|| SamBucky (WinterFalcon Oneshots) ||

Rivalry (reuploaded)

It was a chilly September night and Bucky Barnes was just getting ready to cause torment on his favourite enemy, Sam Wilson when a weak knock sounds. Automatically, his hand hovers over a drawer. Inside the drawer was a hidden compartment where his Desert Eagle sat safely accompanied by the ammunition. He grabbed it, checked the ammunition, clicked of safety and inched his way forward, keeping a firm grip on his gun. His heart pounded in his ears as the adrenaline started to race through his veins. It wasn't everyday he gets a visitor, and when he does, they're never neighbourly. In fact, most of the time they wanted his head on a platter.

Yanking open the door, his gun poised and ready, his eyes widened in surprise. 

There, swaying side to side at his door, teary eyed and bruised, was Sam Wilson. He gripped his gun harder. Bucky thought that this was a prank. It had to be because Sam Wilson never showed weakness, even around his mates. (Don't ask Bucky how he knows, you may not like the answer.) But then, his eyes drink in the pathetic sight. Sam was unseeing, his eyes looking straight through him, blood dripping down his arm. His shirt was shredded to pieces. Stab wounds were littered all over his body as if he was a little pin cushion, that thought made him livid.  

He grunts and lets out a small yelp when Sam collapses, the unsuspected weight almost making him less balance. He does however, fall to his knees, Sam's head resting in the crook of his arm, his eyes having fallen shut mid-fall. 

"God you're fucking heavy!" He huffs while cradling the enemy's head gently before carrying him bridal style and shuffling inside the house, not caring if it looked any different to anyone else. He had more important things to worry about. Like keeping Sam alive. No doubt it was from one of his men and if it were, he was going murder them. Whether they have a family or not. Nobody hurts Sam unless it's him. He's his. Nobody else's.  If you had told him that he was going to feel this way towards Sam Wilson, he would have gagged and laughed. He and him were rivals since childhood. Bucky was always in his shadow, always coming second in challenges while Sam comes first and when he would make his grand speech, Bucky couldn't help but feel envy towards him and maybe perhaps something more profound but we won't get into that, it was only a silly crush, not like he could ever get with the golden boy anyways. 

He doesn't care about the fact that he's stripping a man without consent. What? He's not a feral. He has boundaries. 

He begins to treat the man's wound, biting his lip to hold back a small yell of his own when the man beneath him writhes and jerks around. He was going to find whoever hurt his angel. 

God, he was smitten for him. Love was a foreign thing to him and if he ever did have it, it would be his downfall. Yet for Sam? God, he would kneel just for him. He would willingly kill himself if the man asked him to. With anyone else, he would've killed them in a heartbeat, but Sam was different. Some people would call it cat and mouse but he would call it love. Because whenever the man is around, his heart starts to race and his pupils start to dilate and that exhilarating feeling of the man on top of, panting and shaking was everything. 

He knew Sam had a special place in his heart because if this was anyone else, excluding his old friend Rogers, he would've shot them straight between their eyes.

After keeping the man from bleeding out on his couch, he stalks out the room, ignoring the soft whines and ragged exhales from his enemy.

He comes back in a second later, shamelessly pouring alcohol on his wounds and Sam awakes with a jerk. His eyes fly open and he sits up with a cry, the loud sound muffled to a whine. Tears had welled in his eyes as pain and exhaustion crept up to him slowly. 

"Who hurt you?" Bucky asks, ignoring the look of fear plastered on the man's face. When no answer comes, he gently brings two fingers beneath Sam's chin and lifts his eyes to meet his. Immediately, puppy brown eyes clash with stormy blues, and Sam sees a whirlwind of emotions swirling around those beautiful crystal eyes that hold so much intensity that if Sam wasn't injured, he be having problems down below. 

"Who hurt you, Wilson?" He asks again, and tiredly, Sam smirks. "Why should I tell you? For all I know, you're the one who sent them." 

"I wouldn't go this far, Sam." It was the first time the man who is his enemy called him by his name. Even during high school, he always called him Wilson. 

"I wouldn't go to extremes that almost kill you. I care for you too much." He says honestly.

Sam stares flabbergasted, Bucky cares for him? 

"But you hated me since high school." He retorts and the man shrugs. 

"Whatever, don't tell me, I'll find them myself." 

When Bucky gets up, Sam holds his wrist. 

"Do you actually care for me?" 

"Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

"Not about this."

And with that, Barnes makes his leave, leaving Sam injured and alone.