Sambucky - Relax, Relapse

Chapter 4

CW: brief descriptions of dissociation and Buckys trauma
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Sam and Bucky made their way to the 'living room' area of the safe house, Bucky silently sitting in the corner of the couch, his head down.

"Buck? You good?" Sam asked, his voice nearly a whisper. He knew the answer, his partner was not okay. Buckys eyebrows were furrowed, lost in thought. Thinking about how he had gotten himself there, how he could possibly get better. The overwhelming feelings made him want to cut call over again, but he couldnt now that Sam knew. Sam wouldnt let him. And he didnt want to handle the guilt of Sams disappointment if he did. He didnt give an answer to Sam, there wasnt one needed. It was simply to try and keep the super soldier in the present, keep him from spiraling.

"C'mon, lets go get some food. Im sure youre hungry." The captain offered up. He stood back up and offered a hand out to Bucky, hoping he would let him in and help him heal, even if it was something as simple as getting him to eat a good meal.

"We'll get to go back home tomorrow, we'll be out for at least 2 weeks. You gonna come to Delacroix?" Sam felt like he was talking to himself half the time, Buckys eyes distant. The overwhelming feelings leading to dissociation as he tried so hard to stay focused on Sams voice.

"Yeah.. Thats fine." He croaked, sounding as if it was a struggle to get the words to leave his vocal chords. Sam smiled sadly recognizing his struggle, placing a hand on his shoulder as he went back to tending to the pasta he was making.

"It'll be nice. You can help with the boat, Aj and Cass will be happy to see you. They missed you when you went back to New York, youre really good with them." He rambled. Bucky nodded his head lazily with a hint of a smile.

"Theyre good kids." He whispered, picking at his dry cracked nails. It was true, and he really did love being around the two boys. Bucky had never gotten the chance to have a family, he hadnt since the 40's and he didnt even know if he could count that Bucky Barnes as the Bucky Barnes he was today. Being in Delacroix, with Sam and the boys and Sarah, it felt like home. Like he belonged, had an actual family. All he had for the years he was in control of his own mind was Steve. Till the end of the line his ass. Steve left him, left him broken and yearning for the one person who understood him. Left Sam to "deal" with him.

Even Sams neighborhood loved him. They didnt care about his past, what his hands had done, they trusted him. Trusted that he wouldnt hurt a single good soul. A mother at the cookout even asked him to hold her baby, the small child was overheating in the Louisiana humidity but Buckys arm was nice and cold, cooling her off with ease. She took a liking to Buckys finger, gripping onto it with her strong little fingers making Bucky chuckle as he looked down to her. It reminded him of when he would hold his sister, Becca.

"Buck? You with me?" Sam asked, placing another hand on his shoulder as he slid a bowl in front of Bucky.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry, Sam." He sighed, forcefully relaxing his shoulders as he took a deep breath. He picked at the pasta as Sam sat across from him at the kitchen island, taking a bite of his food. It was great, Sam was an amazing cook, and Bucky hummed.

"S'really good." He complimented. Sam chuckled and nodded along with him.

"Thanks man, its my mama's recipe." He informed, taking a bite of his own with a delighted moan. The conversation ended, the two eating in silence.

It was a comfortable silence, no urge to talk, just appreciating each others presents. Sam knew it wasnt the best idea for Bucky to be alone, and if Bucky was going to get better he had to be thinking the same thing.

The two of them finished dinner again in silence, Bucky drifting into dissociation once again. Sam was worried, really worried, for his best friend. He saw and knew what it was like for veterans, but he couldnt begin to imagine how hard it mustve been for Bucky. Going through something as bad as World War II, only to be captured by the Nazi organization HYDRA, and all the torture and abuse he had insued.

He knew Bucky blamed himself for the horrors that the Winter Soldier committed, but he didnt realize it was this bad. That the man had gone to such an extent to hurt himself as punishment. Bucky didnt need to punish himself. It wasnt him. It was the separate personality he had. Sam had been told by Dr. Reynor, Bucks therapist, that the man had a form of multiple personality disorder as well as bipolar. Sam couldnt empathize, but he could understand that it must be nearly a living hell. Being so scared of your own mind, even when the programming that was engraved in his mind was deactivated thanks to the wonderful doctors in Wakanda.

He took one look at Bucky, seeing the fog over his eyes, and he knew Bucky was spaced out, receded into his mind. He had a tendency to monitor Bucky, trying to figure him out, see what he might need to be best supported even when Bucky refused his help. He would drag Bucky back to Delacroix if he couldnt convince him, 'cause seeing the super soldier so relaxed and happy made his heart swell with joy and pride.

"Hey Bucky, why dont we get packed and ready to get your stuff from your apartment. We can leave for my place tomorrow morning if youre down to let me stay at your place." He offered up. Bucky looked up at him and shook away the dissociation best he could. It didnt work that well, he still felt like everything was moving in slow motion, nothing seemed real or it all seemed too real.

"Yeah, yeah. Thats... Thats cool." He mumbled, standing up to take his bowl to the sink. He hid it, but his legs and hands were shaky. He was unwell, really unwell, worse than he had been in a long time. Sam watched him carry the dish to the sink, waiting for him to place the bowl in it before he followed in suit with his own empty dish.

"C'mon man.." He nearly whispered, placing a hand on Buckys shoulder. Bucky flinced but didnt make a move to get away from the touch, letting the former Falcon lead him to their shared room to pack their clothes. Sam housed Buckys suitcase onto his bed, doing the same with his own on his separate bed. He packed up his undershirts, his jeans and underwear, and socks aswell as his toiletries. He looked up to Bucky who was standing with his arms crossed. His head was facing the ground, eyebrows furrowed. He was clearly out of it once again, and Sam couldnt help but pity the man. It broke his heart seeing any veteran struggle, but it hit harder when it was Bucky. He wished he could help the older more, but there wasnt much he could do. It took time, healing took time.

Sam decided not to bother Bucky, carefully helping him sit down before packing the super soldier's clothes and toiletries himself. He had no problem helping him, he would do anything for the people he loves. Woah, love. Sam loves Bucky? Thats a friend kinda love. He decided on. He zipped up the suitcase and pulled out his phone, scheduling a quick flight back to New York.