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[endsinafight]

Bucky'd been fidgety throughout the debriefing with Fury, even if he hadn't moved a muscle as he listened to the mission -- another HYDRA target, smaller, on a remote island in the Pacific. Not the usual setup, which made him uneasy from the get-go. But there was something else, something nagging at him, something in Fury's tone that told him there was more to this mission than he was willing to divulge. It wasn't a surprise. Fury might not be HYDRA, but in some ways his methods were so similar that it felt like being back there anyway. He definitely believed in the need to know principle, and obviously he didn't feel like they needed to know whatever it was he was holding back. His gaze darted to Steve, wondering if he'd picked up on it, too.

But if Steve had, his expression didn't betray his thoughts.

He pressed his lips together as they were dismissed, Fury addressing him as the others agents involved in the mission filtered out of the room. "Barnes. Hang back a minute."

And there it was, he thought, meeting Steve's eyes only briefly before lingering as Fury requested. One the door was shut again, the other man turned to study him.

"You have a different mission while they're disabling all of HYDRA's operating systems and containing the operatives."

Bucky studied him just as intently, his voice flat when he responded. "Who'm I eliminating?"

If Fury was surprised by his response, he gave nothing away. "Your target is Katya Belyakov."

"Who is she?" His voice was wary.

"You sure you wanna know the details, Barnes?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"If you're asking me to murder someone, yes," Bucky said, jaw tightening.

Fury regarded him for a long moment. "Essentially, she's the of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Mind control abilities that she's utilized to force others to commit her dirty work. She's likely being accompanied by a former SHIELD operative who turned out to be moonlighting for HYDRA, Grant Ward. I'd prefer him to remain alive. He's got a lot to answer for."

Every muscle in Bucky's body tensed at the information about Belyakov, but also the name Grant Ward, his stomach turning in recognition.

"Ah. See you're familiar with him then."

"Unfortunately," Bucky responded stiffly, struggling to maintain his composure. "I'm assuming this isn't an optional mission." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"You knew when you signed the dotted line that there's no such thing here, Barnes. Is there a problem? Or do I need to go over the fine print of your contract to refresh your memory?"

Fuck you, he thought. "No, Sir. Am I free to go?"

"You're dismissed."

--

An hour later, he was suited up in his tac gear, breathing steady and even despite the wild pounding of his heart as he boarded the quinjet with a team he didn't know or trust, and the only person on the earth he truly did.

Comments

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam maintained his calm while talking to the nurses. They were just doing his job, no one to blame here. If he was looking for someone to blame—and he will admit, he was—he imagined it was the terrifying looking motherfucker glaring in the waiting room and stinking it up with blood. Steve’s blood, more than likely.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like Bucky. He was a nice enough guy, clearly been through a lot. It was just that he was downright scary and didn’t make much effort to hide it. He put all that scary right out there, right in front. Steve was convinced the guy had a marshmallow center, but Sam felt like he had enough evidence that the man was too used to violence.

He’d seen it in any number of his vets. They came back from the war and the only tools they had were rage and cold cruelty. He had empathy for it, sure he did, but his feeling bad didn’t stop anyone from getting hurt. And now Steve has one of Bucky’s high caliber sniper bullets in his hand. Which he might lose.

But Sam was cool enough to saunter over to Bucky, once he got the update.

“Hey, JBB,” he said, his eyes careful and considering. He ignored any glaring that went on. “You thought it was a good idea to send a sniper round through Steve’s hand? Surely you could’ve got a different read on the target.”

[endsinafight]

It had been awhile since he'd actually been around Sam Wilson. His feelings for the man were complicated, to say the least. He knew that he and Steve were close and had been for quite awhile, knew that Steve considered him his other best friend and trusted him entirely. He was glad, that Steve had someone he could turn to when Bucky hadn't been there. Mixed in with that was a somewhat unhealthy dose of jealousy, not only for his close friendship with Steve, but also because he was so goddamned normal that it was almost painful in comparison to his own chaotic life. He knew he owed Sam, the same way he owed Wanda and Nat and Clint and Scott, for having his back even if he also knew they'd done it for Steve and not him, really.

It was that debt that kept him from glaring at Sam too much, that kept his voice what could easily be considered normal when he responded.

"He was being mind-controlled. He had a gun to his own head. I couldn't see the target at all." He dropped his gaze to the floor.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Huh,” Sam said, considering that. It made a lot more sense than Bucky randomly deciding to debilitate Steve and it would sure as hell explain why Steve had apparently been preemptively defending him right up until he passed out. “Well, shit. Sounds like it was a good idea to put a sniper round through his hand, who would’ve thought.”

He looked carefully at Bucky. He was tense and hunched over, not looking at Sam at all. He didn’t look good, honestly. Makes sense. It would have to be hard to see someone you cared about nearly kill themselves, even if you ignored the whole mind-control thing. Sam highly doubted Bucky was capable of ignoring that.

“You wanna take a shower or something?” Sam said, more lightly than he felt. “I can take up watch for a little while.”

He sat down in the seat next to Bucky, carefully not touching him with any part of his own body. The dude didn’t like to be touched.

[endsinafight]

He glanced up at that, halfway surprised that Sam actually believed him. It always caught him off guard when anyone aside from Steve showed any amount of trust in him, after everything. There was a moment, brief and if Sam wasn't paying close enough attention he'd miss it, of utter vulnerability on his face before he schooled his expression into something more neutral. He simply nodded at the acknowledgement that he'd done what he had to do to prevent anything worse from happening. He knew it was the truth, but that didn't make the entire situation, the entire day horrible.

He felt horrible. Nauseated and yet starving, exhausted but wired, and the dichotomy never failed to confuse him.

Bucky tensed slightly when Sam sat down beside him, but he appreciated the fact that the other man didn't touch him. Especially today. Especially now.

"I'm not supposed to leave the premises until I've met with Fury." And even then he had doubts that he'd be allowed to leave without Steve to supervise him. It occurred to him that he might very well be leaving in cuffs and chains on the way to lockup somewhere deep underground where Steve would never find him again. He'd disobeyed a direct order from the director, after all. There was punishment coming, he was sure of that. He just wasn't sure how severe it would be.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam certainly was paying enough attention to notice that brief moment. He filed it away carefully, increasing his suspicions that Bucky wasn’t doing as well as he was putting foreword.

“I’m sure Fury wouldn’t mind if you run home, shower, maybe take a nap,” he said. “He’s a hardass, but there’s nothing particularly time sensitive about your debrief, is there?”

[endsinafight]

A chuckle escaped him, but it was completely devoid of humor. "I'm sure that would be true for most people." Bucky wasn't most people. Not by a long shot. He pressed his lips together, though, considering his options. He could probably slip into one of the rooms that wasn't in use and at least take a quick shower, get the blood off his skin. He didn't have clothes to change into, but chances were high he could find at least a clean shirt to change into.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What’s who you are are got to do with it?” he said. “It’s not like you’ve skipped out on briefings or anything before.”

He wasn’t aware of anything like that, at least. He didn’t like the idea of Barnes not being able to leave the building to do normal human things—it seemed unreasonable of Fury.

“You’ve had a shitty day. Take a shower, relax,” he said.

[endsinafight]

If only Sam knew. Who he was had everything to do with it. And no, he hadn't skipped out on briefings or meetings or missions. He'd been toeing the line like a good little soldier. But none of that was really Sam's concern. There was no need to get him involved when there was nothing he could do anyway.

"Yeah." He rose to his feet, body stiff and aching from the tension of the day. "All right. I'll be back."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam nodded, pleased with himself. He kicked back and crossed his ankles out in front of him, fishing out his phone.

“I’ll text you if there’s any news. Got your phone in that combat gear somewhere?”

[endsinafight]

He nodded, heading out of the waiting room and down the hall, in the opposite direction of the exits, picking up a random bouquet of flowers off a rolling tray that no one was watching, tipping his hat down farther and carrying the buds in front of his chest, hopefully blocking the blood from anyone's sight line as he walked.

Bucky peaked into a couple of rooms until he found one that was empty, ducking into it and setting the flowers down on the bathroom sink before he shut and locked the door. He undressed quickly and stepped under the shower head, turning the water on as hard as it would go and scrubbing his skin vigorously, washing his hair with the little bottle of shampoo in the caddie on the shower wall. He lucked into finding a shirt in the closet that someone had left behind, grimacing at the fact that it was too tight -- which was really more Steve's thing than his.

And it was a t-shirt so it didn't cover his left arm, which he hated. And sure, it wasn't the arm HYDRA had given him, but the one Shuri had, and it didn't have the white star on it, but it was still far too identifiable. It wasn't like there were many people walking around Brooklyn with a vibranium arm.

But it was neither here nor there. Right now all that truly mattered was Steve. He checked his phone, not seeing any messages from Sam, but realizing that Romanoff had texted him 18 times in the last few hours. He rubbed his hand over his face, telling her to contact Sam because he didn't want to talk to her or anyone else, really. He returned to the waiting room in under a half hour, replacing the flowers on the rolling cart on the way and dropping into the chair next to Sam once more.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam didn’t miss the fact that Bucky didn’t exactly go home.

“That shirt doesn’t fit you, dude,” he said, mildly judgmental. “Do you want me to run out and get you anything?”

Sam thought Bucky was probably being irrationally cautious in refusing to leave, but he had gotten the picture that it wasn’t going to be something Sam could talk him out of. He’d be an errand boy, if it helped out. The doctors said that Steve would definitely live, after all, and the serum could obviously do amazing things. And, he thought, keeping his face carefully straight and his eyes off Bucky’s gleaming metal arm, if he lost the hand, they could go back to Wakanda.

[endsinafight]

"No, but it's not covered in blood, either." He couldn't help but glance at the younger man sideways at the unexpected offer, then slowly shook his head. He wouldn't mind having clothes of his own to wear, but it wasn't really worth the trouble, either. "No." He paused, leaned back in the chair. "Thank you."

Bucky's gaze flickered around the room, taking in the sight of those who remained in the room, waiting on news about Steve's condition.

"No news then?" It was a struggle to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Steve’s a bad influence,” Sam said teasingly. “Not that you don’t have the muscles for a muscle shirt, damn that serum does good work.”

He stopped trying to lighten the mood when Bucky asked him about Steve, palpable nerves in his voice.

“No,” Sam said. “Only things they said are things you already know. His life is in no danger—well, the doctors hemmed and hawed about full anesthesia always being a little dangerous, but not with Steve. They don’t yet know how much functionality is going to be left in his hand.”

He swallowed, but met Bucky’s eyes steadily, non-judgmental.

“They said if he was normal, they’d not be optimistic at all. He’s not normal, though. It makes it hard to judge. Apparently it’s making the surgery a little tricky, too. He’s healing too fast—and wrong.”

[endsinafight]

He grunted quietly at the teasing, not entirely sure what to think about the fact that Sam was treating him almost like a friend. It was strange to him, but not unpleasant, either. Under other circumstances he'd probably make an effort to tease him back.

Bucky met Sam's eyes momentarily and then looked down at his hands, chest feeling tight at the acknowledgment of surgery being tricky because of Steve's advanced healing. He took a few slow, deep breaths. He'd healed wrong a couple dozen times over the last 70 years, and it had never been a pleasant experience. Shuri had told him it was probably why he was always in low levels of pain, which made sense. He didn't want that for Steve, but it was better than dying.

"He'll get through it," he said quietly.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam nodded. “Yep, he will. He’s tough.”

He hesitated, glancing over at Bucky. “You’re tough, too. But I gotta ask. How are you doing?”

[endsinafight]

His shoulders hunched slightly more at the question, because if Sam was asking then it was all too obvious how not well he was doing, and that was a problem. Then again, he'd shot his best friend to save his life, so he figured that entitled him to have a shitty day. "Been better," he muttered.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

There was deep sympathy in Sam’s eyes.

“Yeah, I imagine. Shitty fucking day, sounds like,” he said. “Want to talk about it? And before you instantly say no and insult my excellent listening skills, consider that it might be nice to have someone hear about it who isn’t going to look at you with those big teary blue eyes or a beady black marble one.”

Fury obviously wasn’t a great listener, but Steve had his problems, as much as Sam loved him. He couldn’t turn his intensity off or down—not really for anyone, but especially not for Bucky.

“I want you to be okay because you’re a good guy and I like you, but it’s not going to break my heart if you’re feeling shitty,” Sam said, with a little shrug.

[endsinafight]

Bucky snorted, eyebrows rising almost involuntarily. "Anyone ever tell you that you got a way with words in addition to those excellent listening skills?" He glanced at him for a second, ghost of a smile on his lips. He thought if given half the chance, the two of them might actually hit it off as friends, even without Steve being the binding force between them. He'd checked into Sam's history before Steve had found him in Bucharest. Everything about him suggested he was truly one of the good guys, and he'd never witnessed or heard anything that contradicted that opinion.

The fact that Sam liked him, though. That was actual news to him and he glanced at him in surprise that he didn't bother trying to hide.

"I'm okay," he said after a moment. He was okay because he had to be. There was no other choice. "Just sick of being stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

The one-two punch of that ghost of a smile and the obvious surprise that Sam said he liked Bucky went a long way to explaining why Steve hadn’t had any hesitation in throwing his world upside down for Bucky’s sake. He was a compelling guy, even if you didn’t know the enormous quantity of shit he’d been through. Sam was pretty level headed and even he was struck by it.

“Yeah,” he said, just a touch too breathless to be as lighthearted as he wanted to be, but he worked it out soon. “I’m good at all sorts of things. Excellent at them, even. Words, listening, paella.”

He hesitated a moment. “It was my understanding that you should be feeling free of the hard places, nowadays. What am I missing?”

[endsinafight]

The corner of his mouth quirked up once more at the humor. "Paella, huh? Haven't tried fixing that yet." But it was a great idea for a meal plan somewhere down the line. Cooking was one of the things he discovered in the last couple of years that he actually enjoyed. It was almost like chemistry class, except you got to eat the end results. It also helped him shut his brain down and focus on the task at hand, which was how he'd gotten started with it to begin with, wide awake with insomnia one night and so damned hungry.

Bucky's gaze swept the room before looking back at Sam once more, considering his words carefully.

"Dogs aren't free. Not really. Someone's always got hold of the leash." He looked away once more. "Even when the owners change, at the end of the day a dog on a leash still obeys or faces the consequences for disobedience."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam’s eyes were steady, serious.

“Thing is, JB, you’re not a dog. You never were. People treating you like a dog doesn’t make you a dog. It says more about them than you. You’re a person and you deserve the ability to make choices.”

[endsinafight]

He couldn't help feeling a flicker of warmth at the nickname and he scraped his teeth over his lower lip absently. "Maybe. But if you don't make the right choices, other people suffer the consequences instead of you. That's not okay either. It's arguably a lot worse." Hence, rock and hard place, with him stuck right in the middle.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam was concerned and it was getting more intense by the minute.

“What do the rest of us not know?” he asked, simply. There was a story here, he could see the edges of it and he doesn’t like what he was seeing.

[endsinafight]

Bucky drew in a slow breath, then glanced at Sam, his eyes dark with barely concealed emotions. "If I tell you something, can you promise to keep it to yourself?" His voice was almost inaudible.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Sam went stiff. The first rule of counseling work—and he’d been a good counselor—is that you never agree to something like that. You legally can’t, in fact. There are certain sorts of things you’re are required to act on and those things are more than likely to be behind a statement like that.

He wasn’t on the job, though, and he was certain that this wasn’t a mandatory reporter situation.

“You want me to keep a secret from Steve,” he said, flatly. “Honestly, JB. I’m not sure I can say yes to that. We’re a team and you’re part of it. He’s the guy who is responsible for all of us. But at the same time, you deserve the right to autonomy. I’m conflicted. Could you maybe not make me promise and just try to persuade me not to tell?”

Something he didn’t say, but that he was thinking, was that as it stood, he already had enough to talk to Steve the moment he was not high off his ass on pain meds.