Avenger's One-shots and Preferences

I'm Here For You- Sam Wilson

This will be my attempt at addressing Sam's PTSD. I know he may not have seen as much as Steve and certainly not seen as much as Bucky but still he's seen his fair share of war after two tours and that alone can really change anybody; maybe he's better at hiding it than others. I understand PTSD is a serious condition and I also understand it affects people differently so I may have to issue a trigger warning.

It was the middle of the night. You turned around on your side of the bed and stretched out your hand, expecting to feel the warmth of your boyfriend Sam Wilson. You frowned, half-asleep noticing his side of the bed was cold. You open your eyes to see Sam was not in bed with you anymore. You look around the room only to find Sam was no where to be seen. You notice the bedroom door was open slightly and there was a light coming from the kitchen. Knowing exactly where Sam was and what he was doing, you get up and walk to the kitchen. Sure enough Sam stood beside the counter in his shorts and t-shirt making warm milk. There was a blank look on his face indicating he had another nightmare from the past once more. 

Before you started dating Sam you never thought how badly shaken he was from both his time in the military and fighting alongside the Avengers. Up until now you had assumed maybe he didn't experience as much of the battlefield, not like Steve and Bucky did. On your first date though, you did notice his hand shaking every so often; especially when bringing up certain questions related to what he experienced. Sometimes he did get a little snappy when asked also, but still you didn't think much of it. When you spent the night with him the first time, he practically woke up screaming in the middle of the night. It was at that moment when you realized he did experience PTSD and it was worse than you could have imagined.

Nevertheless you still cared about this man and was willing to stay by his side. Even though you never experienced this sort of thing you knew people who did, one of whom was a cousin that had recently experienced a horrible car accident. You took what you learned from said cousin along with extended research concerning PTSD online and from books in order to help Sam cope. You had encouraged Sam to talk and open up to you, and had even encouraged him to see a therapist along with his usual visits to his support group.   

For a while you thought he was getting better up until tonight when you found him in the kitchen. You slowly approach him, careful not scare him completely. You purposely made some noise to make him aware of your presence. "Another one huh?" you say move behind him and snake your arms around his waist, "how bad was it?" "bad enough," he replies, "I hadn't had that dream for a long time." "The one where you weren't able to save your fellow paratroop?" you ask. That memory had often plague Sam the most from sleep. "Yep." "What do you think triggered it?" you ask concerned as you rubbed his back. "To be honest I'm not so sure," Sullenly replies, "maybe it had something to do with that last mission." The two of you stay there for a bit, "I sometimes wonders why this keeps happening to me and sometimes I wish you didn't have to see me like this." This statement nearly breaks your heart; Sam wasn't the kind of person who didn't want anyone to see him look weak, even if it was with the people he cared about the most. "I know your good at hiding it but it's nothing to be ashamed of." Sam relaxes into your arms, "I'll always be here for you through thick and thin. I don't know anything about this but I want to do everything I can to help." Sam smiles, "you've been so good to me (y/n), you know that, right?" you smile at that comment.       

"I've been doing some more research and I thought of something that might help," you suggest. "It wouldn't have something to do with what we did last night would it?" Sam asked with a slight smile on his face. You had to laugh a little; even in this state, Sam at least still had his sense of humor, "get your mind outta the gutter Wilson," you slap his back and think about what he said, "maybe later if your still up for it. Actually I was thinking something more along the lines of the canine variety." "you mean a dog?"

"Why not?" you ask, "I do know for a fact you like dogs and I've read about war veterans who adopted PTSD dogs as a means of coping. It worked for them, maybe it might work for you." Sam ponder this for a minute, "I'll think about it." "I'm glad to hear it." Once Sam finished drinking his milk you lead him back to bed and the two of you cuddle, "I meant what I said, (y/n)," Sam murmurs, "that you've been so good to me." You sigh and give him a light kiss, "It's only because I care about you, through both the good and not so good times." Soon enough the two of you fall back to sleep.