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Bucky has all kinds of scars.
From his time in the military, to his many years as the Winter Soldier, and even the past few years of freedom, his body is littered in scars of all different kinds.
He hates them. Every last one.
They only serve to remind him of the pain he was put through, the horrible shit people did to him.
They made his body ache, and from time to time would send him into a horrible flashback when he caught sight of them in the mirror.
All in all, it was safe to say that Bucky wasn’t a fan of any of his scars. But there was one in particular that he hated the most.
Even with his memory problems, he still remembered the day he got that scar like it was yesterday.
That moment was forever burned into his mind, and his body.
It was around 30 years ago, he had heard a specific song while on a mission that had made a memory resurface of him and Steve at a bar, that same song playing.
Confused and disoriented, he told his handler about it, which prompted another session of torture to make him forget.
Except, he didn’t.
He had no clue why, but that memory was just so strong.
The voice of the woman singing, the smell of alcohol and food, the sound of Steve laughing along to some joke Bucky had made.
It was so peaceful, he just couldn't forget. He didn’t want to.
His handler didn’t like that.
He can remember the panic he felt as he was forced to kneel on the floor, having his arms held behind his back by two men who seemed entirely indifferent to the situation.
He remembered the fear rising up inside of him as his handler came back with a red hot rod of iron, with the Hydra symbol on the end.
He could have fought.
He didn’t.
Decades of abuse and torture had taught him not to. So he kneeled there on the floor and let his handler press the burning hot metal into his chest, unable to keep the scream of agony from ripping out of him.
He could smell his own burning flesh as his vision went white from the pain, unable to stop his handler from branding him like cattle.
There was another round of torture not even a minute later, and he forgot that nice memory from the bar and went on with his life, now truly, forever marked as the property of Hydra.
Even now, when he was free from their abuse, just seeing the brand on his chest was enough to make bile rise in his throat and his vision go blurry with tears that he refused to shed.
It forever reminded him of the time in his life when he was nothing but a tool for Hydra, barely even human, and definitely not treated as one.
Yeah, Bucky hated his scars.
He sighed heavily as he looked away from the mirror. He hadn’t wanted to go down a rabbit hole of memories today, but a long therapy session plus staring at the brand for a bit too long made it impossible for his mind not to wander.
He ripped his gaze away from the mirror and rummaged through his drawers, pulling on a cotton T-shirt.
He sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands, breathing out a shaky sigh. He couldn’t be alone right now.
He’d been having a shitty week, every night full of nightmares and every day full of anxiety and flashbacks.
He’d mostly just stayed in his apartment binge watching shows that Sam begged him to watch.
And now he couldn’t stop thinking about that awful memory, and he knew that if he didn’t have someone with him tonight then he’d do something he’d regret.
So he reluctantly picked up his phone and clicked on Sam’s contact, listening to the ringing before he heard the familiar click of someone picking up.
“Hello?” Sam's voice came from the phone, and Bucky sighed in relief. If he hadn’t picked up, it probably wouldn’t have ended well.
“Hey, Sam. I, uh, was just wondering if you wanted to come over? We could order Chinese, watch a movie, or anything really.” Bucky said, praying that Sam would say yes.
He just knew that he wasn’t gonna be okay tonight if he was alone. He was spiraling, and that usually ended in bloodshed.
His own blood, that is.
He didn’t want a repeat of a few weeks ago when Sam had found him curled up on his bathroom floor, sobbing by a broken mirror and bloodstained tiles.
Sam must have heard the silent plea in his voice, because he heard shuffling on the other end of the line and Sam’s voice coming through.
“Yeah, sure, I was bored tonight anyway. We could order from that new restaurant down the road, the one with the weird name? And I’ve been dying to watch the new Percy Jackson series, so we could just binge that.”
Sam continued to spitball ideas for what they could do as he got ready and hopped into his car, taking a few shortcuts to get to Bucky’s apartment faster.
There wasn’t a moment of silence as Sam made his way there, and Bucky found himself relaxing a bit to the sound of his voice.
He was so lucky to have Sam.
It didn’t take long before Sam was at his front door, Chinese food in hand and a bright smile on his face.
“Hey, Bucky. I decided to just pick the food up on the way here, thought it’d be easier.” He said as he walked in, depositing his shoes at the front door and putting the bag of food on the counter.
Bucky just nodded to him, a small smile on his face. He didn’t feel like talking right now, which Sam seemed to understand.
He just kept going on about how his week had been, what the kids were up to, pretty much anything while he unpacked the food and dished it out onto plates.
Sam was doing a good job of hiding it, but Bucky could see the slight tension in his shoulders and the way he kept glancing at Bucky.
He was worried, and Bucky couldn’t really blame him.
They both knew that when Bucky was the one to call and initiate a hang out, it meant that he wasn’t doing so well.
It wasn’t that Bucky never asked Sam to come over, or invited him out to grab food, but he never said it so directly.
He would dance around the subject until Sam eventually suggested that they hang out himself.
So when Bucky said that he wanted Sam to come over without any sort of excuse, Sam knew that it meant he didn’t feel that he should be alone.
So, yeah, he was worried.
But he pushed the worry down and just kept talking until they were both eventually settled down on the couch, gorging themselves on Chinese food and paying close attention to the blonde kid on the TV.
Bucky stayed silent throughout the entire first episode, but as they watched more, and he listened to more of Sam’s bad jokes, he opened up a bit and found him joking along with Sam, a smile on his face.
By the fifth episode, Bucky and Sam were significantly closer together on the couch, laughing and smiling as they drank some cheap wine that they’d found hiding in the fridge.
Bucky felt much better than he had, his solemn mood nowhere to be seen with the combination of Sam’s smile and just enough wine to make his cheeks flush.
He’d forgotten all about his sad thoughts from earlier and was just enjoying the moment with Sam.
When Sam made a particularly bad joke, Bucky laughed so hard that he folded over, his forehead hitting Sam’s shoulder as he cackled, effectively spilling his glass of wine all over his tight grey T-shirt.
“Shit” He cursed as he stood up, luckily avoiding spilling any on Sam, who just laughed at him.
Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Ha ha, yeah, real mature.” He chided, which only made Sam cackle harder.
He huffed out a laugh, and removed his shirt in one foul swoop, wadding it up into a ball and throwing it into the laundry basket in the corner.
He was about to walk into his room to put on a new one, but he heard Sam’s mocking voice from behind him.
“Damn, you couldn’t a just waited till you got to your room? Was that some lame attempt to seduce me?” Sam mocked, though in all honesty it had totally worked and he really just wanted to shove Bucky up against a wall.
Bucky huffed in exasperation and turned around, fully prepared to mock Sam right back. But the second he turned around, Sam’s smile fell from his face, and was replaced with shock.
Bucky was about to ask what was wrong, but then saw what Sam was looking at.
His chest.
Sam was staring at his chest in horror, and suddenly Bucky was very sober.
He’d gotten too comfortable and somehow managed to completely forget about the existence of the thing that was the entire reason he’d needed Sam here in the first place.
Bucky whipped around, ready to go into his room, but he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
Dammit.
He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. He’d never wanted Sam to see that.
The scars on his arms, even on the rest of his body were all one thing, but Bucky had never, ever wanted Sam of all people to see the brand.
But now he had, and Bucky had never felt more ashamed of himself.
“Bucky..” Sam said, his voice strained. Bucky still didn’t turn around.
He thought maybe if he just ignored him long enough, Sam would decide it wasn’t worth it and go away. He should’ve known better.
“Bucky.” Sam said in a commanding tone.
Normally that kind of tone from Sam would send shivers up Bucky’s spine, but he was way too anxious right now to even think about anything other than the fact that Sam had seen his brand.
Slowly, he turned around to face Sam. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to see the look on Sam’s face.
He could feel his eyes roaming over his body, inspecting him. He felt like a bug under a microscope.
“Bucky, who..when did this happen?” Sam hesitantly asked, concern evident in his voice, but Bucky just shook his head and kept staring at the ground.
He felt fingers hook under his chin and lift his head up until he had no choice but to look Sam in the eyes.
“Bucky, come on, when did this happen? Please?” Sam begged, and Bucky just wanted to sink into the floor.
“About thirty years ago..” He mumbled, and Sam looked at him with sadness.
“Who did this to you? I mean, obviously Hydra, but who ?” Sam asked, a bit of anger seeping into his tone. Bucky shook his head again.
“They’re dead, it doesn’t matter.” He answered.
Sam sighed.
He was angry.
He knew that Hydra had done some awful things to Bucky, but he never imagined they’d go this far.
He guessed he should have.
He just wanted to make everything okay for Bucky. He hadn’t deserved any of this. He didn’t deserve to be branded by those people, like he was cattle, like his life belonged to them.
He just wanted to kill all those Hydra bastards, and found some satisfaction in the fact that most of them were already dead.
He looked back at Bucky, and he hated the sadness he saw in those blue eyes. He wanted to take it all away.
He wanted to tell Bucky how amazing he was, how beautiful he was, how much he loved him.
“I’m..I hate it. It’s the whole reason I wanted you here today, I just couldn’t deal with being alone. I couldn’t stop remembering when it happened, what it means.”
“I..I’m free, but I can never really be free with this stupid thing on my chest. Even now, with them gone, I’m nothing more than their property.” Bucky admitted, his voice thick with emotion and tears burning his eyes.
He hated how he could never truly escape Hydra.
“Bucky, look at me.” Sam said, getting Bucky’s blue eyes back on him after they’d drifted off.
“You are not their property. You never were. You’re a person, and a damn good one at that. You never deserved any of the shit they put you through. This,” He gestured to the brand,
“is nothing more than their fear. Their insecurity that one day you’d realize that too. That one day you’d realize that you deserved better, and you’d break free from their hold. This was never anything but a last ditch effort to keep you in their hands.”
“And the fact that you have this, that you look in the mirror every day and see it, and you still live your life? Still save people, and go about your days as Bucky Barnes, as a hero , proves that they no longer have any control over you.”
“You are free, and you always will be.” Sam finished, and Bucky let a few tears fall.
God, he’d needed to hear that.
He’d needed someone to say that.
He’d needed Sam.
Bucky let his head fall forwards and rest on Sam’s shoulder as more tears slipped from his eyes.
He felt Sam put an arm around him, pulling him a bit closer, and finally let himself fall apart.
Neither of them knew how long they stood there, Bucky sobbing as Sam just held him, but eventually Bucky’s sobs turned to sniffles and they found themselves settled back on the couch.
Bucky was exhausted from all the crying, and Sam had no problem letting him lean into him as Seinfeld played from the TV as background noise.
They both knew that this didn’t really fix anything.
As much as Sam wished it did, one speech wasn’t gonna fix Bucky’s view of himself, nor his mental state.
But it was a step in the right direction, and as they sat on the couch together, tangled in each other's arms, they both couldn’t help but think that maybe everything would be okay.