|| SamBucky (WinterFalcon Oneshots) ||

The Aftermath (Pt 2 of Late Night Calls)

Sam woke up, a soft groan passing his lips when he remembers last night. He had drunkenly called Bucky because he was alone...

Bucky.

Sam was confused. Why would Bucky answer his call at the ungodly hours in the morning... Or was it night? Sam didn't know because he was too busy grieving... It was the anniversary of his friend's death, Riley. His death still haunts him. Now, usually, Sam wouldn't have a breakdown like that, he would just be quiet and shut himself away while he processes the feeling of loss. It's like a hole he can't escape, no matter how hard he tries and he's calling out but nobody is hearing him. They don't bother to check on him because they forget his human because he's always "happy".

He flinches when he feels movement in the bed. Slowly, his eyes land on a sleeping figure, their metal arm shimmering in the sunlight that seeped through his curtains.

Wait metal arm, Bucky? He stayed?

He finds himself staring at Bucky, drinking in the sight. The way his mouth is slightly parted, his chest steadily rising and falling and his bed hair. Suddenly, he has an impulse to play with Bucky's hair, wondering how it feels. Hesitantly, he lowers his hand in Bucky's hair, caressing it and smiling softly when a noise sounds from the back of his throat.  Sam chuckles, continuing the motion.

"You awake?" Sam murmurs and from the soft grunt and the flopping of a body, his question is answered. "Morning." He mumbles and Sam finds his heart racing at the sound. The way his voice is husky from sleep, his bed hair making him look cuter than hotter than he usually does. The blue eyes stare into his and Bucky finds them looking like pools of melted chocolate.

He likes chocolate. Especially milk chocolate. (tHaT sHiT buSSin)

"We're going to have to talk about last night, Sam." He says softly, his eyes suddenly darkening with concern. Abruptly, Sam stops playing with Bucky's hair and shuffles out if the bed. "There's nothing to talk about." He says a little to coldly than he would admit but it's already said and he feels a pang in his chest at the blank expression Bucky has. Sitting up, his dogs dangle above his chest and Sam has to force himself from staring.

"Don't do that, Sam. I've never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and... It worried me." He retorts, lowering his voice at the end as if ashamed to say so.

Sam slips on his shirt, when had he taken his shirt off in the first place?
Sam never showed his vulnerable side, he doesn't want them to think any less of him, especially since now he is Captain America. They already don't want a black man as their national icon... So why would they a weak black man?

"Sam-"

Sam spins around, his mouth moving before his brain. "Fuck off, Barnes. You don't need to know about anything. In fact, I don't have to tell you anything because it's my life and I don't need you sticking your nose in it. I was fine, I was just having a breakdown." He snarls, immediately regretting his choice of words at the expression Bucky has on his face. It was a mix between anguish and anger. Bucky scoffs before slipping off the bed and walking out.

"Wait- Bucky!" Sam calls weakly, chasing after him, grabbing his arm only to be pinned to the wall. Sam freezes in fear, his eyes wide. "Don't." He says, releasing his hand looking crestfallen. "Sorry for caring." He says coldly, his eyes gluing Sam to his spot.

Before Sam could call after him again, Bucky's making his way out, the sound of a motorcycle starting up and Sam waits for the noise to get quiet but it doesn't, it stays there before it abruptly turns off and Bucky's making his way back in.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong. After that, I'll leave you alone." Sam looks down, skewering his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. Sam doesn't want Bucky to leave. He likes his company, especially their bickering.

"It was uhm..." He stammers, his world turning blurry with unshed tears that threaten to spill like a waterfall. "My old partner... He uhm, he died... On my watch... And I uh, the thoughts...They were uhm, they were running through my mind-"

"Sorry for your loss."

Sam finally gathers the courage to look up, his chin slightly trembling as he sniffles. "It still hurts, even though it was ages ago..."

Sam's eyes widen when he's pulled into Bucky's chest and that familiar scent slightly calms him down. 

None say a word because they don't have to. The other's presence are all the comfort they need. No doubt Bucky was hurt by the words, but that was Sam's automatic defence. Bucky does that too, except he pushes everyone away, like what Sam tried to do.

He was so close to leaving but he couldn't leave Sam in need of comfort. Being alone is hell. The silence that follows is deafening.

Sam closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth he gets and it's a bonus because he gets to be closer to Bucky.

"I'm sorry for saying those rude things to you..."

"It's okay." Bucky says softly, resting his chin on top of Sam's head. He understands because he would do it too. Hell, he has done it but Sam always comes back like an annoying mosquito.

"You're grieving and that's okay."

"I'll be here with you through it all."

Little did Sam know that was an empty promise.