Phantom ▷ b. barnes [1] ✔️

ix. this is war

"Maybe what I really wanted to prove was that I could do things right." -- Mulan

~ ~ ~

To Dum Dum's insistence, Sam chose a corner of the tent to sleep, but the moment she heard snores, she picked up her sleeping bag and moved outside. She didn't mind sleeping under the stars, in fact, it was almost comforting. She slept straight through the night and well into the morning— until a grunt and a shout of surprise snapped her back to consciousness.

"Freshie, what the actual heck?! I almost stepped on your face!"

Sam sat straight up to see Dum Dum standing over her, his brows knotted together. Gabe poked his head out of the tent at the commotion and seeing her, his forehead crinkled— Sam flushed and her breath caught in her throat.

"I, uh, needed some fresh air."

"So you slept outside?" Dum Dum balked. "All night?!"

She nodded mutely. But internally, she was pummeling herself. Idiot, idiot.

"You're a strange one, freshie," Gabe shook his head, stepping out of the tent. Brushing off the front of his uniform, he regarded her with an arched brow. "Is this gonna be a normal thing?"

"I just... like my space," Sam mumbled, acutely aware of how strange that sounded. But she barely knew these men, already dragged into their group. She wanted her space as much as she wanted not to see anything she shouldn't.

"Well, there's plenty of space out here," Dum Dum snorted. "Though it's going to get mighty cold when we get into the winter months."

Sam internally winced. She'd realized that earlier-- but had also shoved it deep down to worry about later. "Yeah, I know."

"Whatever, then," Gabe said, stepping around her. "Hurry up and get dressed, we usually march early. Unless you want to go hungry, I'd get a move on it."

"Got it, thanks," she mumbled, gathering her bedroll and ducking back into the tent. She was so focused on her pouding hard, that she barely noticed there was still someone in the tent-- looking straight up and a a bare-chested Bucky.

Good hells.

"Sorry!" Sam squeaked, raising her sleeping bag in front of her face. She panicked at at the femininity of her squeal but she didn't lower her barrier, turning away and hurrying to a corner instead. She kept her back on the young man, even as he burst out laughing.

"Calm down, Smalls, I'm not naked."

Sam didn't turn around, her face burning hotter. She fixed her eyes on the ground and stood rigidly-- until a finger tapped her shoulder.

"I've got a shirt on now, the world isn't ending."

Grimacing, she turned back around, pushing bangs out of her eyes. She needed to remember to cut her hair again-- it was starting to grow out. Bucky had indeed pulled on his Sergeant uniform and looked both amused and incredulous. 

"Sorry," she whispered. Idiot.

"I can't believe you're in the war," he chuckled, shaking his head. "There's a lot worse you're going to see out there, you know."

Her breaths hitched, but Sam tried to swallow her panic down. She averted her eyes, remembering that she needed to change as well. And that wasn't happening until he left the tent. "I'm not worried."

"That seems to be your pretty general response," Bucky tilted a brow. "You're a lot like a friend of mine back home..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "Don't know when to stand down."