The one forgiven sin 《Sambucky》

00.11

.

And he has the cutest smile...

I'd be his, if he asked...

Well, this was his own fault. He shouldn't have agreed to tag along. Because now his PTSD was in full mode activated as he stared at the ground below, which moved so fast, he couldn't see the ugly grey because of it. All was swimming, his thoughts were running so fast, he had trouble keeping up.

He didn't even feel when the guy, the flagsmasher(?), repeatietly stepped on his arm. It was already bad enough he was forced to go and fight against super soldiers(?).

Because what the hell, where the fuck did those guys come from?

But now, he actually was scared again, something that rarely happened nowadays.  Crippling fear roared inside of him to life as he held onto the vehicle for life. His blue eyes were wide and terrified, though he couldn't see it, not really. He couldn't feel a thing as all he remembered was the fall that changed it all.

That turned a good hearted soldier like him into the monster he was always meant to turn into.

But then,

"Little girl kicked your ass?" Came a mocking, but still so gentle voice, and Bucky turned his head just right to see those oh so soft brown eyes, tinted by red glass, that reminded him of delicious coffee on the breakfast table, warm and inviting.

He, instead of communicating with words, just violently roared at Sam, but well  it worked anyways, because now Sam was laughing.

He loved his laugh.

It was like his sour mood at seeing this... dude with the shield dissolved while hearing this sound. This so cute, raspy, sometimes mocking sound. Angels singing wasn't as beautiful as Sam's laugh, he swears on his vibranium arm.

The distraction was appreciated, if only temporary, as he remembered he was stuck to a railing of another vehicle going 100 Miles an hour, but his breathing had slowed. He could function again. Somewhat. He would be okay. I mean, he had faced way more traumatizing things than this, didn't he?

He was about to say just that to Sam, tell him he was okay enough to get up and fight again, when a body collided with his so violently, he let go of the railing. 

A big, warm hand went to the back of his head, and he was pressed to an even warmer, on adrenalin functioning body sending both of them into a flower field, where they rolled agressively around, only to come to a stop.

Chest to chest. Sam groaned under Bucky's weight, and looked up to him. There was something in those brown eyes Bucky couldn't really recognize, but he was too dazed to think about it, anyways. This day was way too tiring.

"Could have used that shild." he grunted, realizing he really, really, liked Sam's chest and bodyheat pressed to his. Since he was first introduced to cryo, he always felt cold to the touch. Sometimes blankets weren't good enough for him to heat up, but he wasn't going to talk to anyone . So, he might linger a bit longer on Sam's chest.

Or he might not. Because Sam disagreed.

"Get off of me."

Rolling down, and softly landing on the grass, he looked up to be greeted by blue, endless skies, possibilities, miracles looking down on him. Yet, the natures' beauty couldn't even try to compare with the man lying next to him. He hadn't realized it, but Bucky Barnes always seemed to get drawn closer to Sam Wilson, since his hand was securedly positioned on top of Sam's shoulder.

"Those were all super soldiers, Sam."

"I know." Inhale. Exhale. "You are welcome, by the way."

▪□▪□▪□▪

God, how could America do that? Give away its own symbol to some very much PTSD filled blond bitch. 

Bucky knew haunted eyes, if he ever saw one, and John Walker was no exeption. The guy was no hero, he was a soldier. Bucky could relate to him on levels no one else could. He knew Walker himself was just trying to prove his own worth again. But it just wouldn't work out, espacially with someone like Sam as competition.

Walker was a soldier. A survivor. A man that got drilled into his own mind to always follow orders. 

Sam was salvation. A real Hero. His wings, God, Bucky hoped, would be kept by Sam. Please, Sam had to keep the wings. They perfectly fit and described him as what he was, an angel. Shining so bright, it would at some point surely burn Bucky down.

"Let's take the shield, and do it ourselves." He declared, and brown eyes fixed on him.

"We can't just run up on the man, beat him up and take it."

Why not? we can surely try, a dark part of his mind whispered, and he felt himself unwillingly shake. Not again.

"We got our asses handed to us, by super soldiers, and we got nothing." Sam whispered, in his all too deep, and all too righteous voice, he felt himself blink, tension leaving his shoulders.

"Not entirely true." Slowly slipping off the box he had been sitting on and plopping himself next to Sam, he turned his head sideways, to stare inot those uncovered brown softlooking eyes, and swallowed hard. 

"There is someone that you should meet." Hs voice was wavery, shaky, because he realized what it meant. 

Sam might leave him, too.

He knew it was the right choice, he knew he should have told Sam earlier, but he couldn't help but fear that those eyes won't look at him the same. Those eyes turning towards him and look hostile, and dissapointed. 

He had seen the heartbreak and dissapointment in Steve's eyes as he realized Bucky wasn't the guy Steve had loved like a brother. 

He knew he couldn't withstand this again. But he couldn't leave this world just yet, the heavy notebook in his pocket a heavy reminder of those he had failed. 

But, right now, he couldn't be selfish. If this changed the relationship he had somewhat built up with Sam, well, then there was no one to blame but himself.