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They stared at the blue holographic projections all rotating and recycling information. Bucky scrubbed the lower half of his face with his right hand as he read everything over for the 3rd time. The room had fallen silently at the end of the presentation. James Rhodes stood at the head of the table, eyes falling between the two men in question.
"Yeah, this can't happen," Sam is the first to speak, leaning back in his chair. Torres glances at him briefly but nods along and assumes the same position. Sharon —as always— is fighting a losing battle with hiding her smirk at them but she nods as well.
"At least not with the team you want," she adds while picking up her tablet from the table. It's generally assumed that she's looking for replacements but who really knows with Sharon at this point.
Rhodey sighs and closes his eyes, all professional and stiff in his uniform. "I know this... I know," he nods in agreement. "But my ass is on fire. They want the Alpha team—" Sam scoffs "—and they've decided that it's now part of his pardon that he proves he isn't unstable anymore."
"Hasn't he proved that enough?" Sam's volume raises without his permission, anger burning behind his eyes (not at anyone in this room but just... he's pissed).
"Yeah," Bucky interjects in a dry tone. "Hasn't he proved that enough?"
James' gaze moves to Bucky with a blank stare but the slightest morsel of sympathy hidden behind his eyes. "Apparently, not."
"But we know that this isn't actually a test of his stability, right?" Torres (bless his heart) perks up into the room. Even Sharon lifts her eyes from the tablet, barely concealing a smile this time. She just hums along before the kid sits back in his seat.
"Whose mess are we meant to clean up?" Sam asks.
Rhodey frowns.
"Classified," Bucky grumbles under his breath, still staring at the holograms and nothing else. He feels a chill run down his spine from just looking at it, but he hides the shudder by leaning back into his seat.
"Look, this a bad idea all around," Sam speaks again, "and I have no problem taking that up with—"
"You know how that'll go," Bucky groans behind his hands. "They'll politely acknowledge your service then remind you of your place," Bucky drops his hands and looks at Sam with tired eyes. Sam frowns, Bucky was a fine an hour ago. Sure, he had the ever present blue hues in the skin under his eyes but he was alright, now he just looks drained. "And if anything goes wrong, it can be pinned on my history."
"Rhodes," Sam says.
"Wilson," he nods.
Sam's frown deepens. "This isn't a good idea."
Rhodey looks between the two before his gaze settles on Bucky (who happens to be looking direct at him).
"Barnes," he addresses. "Would you go to Siberia?"
The question was plain, open, vague on the surface but they all knew it was more than that. Bucky was bound by his pardon, bound by the accords they made him sign as part of his pardon, he was bound by fucking everything.
"No, under most circumstances, not willingly," he answers honestly.
Sam turns to him. "Under what circumstance would you go willingly?"
Bucky turns to him too, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "If you asked, I would."
Something stilled in the room. Even Sharon didn't move more than her eyes when she lifted her gaze from her tablet screen. Sam and Bucky's eyes were locked together and Rhodey forced his gaze away from the two.
And there they were, two mostly-clueless idiots staring at each other with an audience of slightly more aware idiots just waiting for this thing to come out. Evryone has been doing this awkward dance for the past 2 years. It's painful with Sam being the most perceptive person to ever exist, yet here he is hearing a literal confession of undying loyalty and he's just frowning in confusion.
"I go where you go, remember?" Bucky speaks up again after a few beats too late. "We're partners," he nods and forces his gaze away from Sam.
"Great," James clears his throat and turns the projection. "You'll have another meeting in room 5 at 1400."
"What did you mean by that?" Sam asks randomly while they're having lunch.
Bucky glances up, cheeks stuffed with garlic bread like it's the best thing about being 'free' in the 1st century. He looks less tired than he did back in the meeting room, he's leaning onto the table, narrowed eyes darting around at every lunch hour civilian like they're hiding something. All of that is to say that this is as relaxed as James 'Bucky' Barnes can get.
"What a' y'talkin' about?" Bucky hums around his filled mouth. Sam rolls his eyes but grins a little at the easy slip of Bucky's Brooklyn accent that had mostly been squeezed out by HYDRA but it comes back every now and then when Bucky's relaxed.
"What you said in the room, about going if I asked," Sam explained, eyes following Bucky's gaze when he stares at a man for a beat too long.
Bucky swallows and turns his intense stare back to Sam. At first, Sam hated those steely eyes on him. He hated the way it made his skin crawl and his heart beat double time. He hated Bucky's silence, but now he knows better.
Now, he finds comfort in the way his skin buzzes when Bucky looks at him —focuses on him. Because Bucky's mind is always working at 10x capacity and his gaze means that he's devoting all of that attention to Sam and only Sam. So, yeah, Sam's heart speeds up a little in his chest, and his shoulder's inadvertently straighten and he knows now that Bucky's silence means that he's considering something, that he's trying his best. So yeah, Sam doesn't mind Bucky's stare right now despite the fact that he fidgets a bit in his seat.
"That's how it always works, right," Bucky finally speaks after an aching whole minute of silence. "There's a lot of stuff that I don't want to do—" Bucky drops his gaze,"— or wouldn't consider doing until you ask," he nods to himself, satisfied with this answer.
"Oh, man," Sam sighs but takes a moment to actually think before he speaks. He looks at Bucky's downcast gaze and the man's attempt at staying casual despite the obvious tense line that drew up into his shoulders.
"You know, you don't have to do stuff you don't want to even if I ask right. You can say no, I won't—"
"No, I know," Bucky lifts his eyes, gaze widened and slightly off-putting with the level of panic in his eyes alone. "I know I can say no, I just..." he shrugs," I don't want to. I don't think I need to."
"Why?"
"Because," Bucky trails off, eyes darting around the restaurant once more since it's been 2 whole minutes since he'd last surveyed the scene. "I trust you more than anyone else. If you think something is worth it enough to ask me to then I believe you," Bucky offers a small smile when he's done but lets out a shaky breath.
Sam feels his heart clench in his chest and suddenly there are too many people in the restaurant despite the fact that it's pretty small and not visited by a lot of people (chosen by Sam specifically to accommodate Bucky). Suddenly, wherever they are is too public, suddenly, Sam can't whisper quiet enough or move close enough to Bucky to say his next words but he tries anyway because the moment is now and it would just be foolish to wait any longer.
"Thank you for trusting me so much," he says softly, big brown eyes searching the depth of Bucky's gaze. "And I'd never ask you to do anything that I think you wouldn't like or would hurt you—"
"I know," Bucky breaths out with a small smile on his lips.
"—which is why I'm not going to ask you to come to Siberia," Sam finishes slowly and watches the smile slip from Bucky's face.
Again, they're thrust into that silence (as silent as a public place could be) while Bucky stares at Sam and clenches his jaw while he sifts through words in his head to respond.
"Thank you," Bucky says softly, but still hisses in a breath. "But I'm still coming. I can't let you be out there alone."
They both know that they'd partner Sam off with a larger team if Bucky doesn't come. They both know that he'd be surrounded by men to watch his six, but when Bucky says alone, they both know that he means 'without me'. Besides, Sam trusts Bucky more than anyone else (sorry Torres) to watch his back.
And they stare into each other's eyes for all of 13 seconds before they both look away in random directions. There's a sinking feeling in Sam's stomach at the same time as that annoying flutter in his chest and he doesn't know which to feed into right now. But the moment is soon gone, and Bucky is back to inhaling garlic bread with a soft hum, and Sam just sits there.
"You need to add more insulation to his uniform," it's the only thing Bucky says in the meeting, and he says it after everything else.
Colonel Rhodes and Director Mackenzie avert their gaze to Barnes. He levels a stare with the larger black man who apparently is the head of S.H.I.E.L.D (who knew they were still operational?). There's a silence that settles in the room though, something that Bucky knows by the name of expectation.
"Every war won by Russia happened because foreigners never dressed for the cold," he states bluntly, then turns his softening gaze to Sam. Sam just nods and flits a gaze to the two men at the head of the table before he looks and Bucky again.
"What about your armour?"
"I was born and bred there," Bucky shrugs. Sam winces and the words but doesn't say anything else.
"Okay," he nods and turns to Rhodes.
"On it," Rhodes nods, and then the meeting is over.
"You ready?" Sam asks once they're 15 minutes out from their designated landing space.
"No," Bucky says dryly but Sam just nods in understanding.
The mission goes exactly as they expect, which means it all goes to shit. Bucky grunts to himself when he feels the bite of a bullet pierce through his right arms, and he huffs into his mask as he releases a spray of alloy and gunpowder that somehow litters the bright white snow in red. So much for not killing... they shot him first though.
He sees Sam circle over head and hears the residual huffs of struggle when he crashes though the side window and there's open fire.
"Bucky," Sam yells into the comms. Bucky winces a little but ducks behind and broken down concrete to avoid a bullet to the fucking head. He huffs again, stepping out from behind and making 3 different headshots. "Status report," Sam calls.
"Been hit," he grunts when he squeezes the trigger and an empty click answers him. He sucks his teeth while pulling a blade from his thigh holster and throwing it into his target's shoulder. From there, he throws a punch, knocking the guy onto his ass. Bucky can't help the hiss that leaves his lips when the bullet in his arm is jostled.
"What?" Sam calls back. "Stay there, I'm getting you out."
"No," Bucky yells back when his metal slams into another guy's face. He clenches his jaw, as he reloads his gun and steps over the bodies in the snow. "Nothing fatal." He lets out a slowed breath into his mask, he didn't think he would ever ask for this thing back but it really helps with keeping the bite of the cold out of his lungs, still, he feels the bite of it against his skin and it causes prickles up his spine. That's not meant to happen... he shakes his head.
"Bucky, come in," Sam yells, frantic.
Was he talking this whole time?
"I'm here," Bucky answers while approaching the building.
His next step is wobbly, and his legs tingle the way his spine does.
"What's your position?" Sam asks. Bucky can barely hear the bullets in the background of the comms line. That's good —he thinks. It means that the fight is almost done for Sam too. That's all very good, but everything is starting to slow down for him.
"Appraching East side of the building, I—" he pauses when his tongue feels a bit too heavy.
"You don't sound good."
"I—" Bucky tries again and shakes his head when he hears the thudding of heavy boots. Shit. "I thi'k th'bull't 's coat' 'n somethin'"
"Bucky," Sam breathes in Bucky's ear. "Stay there. I'm coming."
"Can't," Bucky huffs as he shakily lifts his gun and squeezes the trigger as best he can. He knows, distantly, that he's making most of his shots, they there's also too many of them.
"What?" Sam practically yells.
"Ambush," is all Bucky can utter before he tumbles to his knees and his vision goes black.
Distantly, just barely, he thinks he hears Sam scream his name, and not just through the comms but in real life. He can't be sure though, he's too focused on the way that the snow feels really warm against the exposed skin of his forehead. That's odd, isn't it? Hmm, he sighs internally, it's better than the biting cold though. He remembers learning that hypothermia pulls its victims into a warm and easy sleep. Hmm, that doesn't really sound so bad, sleep sounds good. He's been tired for so long, maybe it's just time for him to rest. But he can't leave Sam.
Bucky's eyes snap open and his heavy limbs miraculously manage to move. He barely registers the way he's tucked under every blanket known to fucking man, and it only really comes through when he tumbles out of them onto the cold, harsh floor and some things start beeping loudly and wildly.
"Hey, hey," Sam's voice reaches his ears and he stops, rolling onto his side and suddenly realising just how fucking heavy his limbs really feel.
The man in question breaks into Bucky periphery dressed him a hoodie and sweatpants. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs, already feeling tired but then there are more footsteps that come running and he's on high alert again.
"Bucky, bucky," Sam shushes when he kneels down. Something happens and the footsteps stop but Bucky can feel that there are still people there. "Come on, you're gonna be alright, I just need to get you back in bed," Sam explains while throwing Bucky's vibranium arm over his own shoulder.
Bucky huffs indignantly but still tries his best to take his weight off of Sam as he's guided back into the hospital bed. Sam wastes no time covering Bucky in the blankets again, and soon, Bucky feels his body swallowed in warmth. It's almost uncomfortably hot.
"I know it's awful, you burn like an oven but the hotter you are, the faster you get rid of that slug in your system," Sam shrugs a little and Bucky smirks a little.
"'m a'ready hot," Bucky slurs and Sam just smiles and nods.
"Yeah," he agrees and sits himself on an uncomfortable arm chair beside Bucky's hospital bed.
"What—"
"You were right about the ambush part, they wanted you so now Rhodey and Mac and investigating who—"
"I 's planted," Bucky closes his eyes with a grunt.
"I'm sorry," Sam huffs and Bucky feels a hand on his aching shoulder.
"not your fault," Bucky hums back while he feels sleep tugging at him again. "Glad you're safe."
"Seeing you go down was one of the scariest things I ever had to witness," Sam mentioned randomly once Bucky got into the passenger seat of his truck. Bucky hummed, staring distantly at the emergency med centre and flipping off the Slavic text at the side of the building.
"You worried 'bout me or something?" Bucky grumbles but doesn't dare look at Sam.
"Exactly," the other man supplies. "And then," Sam shrugged while tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "And then I just stopped thinking and I did anything I could to get you out of there."
Bucky heard the heaviness of each word, the stress in Sam's tone. He glanced over and saw the tick of his jaw. He knows now that Sam did thing he would regret for the rest of his life, all because of him.
"You should have gotten out of there. What if they got you too—"
"They almost got you," Sam's volume raised without his permission. It wasn't like him to be this loud when he was angry but he was barely angry and now just desperate and afraid.
Bucky is silent for 3 minute and 43 seconds, all while staring intently at Sam's side profile. He exhales, clenching his right fist that was recently so numb that he had thought he he lost that one too.
"If I woke up and found out you were hurt because of that—"
"That's not the point—"
"It is," Bucky insists. "It is," he repeats. "Because I went there to protect you—"
"And I put you in danger!" Bucky yells at the same time that Sam suffices, "and I was just protecting you."
The two settle into another silence, heavy and tense with ticking jaws and avoiding eye contact.
"This is stupid," Bucky grumbles.
"Yeah," Sam says softly. "You're never stepping foot in Siberia again," Sam huffs —completely serious— and Bucky laughs.
"But if you asked me, I would," Bucky shoots back and Sam turns to him with a wry smile before turning back to the empty road ahead.
"You know," Sam inhales. "Normal people just say 'I'm sorry'—" Bucky groans, "—but you have to go and be weird about everything—"
"I'm sorry," Bucky says softly, right hand extending over the centre console to rest on Sam's lap.
Sam glances down briefly at Bucky's hand and sighs, dropping his hand on top of it. "I'm sorry too," he offers a little squeeze before he turning his hand to the wheel. Driving on snow isn't very fun.
Bucky doesn't move his hand though, he just keeps it there and stares out the window at he passing mundaneness of somewhere along the Belarus border to get to their meeting point.