The one forgiven sin 《Sambucky》

00.17

He lulls me to sleep,
And kisses my eyes.
Don't tell anybody
That the big, bad wolf
Is a puppy in disguise.

It was warm, it was so warm, if he tried enough, he would fall asleep once again. Yet, why was it warm? He hadn't felt any kind of warmth ever since the fall, and, well, this was just weird.

A sensation he wasn't used to. A warm feeling in his chest, which also was so fucking uncommon for him, it startled him. The last straw was when a warm, soft hand started rubbing calming circles into his back as a voice shushed him, having sensed his restlessness way before him, directly leading him back to the path of dreamless sleep.

His eyes closed again, and he basked in the comfort of a man's presense-

Wait a hot damn minute.

He shot up from his comfortable position on a man's- on Sam's, oh my god- chest and was immediately enveloped in the cold again. Shivers went down his spine as the events of the night shot into his head like a bullet. His cheeks flared up in heavy embarrassment as he remembered crying like some weak baby into Sam's shoulder. Trying to scramble away and save whatever was left of to His pride, he was stopped by the exact same hand that had been playing with his curls a few minutes earlier.

"Calm down, Jamie. All is good, okay? We don't have to move till twelve, you can sleep some more, if you'd like." Once again, Sam gave him options. No demands, only options he could choose from.

But, no, he couldn't choose Sam.

He wouldn't choose Sam.

He couldn't endanger him just because of some stupid crush.

"This is wrong." He blurted out his thoughts, and Sam's brow furrowed.

"What is?"

"We are two men in a bed." He declared. Sam's brows furrowed deeper.

"And...?" He asked, as if Bucky was the confused one.

"People might think we are... queer." He whispered, so quietly, his hands shaking as he was drawn back into the forties, he was running around, trying to find Steve, when he followed a lead of blood into the ally, and there lay Charles, a man known for having multiple affairs with men, a close friend of Bucky, and he was suffocating, someone needed to help him, help Charles, please, please, PLEASE-

"So, you is homophobic?" Sam asked, puzzled, and well, wasn't that the norm?

"Is that not normal? Being afraid of being different?" Bucky retorted, and, well, Sam looked distraught. But then, his eyes softened.

"Jamie, baby," Bucky ignored to the best of his ability the shiver that went down his spine at those nicknames and rather focused on Sam's eyes instead of his lips.

"Individuality is supported, encouraged in the 21th century. Well, not always, but sometimes. You don't have to fear being different." Sam explained, his voice was so soft, his eyes even softer and the warm hand that was still loosely wrapped around his upper arm slowly tried pushing him closer.

"Besides, we are only two partners sharing a bed, don't make this weird." Sam joked, but Bucky didn't find this funny. Because all he saw was Sam now, in that exact same ally, suffocating because of his own blood, multiple wounds draining his shirt a red colour, and next he knew, it was Steve, their mutual friend, starring indifferently at the beaten half to death body, saying 'he had it coming', and walking past the ally, not even looking back, but please someone help him, this is Sam-

But it wasn't Sam. It was Charles, his name was Charles.

And he had been dying in front of Bucky's eyes simply for his attraction to other men.

And nobody cared about that. Not Steve, not his father, no one. Why would it be different with Sam?

"I can't endanger you with this." He whispered, white as a sheet as he Slowly backtracked, trying to crawl out of bed. 

"Buck, how can you endanger me?" Sam asked, his arms still outstretched, but not touching anymore. Bucky didn't know if he was relieved or if he wanted to curl into a ball and sob again.

"If I turn you queer, someone will hurt you." He whispered, his hands starting to tremble again. But his half panic attack was stopped by a very unattractive, loud snort, and his head whipped up again, and settled on Sam, who had been silently laughing.

"You ain't turning me gay, baby. Don't get me wrong, you are attractive, but I've been hella gay way before you got your sanity back." He crackled, but Bucky panicked.

"Shhhhhh!" He cried out, afraid they were too loud.

"Zemo might hear you!" But to his horror, this was the exact moment the doubledoor ripped open. Talk about the devil, and he shall appear.

"Oh, James, Darling, don't hurt your beautiful head thinking so much. I do not care about Mister Wilson's sexual attraction, since I, myself, have fancied some men in my primetime." His eyes turned darker, and the Baron looked at Bucky with an expression Bucky, sadly, was weirdly familiar with. He shuddered, wanting nothing more but to cover up the remains of his skin.

But before he could do any of that, a dark skinned arm looped itself around his waist and he was flatly pulled to a warm chest, a hand settling on top of his drumming heart.

"Piss off, Baron-bitch. If you don't have any news on Karli's whereabouts, then the fuck you here for?" Sam snarled from behind Bucky, pressing him even impossibly closer.

"Indeed. I shall not be allowed to walk around my own premises. Don't you love Americans?" Zemo sighed, and Sam glowered.

"Who you tryna get sympathy from? Bucky? Is American himself."

"James hardly counts as American, when half his body is out of Afrika, and he was kept as an Russian- Communist pet for decades before the both of us were born." Zemo declared.

"Stand up, my comrades. Time to catch a mislead teenager." Zemo hollered, smiling like a Cheshire cat.