Shield Me (Sambucky AU)

Prologue

A wise man once said...may your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.

I am writing to you, Samuel Wilson, because I believe you are a man who is not ruled by fear. I believe you to be more than a hardworking man, more than a brave soldier, and more than a good captain.

I hope that you take this offer into consideration, and then I hope that you make the right choice.

I look forward to seeing you in September.

Sincerely,
Nicholas Fury
S.H.I.E.L.D.

P.S.
It pays $150,000 a year.

~~~~~

"Plus sixty..." Sam bit his lip as he punched in a couple more numbers, eyebrows furrowing, "...minus eighty— dammit."

"What's wrong?" Sarah leaned against the doorway, soaking in the scattered papers on her dining table and permanent frown etched on her brother's face.

He quickly pressed his lips into a thin line, "Nothing."

"Nothing, huh? It was nothing yesterday too, and the day before that," she scooped up the paper he'd been hovering over, "What's this?"

Sam immediately snatched the paper back, rising to his feet, "Nothing. Just some stuff I'm looking into."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, "That doesn't seem like nothing, and if it's some more of that superhero stuff, you know I—,"

"—It's not," Sam breathed, gathering all the papers together alongside his calculator and pen. He brushed off his shirt as he glanced at the time, guilt washing over him as he realized he had been inside for hours, despite the barbecue happening a few feet away at the docks. He felt his stomach grumble.

"Then what's wrong?" Sarah repeated, crossing her arms, "Bills?"

"No."

"Your journal crap?"

"No," Sam muttered, clutching all his things to his chest as he grabbed a jacket for the cool breeze of the evening. He alternated between holding the paper and sliding one of his arms in, finally turning to Sarah, "I thought you said they were all paid this month?"

"Huh?"

"The bills."

"Oh, they are... thanks to that money you gave me," she didn't notice his small sigh of relief, which was short lived, "Where did you get that, anyway?"

"I—," Sam was cut off by a sharp knock at their door, causing him to immediately move away from behind it. His head snapped to Sarah, "Are you expecting—,"

She ignored his precautions and marched straight up to the door the fling it open. Sam froze as he caught sight of the guest, as well as the familiar sunglasses and smile.

"Hi, Sarah. I was wondering if—," the flustered man stopped in his tracks, "Sam."

"Bucky?" Sam's shock wasn't masked as the ghost of a smile curved his lips. He quickly made his way over and clasped Bucky's outstretched hand, pulling him into a brief hug, "What are you doing here, man?"

"I called him here." Sarah opened the door a bit more, allowing Bucky to fully slip inside. Sam's eyes narrowed as he retreated inside as well.

"What?"

Bucky casually lifted the sunglasses to his head, holding up cake container that Sam only noticed just then, "Barbecue."

"Oh, right."

"Actually, no. I called him because I'm worried about you," Sarah took the cake from Bucky and set it on the table, "Because you won't talk to me, so I figured you might talk to him."

"What?" Sam breathed incredulously, unable to resist a slight laugh, "I already told you— there's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit," Sarah called, "There's something wrong with you."

Sam subconsciously clutched the paper tighter in his hand, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips, "No, there's not. And even if there was, what would Bucky do?"

"I don't know. What would any of us do if only you'd let us help?" Sarah raised her voice slightly, shocking not only Sam, but Bucky too, "You're acting different. You're distant. You never play with the kids anymore; you don't talk to me; you never go to your group sessions anymore!"

Sam's face flushed for a reason he couldn't pinpoint— he loved his group sessions. He created them. He believed that therapy for veterans could move mountains and should be treated as such, so why was he embarrassed?

"We missed you at church, again. You only come over when I beg you for dinner, and you're acting like—," Sarah cut herself off, shutting her mouth in frustration while both Sam's and Bucky's attention landed on her.

Sam's mouth immediately formed a thin, tight line, "Like what?"

She sighed, avoiding Sam's eyes, "I just figured you must be burying yourself in that powerbroker stuff again, so I called the only one who might be able to relate—,"

"No. That's not what you meant, and you know it," Sam insisted, taking a step towards his sister.

"Hey," Bucky put himself in between Sam and Sarah. His soft gaze met Sam's, despite not knowing what had triggered his slight outburst, "Not here."

Sam glanced to the archway, only to find his younger nephew, AJ. He only then felt a sting behind his eyes, urging him to turn away, but not before Sarah could finish.

"Can you blame me for thinking what I am? Even now, you're cold and angry like you were then," Sarah opened her arm and allowed AJ to make his way to her side.

Resentment bubbled in Sam's chest as his eyes flickered from Sarah to Bucky. Of course he was angry! Perhaps he wouldn't be if he'd been able to sleep since he'd carried Karli's lifeless body. Maybe if he wasn't crippled by poverty, or if his last meal hadn't been two days ago. Maybe if he didn't have to hide what he sacrificed for money, or even have to face his life at all.

But he did.

"I'm not angry." Sam's voice didn't match his tense stance. Instead, it was eerily calm, "I'm sorry if it came off that way."

Bucky blinked in surprise as Sam said something about fresh air, before glancing at Sarah and AJ, who had carried on into the kitchen obliviously.

"See what I mean?" Sarah crossed her arms with a sigh, while Bucky made his way over to the paper Sam had left. He picked it up and scanned it quickly.

"Not really." He folded the paper and put it into his jacket.

"Did he mention anything out of the ordinary to you?" she pressed, watching Bucky hopefully.

"No." He shifted to offer her a comforting look, "But I'll talk to him."