softly, inching forward slowly. “Its ok. You’re safe.” Bucky shakes his head, his hands still pressed into his eyes. Sam shuffles forward a little farther, reaching out until his hands hover over over Bucky’s wrists.
“I’m going to touch you.” He says quietly, “is that ok?” He waits until Bucky nods then settles his hands on the other man’s arms and gently pulls them down.
“There you are.” Sam says softly, Bucky glances up at him with red, raw eyes, then looks away. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t…” The words seem to catch in Bucky’s throat and Sam lets his hands slide down Bucky’s arms until their fingers intertwine, he feels the flesh hand shaking in his. “I can’t stop seeing them Sam. Every time I close my eyes. Faces with names I never even knew. But i still remember them. I remember the weight of the gun in my hand, the sounds they made as I pulled the trigger…”
Sam’s mind is spinning. There are so many things he could say, its not your fault, you couldn’t help it, you have to forgive yourself. What he says instead is.
“God Buck. I’m so sorry.”
Its not what either of them expect and Bucky meets his gaze, something like confusion on his face.
“I’m sorry.” Sam presses on, because he is, Christ he is. “I would do anything to go back and change that for you, its so unfair that you have to carry it.” Bucky opens his mouth to protest but Sam isn’t finished. “No one should have to carry the weight of this Buck. If I could take some of it from you I would. But I’m here. We’re all here, me, Sarah, the boys. We have you. We aren’t going to let you go.” He inches forward a little more, their knees are pressed up against each other. “You aren’t alone anymore.” He’s expecting Bucky to argue with him, to protest that for some reason or another he and he alone deserves to shoulder this impossible weight. What he doesn’t expect is for Bucky’s face to crumble into grief.
“Sam.” He chokes out, and without thinking Sam pulls him forward, into his arms.
“Oh sweetheart.” He says, the word slipping out without him quite meaning to say it. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
They stay there for a long time, until Bucky is heavy and boneless in his arms.
“Hey.” Sam says at last, his hands tracing circles over Bucky’s sweat damped shirt. “You need to rest.” Bucky mutters something incomprehensible into his shoulder which Sam takes as permission to move so he scoots back and the pushes himself to his feet, careful not to break contact, his hands still firmly on Bucky’s shoulders.
“Come on.” He says, tugging the other man to his feet. Bucky sways dangerously for a moment before finding his balance. There’s something wild creeping back into his eyes.
“I can’t sleep here.” He says, pulling out of Sam’s grip.
“Of course you can—“ Sam says but Bucky cuts him off.
“I’ve been putting it off for days.” His face is frantic and ashen, its something Sam hasn’t seen there before. “Its going to be bad Sam, The dreams—“ He stutters to a stop, pulls in a shaky breath then says, “I can’t do that to you. To them.”
“Hey.” Sam says, more sharply than he means to. He reaches out, expectations be damned and takes Bucky’s face in his hands. “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter, whatever comes next you and I will figure it out together OK? You don’t get to just disappear into the night anymore. This,” he gestures between their chests. “means you’re stuck with me OK?”
For a long moment Bucky just looks at him, breath coming in uneven short gasps, Sam can feel him trembling under his touch. Then all at once the fight goes out of him and he sags, leaning so far into Sam’s touch that Sam has to jam a shoulder under his left armpit to keep him upright.
“OK.” Sam says, moving them towards the door, “Alright.” Somehow he gets them down the hall and into his bedroom. Bucky makes a small sound of protest as Sam guides him to the bed and sets him carefully on the edge. Once he knows he’s stable Sam pulls back and says,
“I’ll be right back OK, don’t go anywhere.” Bucky huffs a noncommittal reply but it will have to do. Sam ducks out of the room and hurries down the stairs. By the time he’s found Sarah, brought her up to speed on what’s happening upstairs and headed back up with two cups of water and a bowl of soup balanced precariously in his arms, its been long enough that he’s not sure what exactly he’ll find when he slides back into the room. Bucky is exactly where he left him, expression vacant. Sam’s mouth twists unhappily but he just sets down the dishes and turns back to the other man.
“OK Buck.” He says, handing him a glass of water before bending down and reaching for the laces of the black combat boots Bucky seems to favor. “Drink that for me yeah?”
Bucky complies without a word and Sam manages to tug off his boots with out too much trouble. It takes a little more doing to get him out of his jeans and into a pair of Sam’s softest sweatpants. He’s so compliant in Sam’s hands that it make’s Sam’s heart ache, but there isn’t time for that at the moment so he stays as brisk and efficient as possible. It becomes pretty obvious as he’s tugging a clean t-shirt over Bucky’s head that dinner isn’t going to happen, but that’s fine, they can get those calories later.
Once he’s got Bucky taken care of he strips quickly himself, shimmying into something soft and warm, and even though its early sunset he maneuvers them both into the bed. At first Bucky is ridged beside him but slowly he lets himself curl into Sam’s arms. Sam watches as he struggles against sleep, his eyes slipping closed before he forces them open.
"It's OK." Sam says softly, letting his fingers drift gently up the curve of Bucky's spine. "Trust me. Its gonna be OK."
He can feel the moment Bucky finally drops into unconsciousness, his breathing evening out into a long slow rhythm. It's peaceful, but Sam knows the chances of him staying that way all night are slim. Its ok thought. He’d meant what he’d said, whatever was coming next they’d deal with together.
“I promise.” Her murmurs pressing his lips carefully to the top of Bucky’s head where it rests against his shoulder. “You and me. Together.”
Whatever was waiting for them. That was enough. Sam would make damn sure of it.