Sharing Pain《sambucky》

《you wish you knew》

It is dark. But, somehow, even though he just woke up, Sam can see pretty clearly.

His eyes are focusing and drifting to one and the same point on the wall, and he is sitting up on the floor against the bed frame. Weird,  he doesn't remember getting off his bed and sitting dow.. Oh, wait. That isn't a bed frame.

That's the couch.

Something like liquid is making his right hand slimy and slippery, so he looks down on himself to see dogtags hanging down his pale and white chest.

Miniature little scars scratch the surface of the skin his normal eyes never picked up on, but the ones he is looking through right now are sharper and better than his own.

They are the eyes of a sniper.

Slowly, dread crumbles in his stomach as he drops his gaze to his shoulder, and he sees blood, he smells blood, and his head is spinning, bile is rising in his throat, his vision is darkening, because, fucking hell, those are fingers digging into flesh, clawing, scratching it open, someone stop him, no, someone fucking help him-

Sam Wilson sits up, forgetting what he dreamed about.

But the pain in his shoulder is getting worse and worse.

Sam doesn't know why he knows exactly what he is going to find as he steps into the hallway leading towards the living room, but it doesn't make it easier as he dry heaves at the side if his soumates' fingers ripping at his metal arm.

His fingers all but dissapear in the flesh and Sam can hear the blood dripping.

He turns to hide behind his door frame as he gaggs in horror.

Forcing his body to act, he sprints towards the bathroom, getting the professional first aid kit and returns into the living room. Swallowing the bile threatening to break free as well as the tears, he notices that Bucky's eyes are unfocused, glazed over.

And while Sam is here, in Louisianna, in Sarah's living room, Bucky might just be on another planet.

"Buck...?" He calls carefully, softly.
"Hey, sweetheart, can you hear me?" By some miracle, those blue eyes snap to his, but are still unfocused and dead.

"Unchain me."Bucky whispers and Sam gasps in horror.

"Buck, I don't know what you mean. I'd never chain you up!"

"Пожалуста, sir, I was good, I've been good, please unchain me." He sobs now, and claws deeper.

"No, buck, stop! Big, deep breaths, okay? Take big deep breaths with me, yeah?" Sam takes one big gulf of air and begs, hopes, prays Bucky follows.

He doesn't.

But his fingers get deeper.

"Пожалуста..."  He cries softly again, and Sam sobs.

"Buck, baby, please, listen to me! Take in your surroundings, okay? You are here, with me, Sam Wilson, your partner," your soulmate. "So, please, you are scarrying me! We are sitting in my sister's living room, on the carpeted floor. Tell me five things you see."

Those blue eyes sharpen at the command and he tells him five very small things, such as Ajs forgotten sock under the windowsill.

"Good, you are doing so good, Buck. Now, four things you can feel." It goes as good as the last one, and Sam breathes in on relief as Bucky's face stops looking so miserable.

At some point where Sam asks Bucky for two things he can hear, he also asks him for consent of touching and when Bucky allows him to, he all but throws himself against the man, carefully easening his fingers out of the deep, ugly wound.

When Bucky finally completely comes back to himself, he is silent and his knees get drawn towards his chest, but Sam doesn't let him curl into a helpless ball.

"Shh, Buck, it's fine. Don't hide." He placates and wishes desperately, that HYDRA never fucking happened.

Sure, then Bucky would have died already, with his 106 years, but Sam would let him go, if he knew Bucky got to live a sweet, awesome live.

But, no.

Bucky went through hell instead, twice, and that second time it lasted for seventy fucking years.

Now, he has to deal with the aftermath. And Sam hates that. Hates that Bucky still can't live, probably will never live in peace. Didn't he go through fucking enough!?!

Sam has been chewing on the inside of his cheek for more than five minutes to keep the frown off his face, but he also talks about whatever is going through his mind right now to keep Bucky distracted, but the other man seems to be in deep thought as he lays there bonelessly under Sam's fingertips, letting the man do what he wants.

And that, oh that, fucking scares Sam.

When Sam is finished with wrapping the wound up so perfectly, he pats himself on the shoulder for being able to take care of his soulmate, he tells Bucky its done and both men rise to their feet, Bucky slower than Sam.

But then, Bucky's eyes turn cold.

Like, Winter Soldier cold, and Sam swallows his fears down for a moment.

"Buck? You alri-"

"How did you know that I...?" he trails off and Sam swallows heavily, his heart beating in his chest.

"I heard you cry-"

"Impossible." Bucky interrupts, his voice cold, his eyes colder.
"I taught myself to not make a sound while crying." He says like a fact, as if he just told Sam the weather, and not how he taught himself to shut out extremely normal emotions a human should have.
Sam laughs uncomfortably, to try to Essen up some tension, but Bucky's glare gets darker.

"Buck, please, I heard you breathing, it's nothing. Let's go to slee-"

"Sam, how did you know what I was doing? You came with an first aid kid, dammnit, you knew! You knew I was wounded! You knew I was bleeding! You knew, because..."

He halts, draws a shaky hand through his hair and breathes once, twice.

"Because you are my soulmate.

We are soulmates."