Attachment Theory - Bucky BarnesxOC

Part 14: allied to the winter

18+ WARNING MINORS DNI

Avignon, France

Steve and Sam have the same routine. They wake up at 5:00am and silently agree to go running together. Steve usually runs laps around Sam while making jokes and actively trying to piss him off, but this morning, he slowed down and they silently jogged together through the streets as the sun came up.

Sam can tell that Steve is sleep deprived. Not even the serum can hide that from him. His pace is sluggish, despite his enhanced speed and strength. Something is weighing heavily on his heart, and Sam can give a pretty damn good guess as to what that something is.

When they get back, Sam is drenched in sweat, but for Steve, it was (almost) a walk in the park. They shower and change into their clothes for the day. Steve cooks breakfast while Sam is in the shower. He always makes the same thing. Scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon with plenty of coffee and a side of orange juice. He says it's balanced. Sam says it wouldn't kill him to throw in a piece of fruit every so often. Steve argues that the orange juice is the fruit. They've been having the same fight for months now.

Sam sits down and Steve serves him up a plate filled to the brim with food.

"Thanks."

Steve nods and they quietly begin to dig in.

By this time, they're usually joking around, but the quiet has become a cancer slowly filling the room and eating Steve up from the inside. Sam is halfway through his breakfast when he decides he can't take it anymore. He puts his fork down and wipes his mouth.

"You've gotta talk about him at some point, Steve."

Steve looks up from his scrambled eggs.

"Huh?"

"Bucky," Sam reiterates. "You have to deal with it sometime."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm dealing with it. Just... maybe not in your way."

Sam rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"Hey, just because they didn't have therapy back in the '40s doesn't mean it's not a good idea to open up a little. Keeping that stuff inside'll kill you, man."

"I'm not keeping anything inside."

Sam chuckles and stabs his eggs.

"You're a shit liar."

" Language ," Steve warns.

Sam refuses to back down.

"You feel guilty."

"About Bucky?"

He nods and Steve scoffs.

"I don't feel guilty."

"Yes you do. You call out his name in the middle of the night. You think you'd do that if he wasn't weighing on you in some way?"

"I don't know."

Sam knows he's lying about that, too. He doesn't even need that shield with all of the deflecting he's doing in this conversation. Steve is proud, too proud to properly articulate what's going on in that big super soldier brain. Sam has never seen him cry, rarely seen him get angry, and when he does, he usually deflects with a quip, a punch, or a joke. Sam isn't perfect when it comes to expressing himself either, but he's sure better than this.

The sooner Steve works through his guilt about Bucky, the sooner the nightmares will stop. It's what happened to him after Afghanistan. After Riley. He came home a little more broken and a lot more emotionally unstable. Sam knows what it's like to lose a best friend and a brother in combat. It shatters you in ways you didn't think you could break. He and Steve aren't so different. Knowing Steve's pain is part of the reason why he agreed to help. Steve can't do this alone. The man can barely work his own phone, much less a laptop. He'd be wandering around the streets of France stopping every person he could and asking them if they'd seen Bucky. It's too risky and wastes too much time. In so many ways, Sam knows what he's going through.