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To anyone else, Bucky’s reaction seems insane. But to be fair, most things Bucky does seem insane to other normal people. Except Sam. He’s the only one who never finds what Bucky does to be weird.
So, it’s not exactly his fault that seeing Sam, his best friend, frozen in time and stuck in a box covered in icicles, sends him into a rampage.
The sick and twisted people who did this to Sam seem to have severely miscalculated how Bucky would react. They were clearly hoping for him to shut down, to become completely useless at the sight of Captain America in cryostasis.
Instead, what they got was Bucky falling right back into his old behaviour. Utilising the training that says his mission is all that matters, and any collateral damage is accepted as long as his mission is completed.
And right now, his only mission is get Sam out of there, and the collateral damage is the group of six ex-HYDRA agents surrounding him.
His form sharpens and his vision tunnels. All he can focus on is taking these men out, and finding the button to release Sam.
He shoots the first one, a clean shot in the dead centre of his forehead. Then the second one comes for him, flanked by the third and fourth. It’s child’s play, taking the three of them out with swift movements and the right jabs of his dagger.
Then, there are two left. They shoot at him, which he dodges using his vibranium arm, then smashes the fifth guy’s head on the ground, before stepping on his back to gain a little extra height in order to wrap his arms around the last guy’s neck, keeping his hands where they need to be to snap it.
“How do I get him out of there?” Bucky hisses, squeezing his hands tighter around the man’s neck.
His heartbeat is racing, Bucky can hear it, will be able to hear the last few beats before it stops entirely. But the man laughs, his face splitting into a grin. “They never taught you that, Soldat?” He mumbles, his accent thick.
Bucky wraps his arms tighter and fidgets his hands to fit around the man’s face, making sure he knows he isn’t walking away from this. “Tell me,” Bucky presses, using his right leg to collapse the pathetic Nazi, following his body onto the floor. “Where I can release him.”
The man laughs again, his voice bordering on a cackle. “желание” The man says, his smile stretching manically.
Before he can say the second word, Bucky pushes his hands together, seconds away from crushing his head in. “That doesn’t work on me anymore.” Bucky breathes, the feeling of elation and relief heavy in his body. “And I’ve decided I don’t need your help.”
He doesn’t let the man take another breath before he’s lying on the floor, dead alongside his five other comrades.
Now Bucky is left alone. No one else in the room but him and Sam, still stuck in cryostasis.
From experience, Bucky knows waking up from cryostasis is awful. The blinding headache that doesn’t go away for a good three hours. The overwhelming sensitivity to everything from lights to sounds to movement. The desire to crawl into a ball and never stand up again.
So, while he knows that happens, he’s never actually been mentally present for the immediate waking up process. He’s never been in and out of cryostasis within the same day, so he has no idea how this actually works.
In a desperate bid for emotional security, he calls Shuri.
“You are meant to be on mission.” Shuri says immediately, before Bucky can get a single word in. How she knows that, Bucky is unsure.
Bucky lets out of a gust of air with a smile despite himself. “I am, but I need help.”
Shuri laughs, and Bucky can’t help but grin at the sound. “What does the broken white boy need now?”
Bucky’s smile broadens. “It’s a weird one, can you send a jet to pick me and Sam up, and possibly take us back to Wakanda, I only trust you guys with this.”
“The white wolf has trust issues? That can’t be right.”
“You know you aren’t funny.” Bucky answers, holding in a slight chuckle at her words.
Shuri blanches, and he can hear one of the Dora Milaje in the background snorting. “You too Yama? This is not how you treat your queen!” Shuri shouts to Yama in the background, before focusing back in on Bucky. “And this is not how you treat the person who is about to help you!”
Bucky laughs, can’t help it when he’s talking to Shuri. “Yeah okay, okay, look I’m sorry, can you still help us?”
Shuri ums and ahs, clearly dragging it out just to piss off Bucky which she forever succeeds at doing with ease. “Let me speak to the responsible Captain America in the room please.”
At that, Bucky frowns. “You can’t, and that’s the problem.”
Shuri goes quiet for a few seconds, the only sound being her breath through the tinny speakers of Bucky’s flip phone. “What has happened to him?” She says, and Bucky can visualise her seething by the way her voice forces through her teeth.
“He’s in cryostasis.” Bucky mumbles, shoving the fingers of his vibranium hand into his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his tears in.
It feels like minutes, but really, it’s only a few seconds before Shuri answers. “There’s a jet heading to your location now, it’ll be there in two hours.”
Bucky heaves a breath, and scowls at the feeling of a tear dripping down his cheek. “Thanks Shuri, I’ll see you in a few.”
“James, you can talk to me about-“
“Thank you, Shuri.” Bucky cuts in and ends the call. He can’t talk about it, not yet.
He spends a few minutes wallowing. But if anyone else were to call it that, he’d fight and deny that as the truth until he’s blue in the face. Even though that’s what it is. He’s wallowing.
He forces his body to collapse, sits down with his knees up to his shoulders, and his head hanging between them. He wracks his brain for all of the breathing techniques Ayo taught him and wrecks the skin on his right hand by picking at his cuticles.
The tears come quickly and in full force. He can barely stand to look at Sam, his own personal sunshine with his eyes closed in the unforgiving cold of the chamber.
Thankfully, it’s not connected to the wall, just some sort of more modern contraption that holds Sam free-standing in the middle of the room. It’s reminiscent of the one Bucky himself was in in Wakanda. That’s the only thing keeping him from imploding.
Once he’s actively breathed enough to annoy himself, he gets up. The room isn’t massive by any HYDRA means, but it’s big enough for him to pace around, and he wastes a good thirty minutes doing just that.
His feet ache, but he doesn’t notice it. He’s got a headache, but he doesn’t notice it. His cheeks are sticky with salt, but he doesn’t notice it. His eyes strain with the way they’re locked on the middle of the chamber as he walks, but he doesn’t notice it.
All he notices is his heart, sitting on the floor in front of Sam, waiting for him to wake up with his Louisiana sunshine soul and hold him.
Bucky isn’t an idiot, he knows he’s in love with Sam. He knows he’s been in love with Sam at least since Steve left. If he’s honest with himself, he’s been in love with Sam since he found him after the helicarrier. The three, or four, or fifty times he did. The times he never told Steve about, the ones Steve died not knowing about.
He knows what it feels like to love someone, even if HYDRA did their best to shock it out of him. The one thing they could never take from him, was his ability to love someone so irrevocably, that it flooded his blood vessels from the tip of his head to the bottom of his feet.
He loves Steve, even if he does hold resentment amongst his pride for him now. He loved and still loves his family, the tid-bits of them he remembers by himself, and the rest he was reminded of through Steve, and photographs. He loves Sarah and the boys; the same way he loves his family.
But most of all, Bucky loves Sam. If there’s anything Bucky can do, it’s love Sam Wilson with every last breath he holds in his body. He loves Sam Wilson as much as the Moon loves the Sun, enough to chase her every evening, hoping to catch her at the end of the sunset even for just a glimpse of her shimmer.
Bucky would chase Sam across the world and never give up until he was back in his orbit. He feels like a planet, constantly connected to Sam through a force he can’t see, because he’s his sun at the beginning of every day.
And he’s there, stuck in a box that Bucky can’t safely open. Stuck in a place Bucky hoped he’d never see Sam in. And Bucky is lost, without his Sun to orbit, he’s lost in a limbo he can’t control.
“I’m sorry Sammy,” Bucky breathes, finally lifting his eyes to take in the view of Sam through the window. He steps towards Sam in two big strides, lifting his hands as if they’ll be able to cup Sam’s beautiful face. “This is all my fault.”
Bucky breaks then, completely falls apart and crumbles to the floor in front of the chamber. His sobs wrack his body and all of his strength floods out of him, dripping on the floor like a puddle of weakness. He feels like a sinner, on his knees begging to a God to save him. Begging to Sam, his centre, to wake up and come back to him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky chants, raising his head to look at Sam. He’s still asleep, and his face is still calm without the knowledge of what’s happening to him. “I love you Sam, please come back to me.”
In hindsight, Bucky knows he’s being slightly dramatic. He knows Sam won’t die over being in cryostasis for a few hours, or a day. But the sheer trauma of his own life, Bucky can’t help but feel like he’s losing Sam. Losing him to the very people who used him for 70 years.
Eventually he stops crying. Stops torturing himself by watching Sam in hopes of him waking up and instead turns his back to the chamber and stands. He circles around the box, watching every exit with his senses turned up to eleven to pick up on every little movement. He patrols the place like he’s guarding something priceless, which to him it feels like he is.
Somewhere in that time, he gets a hold of Rhodes and tells him what’s happened. Tells him they won’t be back for a few days, but the mission is complete. Tells him of Sam’s condition, but not of how he himself is feeling.
Tells Rhodes all of this while anxiously walking the perimeter, making sure Sam is always in sight, with his gun out.
That’s how the jet from Wakanda finds him. He feels insane, feels the way people would view his reaction to this. When the door opens, he has his gun up and cocked ready, aiming it at whomever walks down the ramp to meet him.
When his vision clears, he focuses on who it is and lets out a breath when he sees its Ayo.
“At ease, White Wolf.” She says, her spear standing tall next to her as she calmly approaches Bucky.
After a deep breath, Bucky puts the safety back on and lowers his gun. “It’s Sam.” He says, his voice breaking on his name.
Ayo understands immediately, her eyes flicking to the chamber holding Sam behind Bucky. “Get on the jet, we will get the chamber secured on board.”
Bucky is shaking his head before Ayo gets her sentence out, her command. “No, no I need to be with him.”
There isn’t a single thing that inclines Ayo to take his pitiful plea. “James, he is safe with us, and it’ll be easier for everyone if you get on board.” She says, firm in her tone and with the look she gives him.
He can’t do it. He can’t bear to be away from Sam for a single second until he’s awake and okay. And Ayo should understand that, she should be empathetic of the emotions he’s going through right now. It’s not fair that she’s making him do this.
“No Ayo, I can’t-“ His voice breaks and a sob releases from the depths of his lungs. “Please, just let me stay with him.” He knows he sounds like a petulant child, but Sam is- he’s-
Sam is everything and more to Bucky, and he can’t let him out of his sight.
Ayo concedes. A couple more of the Dora step out of the jet and fasten a few devices to the sides of the chamber. There’s some buzzing and whirring, and Bucky’s heart jackrabbits behind his ribcage. “What are you doing to him?” He asks, his voice shaking as he looks between Ayo and Sam in the chamber.
“They’re scanning for the release activation and preparing the box to be transported onto the jet safely.”
Bucky lets out a breath, his eyes closing for a long blink as he does his best to calm himself down. “Okay.” He whispers to himself, clenching his hands.
Within a matter of minutes, the devices on the chamber have it moved from the HYDRA facility to the jet, and the Dora fall into formation to follow it on.
“James,” Ayo says, reaching out to place her hand on his left shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay.” She murmurs, quiet so only they hear it.
It had taken a lot of time for Ayo to trust him again, for the entire nation of Wakanda to trust him again. He’s still not technically welcome there, still toeing the margins of the good books with everyone. But Shuri has mostly forgiven him.
Ayo is harder to read. They may have spent the most time together once the trigger words were out of him, but she still keeps most things almost padlocked away from him. Bucky can read Shuri, loves her like a sister, but Ayo? She’s difficult.
“I’m sorry Ayo,” Bucky says, again and again and again. He doesn’t need forgiveness from them, doesn’t deserve it, but he’ll always want them to know he’s sorry.
“Not now, James,” She starts, giving Bucky the luxury of a small smile. “This is about Captain America.”
Bucky drops his head between his shoulders. “Okay.”
“This is about Sam, now come on.”
With another deep breath, Bucky follows Ayo onto the jet.
****
The two-hour flight to Wakanda drags. The Dora are all standing on the edges of the jet, with Sam in the chamber sitting in the middle. Bucky picks the floor to fall on to and spends the entirety of the flight watching him for any movement.
Bucky is unaware of if he ever moved while in cryostasis. He has no idea if any of the other soldiers were able to before Zemo killed them all. That doesn’t stop him from barely blinking, silently praying to no one that Sam will just wake up as if from a nap and be back to Bucky.
It doesn’t happen.
They land in Wakanda, and Shuri greets them as they dismount from the jet. Bucky has his head turned over his shoulder, watching the way the devices on the chamber move it towards the queen.
“Oh Bast,” Shuri mumbles, stepping close enough for the devices to beep at once and stop. “Take him to my lab, and you,” She says in Wakandan as she points at Bucky. “Are coming with me.”
Bucky shakes his head and is about to speak when Ayo comes up next to him. “They don’t like to be separated, my queen.” She says, also in Wakandan, and when Bucky turns to glare at her, he finds a menacing grin on her face.
They know he knows what they’re saying, and yet.
“Oh, I’m sure they don’t, they do seem to come as a bonded pair,” Thanks to his genuine surprise, Bucky doesn’t come up with a response. Shuri swaps to English, even though Bucky is fluent in the three other official languages they speak here. “Don’t worry James, we are also going to my lab.”
Since the happenings of the Flagsmashers, and Bucky's betrayal of breaking Zemo out of prison, Shuri has returned to calling him James. Her answering the call and calling him ‘broken white boy’ was a shock, even though she said ‘the’ rather than ‘my,’ which only emphasised their still rocky relationship.
Shuri doesn’t speak while they walk to her lab, so Bucky doesn’t either. He feels like he’s here for the first time again; too worried and too fucked up to do anything but thank people when it was necessary. Too scared to speak without being spoken to, after so many years of only ever being shouted at.
When the doors to her lab are in sight, she finally stops him with an arm to his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?” She asks, no hesitation, no cushioning, just straight to his face.
Bucky blanches, pulls back and forces his face to cooperate with his mind and not show him breaking again. “What do you-“
“I mean,” Shuri reaches out and grabs his shoulder again. “What has got you so wound up?”
Bucky doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to put into words all the things running through his mind. He doesn’t know how to explain the feeling of losing the most important person in his life to someone who has gone through the same thing too many times.
“I love him Shuri,” He starts, taking in a breath at the thought of that being the first time he’s ever said it out loud to someone other than his reflection in broken glass. “And seeing him in that chamber, looking how I probably did when HYDRA were-“ His voice breaks, and before he can crumple into himself and cry over the floor, Shuri ushers him into her lab.
He doesn’t know how long he loses, crying loudly into his hands, Shuri’s comforting sisterly hand rubbing between his shoulders. But when he eventually lifts his head, and heaves in a couple deep breaths of air, he feels like he can speak more. “I can’t lose him.”
“You won’t, Bucky.” Shuri says, using his nickname for the first time in what feels like eons.
Between one second and the next, Shuri slips her arms under Bucky’s, and wraps them around his torso, squeezing him and imploring him to squeeze back.
It’s their first hug since Bucky left after his check-in a week before Sam gave the shield to the Smithsonian. It’s their first hug in two years, and the thought makes Bucky feel a little sick.
When they pull apart, Shuri doesn’t mention it. She just gives him a little smile and walks further into her lab. “Let’s get to work!”
****
In the end, it doesn’t take much for Sam to be woken up. Shuri first makes sure the cryostasis is safe to hold Sam, then she checks his vitals, prepares his body to wake up again, tells Bucky to stop hovering and stressing, and eventually opens the chamber.
Bucky can’t help but hold his breath, standing back in the section of the room Shuri banished him to while she and her doctors worked.
As the door swings round, the doctors pile in together to gently remove Sam from the chamber and rest him on a bed next to it. “Be careful!” Bucky calls, then immediately shuts his mouth when Shuri sends him a glare.
The doctors fluff the pillow under Sam’s head, settle his body comfortably, and place an oxygen mask over his face, all while another doctor piles his body high with thick blankets. They wheel Sam’s bed away, and Bucky strains his legs leaning forward to watch him disappear down a hallway.
Shuri turns around and gives him a look. “Come on then.” She says, a smile on her face.
Bucky doesn’t waste a second, just sprints after Sam and trails anxiously behind as they push the bed into the centre of an observation room. “Is he okay?” He asks, stepping slowly over to Sam to gently touch his hand on the side of the bed.
“You’ve woken up from these multiple times, mister Barnes, you know how it goes.” One of the doctors, Jalle, Bucky remembers, tells him in an attempt to placate him. “He should be awake in about an hour, and he’ll go through the same symptoms you did, but to a lesser degree because he hasn’t got the increased risk of sensory overload that you do with your serum. So, he’ll have a headache which we will medicate, and he’ll be tired. But other than that, he’ll be fine, James.”
Bucky nods a few times, looking between all the doctors and Shuri and forcing a smile. “Thank you,” He says to them all, before looking down at Sam’s beautiful face. “Thank you so much.”
Before Bucky can get all teary again, Shuri breaks the tension. “No problem, White Wolf, now someone get this lovesick idiot a chair so he can gaze lovingly at Captain America.” The doctors chuckle, and one mumbles ‘Yes your highness,’ as she pulls a chair up for Bucky.
It’s a testament to Bucky’s genuine relief at seeing Sam okay that he doesn’t correct what Shuri says or even feign annoyance at being called out. He just settles on the chair and laces his right hand with Sam’s left.
The doctors putter about for a while longer, checking on Sam’s vitals and making sure he and Sam are both comfortable. Bucky doesn’t know if Shuri will stay, but he hopes she does.
Once the doctors are happy that everything is par for the course of Sam waking up, they filter out the room. Leaving Bucky and Shuri on opposite sides of Sam’s bed. “I realise I was a bit overdramatic about all of this.” Bucky mumbles, squeezing Sam’s hand once and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of Sam’s hand.
Shuri pushes her lips out in a pout and bobs her head side to side. “I don’t think so,” She says, finding a chair for herself to sit on. “This is a trauma you’re always going to have. And seeing someone you love as much as you do Sam fall into it, even if it’s not the whole thing, will trigger your mind into a panic,” Shuri rubs her hands together, before placing them palm down next to Sam’s leg. “I think your reaction was completely normal considering all of the circumstances.”
Bucky doesn’t respond. He just looks from Sam to Shuri, then to the white bedsheets, back to Sam and eventually back to Shuri. She’s being honest, he’s never known her to be anything but, and she’s being there for him. After everything he’s done, she’s still being there for him, giving him the very things he’s never deserved.
“You love him, James, of course you’d be scared for him.”
And that’s just it, isn’t it. Bucky can spend his life fighting for the supposed right people so he can feel better about the years he spent fighting for the wrong people. He can show up for the people he makes amends over, and he can convince himself he feels better for it.
But they aren’t people he loves. He opens his heart to few people, and when he does, it takes a lot to close it.
He spent his life loving Steve, spent his life caring for a best friend who isn’t here anymore. He loves Sarah and the boys, cares for them like his own family.
But above all he loves Sam. Above everything there could ever be, he loves Sam.
“What do I do?” Bucky whispers, lifting his metal hand up to cover his other hand already gripping Sam’s. The metal arm that was built for violence, now replaced by the vibranium one that he’s learning to use for love.
Shuri lets out a loud breath through her nose and leans back in her chair. “All I’ve seen is footage from the news of you and Sam together, and the few things Sarah has told me about you two-“
“Hold on,” Bucky lifts his head and his hand to stop Shuri. “Sarah? As in…”
“Yes Bucky, I have connections and Sarah and I have weekly chats, don’t try to get me off topic.” Shuri shuffles forward. “I don’t know much about you two as a pair, but I do know that you love him, and for once you deserve to let that out.”
Bucky closes his eyes and drops his forehead to Sam’s hand.
“Tell him,” Shuri says, her hand delicately landing on Bucky’s shoulder. “You deserve to let your feelings out, and he deserves to know.”
There’s silence for a minute, and when Bucky raises his head, Shuri is gone.
****
Bucky spends the agonising hour waiting for Sam to wake up, watching him.
He counts the milliseconds between each of his heartbeats, watches the rise and fall of his chest, and gently brushes the fine hairs on his cheeks, above the space his razor reaches when he shaves.
Soft. That’s the word Bucky would use to describe Sam, if only in his mind. Everything about this gorgeous man he’s in love with is soft. His eyes when he looks at his nephews and his sister. His skin when he’s been out on the boat in the sun all day, and all of the time really. His smile when Bucky says or does something stupid just to see it on his face.
His morality, his poses, his voice. Everything about him is soft. And Bucky knows he will only ruin it with his brutality. And he knows he’s selfish to not care.
Bucky sees the exact second Sam comes back to him. He sees it in the movement of his eyes under his eyelids, the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinks awake, the high rise of his chest when he sucks in a deep breath.
“Sammy, Sam,” Bucky breathes, releasing Sam’s hand so he can shuffle up the bed. “You’re okay,” Bucky adds, restraining himself from reaching out to Sam’s arms. His face.
Sam smacks his lips a couple times, and Bucky glances around the room and finds a glass of water waiting on the table next to them. “Here, drink this.” Bucky holds the glass up to Sam’s lips and adjusts the straw for Sam to wrap his lips around it.
He drains the glass in three big gulps before blinking his eyes roughly a few more times. “Where are we?”
“You’re in the best country in the world!” Shuri says when she comes through the door, her arms stretched out as she smiles at the two of them.
Sam’s eyebrows furrow and he looks to Bucky. “We’re in Wakanda? But we were on mission?” His voice is slightly rough, the same way it sounds when Bucky calls Sam in the middle of the night.
Bucky launches into the story, takes breaks to consciously breathe so he doesn’t start crying again. He leaves out the part where he went ballistic on the remaining six HYDRA agents, and his following breakdown that has only begun to settle now that Sam is awake and responding again.
Shuri bustles around, checking on Sam and running her various tests to make sure he’ll be safe to leave. Once they’ve been given the all-clear, Sam lets out a breath. “Big day huh?” He jokes, frowning when Bucky doesn’t smile back. “C’mon Buck, I’m okay, stop cyborg-ing at me.”
Bucky does let out a slight chuckle at that and catches Shuri grinning to herself from behind Sam’s bed.
“You are technically okay to leave within a couple hours, but you’re more than welcome to stay the night. I can get a room ready for you in the actual palace, private garden, and everything.” Shuri says, all official and queen-like in a way that makes Bucky undeservingly proud.
Sam turns to Bucky, and smiles at him. “A couple rooms in the palace sounds great! We’ll definitely take that.”
“James probably wants to be clo-“
“A couple rooms sounds great Shuri,” Bucky interrupts, squinting his eyes at Shuri to make her shut up. “Thank you.”
Thankfully, whether Shuri doesn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable, or she’s miraculously found it within herself to not rib Bucky for once, she doesn’t push it.
Bucky helps Sam to stand and walk a bit around the room, remembering from his numerous cryostasis wake ups that it’s a bit of an effort to walk for a while. By the time Sam is confident to walk by himself, and has regained some of his strength, their rooms are ready for them.
Bucky keeps a firm hold of Sam as they follow the doctor to their two rooms. They’re on opposite sides of a long hallway, one with windows periodically on the walls to display the beautiful landscape that is Wakanda.
Once there, Bucky begrudgingly lets go of Sam, and deposits him on the very capable doctor to help him settle in his room for the night. He doesn’t stop himself from following them in, indulging the loud part of himself that begs to see that Sam is okay.
The room is massive, and Bucky knows his will be a similar size. There is an entire wall made of windows with two doors in the middle, the other three walls politely decorated with miscellaneous pieces of artwork. It’s an open plan place, with a tv mounted in front of a couch that sits three feet from the foot of the massive king bed. On the left side of the room is a kitchenette, and a door that presumably leads to a bathroom.
All in all, the place is bigger than Bucky’s New York apartment, and they get to stay there for free. The wonders of Wakandan hospitality.
“Do I still have my shadow?” Sam asks the doctor, a smile in his voice obvious enough that Bucky knows he’s teasing him.
The doctor doesn’t answer, except for a huff from her nose. She leads Sam to the bed and gently eases him down over the covers. Bucky manages to restrain himself from micromanaging; fluffing the pillows the way he knows Sam likes, lifting his legs to go under the covers because he knows Sam’s feet are always cold.
Bucky is about to step in and shoo the doctor away so he can care for Sam when the doctor steps back. “He has had the painkillers that should ease him through the night,” She starts, heading towards the kitchenette to fill up a glass of water and place a metal straw in it. “Keep drinking lots of fluids and don’t push yourself to move too much.”
Sam nods his head, his eyes closed and his face a firm grimace from what Bucky knows is an awful headache. “Will do, Doc, thank you,” Sam mumbles, lifting his right arm to rub at his forehead. “Can’t wait for those painkillers to kick in.”
The doctor gives Sam a pained smile and gently squeezes his forearm before taking another step back. “I can show you to your room mister Barnes?” She offers, and Bucky knows he should take her up on her offer, if for nothing else but to be polite.
But he can’t, he doesn’t want to leave Sam yet. “Thank you, but I’m just gonna stick with Sam for a bit first.” He says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. When the doctor nods her head with a grin, he knows he hasn’t caused any offence.
Once the door to Sam’s room has shut behind her, Bucky walks around the bed and sits down on the other side. “How are you feeling?” Sam asks him, and Bucky balks.
“I should be the one asking you that!”
Sam laughs, a full body thing that lights up the entire room bathed in the darkness of dusk. “You’ve had your worried puppy eyes on since I woke up, and more than likely before then, so,” Sam heaves in a breath and flops his head to the side to face Bucky. “How are you feeling?”
Bucky sucks in a lungful of air and lets it out in a big whoosh. “Like shit.” He concedes eventually, holding himself back from reaching out and patting every available surface of Sam to check he’s all intact.
Sam sighs, shuffling around until he’s sat up more in bed. “Buck, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry any more,” Sam begins, inching his hand closer to Bucky’s. “We’re gonna have a nice night in an honest to god palace, then we’re gonna go home tomorrow. I am fine, you are fine, we are fine.”
Bucky nods along with Sam’s words, knowing he’s right.
“Now, go to your room and get some sleep,” Sam says, using the hand that was sitting next to Bucky’s to shove at his arm. “’Cause you look like you need it.”
Bucky guffaws, and he does his best to pretend to be offended, but really all he feels is relief. Sam is joking around; Sam is smiling his soft smile in the delicate light of the setting sun. They’re okay.
“Fine, because I apparently need sleep, I’ll be going.” Bucky makes to stand, but when he turns to look at Sam again, he hesitates. There’s nothing he wants more than to hop into the bed with Sam and cling to him all night. Cling to him forever. But he knows he can’t do that.
Sam gives him a tight smile, one Bucky knows is full of some sort of emotion he can’t pinpoint right now. “Goodnight Buck,” Sam whispers.
Bucky wants to lean over and kiss the words into Sam’s lips. Instead, he gives Sam a smile and whispers ‘Goodnight’ back at him.
When Bucky leaves the room, it feels like all of his warmth has been left in there with Sam, and all that remains with him is the cold weakness of his breaking heart.
****
It’s three hours of irritable tossing and turning before Bucky gives up. He can’t get a good night’s sleep with Sam so far away, and there’s no point in continuing to try.
So, Bucky gets up. He pulls on his shirt from the day, the one he had left by the open door in an attempt to dry it of his sweat. He’s only got his boxers on as well as the shirt, and contemplates pulling his jeans on, but decides against the effort.
He stops himself at least five times on the way to the door to the hallway but eventually convinces himself that just seeing Sam might be enough to quiet his racing mind.
Silently, he opens his door and peeks his head out. All he sees is two Dora guards at each end of the hallway, and usually he’d be embarrassed about stepping out of his room in his boxers and a shirt, but right now all he cares about is seeing Sam.
He steps across the hallway, and raises his hand to knock on Sam’s door, when it swings open and he’s pre-emptively faced with the view of a sleep-rumpled Sam Wilson.
Realistically, Bucky has no reason to panic, considering he’s seen Sam in pretty much every possible state. But with the way his nerves have been over the past 24-hours, his heart can barely handle the view of Sam normally, let alone him in this overly soft demeanour.
“Bucky,” Sam breathes, reaching his hand out to touch Bucky's arm. “Where are you going?” He asks, also peeking his head out and spotting the four Dora guards. “Come in.”
Bucky doesn’t waste a second, just pushes in with Sam until he can shut the door behind him. “Couldn’t sleep,” Bucky answers, brushing past Sam so he can breathe properly again. “Where were you going?”
Sam’s grin is sneaky and a little shy when he looks up at Bucky through his thick eyelashes. The room is dark, with only the dim light of the night streaming in through the exposed windows. “You’ve gone through this before, and I couldn’t sleep either, so…” Sam trails off, and really, he hasn’t answered, but Bucky takes it.
They don’t talk about it, just head to Sam’s bed together and both climb under the covers. They don’t need to discuss which sides they’re going to take, naturally gravitating to opposite sides of the bed.
They meet in the middle, where their arms brush. Sam also has a shirt on, the one he wears under his gear, and his boxers. Bucky knows Sam is more comfortable sleeping shirtless, the same as himself, but he can’t bear to think about asking him to take it off, lest he make this uncomfortable.
Because it isn’t, is the thing. Nothing about this feels weird, or strange, or different. To Bucky, this feels like something slotting into place, the two of them laying on a bed together facing each other in the dark.
With his heightened senses, Bucky can make out all of Sam’s features, but he’s sure Sam can’t do the same with his face. Which he is thankful for, because if he could, he’d be able to see the genuine glee on Bucky’s face at the prospect of them being this close to each other.
“What did it feel like?” Sam asks quietly, not willing to break this delicate bubble they’ve blown around themselves. “Coming out of Cryo?”
Bucky doesn’t even feel insecure talking about this with Sam because it’s Sam. He can say whatever he wants and Sam will get his concentrated face on and reply in earnest. “I can’t remember every single time, but mostly it was a lot of pain.”
Bucky braces himself, prepares himself to puke all of these words out that he’s never been able to say out loud, that he struggles to scribble down in his journals. “They never cared if or when I was in pain, they just carried on and drowned out my screams,” Bucky notices Sam flinch, but does his best to gulp down his sob and carry on. “So, when I’d wake up and I’d have a headache, and my legs wouldn’t work, they’d never care. They’d just strap me into the chair and get to wiping me so they could get me ready for the mission.” Bucky huffs out a dry laugh, able now to look back at it and realise how genuinely insane it was that he endured that, rather than look back and think he deserved it. “And then whenever I woke up here, they’d slowly warm me up, give me blankets and hot drinks and let me take my time. It never hurt more than a mild headache here, and that was amazing.”
Sam doesn’t answer for what feels like minutes but it probably only a few seconds. When he does, his face is stricken and his eyes are shining like he’s about to cry. “Nothing that’s happened to you has ever been fair.”
“Sam…”
“No, Buck, let me say this.”
Bucky flicks his eyes between both of Sam’s, watching for any signs of pity and finding nothing. “Okay,” He accepts, and shuffles around to pull the thin sheet up to his chin.
“I can’t say much that you haven’t already heard, and I know that, so I won’t. But I want you to know that I’m sorry for what happened to you, and I’m glad that it will never happen again, as long as I’m here.”
Bucky can’t help it; he grins like a lovesick teenager. It’s the closest he’ll get to a love confession from Sam, the closest he’ll ever get to saying it back. “Thank you, Sammy,” Bucky whispers, bracing himself to shuffle closer to Sam and shut his eyes. “Sleep now.”
Sam huffs out a laugh. “Yes boss,” He mumbles, moving around until Bucky can feel the heat of Sam’s leg near his own. His body is on fire. “G’night.”
****
If Bucky had any room for other emotions besides anxiety around Sam being safe, he’d be embarrassed for the way he wakes up.
His arms are both wrapped around Sam, and even worse, their legs are tangled together. Sam’s face is smushed up against Bucky’s chest, and he can feel the slow rise and fall of Sam’s breaths against his own ribs. Sam’s feet are cold, as they usually are, but they’re shoved between Bucky’s calves, and well on their way to warming up.
“Fuck,” Bucky murmurs to himself, gently lifting his left arm up and away from Sam’s shoulder and upper arm. Thanks to Shuri and her ingenious invention, the vibranium arm is incredibly good at replicating the rest of his body’s temperature, so the metal isn’t uncomfortably warm on Sam’s body. Unfortunately, the rest of Bucky’s body wasn’t designed by Shuri, and can’t regulate his blood flow by itself overnight.
In other words, Bucky has woken up wrapped around the man he’s in love with, hard.
It takes a lot of patience and painstaking concentration to extract himself from Sam. He has two close calls of Sam waking up but eventually manages to release Sam and slide out of the bed.
In his absence, Sam rolls over onto his front and wraps his arms around Bucky’s pillow, wasting no time in burying his face there. Bucky would feel giddy by the idea of Sam finding comfort in him, but all of his focus zeroes in on his problem.
He gets himself sorted and starts a pot of coffee before Sam wakes up. He must be handed some undeserved karma from his awakening because he gets to stand witness to Sam’s slow rise from sleep.
Soft is still the word for Sam, even more so now. The first thing Sam does is let out the tiniest groan, his legs straightening out and his toes parting in a morning stretch as his arms brace the sides of his head. “G’mornin.” He mumbles, smacking his lips twice and blinking tiredly.
Bucky can’t remember what you’re supposed to say when someone says that, too preoccupied with the show that is Sam waking up. Before Sam can tease him about not answering, he lets out another groan and flops back onto the bed. “This is comfier than the one I have back home, I could stay here forever.”
Somewhere in Bucky’s mind, he says ‘forever please? With me?’ and shakes his head to clear it away.
Instead, when he opens his mouth, all he says is, “Coffee?”
****
As much as Bucky would love to stay in Wakanda for a few more days, or indefinitely, he knows they have to get back to New York to debrief with Rhodes. So, he and Sam spend a good hour thanking Shuri and shooting the shit with her before they have to go.
She organises a jet for them, all fit with a pilot and three Dora guards to make sure they’re deposited back in the states safely. Or that’s how Shuri puts it.
“Thank you again, Queen Shuri, we really appreciate you always being there to help us.” Sam says, stretching his hand out to shake, which Shuri ignores. She pulls him into a hug, and Bucky is once again reminded of the soft spot she holds for Sam. Not that he can blame her.
When she pulls back, she’s grinning something fierce. “You’re always welcome here Captain, please, come back soon!” She says, eventually releasing Sam to step over to Bucky. “Don’t be jealous James,” She says, and Bucky realises he’s been glaring, consciously smooths his expression over as Sam laughs. “He’s all yours.” Sam’s laughter abruptly stops. Great.
“Thanks kiddo.” Bucky mumbles, pulling Shuri in when she opens her arms. He’s testing the waters with the pet-name, hoping he won’t be impaled by the Dora. Thankfully, he isn’t, and Shuri seems to melt at the use of the word. “I’ll miss you.”
Shuri pulls away and gives him a look. “You know where we are, and I know where you are.” Shuri swaps to Wakandan to say, “Lots of time in Delacroix huh?” Her face is covered in her shit eating grin, and Bucky feels his cheeks heat up. Even though Sam can’t speak the language, it’s pretty easy to hear his hometown mentioned.
“Did you put a tracker in my arm or what?”
Shuri just laughs, and Bucky makes a mental note that she never actually answered that question.
“See you soon! Now go!” Shuri shouts in English, ushering them away and onto the jet. When Sam is nearly onboard, Bucky turns back and locks eyes with Shuri. “Tell him.” She says, again in Wakandan, before spinning on her heels and heading back into the palace.
****
They don’t talk much on the flight back, clearly still somewhat tired after the events of the past two days. Sam contacts Rhodes and lets him know they’re on the way back, and he gets a car organised for them. Once they land in New York, the car is waiting for them to take them to the Avengers compound for the debrief.
Bucky hates this part of the job, as does Sam. It’s tedious and time consuming when they could be relaxing post-mission and/or preparing for the next one. Alas, they’re both aware that it needs doing, so they go to conference room 3, per Rhodes’ request, when they arrive.
“Let’s make this quick.” Rhodes says the second they walk in, not even giving them a minute to sit down.
Sam starts off explaining the beginning of the mission, the part where he was still awake. When he cuts to them being split up, and his hour prowling the place alone with only Bucky in his comms for company, Bucky perks up to listen.
The mission was standard. Go in, locate files that had been kept under HYDRA control since their supposed disbandment, and rescue a couple hostages. They had found the files and freed the hostages to the enforcement officers. All they had to do from there was capture or take out the unexpected hostiles they had encountered.
It should have been easy; it was a standard milk run for them.
But then everything had gone wrong when Bucky had asked where Sam was and hadn’t gotten a reply.
All Sam remembered was being knocked out and then waking up in Shuri’s lab in Wakanda. So, Rhodes turns his gaze to Bucky, and Sam inclines his head to implore him to take over.
Bucky didn’t really want to get into details, so he just explains that he raced around trying to find Sam, until he was cornered in the middle of the base, and was shown Sam in cryo, so he killed everyone there and called Shuri.
The room goes silent once Bucky starts talking, and a random memory comes back. The memory of his mother and father sat on either side of him in a big office. His father is faceless, as is the other adult behind the desk in front of him. His mother’s face is clear as day, forever beautiful and forgiving. He remembers being scolded by the principal, and feels, strangely, like the same is about to happen now.
“Bucky,” Rhodes starts, letting out a breath and tapping around on the screen in front of him. “Before I show this, can you tell me how you killed them all, please.”
Bucky knows it’s a command, but for some reason he can’t find it in himself to comply. (Probably because it’ll show the entire room that he went on a rampage at the sight of Sam in Cryo, at the sight of the love of his life in danger.)
“I shot one of them, stabbed three of them, and uhm, killed the other two of them, I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
Rhodes sighs, and Bucky sucks in a nervous breath. “There were cameras in there, and-“
Bucky stops listening from there. Cameras. Cameras that show exactly what Bucky did and his reaction following it.
When he tunes back in, the recording is nearing the end, where Bucky finally snaps the neck of the final guy before he breaks down and calls Shuri.
Bucky turns to face Sam, and finds that his face is almost unreadable. He’s shocked, firstly. His eyes are glued to the footage where Bucky is crying all over the chamber, the breathing techniques failing him.
After what could be hours of silence, Sam speaks. “Why are you showing this Rhodey?” He asks, his voice scarily calm.
Rhodes pauses the video and locks the device, before placing it face down on the table. “We needed one of those hostiles alive in order to interrogate him,” He starts, flicking his eyes briefly to Bucky. Great. So, he is getting scolded. “It’s fine that Bucky killed him, killed all of them, it was collateral and that looked to be the only way out of there, but I just wanted your view on this Sam, because that’s not-“
“That’s not how Bucky normally fights.” Sam interrupts, his eyes closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
When Sam turns his gaze to him, Bucky crumples in on himself. “I haven’t seen you fight like that since Madripoor, when you were playing Winter Soldier.”
Bucky feels sick. He hadn’t realised Sam could tell a difference in his fighting style. Barely realised himself that he had a different fighting style when he wasn’t under control.
“I-“ He starts, unable to piece together any words that would make sense. “You were in danger; I just needed to save you.”
Before Sam can answer, Rhodes butts in and dismisses them. Bucky doesn’t listen past the allowance for them to leave, to spend the next three days minimum away from any missions.
They’re in New York, which means they crash at Bucky’s apartment, before flying down to Delacroix. Usually, they’d go together, but Bucky feels like Sam will be going by himself, and Bucky will be left alone.
They’re silent on the journey back to Bucky’s, and he’s honestly surprised that Sam hasn’t begged off and found a hotel for the night. But he doesn’t question it. Doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, the idea of being in Sam’s orbit until he’s kicked out constantly in his mind.
Bucky doesn’t have the chance to say anything before Sam has him crowded up in a corner. “You better explain what the hell has been up with you.” He demands, using a hand on Bucky’s chest to keep him where he is as he takes a step back.
He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to act or respond in a way that keeps Sam here. A way that will mend whatever break Bucky has managed to create. “Sam, I-“
“And don’t lie. I want the truth. Now.”
Bucky nearly breaks then, all of his pent-up feelings pushing through his resolve. “You were hurt, and I needed to help you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you…”
Sam’s face scrunches up. “I’ve been hurt before Buck; I’ve been much closer to dying in other missions than I was yesterday. So why the Winter Soldier act? Why go on a-a- on a rampage.”
Bucky flinches. This is it. This is where Sam finds out about the pathetic love Bucky holds for him. This is where Sam leaves, and where Bucky lets him.
“You were in cryostasis Sam.” He starts, breathing heavily through his nose in a desperate attempt to calm down. “I can’t help if my first thought was that they were going to torture you the way they did me. I couldn’t bear the sight of you in a state I spent most of my life in.”
Sam stops then. His face drops and his arms fall to his sides. “Buck,”
“And I know it’s pathetic, because you weren’t really hurt, you were just in cryo, but it still hurt me.”
It feels like there’s no air in the room, and if it wasn’t for Sam’s very presence, then Bucky would have spiralled into a panic attack. “Of course it did,” Sam says, stepping closer with his eyes locked on Bucky’s. “I’m sorry Buck, c’mere.”
Maybe it’s weak, the way Bucky collapses into Sam’s arms, but really it isn’t. Because having Sam’s arms around him makes him feel stronger than ever. “I’m okay, and you’re okay, and we’re okay. We’re here.” Sam whispers in Bucky’s ear, rubbing his hand up and down Bucky’s back.
When they pull apart, Sam doesn’t release him. They’re face to face, their noses no more than an inch away from the other. It would be the perfect time for Bucky to lean forward and finally kiss Sam, but he knows he shouldn’t, knows it would be unwanted.
But then, just as he’s about to fall into his usual pit of self-hatred, Sam closes the distance between their lips in a gentle kiss.
It’s everything Bucky has ever hoped it would be. He doesn’t let himself feel the shock coursing through his body, just embraces Sam tighter and kisses back in earnest. He refuses to let Sam think for even a second that this is one sided when he’s spent the better part of his waking life in love with him.
Sam’s hands rub down Bucky’s back, before finding the bottom of his shirt and shuffling their way underneath. His hands are soft, as is the rest of his body, as he delicately scrapes his blunt nails up Bucky’s back.
He lets out a soft groan, one that Sam immediately swallows down his throat as Bucky wraps his arms around Sam’s neck.
Everything about it is perfect. Their tired bodies, their un-showered skin, their chapped lips. Nothing could cheapen the moment, not when Bucky is finally getting the very thing he's been desperate for since he broke free of HYDRA’s control.
Sam hums as he starts to pull back, but Bucky chases him. They peck a few more times as Sam tries to speak, and Bucky stops him with his lips. “That’s definitely not the first time,” Bucky kisses him again. “You’ve done that,” Another kiss. “In the last seventy years.” Bucky pulls Sam’s face in closer, enough to nip at his bottom lip and his nose before pressing their lips together again.
“It’s the only time it’s mattered.” Bucky replies, using his fingers to jut Sam’s chin out towards his own lips.
Sam chuckles, a sensation Bucky can’t believe he gets to feel on his lips. “Oh, he’s smooth now.” Sam jokes, spreading his hands apart to settle on Bucky’s bare hips underneath his shirt.
Bucky furrows his brows, content to keep kissing Sam as long as he lets him. “I was always smooth.”
Sam honest to god belly laughs then, pulls away enough for Bucky to actually stop kissing him, just so he can laugh in his face. “Baby, you’ve never once been smooth with me,” Sam starts, interrupting himself to laugh again. “You thought you were smooth with Sarah, but you were never smooth with me.”
Bucky can’t help but huff in annoyance. Never smooth his ass! “I was smooth enough for you to kiss me-“
“Buck, I’ve known you’ve had a thing for me for a while, I just got sick of waiting for you to figure out how to flirt with me properly.”
Bucky wants to be annoyed. He wants to pull away and cross his arms like a petulant child to show Sam how annoyed he could be over this.
But Sam is smiling at him, with the gap in his teeth and his dimpled cheeks, and there truly isn’t a better sight. The sun is on her way to setting, and Sam’s eyes are golden in the light, and Bucky can’t find a shred of annoyance in his body.
Instead of coming up with some sort of smart remark, Bucky just steps closer again, crowds Sam into a corner in the kitchen and kisses him again.
****
-Two Months Later-
“Boys! If you don’t get down here, you won’t have any breakfast left to eat before school!”
There’s a chorus of a reply from somewhere upstairs from the boys, the thunder of their heavy excited footsteps rumbling the house. Sam shakes his head, and Bucky shoves another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“Seriously man, they do have to eat breakfast, stop scoffing it all.”
Bucky doesn’t reply, just places his fork down and pushes the plate with all the scrambled eggs piled on it away from him. “Forgive me for not wanting to starve later.”
Sam laughs, a throw his head back and watch his adam’s apple bob kind of laugh, and Bucky grins. Everything Sam does is beautiful to him.
Sarah rushes into the kitchen, holding three sets of bananas and apples in one hand, and the boys’ lunch bags in the other. “Don’t let him bully you, Bucky, eat as much as you want, Sam can make more.”
“Oh! Sam can make more. I see how it is!” Sam says, dropping his hands that were delicately slicing a banana onto his oatmeal to the counter.
Sarah rolls her eyes as she opens the fridge to pull out two sets of containers that hold Cass and AJ’s lunches. She shoves everything into their lunch bags and starts preparing another one for a third child. Another kid in one her son’s year groups she is feeding, Bucky presumes.
The boys eventually crash into the room, both of them simultaneously chasing each other and running away from one another, somehow. “Morning!” Sarah calls, giving them both a look to return the sentiment.
“Good morning!” AJ shouts, pulling out the bar stool next to Bucky and sitting down in front of his plate. “Can you pass the eggs please, Uncle Bucky.” AJ asks, smiling up at him.
The first time one of the boys had called him that, Bucky had frozen in place before fleeing to another room to shed some tears in peace.
He never got to be an uncle to any of his blood nieces and nephews. Now, in his overextended life, Bucky has been given this second chance to have a family, to have people who love him and whom he loves in return.
Hearing Cass call him Uncle Bucky, and AJ immediately copying his older brother, made him emotional in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.
Now, he’s settled into the name. Settled into the knowledge that these young boys who idolise their uncle, and worship their mother, have carved enough room in their youthful hearts for Bucky to have a permanent spot.
Bucky doesn’t answer as he passes the eggs over, just grabs the top of AJ’s head gently and shakes it back and forth to tease him when he says ‘thanks.’
Sam eventually finishes slicing his banana and grabs the seat opposite Bucky and next to Cass. They all eat their breakfast over loud chatter and the blinding sun.
Under the table, Sam pushes his socked foot against Bucky’s slipper clad foot. A silent ‘you’re safe’ in preparation for Bucky’s quiet ‘thank you’ smile.
As Sarah and the boys leave, Sarah pecks a kiss on both his and Sam’s cheeks, and the boys hug them both goodbye. Once they’re gone, Sam moves to sit next to Bucky. He leans over to plant a soft kiss on his lips, and Bucky smiles.
****
‘I’m always gonna feel it
I’ve spent enough time trying not to believe it
I’m always gonna feel the way I do
And I do feel it all
All the time’
-Salt Circle, by Eliza McLamb