Avengers Imagines

Talk To Me- Sam Wilson

(Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Guilt

You always expected him to get like this when this time of year came around, but it was never this bad. On the actual anniversary of Riley's death, Sam would be quiet, toast a whiskey to a picture of the two of them, and hold you like you were a life jacket in the middle of the ocean. But this year was different. For the weeks leading up to it, Sam was distant, curt, and almost in a trance.

You started to notice the solemn and strange behavior two weeks ago. The two of you were driving into the city from the compound and he hadn't loosened his almost bone-crushing grip on the steering wheel. He was also giving one word answers and responses the whole drive. After too long of a silence, Sam was starting to zone out on the road, and started to drift into the oncoming lane. It took you screaming at him to pay attention for him to correct it.

Then, a few days later, he nearly choked the life out of Clint when the two of them were training. You had to pull Sam off him, and you could've sworn you saw him snap out of something. He didn't even respond when you asked him what the hell was the matter. He just stormed off and avoided you the rest of the day.

Today was the third time he was acting completely out of the ordinary, and you had had enough of seeing him this in pain without an explanation. He was making dinner and stirring some pasta in boiling water, but your attention was torn away from the newspaper in front of you when you heard the stove top hissing. It was when you looked up and saw the pot boiling over and Sam not responding in the slightest that you reacted.

You sprung from your seat with a sigh. Sam was planted firmly in front of the stove, oblivious to the pot, and you maneuvered your hand to shut off the burner. Still dazed, he took a few aimless steps back to allow you to move the pot into the sink, and you spun back to face him.

"Sam, talk to me," you said flatly but with good intention. He sternly furrowed his brow while winning a staring contest with the floor. You leaned back against the counter and tried not to let the fact that your boyfriend wouldn't talk to you cut too deep. "Sam," you said, harsher this time. He still wouldn't give you a response. "I know this time of year is rough on you, it always is, but you always talk to me about it. And this... Holding it all in and not letting yourself feel, not talking about it, it isn't healthy! You have to know that!" Sam just moved his arms to gruffly cross them across his chest.

"There's nothing to talk about," he grumbled. However, when you started talking again, he abruptly turned to walk away from the conversation.

"If only that were true," you said with anger starting to trickle into your tone. You followed after him, determined to continue what he was trying to avoid. "For weeks you've been an entirely different person! It's been five years, you have to forgive yourself for what happened." He stomped towards your shared bedroom, with you hot on his tail, and he hollered a warning over his shoulder.

"Don't, Y/N. I'm not talking about this." Hearing your boyfriend be this cold towards you was starting to become unbearable.

"Too bad! If you keep repressing this, it will only get worse! Riley was your best friend, but you can't blame yourself for his death. He wouldn't want you to. He'd hate to see-"

"He had a kid!" he whipped around and shouted. His words hit you like a truck, and you knew why he'd been acting the way he was. You were stopped dead in your tracks and noticed his hand gripping the door frame relentlessly. "His wife tracked me down and called a few weeks ago. I hadn't talked to her since he died, and I found out he has a son. He didn't even know he had a son. And he never will because I didn't watch his back!" he yelled with tears starting to brim at the corners of his eyes.

"Sam..." you said breathlessly, and on the verge of crying seeing him this guilt ridden.

"That kid will never know his dad," his voice started to crack under the pressure of his remorse. "I did that. I took away someone's dad-"

"No, you didn't," you said firmly with a step closer to him. 

Sam's arm dropped and his stance started to soften. "I was supposed to have his back..." Tears were now freely dripping down his cheeks. You knew he always blamed himself for what happened to Riley, most people would in that situation. But this changed things, and his guilt was starting to break him. "What if I slip up like that again? What if I can't be trusted to protect anyone?"

You gingerly slid your hands up his arms and held the tops of his shoulders, keeping eye contact with him with the hope of him truly hearing what you were going to say. "Sam, that wasn't your fault." It was like your words pulled the rug out from under him, and he lost his balance. Sam leaned into you, and you caught him without hesitation, holding him tightly in your arms. Your own knees buckled and the two of you crumpled to the ground, leaning against your bedroom door. 

Sam was sobbing into your chest with an almost too tight grip in your torso. You returned the hold and continued. "You know that. I know that. And Riley knows that. You can't let this break you, he would hate it if you did," you whispered through your own silent sobs. "I love you, and I trust you with my life. And I'm not the only one, not even close."

His cries were mellowing out, and you felt a weak nod against your chest. You could only hope your words got through to him. 

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Heyo what's up guys! Thanks for reading, later this week is Pietro, and then I'll be back on track with one a week lol. Anyway, vote, comment, and request!