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“Man, I could never get sick of flying,” Sam sighed. He nudged Riley with his shoulder, “What about you, Riles? Reckon you’ll get tired of all this?”
Sam threw his arms out, gesturing wildly to the fuselage of the plane that they were sitting in. The wings on his back, folded away as they were, made his movements a little awkward. They were his best friends in the air, but, even after years in the EXO Falcon program, their weight was still a little off-putting on the ground.
“Dunno, Sammy,” Riley replies, and Sam’s insides light up at his voice. The fluttery warmth was familiar, but so was the clench deep in his gut; the grief.
Wait- grief? What was he grieving? Who was he-
“I don’t think I’ll ever be fully used to it, that’s for sure,” Riley continues. Sam jerks back into the moment. He frowns, shakes his head to clear it. Weird.
“What do you mean ‘used to it’? You’re a natural in the sky, man,” Sam says. He brings his eyes up to meet his friend’s.
“You know. The falling.” Riley shrugs. Sam’s gut clenches again, and he tilts his head to peer at Riley. “When your stomach drops, and then the rest of you does. And the wind is everywhere- the air is so solid, it’s like plummeting through concrete, but you can’t hold on. You can’t save yourself.”
Sam’s gaze fixes on Riley’s clear blue eyes, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like Riley is looking at him anymore. He’s looking through Sam. His voice is distorted, muffled, and Sam isn’t even sure Riley’s actually speaking. He can hear the words, but they’re echoing inside his skull, and it’s not Riley’s voice anymore- Riley never said any of this. He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s-
Sam’s lungs are burning, his chest is too tight, his ribcage is suffocating him. He is trapped in his own flesh, constricting, cramping, crushing him.
There’s a voice in his head, somewhere in the back, behind a warped wall that Sam cannot find, it’s hidden away in the cloud of premonition, the fog of the future. It sounds like his own voice, but different, and it’s everywhere. It’s nowhere at all.
Riley is talking again.
“Falling is terrifying.”
His mouth isn’t moving.
“I hate falling, Sam.”
He stares.
“I’m falling.”
He stares.
“Help. Help me.”
Riley’s monotone voice rises, too loud for the cramped plane. Too loud for the inside of Sam’s head.
“Help! SAM!”
Riley-
The plane disappeared from under them.
And Riley was falling. Plummeting. Sinking through the sky, soaring to his death.
“SAM!”
“RILEY!”
Sam was screaming, falling after Riley, falling with him. Falling to him.
“Sam.”
A new voice whispered inside Sam’s brain. He couldn’t hear it over the sickening fear.
“Sam. Sam, wake up.”
Wake up?
“Wake up.”
~~~
Sam’s eyes shot open and everything was dark.
For a moment, he thought he was dead. He thought he had hit the ground, that death had yanked him away, like it did for Riley.
And then Bucky’s voice registered in his mind and everything came flooding back.
“Sam?”
“ Bucky. ”
Sam shot upright, making his head spin a little. His hands were on Bucky’s bare shoulders, clutching, grabbing hold of the only thing he knew was real .
“Hey, shh, shh,” Bucky murmured, laying his hands on either side of Sam’s face, brushing his thumbs over Sam’s cheeks. It took Sam a second to realise that his fiance was brushing away stray tears, but he couldn’t feel them, not really. He couldn’t feel anything except Bucky.
It was terrifying.
“Breathe with me, come on,” Bucky said. His voice was all-encompassing, it cradled Sam, helping him feel again.
They went through the usual breathing exercise, and even though it was one that Sam knew well, he still struggled with the rhythm of it. It took an eternity to get his breathing under control, but Bucky was there, fuck , he was always there .
Sam’s hands were still gripping Bucky’s shoulders, hard enough to bruise, and he loosened his grip, a pang of guilt striking him in the gut. “Sorry,” He muttered, letting his head drop forward, resting his forehead on Bucky’s collarbone.
“Don’t apologise, it’s okay.” Bucky moved his arms to wrap around Sam’s body and Sam let himself be held.
They sat there in silence, the bedsheets pooled around their laps, and everything was quiet.
“Is there anything I can do for you right now?” Bucky asked, and Sam wanted to cry again because of how much Bucky cared . The love was almost too much.
“I don’t- I don’t know.”
“Tea?”
“...okay.”
Bucky gently extricated himself from Sam, and Sam took the opportunity to scrub at his aching eyes. He looked over to see Bucky tugging a t-shirt over his head before he reached a hand out to Sam, an offering.
Sam joined their hands together, skin meeting vibranium, and let Bucky lead him into the kitchen of their little apartment. Bucky flicked on a lamp in the living room, the light travelling into the kitchen and letting them see, without blinding them with the overhead lights.
Bucky moved around, preparing two mugs of chamomile, while Sam sat up on the counter and watched.
He felt heavy and off-balance, like his body was made of precariously stacked stones, ready to topple and leave him in pieces on the floor. He thought he might sink through the counter, right through the ground and into nothing, that maybe he was dissolving, lost between the pieces of matter that held their universe together.
“Sam?” Bucky called gently, holding out a mug of tea, that Sam accepted numbly. Bucky took his place next to Sam, leaning against the counter. They lapsed once more into silence.
“Buck?”
“Hm?”
Sam set his mug down next to him, opening his arms. An invitation.
Bucky smiled, a tiny thing, but it spoke volumes. He put his own mug down and moved to stand between Sam’s legs, winding his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam’s arms were around Bucky’s shoulders in an instant, squeezing him close. He was an anchor. A gift.
“It was about Riley.”
“...your nightmare?”
“Yeah,” Sam whispered. “It- we were in a plane, and we were talking, it was like. It was a memory, I think, it was so normal and I was so happy, but then…” Sam shook his head minutely, as much as he could with his chin hooked over Bucky’s shoulder. “He started talking about falling. And then it wasn’t a memory anymore and it wasn’t his voice, it was all fucked up and he started telling me to save him.” Sam sucked in a deep breath. “He was screaming, and then he was falling. And I woke up, and I thought maybe I’d fallen, too. I thought I was dead.”
Sam felt Bucky’s fingers clutch the material of his t-shirt. He listened to his fiance’s breathing, steady and perfectly measured.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Bucky murmured. “I wish I could get rid of your nightmares.”
“I wish I could get rid of yours, too,” Sam replied. “Thank you for being here with me.”
“Of course.” Bucky drew back a little, pressing a kiss to Sam’s lips. Sam smiled into it, meeting Bucky’s eyes when he drew back. “I love you.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
Bucky pressed their foreheads together and Sam let his eyes fall shut, basking in the comfort, the warmth, the silence.
“Do you wanna head back to bed, or are you up for good now?” Bucky asked, and Sam let out a sigh.
“I’m not gonna be getting back to sleep tonight,” he confessed. Bucky hummed, nodding.
“How does rewatching the Harry Potter movies sound?” Bucky asked, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. Sam laughed.
“Sounds great, Buck.”
“Excellent,” Bucky exclaimed, drawing himself back and out of Sam’s arms. “I’ll get the blankets.”
“Sure thing.” Bucky turned away and headed down the hallway to hunt down their favourite fluffy blankets, and Sam watched him go, thinking about how lucky he was to have one James Bucky Barnes in his life.
Because he missed Riley, he missed him every day, and he missed the future that he lost.
But he had Bucky, and Bucky had him.
That’s all Sam needed.