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Most nights Sam can deal with it. Most nights, if it happens at all, he can just take a moment to recuperate and go back to sleep, even if it is restless. But some nights - and he doesn’t know why, because they’re no more intense than usual - the nightmares leave him screaming and sobbing or, worse, calling out a name.
And before the whole Civil War business, Sam had thought this particular aspect of his PTSD was in the past. Sure, he’d still get random bouts of anger, and he was rather hyper-vigilant, and sometimes couldn’t do anything except watch netflix and stay inside, but in general his nightmares had decreased.
Seeing Rhodey fall brought them back with a vengeance. He feels to blame for the accident, even though Bucky and Steve and Nat had assured him that it was Tony’s fault, and also Vision’s fault, that he did nothing wrong. Sam knows they’re trying to help, but really he doesn't want to put the blame on anyone. It's an unfortunate situation he wishes he could forget. Nor do his friends know how deeply the situation affected him. It's only about 100% more than he lets on.
Tonight Sam wakes with a sharp intake of breath, eyes snapping open and tears already falling. He doesn’t sit up, as his muscles don’t seem to work, so instead he pulls the covers up to his ears and hopes his crying doesn’t wake Bucky, in the room across the hall. Bucky has been out of cryo for a few weeks now, and he’s just as irritating in the safety of Wakanda as anywhere else in the world.
No, he does like Bucky. Not that he’d be caught dead saying that. They’ve already built up a relationship on mutual vague dislike, and although that dislike progressed to friendly teasing, they have an image to maintain.
Sam mulls his relationship with the ex-assassin over in his head as the tears start to dry up. Bucky is a much nicer topic than the one he just woke from. Tonight’s nightmare was the same as usual. Was it Rhodey or Riley that fell? He can’t tell. They always seem to merge into one just before they hit the ground. It doesn’t matter. Even in dreams, Sam has never, ever been quick enough. And that's why he can't believe his friends when they tell him, "it wasn't your fault". Maybe to them it wasn't, but his mind obviously wants him to believe otherwise.
He sits up, shaking, and takes a sip of water. He pulls a tissue from the box on his bedside cabinet and hastily wipes his tear-stained face. He knows there’s nothing shameful about PTSD, and mental woulds are as real as physical ones, but he’s angry at himself. He’s a goddamn counsellor, but he can’t even sort out his own brain's shit? Well, he’s ashamed of that.
A creak at the door causes him to whip around, heart racing with renewed vigor. A line of light peeks through into the dark room, and a moment later fingers wrap around the edge of the door. It opens, revealing-
“Bucky?”
The one-armed silhouette throws its hand up. The light flicks on, and Sam’s guess is confirmed. Bucky stands in the doorway, looking bleary, like a bear cub coming out of its den for the first time. A very large bear cub, wearing a tank top and pyjama pants with bunnies on them. His hair is tangled, resembling a bush, but he smiles softly.
“What do you want?” Sam scowls, drawing the covers up to his chest. Jesus. He’s shirtless. Not that Bucky hasn’t seen his chest before, but this situation feels almost intimate, and even if Sam had any desire to be intimate with Bucky, right now feels sort of...inappropriate.
Bucky pouts, because apparently he thinks he’s cute or something. “I’m sorry,” he says in a childish tone, but he can’t keep up the act and snorts. “I mean,” he says, clearing his throat. “Are you, um. Are you okay?”
Sam hesitates, but decides to see if he can make Bucky go away if he lies. “Always,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Bucky’s forehead creases into a small frown. “Oh,” he says, “because I heard crying. Well, I - I think I did. Y’know, supersoldier hearing. I’m not...utterly useless.”
“Don’t say that,” snaps Sam. Bucky has a tendency to self-depreciate, and it's awfully annoying. Not because Sam cares about him. No, it's just - ugh. He can't stand it. So annoying.
But back on topic - Bucky heard him crying and his life is over. God, he’s never going to leave now. Since coming out of cryo Bucky has taken it upon himself to make everyone happy, to "make up for what HYDRA made me do". He’s such a sap.
Sam heaves a sigh. “I had a nightmare,” he mutters, avoiding directly eye contact. "About - about-”
He trails off, the words sticking in his throat. He shrugs, hanging his head in defeat. He can’t even speak about it. He wants to, because he knows it would help, but he can’t even form words.
He hears movement, and suddenly Bucky is at the edge of his bed. He sits down, and although it’s without invitation, Sam doesn’t protest. He has no witty remarks left; he feels empty. Empty, tired, a mess.
“I can’t make it better,” murmurs Bucky, running his hand over his own left shoulder.
“No,” Sam agrees. “I don’t need you to. You’ve got enough to deal with.”
Bucky turns to face him, a small smile on his kind scruffy face. “I was expecting a sarcastic remark,” he says. “But, no. No, look. People know how bad I am. And I am! I’m a fuckin’ mess, don’t tell me I’m not. But you - god, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this - you’re stronger than me. I’ve heard you crying before, y’know, you must be having nightmares pretty often. And you don’t tell anyone, you just continue to get by and you’re still so - so - insufferably kind? You’re the one with enough to deal with.”
Sam forces himself to meet Bucky’s eyes. He wasn’t expecting that, but the look in Bucky’s eyes tells him not to complain, so he doesn’t. He forces himself to smile. It’s hard, but he manages, and Bucky shuffles closer. Sam’s eyes drop to the other man’s sturdy chest, and suddenly all he wants is to lay close to him, fall asleep with the warmth and security of another human being.
“You want me to stay?” Bucky says softly, noticing Sam’s gaze.
Sam’s heart twists up. He - he does? Oh, he certainly does. He doesn’t really know how to say yes, though. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and nods.
Bucky meets his eyes, then lays down besides him. The bed really isn’t big enough for two grown men, let alone one of them a supersoldier, but as soon as Sam gingerly snuggles up to him the closeness becomes a warm, calming thing instead of an awkward one. Sam hesitates, freezing up for a moment, and then lays his head on Bucky’s chest. He rolls onto his side and drapes his arm over the ex-assassin, whom murmurs something incoherently, his eyes already closed.
Bucky is warm, and smells clean and fresh and only slightly of pizza (his newest obsession). Sam takes a deep yet shaky breath, focusing on Bucky’s steady calm heartbeat under his ear instead of the strange feeling swelling inside his own. Thud, thud, thud, says Bucky’s heart.
And after a while, Sam realizes what his own heart is saying. It’s “love”, and more than than, it’s “I love him.” Despite all the jokes at each other’s expense, despite the initial rivalry over Steve’s friendship (and god, what does he tell Steve - “hi, I’m suddenly in love with your best friend"?), he can’t deny that he feels something towards Bucky. It’s a warm fuzzy feeling, and the longer he dwells on it the more it grows. In any other situation he could pass it off as annoyance - because this is absolutely what annoyance feels like, yeah - but here there’s no denying it.
He’s in love with Bucky. And when Bucky pulls him closer, his arm secure and warm around him, he gets the feeling that maybe Bucky loves him back.