Work Text:
Sam slipped through the door without a sound and closed it softly behind him. Held the keys snug in his fist so they didn’t jangle. The – Bucky’s – their? Jesus, he still wasn’t quite sure – apartment was dark and silent. The moon shining in through the thin curtains was barely enough to see by, but Sam tiptoed easily across the room. The space was still far too sparse for his liking. Though he had managed to coax Bucky into agreeing to go furniture shopping this week…
He briefly debated stopping in the kitchen to brush his teeth – the bathroom was too close to the bedroom – but his body ached and he was exhausted and the thought of just falling into a soft bed was far too tempting. He crept down the hall, grateful that the creaky bedroom door had been left open for him.
Sam’s heart clenched. Bucky was lying curled up under one sheet, the rest of the covers thrown back over the bed. His face was just visible in the darkness of the room, and for once his expression was smooth and lax. Like he was really, truly resting. Sam smiled softly to himself and set down his shield, ever so carefully, beside the dresser. He stripped off quickly and eased himself onto the bed behind Bucky.
Bucky shifted as the mattress dipped. He made a questioning little noise in the back of this throat. Sam shushed him and tucked their bodies together, sliding an arm around his chest, hand right over Bucky’s heartbeat.
“Go back to sleep,” Sam breathed, barely a whisper, and kissed the skin behind Bucky’s ear. Bucky’s breathing evened out again. His warm hand settled over Sam’s.
The feeling of Bucky safe and sound next to him soothed some of the ache out of Sam’s bruises and scrapes. He smiled to himself again, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow, and closed his eyes.
Sam was in the middle of flipping the bacon when a thud sounded from the bedroom behind him, followed by heavy footsteps. He barely had time to put down the spatula before he was being spun around by his shoulders to face an extremely agitated Bucky Barnes.
“Hey!” Sam squawked, hands flying instinctively to Bucky’s forearms.
Bucky’s hair was mussed and his lids still heavy with sleep, but his eyes were alert and swept furiously over Sam’s bare torso, taking in the bandages around his ribs and elbow. “You’re bleeding,” he said gruffly. “There was blood on the bed.”
Startled, Sam glanced down at himself and realized there was a small spot of red soaking through the bandage at his elbow. His shoulders relaxed and his grip loosened on Bucky’s arms. “I’m fine, Buck, it’s just a scratch.” Bucky gave him a look, and Sam repeated, “It is, just bled like a bitch is all.”
Bucky’s hand slid down from Sam’s shoulder and tugged on his hand. “C’mon, it needs rewrapped.”
Sam huffed, gesturing at the food still cooking on the stovetop. “This just gonna burn then? You want bacon or not?”
Bucky hesitated, looking grumpy. “Fine. You finish up, I’ll grab the first aid.”
Sam smirked at his back and turned back to the stove.
Bucky didn’t even try to pretend not to wolf down his breakfast. Sam barely got down two bites of scrambled eggs before Bucky had scooted his chair closer and begun to unwrap his arm.
“See, it’s not so bad,” Sam said, switching his fork to his left hand to let Bucky work. Bucky grunted. He squirted some antibiotic gel onto the cut and spread it around with a fingertip. “You know the EMTs already took care of that.”
“Little more can’t hurt.”
Sam set his fork down and watched Bucky’s face carefully. There was a worry line etched deep between his eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Sam’s gaze drifted down to Bucky’s fingers moving over his arm.
“You wish I had the serum, don’t you?”
Bucky froze, head snapping up to look at Sam. “No,” he said firmly, after a second. His eyes dropped to the bandage he had half-wrapped around Sam’s elbow. His fingers played with the end of it. He appeared to be turning something over in his mind – his mouth opened once, then closed again. “Not like – ” he said finally and broke off.
Not like what they did to me, Sam heard though Bucky didn’t finish.
“I just…sometimes, I remember you’re not as – protected – as Steve was. Like I am…” Bucky continued wrapping the bandage, slowly. He didn’t look at Sam.
I’m not helpless, Sam wanted to say. The comparison couldn’t help but sting a little, but he knew that wasn’t exactly fair. It wasn’t untrue, and it wasn’t the point anyway. “You worry.”
Bucky chewed on his lower lip, sticking off the end of the bandage with a gentle stroke. “Yeah,” he admitted, very quietly. He returned all the supplies to the first aid box neatly, one at a time.
“Hey,” Sam murmured. He tapped his knuckles against Bucky’s jaw so he would look at him. “I’ll be okay.”
Bucky’s mouth set in that hard line again. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” Sam told him. “No one can, I guess.” He ran his fingers absently down the cool vibranium of Bucky’s arm. “Suppose it’s a damn good thing I’ve got such a big, strong, scary partner to watch my back, then.”
Bucky’s face cracked reluctantly into that crooked grin Sam liked so much. “Shut up, man.”
Sam chuckled, but his hand slid to the back of Bucky’s head, massaging gently. Some of the tension bled out of Bucky’s neck.
“We’ll be okay, Buck,” he said, a quiet warmth filling up his veins. “We'll be okay.”