Work Text:
They move Bucky into Maverick House at first. By all accounts, it’s good strategy. The higher surveillance on the buildings would keep an extra eye on Barnes during the night-time hours, make sure that he doesn’t revert to his Winter Soldier programming in his sleep.
The problem with this line of thought, Sam thinks ruefully, is that they’re thinking of Bucky as a weapon, not a person.
“Go get Rogers,” Natasha barks, the first time Bucky wakes up screaming, so Sam goes, jabbing at his phone the entire time he’s running across campus.
Steve, predictably, has left his phone on silent, so Sam runs straight up the steps of Avengers House, tapping his ID on the scanner as he goes.
“It’s Barnes,” he pants, when Steve answers his door, “c’mon, he’s having a nightmare, we gotta go –”
But that’s all he needs to say – Steve is out the door, scrambling down the steps and straight out charging across campus in his soft grey sweatpants and little much else.
“Jesus,” Sam mutters, mostly to himself. He stops to grab Steve’s wallet and keys and locks the door behind him.
Natasha has long since busted Bucky’s door open, so when Sam finally plods his way up the last few flights of stairs – Fury’s idea of a practical joke-cum-punishment, to not install any elevators in the problem students’ dorm, the dick – Steve is already crouched on his knees by Bucky’s side, speaking to him in a soothing voice. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, Buck. It’s 2016, you’re at Avengers Academy, New York –”
“Steve?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Bucky. You’re safe – we’re safe –”
There’s the sound of a shaky exhale, then a bitten off sob and the soft flop that comes with a person throwing themselves into a full body hug.
“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve murmurs. “We’re gonna be okay.”
*
It gets worse when Steve is out on missions.
Bucky isn’t cleared for combat yet, for obvious reasons – the last time he’d been on active duty he’d been brainwashed and under HYDRA control, and his therapist at SHIELD is more than a little concerned about his list of potential triggers.
“I promise it’s nothing,” Steve is saying as he grasps Bucky by the shoulders. “It’s a simple intelligence retrieval mission, in and out. Nat and Sharon just need somebody to cover their six. That’s all.”
“Why ‘sit have to be you?” Bucky argues, his old accent bleeding through. He’s still not over the story of Steve crashing his chopper into a live volcano. “You’ve done enough for your country, Steve. The war we signed up for is over. You don’t gotta go risking your neck every opportunity you get.”
Sam swallows a gulp of coffee. He prays for the conversation to not devolve into screaming – or worse, crying. Maybe he should pursue a minor in psychology. Anything to help him cope with this bullshit better.
*
The screaming starts up that night like clockwork. Sam curses Natasha for abandoning him to his fate.
Okay, he thinks. It’s never a good idea to confront potential hostiles alone. And he doesn’t have time to run over to Avengers Hall. Sam considers his options.
Red Hulk.
No.
Crossbones.
Would probably trigger something else.
Whitman.
…. Not worth it.
*
“I need you to come with me to Barnes’ room,” he tells Loki.
The Asgardian raises an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me, Bird Man?”
Come with me and I won’t tell anyone you pair your green pyjamas with fluffy pink bunny slippers, Sam thinks darkly.
Instead, he says, “I’ll spar with you in combat training tomorrow. I’m sure you’re real sick of Red Hulk beating your ass up every other Tuesday.”
*
“I’m s’posed t’have his six,” Bucky mutters blearily, still trying to flail out of bed.
His screaming had been in German, this time. Loki had waved a hand over the lock and watched as the tumblers clicked into place. Then he had sauntered into the room, a force field up, with Sam following cautiously behind him.
“Do you want me to put you to sleep, Snowy Warrior?” Loki demands. “I have been told that magic-induced slumber is not particularly comfortable.”
“But Steve,” he slurs, plaintive.
“Sharon and Natasha are with him. They’ll watch his back, Barnes. He’ll be fine.”
Abruptly, a chair floats through the air between them and settles on the floor by Bucky’s bed. He blinks at it quizzically.
“Go to sleep, Snowy Warrior,” Loki sighs, settling into the chair. Green fire twitches at his fingertips. “I will keep your dreams clear of nightmares tonight.”
Bucky stares at him. The bags under his eyes are more apparent than before – coupled with the soft blue blanket pooled at his hips, he looks oddly vulnerable. “You can do that?”
“It is a trick I learnt at my mother’s knee,” he answers, smiling. “When we were children, Thor and I shared a room. My brother suffered from night terrors for an extended period of our adolescence. It was more efficient to learn the spellwork myself than to run across the palace to Mother every night.”
The smile melts off his face. Sam wonders when his relationship with his family begin to sour.
“Rest assured, Bird Man,” he says, terse. “No harm will come to him tonight.”
*
Then, one night, Bucky stops screaming.
“Thank you baby Jesus,” says Sam blearily. He rolls over and falls asleep.
*
“Wilson! Get up! Now!”
“Bwuh?” Sam blinks awake to the Black Widow looming above him with murder in her eyes. His first instinct is to yank his blanket up over his singlet-clothed chest. Right. Like that will protect him from Natasha, somehow. Sleepy Sam does not have good instincts.
“Barnes is missing!” Natasha snaps. That gets his attention.
“Barnes is what now?”
*
“Oh god, oh god, this is all my fault,” Sam moans, clawing at his face.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page here,” Natasha deadpans, “but less panicking, more getting into clothes.”
“I just rolled over and went back to sleep,” he whimpers, pulling on a shirt. “What was I thinking? Nothing, because I wasn’t!”
“To be fair, we haven’t been getting enough sleep since Barnes moved in, so it was only to be expected,” she allows. “But really. Less panicking.”
A high-pitched, desperate squeaking sound may escape from his throat. Sam is more preoccupied with digging out his flight goggles.
“For fuck’s sake, Wilson, put some pants on and let’s go.”
*
Natasha has roped Pepper – Pepper, of all people, what kind of connections does Natasha have and how can Sam get on her level? – into their wild Barnes chase, so Sam is delegated aerial scouting duty while Pepper pores over security camera footage and Natasha calls up her network of contacts. He’s swooping over the city skyline when the comm link crackles to life.
“Surveillance footage confirms that Barnes has not left campus,” Pepper reports.
“Falcon, double back,” Natasha shouts. “If the Winter Soldier is still on campus –”
Sam’s heart drops straight into his stomach.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Steve.
*
Natasha doesn’t bother with lock picks this time. She flat out kicks Steve’s door open.
The room is completely quiet. Sam surreptitiously sniffs the air and smells only the detergent SHIELD stocks the laundry room with. No blood is a good thing, he tells himself, and tries not to think too much about all the possible murder methods Bucky could’ve picked up at HYDRA that don’t involve spilling blood.
They step into the room and – oh.
Steve’s fine. He’s more than fine, actually. He’s still asleep, in fact – laid flat out on his back, chest rising and falling as he breathes even breaths.
Bucky’s asleep too. Curled up around Steve, his flesh-and-blood hand resting just above Steve’s heart, as if to check his pulse rate.
They shift and the blanket moves; Sam blinks. Steve’s arms are curled protectively around Bucky’s waist.
He shares a glance with Natasha.
They turn as one and leave the room.
*
Bucky moves into Avengers Hall.
The administrators – courtesy of Pepper – move Steve out of his current room, into a larger one on the third floor meant to hold two students.
As far as Sam is aware, there’s no more screaming after that.