|| SamBucky (WinterFalcon Oneshots) ||

Get Down!

"Samuel! Get down!" Bucky screams. Over the rain of bullets, Sam faintly heard the command but his slightly concussed brain got confused and took a minute too late to react. Searing hot pain spreads against his back and soon he's hurtling through the air.

Activating his jets does nothing to ease the impact of his body's collision with the wall and he finds himself disoriented. His vision starts to diminish at an alarming rate and his exhausted body shakes. Just as his eyes are fluttering closed, a set of hands were gently grasping his face.

One warm, the other metallic.

Bucky. Bucky is there with him, staring at him with worried blue eyes and his lips moving at a speed Sam couldn't comprehend.

He tries to speak but it's as if suddenly somebody had ripped out his voice box, his mouth opening on a silent call of Bucky's name.

There's a constant ringing in his head, his headache throbbing behind his eyes as he groans.

He is in so much pain. So much. As if somebody ripping out his voice box was enough, his back felt like someone had whipped him with flaming leather, burning into his back and rising angry red welts.

Bucky's lips were still moving and Sam finds himself getting more tired as time passes by.

He inhales shakily, a wheezing breath escaping his battered and bruised lungs.

And suddenly, he couldn't take it. His eyes slipped closed and his world turned a lonesome black void.

Lonely.

And peaceful in a way Sam couldn't understand. Now, he was no stranger to what awaits him after passing out on a mission, he's familiarised himself with finding him standing at the front on of Death's door. It's to be expected when you're a hero. You piss off a lot of people during your time being someone kids look up to.

Being someone who, when they see him, say "I want to be just like him."

It's an amazing feeling at watching the boys look at him with such pride it fills him up with love and affection it makes himself wanting to go crazy.

"So, we meet again, Samuel Wilson." Death's voice rings and it wasn't as shocking as it was the first time around.

"You know, it's getting kinda boring with you just dropping in every now and then. Usually, when people are facing death, they give in the urge to be at peace. You though?"

Death chuckles, a baritone rumble that has shivers rolling up Sam's spine.

"You are a pain in my god damn ass."

"You've got a pretty big mouth for someone who's only job is harvesting souls."

"Legs get to business, huh?"

Sam sighs.

On the outside, Bucky's panicking. His hands slap Sam in repeat, his voice balancing dangerously on the edge of hysteria. He couldn't lose Sam. Not when he's finally started to grow a soft spot for the man. 

"Sam, don't you fucking die on me you hear me?"

Bucky has called  into the comms the minute Sam was down, the baby Falcon's voice echoing through the line.

"ETA 30 minutes."

He doesn't know if they'll make it in time. Every minute, every second is precious. Especially if he wanted to keep this dickhead of a man alive. So, dragging both him and Sam to a secluded spot, he starts to treat Sam's wounds.

He had taken the brunt of the force, his back covered in sizzling dark, angry red skin, the smell of burning flesh making Barnes want to vomit.

Bucky didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he wakes up, he finds himself on a comfortable bed, with the annoying *beep* *beep* of the cursed heart monitor.

Then, he remembers Sam and stumbles out of bed, shoving past through nurses and doctors, demanding where Sam is.

When he arrives, he almost collapses in relief. On the bed was Sam, that annoying heart monitor actually doing something else rather than annoying the living shit of him.

He always hates hospitals, reminds him too much of the labs during his of hydra.

The strong hospital grade cleaning chemicals making him sick to the stomach.

He slumps in a small uncomfortable chair and watches Sam rest. He was still unconscious, (no shit sherlock) but he looked better than he did before.

He sighs and rests his hand in Sam's, rubbing his thumb over the black man's knuckles.

He finds himself falling asleep again and when Sam does wake up, he feels a heavy weight on his hand.

Yet, when he looks down, he has to stop himself from outright cooing. Drooling on the bed, soft snores filling the room, Bucky's head rests.

Sam smiles and leans back, enjoying the comfort those good drugs give him and finds himself falling back asleep.