Sambucky - Relax, Relapse

Chapter 2

Bucky woke up the next morning with a gasp, shooting up from where he was laying. His too-tight shirt was damp with sweat and his chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath. Visions of the nightmare still rushed through his head as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The feeling of falling, the blood on his hands, the sounds of gunshots and screams. He felt himself dissociating from it and he couldn't even seem to care, because that was better than what was happening in his head. He did know how long he was spaced out, but he faintly heard a voice trying to bring him back. Sam's voice.

"Bucky, hey, Buck. You with me?" Sam said softly. He woke up shortly after Bucky to the light shining in his eyes, sitting up when he felt the bed shifting with Buckys heavy breathing.

"Buck, hey-" He cooed, placing a firm hand on the back of the super soldiers neck. Bucky felt his conscience drifting towards the voice as he was pulled out of the dissociative trance, taking in a deep breath.

"Sam-?" He mumbled.

"Yeah, i'm here. You okay?" He asked, moving his hand from Bucky's neck to his shoulder, patting it. He held true concern for Bucky, hell he even considered him a friend even if he wouldn't say that out loud.

"M'fine." He sighed, shoving Sam's hand off in a way that showed he wasn't upset or pissy, just didn't want the hand there.

Sam hummed in reply, a silent 'ok'. He slid out of the bed and stretched, pulling his shirt on. He wished Bucky would let him help, but every time he got close Bucky closed off and into himself. It worried him, knowing that Bucky had been through a world of pain and suffering and didn't seem to be coping or dealing with it. The guy was 106, tortured by H.Y.D.R.A, fought aliens, disappeared for 5 years, fought aliens again, then lost his best friend and had to try and adjust to a semi-normal life. Even Sam had a hard time for a while, and still occasionally had nightmares himself. He wasn't stupid, he heard Bucky having nightmares multiple times, and he figured it was probably an almost nightly occurrence for the ex-assassin.

Sam sighed and looked at Bucky one last time as he went to walk out. "I'm gonna make coffee and breakfast." He informed, leaving without looking to Bucky again. The super soldier's heart skipped a beat at being left alone. 'A chance to have a session.' His brain told him. He wasn't one to fight his mind on something like this, despite the fact that he usually did this at night instead of in the morning. So he went to the bathroom and started the shower much like he had done the night before, stripping himself of his clothes and going over the faint, thick, pink lines of the freshly healed wounds on his thighs. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he harmed himself, eyes shut.

Once he was cleaned up, back in his sweatpants and t-shirt, he made his way to the kitchen where Sam was waiting with a plate of food and coffee, an empty place at the table for Bucky with the same. He tried his best to ignore the searing pain of walking and sitting down, the fluff of the sweatpants fabric catching on the jagged edges of flesh.

"You okay man? You look like you just got a big whiff of dead fish up your nose." Sam chuckled, noticing Bucky's grimace as he sat down.

"I'm fine Sam. Just thinking." He sighed, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee, appreciating how it burned his tongue and throat.

"And what's the cyborg thinking about this morning?" He smirked, shaking his head as he took another bite of his breakfast. Bucky was grateful he wasn't questioning the sorry excuse, but part of him yearned for Sam to find out. To help him. He wouldn't admit he had a problem, or that it was a problem, because he was blinded by the addictive nature of the self-harm. There's always that voice in the back of one's mind that knows what their doing is bad, wrong, painful.

"Oh you know... Walker, Zemo, all this Flag Smashers bullshit..." He sighed. Sam hummed in acknowledgment, nodding his head.

"Well we've got the Flag Smashers backed into a corner, Zemo;s back in jail. I don't really know what to say about walker anymore, but he's definitely not captain America so you've got that under your belt." He shook his head with a smile and a small chuckle.

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. "You make a way better Cap then Walker ever will. That idiot should've never gotten that shield." He grumbled.

"Yeah yeah, i get it. I've got it now, you can chill about it." He sighed, standing up to take his plate to the sink.

"We leave tonight." He reminded, going outside to train a bit and get used to carrying the shield.