Work Text:
He should have known.
Bucky should have known once he saw the shiny glint of the knife appear in the guy's hand.
Bucky should have warned Sam that he had a knife. But he didn't.
He didn't because he got distracted by one of the partners trying to punch him.
And he doesn't even remember who they were fighting; he just knows that one second Sam is fighting unaware of the knife and the next he's bleeding.
And it's awful.
It's awful because Sam wasn't wearing his Captain America suit. The one made of vibranium specifically for him so that stuff like this wouldn't happen.
And the groans that leave Sam's lips are going to haunt Bucky's nightmares for eternity. He knows it will.
But he can't do anything. Not now.
Not when there are still two guys to deal with. And Sam can put pressure on the wound on his own. He can do that.
And Bucky just barely manages to dodge a punch from someone, he was too focused on Sam he needs to get his mind back to the fight.
So, Bucky forces himself to ignore Sam's groans. Forces himself to ignore the bright red blood that was starting to seep through Sam's finger. And he fights.
He manages to wrestle the knife from someone's hand and stabs them. It's not going to kill them. He doesn't do that anymore. But it will hurt and leave him unable to fight. And that's what he needs.
Bucky scans his surroundings-- pretending that his eyes don't linger just a second too long on Sam-- and the other guy is nowhere in sight.
Coward.
He's a coward, he left his partner there writhing on the floor in pain.
And Bucky ignores the guy screaming in anguish, that would probably haunt him but right now all he can focus is on Sam.
Sam who's leaning against the wall with blood dribbling down his lips. Soft groans escaping his lips.
"Shit, Sam," Bucky whispered, he moved Sam's hands away from the wound and peeled the blood-soaked t-shirt from his stomach.
Sam winced, "Buck," Sam whispered breathlessly.
"Put pressure on it," Bucky's eyes were unmoving. They stayed fixated on Sam's stomach, watching as his abs flexed and unflexed continuously due to the intense pain.
Sam placed his hands over the wound, biting back a hiss, "wha're you doing?"
Bucky took off his jacket, ripping apart the sleeves, "What does it look like? Not like we can call an ambulance while undercover,"
Sam stared at Bucky through his half-lidded eyes, "could," Sam let out a shaky breath.
Bucky ignored Sam. He had to. Had to ignore the pained whispers and the way he tried to pull away from Bucky's hands as he started to apply pressure on the wound.
Because if Bucky acknowledged that the blood on his palms was Sam's, Bucky won't be able to stop himself. He won't be able to stop himself from shaking, trembling. While his mind supplied him with so many outcomes where Sam doesn't survive this.
And he can't do that.
Not when Sam needed him.
Expertly Bucky tied the jacket around Sam's middle, keeping extra pressure on the front, "We're going to stand up, come on,"
Bucky placed one of Sam's arms over his shoulder.
"Bucky-" Sam heaved out, a broken cough wrenching its way out of his throat, "wha' bout 'im," Sam's eyes, filled with tears, glanced behind Bucky. Where he left the guy bleeding out.
"Sam, he stabbed you, and you're bleeding out. Right now I could give less of a shit about him," Bucky slowly lifted Sam, keeping his vibranium arm secure around Sam's waist. Bucky waited a few minutes. "He won't die," was all that Bucky could come up to say as he felt the guilt in his chest get impossibly bigger.
Sam lowered his head, Bucky supposed it was meant to be a nod or well he took it as one.
And they started walking.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Bucky kept eyeing the floor, making sure their feet were synchronized.
"Buck," Sam wheezed out, "I, I can't"
Even with such a short sentence, it took Sam way too much effort to utter out. Wordlessly Bucky nodded and slowly helped Sam sit on the pavement, his back against a lamp pole.
"God, what am I going to do?" Bucky muttered.
Sam closed his eyes, the harsh light causing his headache to worsen, "be'ind you,"
"Don't close your eyes dammit,"
Bucky was panicking. The adrenaline wore off and even the soreness in his muscles couldn't stop him from being terrified.
Terrified that Sam would die, bleeding out in a no-name street at night.
Sam slowly, with strength he felt he didn't have, opened his eyes. Squinting at the blurry figure he knew to be Bucky, "behind you,"
Bucky threw a glance over his shoulder. Barely paying attention to what he saw.
Bucky paused. And did a double-take. Behind him, a couple of feet away, there was a small convenience store.
Bucky stood up from the squat, and turned around, "Sam, It’s going to be quick, I swear. Just don't close your eyes,"
"I won't," Sam whispered.
"Promise me,"
"I promise," Sam let out another wet cough, his back slumping down even further against the pole.
Bucky nodded, "yeah, just wait here,"
He knew it was a stupid thing to say. It wasn't like Sam could leave, he could barely even keep his eyes open. But it helped calm Bucky down.
Even if just a little bit.
Bucky quickly walked over to the other street, throwing glances over his shoulder making sure Sam was okay,
Opening the window door, the bell letting out a little jingle, he sent a tight-lipped smile towards the half-asleep cashier. He quickly walked around the store scanning the shelves for what he needed.
Alcohol. Floss. Needles. Bandages. Pain killers. Disinfectant wipes. Scissors.
Bucky reached out with his hand and grabbed the Alcohol, only to pull his hand back almost immediately.
Blood.
Not just any blood Sam's.
Sam's blood was staring right back at him. Laughing in his face.
In his rush, he had forgotten he still had Sam's blood on his hands. Bucky swallowed down the bile that was threatening to come up and grabbed the alcohol ignoring how it felt slippery under his grip.
As quickly as he could Bucky grabbed every single thing that he needed. And some extras just in case.
He walked-- jogged-- over to the counter and threw a crumpled fifty-dollar bill. It was probably too much. He didn't care. Bucky exited the store and ran over to Sam.
"Hey," Sam mumbled, his face covered in a sheen coat of sweat and blood, "Took you long enough,"
Bucky nodded, carefully he started removing his blood-soaked jacket from Sam's stomach, "sorry," Bucky whispered, avoiding looking up to Sam's eye.
"It’s okay," Sam slurred, his hands twitching against his sides, "it’s okay, okay,"
And Bucky realized Sam was trying to convince himself that he was going to be okay.
"You're going to be okay," Bucky looked up and, finally, met Sam's half-lidded gaze. His eyebrows were scrunched up with wrinkles forming around the corner and his lips, which were coated in a thin coat of cherry red blood, were slightly opened letting out pained gasps.
"This isn't my first time doing it," Bucky whispered, looping the dental floss through the needle, "This is going to hurt a shit ton,"
That was the only warning he gave Sam before he carefully inserted the needle into his skin.
Sam's hand shot up and dripped onto Bucky's shoulder, his calloused fingers digging harshly onto Bucky's skin, "shit,"
Bucky as quickly as he could-- while trying not to hurt Sam-- finish tending to Sam's wound.
And this wasn't ideal.
He was using his right hand to handle the needle. His shaking hand. His vibranium arm would have been so much better, but he can't use it. If he did he would have ended up hurting Sam even more.
And he can't have that.
"Alright, it’s done," Bucky let out a sigh of relief, he let the needle drop onto the ground.
Sam let a pained smile graze his face, " 'anks,"
Bucky nodded as he grabbed the alcohol, "this is going to hurt,"
He poured the alcohol into the cap and spilled it over the wound. Sam's stomach clenched and the pad of his fingers dug even deeper into Bucky's bone.
Some of the blood got washed away by the alcohol revealing the lovely dark brown-colored skin that Bucky always loved to admire.
"Don't-" Sam heaved out as Bucky started opening the bandages.
"I have to,"
Sam shook his head, his teeth were biting onto his bottom lip, "hurts too much,"
"It'll get infected, and we have to walk to the motel," Bucky met Sam's gaze.
Sam stared at Bucky, his eyes normally so beautiful now dark as every single inch of him was consumed in pain. And he whispered out, "Buck," It was a plea.
A wish.
One he couldn't give to him.
But he could give him something else.
Bucky grabbed the bottle he had thrown onto the ground, the pills inside of it clinking together, "It won't stop the pain entirely, but it'll help,"
A compromise.
Bucky watched Sam's unreadable face. Watched as his eyes glazed over from the overwhelming pain, and his hand kept tightening over his shoulder. And Sam looked at Bucky until he gave a barely-there nod.
Bucky fished the water bottle he had bought and passed two pills to Sam.
Sam could care less that the pills had some of his blood on them. He just needed to feel something else than this burning pain deep within his body.
Bringing a shaky hand up to his face he threw the pills into his mouth. Dry swallowing them.
"Sam?" Bucky asked, showing the bottle to Sam, but Sam just shook his head and closed his eyes.
"Just do it,"
Bucky nodded, “Tell me if I hurt you,” Bucky with swift hands wrapped the bandage around Sam’s middle. Ignoring the few curse words that slipped Sam’s mouth. Ripping off a piece of tape, he placed it on the bandages making sure they were tight enough but not too tight that it aggravated Sam’s injury even further.
Bucky lowered Sam’s shirt onto the gauze, muttering a small apology as Sam winced.
“God, stay here. There’s no way in hell you’re going to be able to walk with that stab wound,” Bucky stood up, the muscles of his back protesting the sudden shift.
“What are you going to do?” Sam slurred, slumping his head back against the pole revealing the long column of his neck covered in a mixture of sweat, tears, and grime.
“Getting us a ride. Just don’t fall asleep, please,”
Bucky walked over to one of the parked cars. He hasn’t done this since he went to Wakanda, but it’s gotta be like riding a bike right?
Once you learn you never forget it.
Eyeing his surroundings-- letting his gaze linger on Sam for just a few seconds once again-- he smashed the car window with his left arm. Broken pieces of glass fell onto the seat and sidewalk. He threw the few pieces that were on the seat onto the floor and slid into it.
His hand reached blindly under the dashboard, there was a time where Bucky could have done this without thinking twice about it. Could have done this while focusing on the task at hand ignoring his surroundings while simultaneously being hyper-aware of them.
Bucky grabbed the two cables and cut off their ends. Getting started on hot wiring the car.
Maybe he should feel guilty that he’s stealing an innocent person’s car-- he wouldn’t be surprised if the car was the cashier’s-- just like he should have felt guilty about leaving the man writhing in pain on the floor.
But he doesn’t.
Not when all of his emotions are focusing on Sam. He knows once Sam is okay he'll feel the guilt, feel the slow torture of it filling up his heart.
But right now the certain guilt he had to learn to live with has been eaten. Overcome by a much bigger and scarier monster. And maybe if Bucky had a word for that feeling he wouldn’t be scared of it so much.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t have a word for it and it’s terrifying because this isn’t the first time he has felt this. It isn’t the first time because he remembers feeling it when Steve left. Feeling like his one constant in life was gone. And he was lost.
But it’s so different.
It isn’t like the fear he felt when he had fallen to his death. And it isn’t like the confusion he felt when he saw Steve after years of being tortured.
And this feeling. This new feeling was blinding Bucky. Was making him see stuff that wasn’t there. Was making him see Sam lying dead on the floor with a pool of his blood.
And that was dangerous.
So dangerous.
Bucky glanced back towards Sam once he got the car running.
It would be easier if he drove the car closer to Sam, so that’s what he did.
Once he was close enough he let the car running and got out. His eyes immediately found Sam’s slumped form.
“Sam?” Bucky was panicking.
Sam’s eyes were fully closed, and even though his chest was rising and falling erratically that didn’t stop the panic from spreading.
"Sam?" Bucky shouted, kneeling next to his unconscious body.
Sam twitched.
But he still didn't open his eyes.
"Shit," Bucky mumbled. This couldn't get any worse.
Bucky curled his arm around Sam's knees and picked him up bridal style. Letting out a soft groan.
Making sure not to hurt Sam more than he already was, he opened the back door-- after a bit of struggling-- and laid Sam on the seat.
Bucky threw a glance at the opened supplies that he'd thrown on the floor. He considered leaving them but decided against it.
Quickly picking up the stuff from the floor he jogged over to the driver seat. Throwing everything in his hands onto the passenger's side, hearing a soft thud as the alcohol bottle rolled onto the floor.
And he drove.
He drove down the dark isolated streets illuminated by the car's headlights.
His gaze kept switching back and forth between the road and the backseat. Bucky was scared. Scared that if he stopped looking at Sam for even one second he would stop breathing.
Bucky had lost everyone close to him. He couldn't lose Sam too.
Not when Sam had somehow made his way into Bucky's guarded heart and broke down every single one of his walls. Took away his armor and left it on the floor to rust. Took every single defense that Bucky had built and left him standing in front of him bare. Defenseless. Revealing every single secret, every single fear, that he had tried so hard to hide.
And it's funny because as much as Bucky liked to say that he hated Sam. That he was only with him since he had nothing better to do. There was nowhere else he'd rather be.
At some point, the shield had been his only family. His only sense of security. But now in some way Sam had become family-- and so had Sarah, Aj, Cass, and every single person that lived in Delacroix that somehow knew Sam-- and he accepted him.
Accepted him despite his past-- and his hideous hair as Sam liked to say-- and Bucky doesn't know what he'll do without him.
Doesn't know if he'll survive.
The sounds of clothes ruffling together and a pained whimper echoed from the Backseat. Bucky licked his chapped lips and threw a glance at the rear window.
"Sam?" Bucky asked as he saw him struggling to sit up.
" 'm fine," Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes shut tightly together in pain.
"You don't look fine," Bucky retorted, somehow managing to keep his eyes on the road and not turn around completely and stare at Sam.
Sam hummed, and as the rustling began to grow louder Bucky threw a glance towards the back. And his heart, which had felt lighter once he heard Sam wake up, got tighter.
"Sam, shit, your bandages," Bucky exclaimed, his eyes not once leaving the slowly spreading blood against the white gauze.
Bucky shifted his gaze from Sam towards the dark road, looking for a place to pull over.
Sam peered down at his stomach through half-lidded eyes, " 'ust be why it 'urts," He slurred.
"Don't move," Bucky demanded, his voice stern, even though it felt like his insides were being filled up with water and he was drowning in it.
"Wasn't planning on to," Sam lifted his gaze and dark brown eyes met icy cold blue ones through the rear window, "I'm 'ine,"
Bucky shook his head and pulled the car over to a small clearing, "You probably popped one of the stitches, somehow,"
"Somehow," Sam mocked as a wet cough tore its way out of his throat, "you used floss,"
"It always worked fine with me,"
Sam even though the pain managed to glare at Bucky. Although it didn't have the effect he wanted considering not a second later he shut his eyes tightly as the pounding pain in his abdomen distracted him.
Bucky got out of the car, barely paying attention to his surroundings; the only thing on his mind right now was Sam.
He wrenched the back door open meeting Sam's semi startled eyes.
" 'hat the car do to you?" Sam asked, tilting his head back onto the seat.
Bucky shook his head, "can you come closer?"
Sam shook his head, his teeth grinding together.
Bucky nodded and got into the backseat, "You need to lean against the door," Bucky whispered, as he stretched over to the front seat to get the supplies.
Sam dropped his chin onto his chest as he slowly moved to rest his back against the door, his legs stretching out in front of him.
"Shit" Bucky mumbled, his body practically over the front seat and he still couldn't reach the alcohol.
His patience was wearing thin.
"Buck?"
"Got it," Bucky whispered, his vibranium arm holding on the bottle tightly.
"Here- let me just," Bucky mumbled as he tried unwrapping the bandage, "this is going to hurt,"
Sam nodded his hands shooting up and gripping onto Bucky's vibranium elbow. Indents started to form on Sam's finger pads from how hard he held on.
Bucky bit his tongue as he heard Sam wince once he fully removed the blood-soaked gauze, "yeah, definitely popped a stitch,"
Bucky swallowed down bile, "I'm going to need to pull all of it out, to properly restitch it and prevent it from getting infected,"
"I 'ate Fury," Sam moaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, "do it,"
Bucky eyed Sam nervously. Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth as he noted the droplets of sweat rolling down his face, "you should take another pill,"
"Can't," Sam whispered, his chest heaving up and down as the burning pain shot needles into his stomach.
Bucky nodded and grabbed the scissors, "if it hurts too much tell me," Bucky whispered and slowly he cut off the knots.
The white floss, now stained with blood, stood a striking contrast against Sam's dark trembling abdomen.
The wound was slowly gushing out blood and Bucky-- with practiced ease-- pulled out the end of one of the cut floss. Sam's grip tightened on his elbow, and Bucky was silently thankful that he hadn't grabbed his flesh hand with how hard he seemed to be grabbing.
"Shit, shit," Sam repeated over and over again. His stomach clenched and unclenched as he tried to back away from Bucky's hand.
"I'm done," Bucky whispered, his eyes focused solely on the open wound. The edges were raised slightly but they were straight. At least from what he could tell with all the blood. "I just need to re-stitch it and properly disinfect it,"
"Fuck," Sam whispered as he bit harshly onto his bottom lip, "Just do it,"
Bucky met Sam's eyes.
A beat and then he nodded bringing his gaze back towards the wound. And somehow it was easier looking at the wound, surrounded by dried and fresh blood than to see the pain in Sam's eyes. Because hearing it is so much different than seeing it.
Because when he hears the pained grunts he can pretend they aren't from Sam. But the moment he looks at him and sees his face is the moment everything comes crashing down.
Then he can't pretend it's someone else because Sam's warm eyes are filled to the brim with tears that are too stubborn to fall. And his face normally so relaxed with a smile always tugging at his lips is now scrunched up in his pain as his mouth was hanging open short gasp coming out of them.
And it's horrible.
Because Bucky should be used to this. He knows he's used to this.
But why is it so different with Sam?
It always is.
And as the needle pierced Sam's skin, Sam's fingers curled tighter against Bucky's arm. Letting out a mantra of hushed curse words.
Bucky focused on the task at hand.
He ignored Sam's trembling abdomen. And ignored his pained whimpers each time the needle entered his skin.
"God," Sam gasped out, his hand digging painfully into Bucky’s vibranium elbow.
"I'm done," Bucky whispered as he cut off the floss and did a small knot. "If you don't pop it this should help you. At Least until we get back to the Quinjet,"
Sam groaned and managed to croak out, "Fury?"
"He can always send someone else to finish the mission," Bucky shrugged as he picked the bandages and stared intently at them. "If not, then I'll just finish it by myself,"
Bucky slowly started wrapping the bandage around Sam's middle, and for the first time since Sam got stabbed everything in his mind was silent.
And Bucky would have preferred to have his mind working overtime with all of his thoughts than the dead silence that he now has.
Because then he wouldn't be aware of his rapidly thumping heart. So loud against his ears, he wouldn't be surprised if Sam could hear it. He wouldn't be aware of the way his eyes are slowly blurring away with tears. And he wouldn't have noticed that he had drawn blood from his lip by how much he bit it anxiously.
Bucky peered upwards towards Sam's face, his wide eyes already staring at him.
Bucky forced a smile onto his face, "Good as new,"
And even though Sam's chest was heaving up and down he already looked better. His face, although it still looked ashy, had regained some of his colors. And his deep attentive eyes haven't moved an inch from Bucky's face.
Sam groaned, "don't feel like it,"
Bucky shook his head, "Yeah, well you did get stabbed,"
Sam stared at Bucky, "you look like shit," Sam's face scrunched up in pain but he still kept staring at Bucky.
Bucky let out a humorless laugh, oh he knows he looks like shit, "Yeah, well it's your fault,"
Sam raised an eyebrow, "my fault?" He whispered, extending a hand towards Bucky's face and placing it on his cheek.
Bucky leaned into the contact, trying everything not to burst into tears right there. Wordlessly Bucky nodded as he closed his eyes. Even though Sam's hand was warm and clammy with sweat it meant that he was fine. That he was going to recover.
"You scared me," Bucky finally whispered, opening his eyes being met with Sam's face illuminated by the crappy car light, "I really thought you wouldn't-"
"I'm here," Sam whispered.
Bucky nodded, "I know, but I really thought- you passed out, Sam"
"Pretty sure it was because of the pain," Sam whispered as he removed his hand from Bucky's arm, wincing slightly as he shifted, and placed it on his other cheek.
Bucky nodded, out of the corner of his eyes seeing the indents left on Sam's finger due to the plates. But Bucky didn't focus on that.
No.
He focused on two brown eyes littered with speckles of gold staring at him.
All he could see, feel, was Sam.
He could feel Sam's sweaty palms against his cheeks, and his knee pressing uncomfortably into his thigh. But he wouldn't change it for anything.
Bucky smiled and the air around then shifted.
He turned slightly and pressed a butterfly kiss to each of Sam's palms.
And Sam could tell that that kiss meant that Bucky was relieved.
Sam snaked his hand around Bucky's neck and tugged him closer and Bucky followed Sam without complaining.
Bucky's mind is empty.
But Bucky doesn't care anymore because if his mind was filled to the brim with thoughts he wouldn't be able to focus on Sam.
Wouldn't be able to focus on the way his eyes fluttered as he got closer, or the way his lips looked red and swollen after being bitten so much.
And Bucky wouldn't have been able to focus on the way that the distance between them, between their lips, got so much smaller.
Bucky was practically on top of Sam holding himself up with his vibranium arm as his right hand held onto Sam's nape. Their lips brushed against each other with every shift. But neither was brave enough to dive.
An eternity must have passed and Bucky whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder it would break the calm atmosphere they have managed to preserve despite everything, "Can I?"
Sam gave a barely-there nod, but that was all the encouragement Bucky needed. And finally, he pressed both of their lips together.
Sam's dry chapped lips held a tang of metal from the dried blood. But Bucky didn't care. He didn't care because all he was focusing on was how Sam's lips were plush against his.
Sam's hand curled into his hair giving it a soft tug. And it was everything Bucky ever wanted but didn't think he could have.
But he could have this. They could have this.
Bucky pulled away from the kiss, leaving barely any space between them. He smiled as he watched Sam's dilated pupils.
"Would have gotten stabbed sooner if it meant you would kiss me," Sam whispered as he swallowed down the pool of saliva building in his mouth.
Just as Bucky opened his mouth to answer Sam let out a sharp hiss. Bucky stared at Sam as his grip on his hair tightened ever so slightly.
"Sam?"
Sam nodded and tore his gaze away from Bucky's as he shut his eyes, "Fine, it's just- hurts without proper painkillers,"
Bucky nodded and sat up, already missing the warmth of Sam's mouth against his, "You should probably take another pill,"
As Sam wordlessly nodded, Bucky rummaged around blindly until his hand grasped the small pill bottle.
"Thanks," Sam whispered as Bucky passed him two pills and the warm water bottle.
Bucky watched silently as Sam swallowed down the pills.
"Is it too weird to ask you out right now?" Bucky asked once Sam's tense features were somewhat relaxed.
"Knowing our lives, no," Sam smiled,
"Samuel,"
"James,"
Bucky shook his head as he let a toothy grin graze his face. His heart fluttered rapidly against his chest and he asked, "would you go out with me?"
Sam nodded, "Yeah, yeah, I would love to,"
And despite Sam's face having traces of his blood and tears that haven't fallen yet. Bucky could confidently say that he was the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on.