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The Winter Soldier's Bucky's back in the hotel. He knows because he recognises where he's standing-- just outside the dimly lit lobby. For the past few nights, he's been reliving the nightmares of his assassination missions as the Winter Soldier, but the night in the hotel seemed to be a reaccuring one. And every single time all he could do was relive the moment, the memory of the Winter Soldier would never leave. Even long after he told Yori of his actions, the guilt would never leave. No matter how many times he'd 'make amends' with people, the feeling still stuck.
He's there, taking out one guard and stabbing another brutally. He moves with quick, effortless ease-- gunshots firing out as he continues to take out person after person, leaping off the banister of the grand stairway. It's not long till he finds himself in that familiar hallway, choking the life out of another one of his primary targets. Cold metal fingers tightening their grip around the man's throat until he felt him go limp, finally letting go.
"Hail Hydra." The words echo down the walls, his own voice was unrecognizable.
This is it, the part where he turns and sees RJ Nakajima. The part where he kills an innocent man who just happened to be there, the part where he has to listen to the pleading cries from the man as he swore he saw nothing. The raising of a gun, the pull of a trigger-- an action Bucky was all too familiar with. Yet this one, this haunted him even years later.
He turns, but it isn't the young Japanese man he's met with, it's something else entirely.. someone else.
The person whose facing him isn't RJ, instead he's looking at a man with dark skin and warm brown eyes. Bucky knew those eyes, he would anywhere.
No.
This couldn't be right. What was happening? This wasn't how his nightmares were supposed to go, so why was Sam Wilson stood infront of him, with that same frightened look plastered on his face? Bucky wanted to reach out, to say something. The way Sam was staring at him in horror made his gut churn and his heart ache. Sam was.. afraid of him. The one man who Bucky felt he could actually talk to normally was scared of him and there was nothing he could do but watch his own fear mirrored onto Sam.
Because until Sam, that was what it was like for everyone else in the end. They'd figure out who Bucky truly was (or, used to be) and change completely. They'd leave and he couldn't even blame them, because all he had to blame was himself. He just never expected seeing Sam like this would hurt so much more.
"I didn't see anything, please." Sam's pleading voice came through, ringing in Bucky's ears. He stayed silent, he couldn't speak even if he tried. The muzzle mask suddenly a restraining force against his face.
His arm moved in that familiar motion, slowly lifting as it held the pistol in its grip. But his hand wasn't shaking like he felt it was, no, it was holding the gun steadily. He watched as Sam's eyes widened further, his plea's growing more desperate now. Bucky's chest tightened.
"Please, I swear I saw nothing!"
No. No. He wasn't going to do it. If he could just lower the gun--
**BANG**
Bucky fully expected himself to wake up in his bare apartment now, that was how this nightmare usually ended. He opened his eyes, only to find himself still in that hallway. Still holding the gun.
Holy shit.
It was as if Bucky had suddenly regained control and consciousness of his own body, the gun clattered to the floor and he lunged forward as Sam's body slid down the doorframe.
He didn't really just do that.
He kneeled beside the body as blood gushed out the wound inflicted in Sam's abdomen and it began to pool around them. No no no. He watched as the man clutched at his stomach, eyes screwed shut as his breaths came short.
"Sam.." He whispered, his voice coming out broken as one hand cradled Sam's head, the other around the back of his waist as he turned Sam's body towards him.
Slowly, brown eyes seemed to meet his. Sam was looking at him now, eyes full of agony and something else... disgust.
"You're a monster, Bucky." The man hissed, his breathing slowing down alarmingly fast. Sam's eyes fluttered close once more and Bucky felt the man go limp in his arms. He kneeled there in a pool of blood of the man he once loved.
Bucky jolted up in his makeshift bed, and he didn't know whether or not to feel relieved the nightmare had finally ended. The phantom feeling of Sam's skin against his hands slowly fading.
The words Sam said replayed in his mind. Despite being a nightmare, the words sure felt real to him. They sounded real. Bucky just stared at the plain wall as he sat on the cold, hardwood floor, his arm resting on his knee. He had shot Sam and killed him as the Winter Soldier-- 'You're a monster, Bucky.' Bucky paused. The realisation hit him that the Winter Soldier hadn't done it this time, but he did. Or rather, whoever Sam saw wasn't the alias Bucky could hide behind, but was purely him. He was always the monster. That single thought scared Bucky, and seemed to make everything worse. He cursed his mind and looked down at his hands, the metal glint of his arm was barely visible in the darkness, with only the glow of the TV to provide any light. He kept reminding himself it wasn't real-- sure, he's lived with the guilt of killing people during his long lived life, but killing Sam? That seemed like an entirely different thing he wasn't ready to address.
That was something he wouldn't be able to amend for.
He couldn't do this. He looked over at the clock on the wall- 1am. Would..? No.
After more minutes of silence, he decided to try anyway. If he was left with the sight of Sam's lifeless body bleeding out infront of him any longer, he wouldn't be able to take it. He slowly reached for his phone, opening Sam's contact. He'd told himself he wouldn't call Sam, not this late at night. It was one of those nights where Sam had some mission and therefore was probably extremely worn out, but that didn't stop Bucky from hitting the call button after a long moment of hesitation. He knew it was selfish, but..
The phone started ringing, cutting off his spiraling thoughts. One ring, two rings... On the third ring, the line picked up.
"Buck? Why are you calling me at 1am?" Sam's voice came through. Not in pain, not disgusted, just.. tired. Bucky sat in silence and let the sound ease him only slightly, Sam's voice always managed to make him feel a certain way-- calmer.
Why was he calling Sam? Maybe this was stupid. He definitely just woke the man up and for what- a nightmare? It wasn't even real.
'You're a monster-' "-Bucky?" Sam's voice came through again, only more concerned than before.
Bucky cleared his throat, realizing he must've been unresponsive for a while now. "Sorry, Sam- I uh." He paused again. "Could you- Is it alright if you..came over?" Bucky had to force the words out, immediately regretting them. What was he even doing?
The other end was quiet for a moment, and Bucky considered taking it back and hanging up until--
"I'm on my way." No questions were asked, and the line went dead.
*****
Around 14 minutes had passed (yes, he counted) before Bucky heard a knock at his door. He got up from where he was still sitting and made his way over. He swung the door open and just stared as Sam stood on the other side, taking in the fact that the man was very much alive. Neither said anything as Sam stepped inside, taking in the sad sight of Bucky's apartment. Bucky went to sit down on the couch, the furniture creaking under his weight and once more as Sam joined him. They sat in heavy silence, their knees basically touching. Bucky knew the other man was waiting for him to speak, but what would he even say? Slowly, he began to tell Sam about the nightmare, his voice reserved and choosing his words carefully.
"It's been happening again." He admitted, Sam's hand immediately went to rest on his knee comfortingly. "Always me as the Winter Soldier. Always on a mission. This one was.. different though." He waited to see if Sam would speak, but the man just gave a small nod for Bucky to continue. "It was this one nightmare I've been having alot, where I was at the hotel and.." Even though him and Sam had been together for a while, he didn't know whether he was ready to tell Sam about Yori's son. But the man seemed to notice the pause and understood, quickly cutting in, "You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to, Bucky." His voice was soft, a scary contrast to his tone in Bucky's dream. The brunette shifted uncomfortably, yet continued anyway, "Let's just say it was another mission. And there happened to be an innocent man who watched and I.. killed him. That's how the dream normally goes. But this time though.." He turned to look at Sam, deep brown eyes locking onto icy blue. He tried not to think of the image of those same brown eyes looking up at him in his nightmare. Damn it, why did this keep happening? He tore his gaze away, his tone a shaky whisper now, "This time I didn't see the man.. I.. saw you, Sam. It was you stood there and it was you I.. killed. I killed you, Sam." Bucky took in a sharp inhale of breath.
"I held you in my arms and had to watch you bleed to death after I killed you." His voice cracked at the end.
He didn't tell Sam about what the man had said to him so coldly. Maybe he would on a day he felt more.. put together. That's just what he was like-- scared to confront himself and ready to push away any thoughts for as long as he needed to. He stared at his clenched fists as he let the other process what was just said.
"That wasn't you." Came a quiet response, Bucky fought the urge to scoff at the irony of it, instead turning his head to look at him like asking to elaborate. "Like you said, it was some sort of.. dream. You were the Winter Soldier, you had no control over any of it. It wasn't you." Sam's voice was firmer now, and he turned the hand on Bucky's knee over, palm up, as if offering Bucky to take it. He unclenched his fist and did just that. "Thank you for telling me." Sam squeezed his metal hand gently, voice low. Bucky said nothing and just squeezed back. Would Sam have said that if he knew he what he had 'said'? Was what Sam saying even true? Bucky wasn't entirely convinced, but some warmth sprouted in his chest.
Instead of cool metal fingers curling around a man's neck, or colliding into a face, they simply interlocked with Sam's own fingers. It felt.. nice. He realised he never held Sam's hand much, and made a note to do it more often.
For the first time that night, Bucky finally let himself show a bit of emotion. The whole situation really hit him, and he felt tears pool in the corner of his eyes, yet none spilled. Sam noticed, of course, because he always seemed to notice everything. He slowly inched closer, giving Bucky enough time to push him away. He didnt, obviously. That was the amazing thing about Sam, he understood Bucky more than anyone. Being a couple or not, he always understood Bucky wasn't the most affectionate at times, and needed space more often than not, and he was more than happy to give it. Now they were pressing shoulders, hands still interlocked, letting only the sound of Bucky's ragged breathing and the tick of the clock fill the room. Bucky found himself tilting into Sam's presence, his head rested against Sam's shoulder. Sam made no movement to object, and instead Bucky felt the man let himself relax aswell. The hand holding his moved to Bucky's shoulder and pulled him in. Once closer, Sam began running his hand through Bucky's short hair as his unoccupied hand moved to clutch at Bucky's again.
"Thank you.." Bucky whispered almost inaudiby after the comfortable silence, "For coming over and listening."
"Always, Buck." Sam brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth and planted a delicate kiss on the back of Bucky's hand. His lips felt warm pressed against the cold vibranium.
"I'm sorry for dragging you into my shit again."
"Don't apologise, you'd do the same for me."
"There was never any doubt." Sam chuckled at that.
It was now nearly 2am, and Bucky only grew more exhausted as he continued to just lean into the warmth of Sam, his eyes beginning to feel heavy. Neither of them had any plans of moving, yet they both also knew one another needed to sleep. Bucky's head jerked up for what was probably the seventh time, and he had to rub his eyes, loosening his grip from Sam's.
"Go sleep, Bucky." Sam's voice was stern in a way that just made Bucky want to go along with whatever he said.
"You'll stay?" They both knew the answer.
"Of course." Sam moved forward to kiss the corner of Bucky's mouth gently, cupping his jaw. That caused Bucky to pull him in once more for another kiss on the mouth properly. After a few more lazy, much needed kisses, Bucky murmured against Sam's lips, "You need to get rest too. You've been working all week." Sam simply rolled his eyes, "You care too much." Bucky broke away and sat up at that, turning to look at the man with a serious expression, "That's what you're doing right now. This isn't just about my bullshit Sam, you need to take care of yourself too." Sam straightened up now too, his gaze soft, "I know, and trust me I'm managing. Right now I just care about you."
Bucky sat there for a moment, he knew Sam was persistent like that. Knowing he wasn't going to win, he leaned back against the couch. Sam followed, and they both lay sandwiched together. Bucky's arm around his shoulder and Sam's around his waist. The two looked up at the ceiling, but Bucky was more focused on looking at Sam, observing the man beside him. He was everything. Sometimes the man would catch him staring, and they'd just look at eachother with small grins on their faces, eyes full of love.
Even though Bucky was drained, Sam got knocked out cold first, which Bucky didn't mind at all. The man simply fell onto Bucky's chest, arms comfortably wrapped around his broad frame, and Bucky instinctively put one hand behind Sam's head to steady him. The other snaked around Sam's waist, and God was he lucky no one else was around. The private moments like these were what Bucky enjoyed most, despite looking like an 'I-hate-hugs-and-all-things-affection' type of guy. He made that exception for Sam.
He let himself hold the sleeping man, exactly like in the nightmare that brought Sam to his apartment in the first place. Except this time, his arm laid protectively over Sam's stomach. He imagined the gun wound that would've sat right where his arm covered.. However, instead of feeling the earlier heavy weight of dread and guilt, Bucky felt much lighter now. Sam wasn't in pain and he was alive in his arms rather than bleeding out. But most importantly, Sam was here with him. He hoped it would be like that for a long time. He would never let anything happen to the man who was the closest person he's had in his life (since Steve was around anyway). He closed his eyes and let the quiet sound of Sam's breathing lull him to sleep.
Bucky finally slept without any nightmares for the first time in days, and for one night he let himself forget about the Winter Soldier.
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