[ He does. Bucky's got Sam. It took them time to arrive at that point, and Sam's oddly grateful for it. There are bonds with people that just click into place effortlessly, like his friendship with Steve. There are bonds that are tied through shared experiences, like with the other Avengers. But then there are bonds that you have to work on. Like old, near broken down houses and boats in humid heat, you have to put in the work, and you have to choose those bonds. Bucky and him aren't a team, aren't partners, just through happenstance or through instant similarity. They chose this. They chose each other.
Bucky's earned getting to be the only person to see Sam drop his guard, same as Sam's earned being able to lean on him like that. ]
This remind you of Bracchia?
[ It flits through his mind - Bucky backing him against the bathroom tiles as the room filled with Steam, whispering into each other's ears to avoid detection during their little game of pretend. Just them, in a secret bubble.
Sam's voice catches a little. Bracchia feels closer to him than it must for Bucky. And they no longer share everything they've been put through here - Bucky's had to go through some pretty significant shit on his own, judging by his state. ]
[Because it'd all been a joke there. A cover story. They'd shared that space as they'd played pretend, solely to keep themselves both safe from prying eyes. They'd had no option but to play the roles they'd accidentally brought down upon themselves back then.
Here though. Here is different. Right now, this is about the two of them coming together by choice. A decision they've both made. That they both need. With those three months separating them, this right here is an opportunity for them to reconnect. To rebuild their bond. Their friendship.
This is real. Both of their actions matter.]
Ain't playing pretend here.
[His words are still a quiet murmur, only audible thanks to just how close the two of them are. His movements are careful, gentle as he works the cloth across Sam's skin. As he takes care of the man whose spent his entire life taking care of others. Waking up with time missing is a terrifying experience, and one he knows all too well.
But those five years lost had somehow been easier to cope with than the time between each thaw. All because he knew he wasn't alone that final time. Sure, he hadn't accepted it back then. But the knowledge it was there had been enough. So if he can be there for Sam, can offer that same pillar of support that he'd felt, there's no way he's backing out now. Nowhere else he'd rather be.]
[ Sam gives a soft hum of agreement. It's an important distinction. Makes his throat go dry, because... yeah. This, right here - it's real. And it comforts Sam as much as it pulls the floor right out from under his feet, because... yeah, this is real. And the reality is that he missed three months of that, just like he missed five years before. And in those five years that went by like the blink of an eye from his perspective, in between crumbling to dust and being reassambled by the atom in a Wakandan thicket, he'd lost so much. Lost former team mates and friends, lost his way, lost his understanding of the world and lost what little of his own life had remained in the wake of two years on the run.
Sam's eyes are fixed on a point just over Bucky's shoulder. He feels like his head's slowly lifting upwards, leaving behind the weight of a body that for all he knows is crumbling to dust and washing down the drain. The sound of running water is the sound of distant, rolling thunder. ]
... Buck.
[ His fingers are numb like they're crumbling away, and there's a strange pull inside of him, the same not-quite-right tugging he felt just before losing time yet again. His mouth is full of cotton.
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no subject
Bucky's earned getting to be the only person to see Sam drop his guard, same as Sam's earned being able to lean on him like that. ]
This remind you of Bracchia?
[ It flits through his mind - Bucky backing him against the bathroom tiles as the room filled with Steam, whispering into each other's ears to avoid detection during their little game of pretend. Just them, in a secret bubble.
Sam's voice catches a little. Bracchia feels closer to him than it must for Bucky. And they no longer share everything they've been put through here - Bucky's had to go through some pretty significant shit on his own, judging by his state. ]
no subject
[Because it'd all been a joke there. A cover story. They'd shared that space as they'd played pretend, solely to keep themselves both safe from prying eyes. They'd had no option but to play the roles they'd accidentally brought down upon themselves back then.
Here though. Here is different. Right now, this is about the two of them coming together by choice. A decision they've both made. That they both need. With those three months separating them, this right here is an opportunity for them to reconnect. To rebuild their bond. Their friendship.
This is real. Both of their actions matter.]
Ain't playing pretend here.
[His words are still a quiet murmur, only audible thanks to just how close the two of them are. His movements are careful, gentle as he works the cloth across Sam's skin. As he takes care of the man whose spent his entire life taking care of others. Waking up with time missing is a terrifying experience, and one he knows all too well.
But those five years lost had somehow been easier to cope with than the time between each thaw. All because he knew he wasn't alone that final time. Sure, he hadn't accepted it back then. But the knowledge it was there had been enough. So if he can be there for Sam, can offer that same pillar of support that he'd felt, there's no way he's backing out now. Nowhere else he'd rather be.]
cw: panic, dissociation
Sam's eyes are fixed on a point just over Bucky's shoulder. He feels like his head's slowly lifting upwards, leaving behind the weight of a body that for all he knows is crumbling to dust and washing down the drain. The sound of running water is the sound of distant, rolling thunder. ]
... Buck.
[ His fingers are numb like they're crumbling away, and there's a strange pull inside of him, the same not-quite-right tugging he felt just before losing time yet again. His mouth is full of cotton.
This is real. So why doesn't it feel that way? ]