It's probably a little weird, the soft smile under all the greasepaint, but it's there. It's genuine, too. "Yeah. I got you."
Bucky remembers... things. In no particular order. His brain gets caught on the wrong details way too often (did Sam have on a red shirt or a green one with a blue collar the last time they got coffee?) with no real ability to slot events into a timeline, which is aggravated by the fact that it's all been such a stop-and-start-and-restart thing between the two of them.
Thanks, Bucky's brain.
He doesn't think he's slept with Sam. He knows he's wanted to, but there's the question of safety. Of his own brain. And while Bucky would love to insist that he would never hurt Sam...
He can't actually promise that it wouldn't happen. If he woke up afraid. Confused. And so part of him accepts that it just maybe isn't in the cards, right at the moment.
Well. Right now, right now, there's a small boat and a seven-minute window within which to get to it. It would be easy to carry Sam, instead of having them fight side-by-side, but there's the added complication of the fact that a sleeping accomplice can neither defend themselves nor inform one if they're being injured.
So. Sam will be awake for this whirlwind tour of the bowels of the Raft. And Bucky will channel his simmering rage at the fact that there are bruises on Sam's face, that he's likely got broken bones that Bucky can't identify yet into pummeling anyone who stands in the way between them and the exit he's arranged.
He has a flask (full of water and a liquid adrenaline substitute that Sam would probably recognize the taste of) that he gently places in Sam's hands before resting his forehead against the other man's and breathing out. One, two, three. Okay. He's fine. Sam's fine, they'll get out of here, and it'll be...
It'll be.
Someone comes around the corner with an electrified baton and Bucky drops them with two rapid-fire shots, one to the shoulder, one to the opposite knee. Now, they've got to run.
They make it to the boat with roughly a minute to spare, with Bucky having Sam on his back while he swims out to meet it before SHIELD or whoever manages to stop them. Bucky suspects they were given the go-ahead to leave after a certain point because the only people chasing after them until they hit the water are the sort of idiots who think they can take on the Winter Soldier in the first place.
But. There's a boat. In a fleet of boats just like it, Bucky and Sam are ferried around from point a to point b on various ships with hidden connections until they all scatter to the four winds and the Raft is just a dot on the horizon. Which is the point at which Bucky returns to pressing his forehead against Sam's. He just... needs to breathe the same air as the other man for a bit to calm down, is all.
It's a wild ride, and Sam isn't sure how much help he even is throughout it all. Feels like dead weight- but can probably be grateful he can even walk on his own.
By the time they're on their getaway boat, Sam is shivering. The liquid adrenaline helps keep him going, helps him not feel the cold wetness so mich. So when Bucky pushes their foreheads together, Sam just presses in close in return. Seels shelter in Bucky's only slightly larger frame, in the heat the man radiates as his metabolism burns. And Sam presses his forehead against Bucky's too, practically nozzles into him in full view of any agent present. Doesn't care though. He didnt know anyone was coming to get him, and it hits him now, that of course Bucky would. That he's safe now. That they're together now, and wherever they're taken, whatever the plan is, Sam knows it has to involve them staying together.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone move towards them, and waves them off. Not know. SAM knows he needs to get checked over, but he still needs Bucky close for now. Still needs to ground the both of them here.
His voice is a hoarse whisper: "Buck. Hey, look at me. I'm here. You did so well."
"You're hurt," comes on an exhale, Bucky still not meeting Sam's gaze, because Bucky knows that Sam knows that Bucky is still on high alert. It's so different from being the Winter Soldier. There's no switch that'll flip in his brain that tells him the mission is over. No magical words that'll lock his instincts away. As long as they're not somewhere that Bucky can lock a door and keep the outside world from Sam? They're not safe.
But he can't keep looking away for long. Sam is too handsome, even with the grey pallor and the bruises, too magnetic. Too much the north pole to which Bucky's internal compass points.
He remembers breathing exercises Sam taught him for when his brain is on one. In, then out. Count all the blue things he can see. Be here, now.
Here, with Sam. Whose face he's touching, now, a hand at Sam's cheek and Bucky is pulling back just enough to check out the other man's injuries himself. "Wanted to come sooner." Grumble, grouse.
It's a stupidly inappropriate joke, but hey. Bucky chose this. Can only blame himself for liking a man who will jump at the chance to make a shitty joke in the hopes of startling a little bit if a smile onto Bucky's face. Or maybe even just pull him out of himself for a moment.
Besides, the way Sam looks at him right now... practically glowing with pride, because he can tell Bucky's making an effort to regulate himself. If only he could see how good he is. Until he can, Sam will happily remind him.
For now he covers Bucky's hand with his own.
"You came. That's what matters, Bucky. You got me out, and I'm okay." He catches the look in Bucky's eyes, puts a finger over his lips and insists: "I'm gonna be just fine, now."
Bucky's lips twitch, though, amusement clear in his expression even as he's trying to come down off of a battle high. He wants to argue, of course; Sam catches it and silences him, and he appreciates it in the moment actually. Because it means that Sam knows him. That Bucky has been doing a better job of this whole 'get Sam Wilson to like me even though I barely know who me is' project Bucky has been engaged with for [ static ] amount of time.
He notices the medic waiting in the wings and swallows, nodding and pulling away before gesturing to whomever that they could come in, it was fine. Sam needed looked over anyway.
"We're headed to Europe. A safehouse, for a while." Bucky murmurs as the med tech checks Sam out. "Until Steve makes his moves."
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no subject
Bucky remembers... things. In no particular order. His brain gets caught on the wrong details way too often (did Sam have on a red shirt or a green one with a blue collar the last time they got coffee?) with no real ability to slot events into a timeline, which is aggravated by the fact that it's all been such a stop-and-start-and-restart thing between the two of them.
Thanks, Bucky's brain.
He doesn't think he's slept with Sam. He knows he's wanted to, but there's the question of safety. Of his own brain. And while Bucky would love to insist that he would never hurt Sam...
He can't actually promise that it wouldn't happen. If he woke up afraid. Confused. And so part of him accepts that it just maybe isn't in the cards, right at the moment.
Well. Right now, right now, there's a small boat and a seven-minute window within which to get to it. It would be easy to carry Sam, instead of having them fight side-by-side, but there's the added complication of the fact that a sleeping accomplice can neither defend themselves nor inform one if they're being injured.
So. Sam will be awake for this whirlwind tour of the bowels of the Raft. And Bucky will channel his simmering rage at the fact that there are bruises on Sam's face, that he's likely got broken bones that Bucky can't identify yet into pummeling anyone who stands in the way between them and the exit he's arranged.
He has a flask (full of water and a liquid adrenaline substitute that Sam would probably recognize the taste of) that he gently places in Sam's hands before resting his forehead against the other man's and breathing out. One, two, three. Okay. He's fine. Sam's fine, they'll get out of here, and it'll be...
It'll be.
Someone comes around the corner with an electrified baton and Bucky drops them with two rapid-fire shots, one to the shoulder, one to the opposite knee. Now, they've got to run.
They make it to the boat with roughly a minute to spare, with Bucky having Sam on his back while he swims out to meet it before SHIELD or whoever manages to stop them. Bucky suspects they were given the go-ahead to leave after a certain point because the only people chasing after them until they hit the water are the sort of idiots who think they can take on the Winter Soldier in the first place.
But. There's a boat. In a fleet of boats just like it, Bucky and Sam are ferried around from point a to point b on various ships with hidden connections until they all scatter to the four winds and the Raft is just a dot on the horizon. Which is the point at which Bucky returns to pressing his forehead against Sam's. He just... needs to breathe the same air as the other man for a bit to calm down, is all.
no subject
By the time they're on their getaway boat, Sam is shivering. The liquid adrenaline helps keep him going, helps him not feel the cold wetness so mich. So when Bucky pushes their foreheads together, Sam just presses in close in return. Seels shelter in Bucky's only slightly larger frame, in the heat the man radiates as his metabolism burns. And Sam presses his forehead against Bucky's too, practically nozzles into him in full view of any agent present. Doesn't care though. He didnt know anyone was coming to get him, and it hits him now, that of course Bucky would. That he's safe now. That they're together now, and wherever they're taken, whatever the plan is, Sam knows it has to involve them staying together.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone move towards them, and waves them off. Not know. SAM knows he needs to get checked over, but he still needs Bucky close for now. Still needs to ground the both of them here.
His voice is a hoarse whisper: "Buck. Hey, look at me. I'm here. You did so well."
no subject
But he can't keep looking away for long. Sam is too handsome, even with the grey pallor and the bruises, too magnetic. Too much the north pole to which Bucky's internal compass points.
He remembers breathing exercises Sam taught him for when his brain is on one. In, then out. Count all the blue things he can see. Be here, now.
Here, with Sam. Whose face he's touching, now, a hand at Sam's cheek and Bucky is pulling back just enough to check out the other man's injuries himself. "Wanted to come sooner." Grumble, grouse.
no subject
It's a stupidly inappropriate joke, but hey. Bucky chose this. Can only blame himself for liking a man who will jump at the chance to make a shitty joke in the hopes of startling a little bit if a smile onto Bucky's face. Or maybe even just pull him out of himself for a moment.
Besides, the way Sam looks at him right now... practically glowing with pride, because he can tell Bucky's making an effort to regulate himself. If only he could see how good he is. Until he can, Sam will happily remind him.
For now he covers Bucky's hand with his own.
"You came. That's what matters, Bucky. You got me out, and I'm okay." He catches the look in Bucky's eyes, puts a finger over his lips and insists: "I'm gonna be just fine, now."
no subject
He notices the medic waiting in the wings and swallows, nodding and pulling away before gesturing to whomever that they could come in, it was fine. Sam needed looked over anyway.
"We're headed to Europe. A safehouse, for a while." Bucky murmurs as the med tech checks Sam out. "Until Steve makes his moves."