{Break me like a curse, golden ashes turn to dirt

[notworthallthis]

PSL with unclesam - Civil War AU

the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways
and satisfaction feels like a distant memory

After taking the time after the events of Civil War to heal in Wakanda, Bucky meets up with Steve, Natasha, and Sam on the run.

During an undercover mission gone very wrong, Bucky and Sam end up captured and locked up— the problem? Besides the fact that their new prison seems virtually impenetrable at the moment, the temperature is dangerously low.

credit

Comments

{A fear you can’t reverse

[notworthallthis]

Things weren’t easy on the run, but it was almost comforting the way it felt so familiar. Fit across his body like a second skin. It was easy to fall into step with the others when he caught up with Steve, Natasha and Sam.

He liked Sam in a way he really doesn’t freely like anyone these days. It’s strange how easy the rapport builds with him, but it’s nice. Bucky could sustain himself on good banter alone for a long damn time.

He’s rigid and stoic as the first hour ticks by. Sam isn’t stupid. He knows enough to put together a rough estimate of how long he’s got in here, and they both know Bucky will be fine, even if he’s a little crankier than usual for all the cold. He doesn’t need Bucky to point any of it out. Panic would only mean the oxygen depletes faster and neither of them want that. So…calm. Detached. Nothing but neutral, even tones.

(He hates how easy it is to go back there).

“We’re gonna get outta here, you know?” he says suddenly into the silence that has stretched on forever between them. “You’ll see,” he smirks, “I’m always right about these things.” How? Well, he’s hasn’t gotten that far yet. But the cocksure commentary is better than any of the other options.

[unclesam]

Sam is miserable.

There are no other words for it.

It's not because he threw his entire life away to fight the Accords (he still believes in that), it's not even that he was thrown in super villain prison without due process for supporting Bucky (he also still believes in that, refusal to move car seats or act like a normal person around the world's most entertainingly vexing cyborg notwithstanding). It's not even going from safe house to safe house in miserably cold european countries, not getting enough sleep and wondering when the super soldiers and the super spy will notice that for all that he used to be pararescue and made a damn fine Avenger, he can only keep pace so long before exhaustion takes him.

Sam's not an insecure person - but it has occured to him that he may end up being the dead weight while playing at being a fugitive with them. If they share that concern, they don't make him feel it. Bless these fools.

No, his misery comes from villain trap number 875. It's a shitty one. Sam's seen his fair share of simulated and actual villain traps and lairs while training to become an Avenger and then working as one. This one takes the cake. And the cake is real shitty, too.

It's a freezer. And that's kind of all there is. And Sam's trained too well în these things. Knows unless they start shouting, he'll freeze to death long before they'll run out of oxygen.

At Bucky's words, he pulls his legs up a little more, tries to conserve his own body heat, but he's rapidly failing. Whose idea was it to make his outfit have short sleeves and fingerless gloves again? He feels exposed in his lightweight tac gear, the cold creeping under his clothes and nipping at his skin.

"Keep producing hot air and maybe you'll end up being right." The tease is automatic, if healt-hearted. Sam's aware that through his words, it must become obvious that his teeth are chattering. He's not a pessimistic kinda guy, but he doesn't share Bucky's assessment right now. Tries to make peace with the knowledge that he'll freeze to death with Bucky to bear witness. That feels strangely painful - because Sam doesn't really fancy dying alone, but it hurts him deeper than he thought that Bucky's stuck here, too, forced to relieve his own trauma with this reminder of being frozen and thawed countless times in service of HYDRA.

A bleak reminder that there are fates worse than death. And Sam wishes he could spare Bucky this shit, he genuinely does. Cares in ways he knows he shouldn't share with Bucky, and so buries them under jokes and quips with the man.

[notworthallthis]

Knowing you’re going to die doesn’t actually make it any easier to face. He still isn’t sure how he survived the fall from the train. He should have died that day; these days, it’s only during the worst nights that he ever finds himself with a longing for it.

It isn’t so much that he wants to die as it is that he just wants peace, but he never is quite sure how to explain it to anyone. So he doesn’t talk about it, which is definitely the opposite of what any trained professional would suggest. But he stopped trying to explain things a long time ago, instead he lets actions tell him everything he needs to know.

Bucky noticed the shift in the breaths he was taking, heard the chatter of Sam’s teeth. He feels it, too, air so cold it seeps into your bones, but he’s kind of numb to it anymore. He’s not sure he likes numb, the emptiness there is tempting. But the thing about being numb is… it doesn’t just quiet the bad thoughts and feelings … it takes the good ones away, too. He doesn’t like the hollow it leaves in his chest.

“You know… it’s okay to be scared, right?” it feels like a stupid question, but sometimes it’s harder to remember.

[unclesam]

Sam chuckles in response. That might be weird, but it feels strangely good. Which is probably not a great sign, overall.

It's just... Bucky may have put his finger on something there, if not in the way he intended. Plus it's strange - being comforted by Bucky of all people about the possibility of death, when the dude tried to kill him several times under HYDRA influence. Not that Sam blames him or harbours hard feelings. Especially since no amount of telling Bucky "it wasn't you" is gonna help him. Dude knows that - they all know that. And while the reminder is necessary sometimes, it can't change the fact that Bucky remembers doing those things whether he was in control or not. Fucked up situation on all fronts.

Sam shakes his head, chuckle drifting to a smile.

"You tryna comfort me, Bucky?"

Not mocking. The amusement is gentle. Sam appreciates it, even if he has to make light of it. Natasha is perceptive enough to have picked up on it a long time ago - How Sam dodges the truth of his own needs, emotional and physical. Will shut talk down and people out, but in ways that don't feel harsh. He has a gift for seeming personable while keeping people at arm's length. Does better at offering vulnerability if it's to comfort someone else than accepting comfort for himself. Sam guards himself too well like that. Someone easy to befriend but difficult to truly know.

"Thanks. But I really ain't afraid of death."

He isn't. And perhaps that's the problem with him. Sam jumps off buildings and out of planes, wings tucked in for the freefall. Snapa them open at the last second to avoid hitting the ground.

Isn't always sure he will. Chases the thrill. Doesn't flinch from danger. Him and death are closely acquainted, from growing up experiencing loss after loss after loss to becoming a pararescue and witnessing more than he cares to think about in Afghanistan.

Sam's greatest trick is fooling everyone else into thinking he's well adjusted and reasonable.

He would understand the darker thoughts Bucky harbours better than many.

[notworthallthis]

The laugh was not really comforting, but Bucky doesn't let that show on his face. He shrugs, and his voice is low and tone dry, "Is it a crime to try?" Wouldn't matter, anyway- Bucky isn't going to let the guy die without it, so he can just deal.

"That's not actually the boon you think it is," he shakes his head. Sure, in the intensity of a moment sometimes the brain shuts down all access to things like fear in the name of survival instead. But that isn't what's happening here. That's not where the comment comes from, and Bucky knows it. This is something that always lives in Sam, and maybe it isn't the main driving force behind him, but it still fuels his actions and reactions in its own way and not always toward his own best interest.

Some people just take all the stupid with them everywhere they go- Bucky knows the type. Was the type, once. Everything is so different now. He's different now, and he's already figured out that nothing will ever be what it was. It was something he got hung-up on a lot, trying to find his way back to the carefree, rakish kid he used to be. That was the goal. That was the 'normal' he reached for, but he kept failing to reach it. It's a recent thing, realizing he was going to have to figure out a new sort of normal, and he's still not settled well into it.

Some of that new normal was, apparently, going to include worrying about Sam Wilson.

[unclesam]

"We're fugitives. I think technically everything we do is a crime these days," Sam quips back, genuine mirth in the banter. He appreciates this with Bucky. Loves Steve to pieces, of course, man's been Sam's closest friend for the past two years and then some, but sometimes he needs someone he can meet at ground level and run with.

Turns out it's another super soldier who fits the bill, because of course this is Sam's life now. He's vibing with the bionic grumpy cat, because tee hee, ha ha, wouldn't that be funny. Memo to self, he volunteered for the Falcon wings back in the Air Force. He volunteered for this, too, technically. Several times over, because he joined Steve in DC on his own terms, he searched for Bucky in Europe on his own terms, joined the Avengers when he wanted to, and made the call to become a fugitive on this dude's behalf.

Y'know, normal bonding experiences.

Either way, Sam hams in agreement and acknowledgement. Looks at Bucky. Doesn't really see the dude who ruined Sam's really nice car anymore. It's nice, truth be told. There was a time Sam didn't believe the guy was worth saving - but that was exclusively when Sam had no reason to believe there was a person stuck in the Winter Soldier. Now, he's glad he's getting to meet that person. A little more every day, progress and setbacks and all. He's worked at the VA long enough to know healing's not a linear journey, and is quietly thrilled with every new discovery about Barnes, from the good to the really bad. Because it all means progress, it all means pieces either reclaimed from HYDRA or found in the wreckage of what they left behind.

Sam wonders if he'll ever get to tell Bucky that he's doing so much better than he thinks he is. Probably not - he's gonna die here.

"You gotta do me a favor. Seriously, no joking around on this one."

[notworthallthis]

"Cute," he rolls his eyes with a soft groan. The banter he can live with. He could sustain himself on it for a long damn time. He doesn't love the idea of it ending here, in this stupid freezer. He's going to get them the hell out of here so that doesn't become a reality.

Even before he speaks again, Bucky feels the shift in him. Something a little heavier than the air in the room. Something serious drawn into the other man's features. He's not sure if he wants to hear the request that's coming. More acceptance of the death he's staring down the barrel of. It makes something twist sharply in his chest.

None of this shows on his face, though. Bucky's good at that. Keeping things under wraps, not painting across his face, raw and open. He doesn't like being good at it, but it's handy sometimes.

"What is it?"

[unclesam]

Sam glances down. Smiles, teeth showing. The expression is downright bashful. "You know I am." It's just a joke, of course. There's the out. Sam takes the comment, makes it flirtatious, makes it something easily brushed aside at the same time, though. He flirts like this with everyone, some more so than others, depending on comfort levels. He doesn't get bashful about it often, though.

Still, his mood sobers along with Bucky's, and he sighs eventually.

"When you're out again, I need you to find my sister. Sarah Wilson. Delacroix, Louisiana. No clue how you'd get there, the whole fugitive thing..."

Sam takes a shuddering breath. Sarah doesn't even know what happened with the Accords. She must have found out about her brother becoming a wanted man on the news. Shame nips at Sam's heels. Thinks of his nephews. Too young - they won't remember him. Cass is a toddler. AJ just a baby. They won't remember him. And Sarah's gonna lose the last family member she had left. Some big brother he ended up being.

"She's gotta know, Buck."

If he dies - and he will - she deserves to know it. Deserves to make her peace with it and put him to rest in whatever way she can without a body. Sucks to ask this of Bucky. But Bucky is here with him, and chances are, only one of them is gonna make it out.

They have about two hours, Sam reckons, before he starts getting really loopy. Before he drifts off, feeling warm despite the cold. Three, if he's very lucky.

[notworthallthis]

Bucky notices it, but he doesn't know what to make of that glance away from him- it's almost... coy? nervous, somehow? He's not sure exactly. Then he says that and Bucky finds his own smile mirroring Sam's, a little self-conscious, only one corner of his mouth quirking up at the comment. He doesn't roll his eyes or tell him that he's wrong, though.

"...find my sister."

It's a punch to the gut for more reasons than one– reminds him of being separated from his own sister, puts the public part of his story in a suddenly sharper perspective first to find her brother assumed dead, later named a war criminal and a fugitive.

But it's the sincerity of it that digs under his skin the most. Desperate. Pleading. He needs this, and there's no way that Bucky could even think to deny him of it.

Bucky could tell him that's not going to happen. Insist again they're both getting out of this. But the odds of it are low, no matter either of their determination otherwise, and it would be an insult to hand the other man empty platitudes on the heels of such an important request.

"I'll find her," he promises, words quiet and heavy, "I'll tell her." It doesn't feel like enough, but it's all he can offer.

[unclesam]

It might not feel like enough to Bucky, but to Sam, it means the world, it truly does. Leaving unfinished business sucks at the best of time. Leaving something like this? It's the one thing Sam's always fear. Not dying, not getting hurt, not anything else in the world. But dying with no closure for his sister?

Because they've suffered all their losses together, and it tears at him that losing him isn't something he can protect Sarah from. That he makes it more likely, even, ever since jumping at the chance to join team Cap.

"You're not allowed to flirt with her, though," Sam warns with a small sniff. Tries to curl himself up a little tighter, ward off more of the cold. Rubs his hands over his almost bare upper arms under the short sleeves of his gear. Falls silent for a moment, then unhelpfully adds: "I'd haunt your ass."

[notworthallthis]

“So if I need the company, I just have to flirt with your sister to get you to come see me,” gallows humor is something he learned a long time ago, and it’s always been a bit of a fallback at times.

A shudder runs down his spine as he watches Sam futilely try to warm up. Actually, they’re being pretty stupid about this and Bucky decided he’s going to change that— without a word about it at all. He moves closer to Sam, winding an arm around his shoulders to tuck him against his side. He doesn’t think he’ll fight it because what little warmth he can offer will be worth everything.

[unclesam]

He's not wrong - not only does Sam not fight it, he shifts immediately to tuck himself closer into Bucky's side. Seeking the warmth, mostly. Seeking the comfort, perhaps. Holding Sam close like that means Bucky will be able to feel ever single of the shivers he's been suppressing pretty well so far. There's no hiding the extent of Sam's misery this close together, nor how much Sam needs this right now on more than just the practical level. He breathes a soft, long sigh - supersoldiers run hot. Or maybe that's just hypothermia coloring his perception.

"Nah, man, I'd always come see you. Don't need a reason to pester you."

Entirely casual and matter of fact, like it's nothing. And to Sam, it kinda is - it's just how he works.

[notworthallthis]

Sam shifts immediately and it makes something in Bucky's chest tighten uncomfortably. The invariable proof of how quickly downhill this is probably going to start going soon does not sit well with him.

It wouldn't be the first time he's watched someone die in front of him, but it's a fucking brutal, slow thing like this. And he likes Sam, he isn't ready to lose the first solid connection he's had post-HYDRA. His hold on Sam pulls a little protectively tighter.

He smiles at that statement, said so plainly like it was always the only truth there ever was about it. "So, what's your signature ghost move going to be? I need to know it's you bugging me, you know." It's a stupid question, but it'll keep him talking and that feels vital at the moment.

[unclesam]

"How many ghosts you got on your ass that you wouldn't know it was me?" Sam fires back immediately while curling his fingers into the fabric of Bucky's jacket, trying to protect them a little more from the biting cold.

One time in Afghanistan, he got trapped in a collapsed mine shaft with the person he was meant to extract. Sam's not sure which experience is more miserable, though all in all he supposes freezing to death is a little better than potentially starving or suffocating.

"I'd just throw things at your incredibly thick skull. Poltergeist all the way."

[notworthallthis]

"I don't know," he huffs a soft scoff at that. "but I'd rather be sure of it before I invite a demon in or something, I'm really not prepared for that kind of thing, okay?" Bucky shifts them a little more upright for a moment, long enough for him to shrug his jacket off to drape over Sam instead. He'll be fine.

He laughs a little at that, "We watched that one, didn't we?" he's pretty sure they had, at some point. He just wants to keep Sam talking, if he's honest.

[unclesam]

"Yeah. You can admit you were scared. Big damn softie."

Says the man who pulls that jacket around himself immediately, huddles into the warmth it provides. And then Sam laughs, just a short dry chuckle. Isn't sure whether that's more or lesss worrisome than all the rest.

"If I'd known you were such a space heater, I'd have made you cozy up with me sooner. Stupid, chilly safe houses all over Northern Europe, man... Can't bring a Louisiana boy here."

Sam makes sure his hands are tucked safely into the jacket. Then quietly adds:

"Don't gimme any more layers, man. I know you're gonna survive the ice, but just 'cause you can take it don't mean you should forego comfort. This is gonna suck for you, too.

[notworthallthis]

"Shut up," he mutters, but there's no heat behind the words.

He shakes his head, "I'll be fine, Sam." It isn't the most pleasant thing to sign up for, but he's been through worse. "I'm not gonna let you die, so knock it off," it's a teasing chide, but he's serious at the same time. Sometimes it's easier to say the important things that way.

(He used to be good at this).

[unclesam]

They fall silent for a little bit. Sam makes an effort not to drift off, even though it's tempting. Bucky's warm, and Sam's... starting to feel the drowsiness of the situation. But he knows all the ways in which it would be bad to fall asleep in here. So he shifts a little, glances up at Bucky.

"Think we would have ended up tight friends in the long run, if we didn't get stuck in a death trap freezer?"

[notworthallthis]

The silence feels like it lasts forever, even though it doesn't. He feels Sam shift against him, not pulling away, but certainly sitting up a little straighter. Bucky wonders if he's getting tired; that won't be a good sign.

"Anything's possible, I mean, look how far we've come." From Bucky trying to kill him to... whatever the hell they were now. Friends, sure, but... that word just doesn't have the right weight to it, for some reason. Maybe it's just the situation making everything seem like not enough, though.

[unclesam]

Sam hums in agreement. He feels like he's shivering less, and that's not a good sign either. He puts his head on Bucky's shoulder. His breaths are little puffs against the man's neck.

"You still owe me a car, though."

He doesn't hesitate to give Bucky shit for that, in his own way. Never actually blames him for anything the Winter Soldier did, just... gently ribs him. That's what he does. It's what they do.

[notworthallthis]

"You warming up in that jacket?" He wants the answer to be yes, wants that to be the reason he can't feel the violent shivers at his side as often, suddenly. Bucky curls his arms around him, minding the metal of his left, trying to make sure it touches the jacket instead of bare skin at the very least.

He scoffs softly, not sure what else to do, he figures... lean into it. If he has to go through this with him... then they'll make the best of it. For whatever measure of "best" can be twisted and wrung out of something like this anyway.

"What kinda car you want? Ideally. Money's no object, every bell and whistle you could ask for..." When they get out of here, maybe Bucky will actually buy it, perfectly to whatever specs he asks for right here, right now.

[unclesam]

"Yeah..."

It's not a good sign.

So Sam chooses not to focus on it. Instead he thinks about the question.

"Big enough to fit all of us, for one. I like a bit of a truck or jeep situation. Safe. Environmentally friendly. Dark. No... silver, maybe?"

He shifts a bit closer.

"We could go on a road trip."

[notworthallthis]

"Jeeps are good," he nods his agreement with that thought. "Silver, huh?" he hums thoughtfully at that, "Yeah, I guess that would be good." The more he thinks about it, now with specific details from Sam in mind, the more Bucky thinks that he will get him that damn car if- when- they get out of here.

He huffs softly and nods, "Yeah, sure... where d'ya wanna go? I always wanted to go to The Grand Canyon... you ever been?"

[unclesam]

"You know... never been."

Strange, come to think of it. Sam feels like he's been all over, but... they didn't exactly have big vacation money when he was a kid, and then he was no longer a kid, but was just busy instead. Life hasn't passed him by, not really, he just... never took the time for certain things.

"I'd love to go with you."

But he won't. And ain't that just such a bitch...

"You don't have to..." Sam stops. Swallows. "You know you don't have to sit with me and hold me during all of this, right? You don't gotta put that on yourself, man."

[notworthallthis]

"Then that's where we'll go. Bring the wings, I'll film your Grand Canyon aerial show." he chuckles lightly at the thought of it. Surely, there are plenty of warning signs about not getting too close to edges, don't pass this point, and on and on... but Sam wouldn't have to climb over anything, technically...

He huffs a soft, dismissive sound, shaking his head. "Where'm I gonna go, huh? I'm just as stuck as you are, or we wouldn't be in this predicament, you know..."

No, he won't leave you to die, cold and alone.

[unclesam]

A soft chuckle. Oh, he'd love that. Soaring through the grand canyon, shocking a few unsuspecting onlookers. Sam loves a good canyon flight. Something about the narrow spaces, having to react fast to flit through.

He reaches up, cups Bucky's cheek. Forces eye contact.

"I know. I'm saying... We can sit in different corners. You don't have to watch me die, man. You've had to deal with enough."

[notworthallthis]

Yup, that solidifies it; this Grand Canyon trip is happening when they get out of this mess.

He goes rigid at the hand on his cheek, but almost immediately relaxes, his gaze focused intently on the man in front of him. "Why would I do that?" his voice is barely above a whisper.

There are no tears in his eyes, but there is a sadness, and a fear to be found there. "I'm not gonna let you die alone, Sam..."

[unclesam]

A hitch in his breath, a slight shudder. Sam swallows hard. His own eyes shine, but no tears well up. He holds it together. After a moment, Sam speaks. Quietly.

"I don't want to hurt you, Buck."

It's honest. Sam isn't afraid to die - but he is afraid to cause pain.

[notworthallthis]

"You're not," he mutters, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Sam's own, tugging his hand down away from his face, squeezing gently and running his thumb across his knuckles. "The fucks that trapped us in here are hurting me, but not you," his teeth are clenched, making his words sound more like they were being ripped out of him than spoken.

After a moment, he shifts and sits Sam up a bit more, tucking the jacket closer around his shoulders, hoping it might help even the slightest bit more to keep some heat trapped around him. And then... he gets to his feet.

Bucky is done waiting around for a Hail Mary, he's just going to have to get them out of this himself. He flexes the fingers of his left hand, delightfully not numb or affected by the temperature at all.

If they want to take them out, they're going to have to try harder than this, because he's going to punch a hole through the goddamn wall if it's the last thing he does.

He doesn't hesitate to approach the door they'd had slammed shut on them earlier and starts raining punches into the steel-reinforced concrete door. First, just with his left, where he knows he has the most strength and power behind him despite being the non-dominant hand, but eventually his right hand joins the fray as well. The sound reverberates through their frozen cell, solid, heavy thuds and clanks of metal; it rocks the foundation of the room around them, and Sam can probably feel the vibration of each strike that Bucky makes.

[unclesam]

Sam knows there's no point in interrupting Bucky here, and he gets it. The need to try and do... something. Anything, really. He feels it in his cold, freezing bones, too. The door will not yield, at least not fast enough. And when Bucky uses his right arm, Sam winces.

He doesn't say anything, at first, even then.

But after a good long while of it, he gently calls out:

"Bucky... hey... Buck. C'mere."

his voice doesn't carry. But he knows Bucky's gonna hear it.

Despite all of his strength, he hasn't made a dent in the door.

[notworthallthis]

Despite the blatant, obvious lack of progress, he might have kept going until he completely exhausted himself if not for that soft call of his name. He feels all of the energy leave him immediately after the last punch, something raw and sharp cracking open inside his chest as the fact that they really are stuck here sinks in again.

It takes a moment from Sam's voice hitting his ears, the reverberating sound of that last hit to the wall- he has to collect himself before he goes back over to where his friend is sitting. Where his friend is just waiting to die.

His hand drops back to his side, his shoulders sagging in defeat before he finally turns away from the door and moves back to sit with Sam. He doesn't say anything at all; there's nothing to say, nothing is making this any better, any easier to handle, so he doesn't bother trying.

Instead, he just tugs Sam into a hug, hooking his chin on the other man's shoulder to be sure he can't see the tears track down his cheeks.

[unclesam]

Sam doesn't need to see.

He knows. He wraps his arms around Bucky, holds him back as tightly as he can. Swallows, hard. He tugs Bucky in, like he's trying to shield the man from the reality of the situation. That they can't get out. That Sam's not built to survive this shit. That he's gonna die, right here, and there's nothing either of them can do about it.

"I need you to know that I don't regret it." He's petting Bucky's hair, rubbing his back. Offering comfort, even now. "Breaking the law for you. Going to prison. I'd do it all over again for you. And I need you to promise me that you'll survive this, alright. I know it's gonna hurt... but I need you to keep going after this."

[notworthallthis]

Bucky hates all of this. He hates the cold that's seeping into their bones, he hates the fact that he probably just wasted more of the oxygen left in the freezer with his little tantrum, he hates the way Sam is the one comforting him while he's the one dying.

"Stop talking like that," he mutters, clinging just a little tighter, like maybe if he could just pull the other man close enough, he could trap enough heat in him to save him. "just stop talking," he says with a soft huff, though there is no mirth found in it to be considered a laugh at all.

[unclesam]

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't quite know what he's apologizing for. Not until he brushes his lips against Bucky's. He doesn't think about it before he does it. It just... sort of happens. Sam's dying, and this is what he reaches for. And it's unfair, to kiss without asking for permission, to kiss Bucky when Sam's not gonna make it through. And yet...

It's brief. Just a sweet, tender brush of lips against lips before Sam pulls back again.

[notworthallthis]

Bucky isn't sure what that apology is about, and he might have asked for clarification if not for the soft brush of lips against his own. Every thought he might have had in that moment is simply gone, lost in the abyss that forgotten words and memories go, because... for that brief handful of seconds, that kiss is the only thing he knows.

"What was that for?" his voice is a whisper, like maybe if he gets any louder than that, some spell might break. He thinks he knows the answer. He thinks this is something that might have happened anyway, eventually, if they hadn't ended up here; there was always supposed to be more time, but there may be none left. Something about unfinished business or not dying without letting it be known. One last confession of a man with no reason to think he's making it out alive.

[unclesam]

"For the part of me that's selfish."

A chuckle. It lacks humour, and it sounds weak.

"I wasn't gonna... y'know. Act on anything. You're healing, and last thing you need is a friend trying to push something on you. But, well."

A small shrug. Sam puts his hand against Bucky's cheek, and oh. His hand is so cold.

"I hope you'll forgive me. I'm feeling light-haded, and I just... wanted to kiss you so bad for so long now."

[notworthallthis]

“You’re one of the least selfish people I’ve ever met, Sam,” he huffs a soft sigh.

That hand on his cheek gets a little shiver, the difference of temperature between Sam’s fingers and Bucky’s face is… stark. It isn’t fair, he’s still so much warmer than he should be by now because of the serum, but not warm enough to stave off the cold for Sam.

“Hey…” he nudges him, gentle but firm. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he assures him.

Light-headed? Not good. Bucky can feel the panic rising like bile in the back of his throat. “don’t you go to sleep on me.”

[unclesam]

"Trying. I swear."

It's a promise he's gonna break sooner rather than later. The only good thing about freezing to death. Sam won't feel the worst of it. He will just feel miserable, and then he will fall asleep. And Bucky will have to sit while his breathing slows, until it stops. Bucky will have to listen as his heart just stops, too.

It's not fair.

"Tell me.. more about our grand canyon road trip... yeah?"

[notworthallthis]

“We’re using real maps, for starters,” he says with a soft, mirthless chuckle. “And you gotta help me plan the route. I dunno what’s out there these days, we gotta make all the best stops on the way, yanno?”

He tries to keep the thoughts flowing, just words going into the empty, frozen space. He barely knows what he’s saying half the time, he just wants Sam to stay awake. Baits him about music choices or food stops just to hear his voice.

Bucky tries not to think too hard about how soft his voice is, how tired he sounds. He doesn’t want to lose another friend. Not like this.

“…Sam?” He nudges him slightly after a moment of silence that felt too long.

[unclesam]

It's pleasant. Just... listening to Bucky's voice. Just hearing him make plans for the future. It's comforting. And it keeps Sam awake longer than he otherwise might have. Keeps him warmer than any jacket or body heat would. Bucky holds him and talks about the future, and Sam thinks... maybe they could go to the grand canyon, and maybe they would kiss again. Maybe Bucky would watch him fly, and smile, and hold out his arms, and Sam would have someone to come home to, be it as a friend or...

Or...

He feels... light, here. In this space Bucky makes for him.

So light he can't tell when his eyes slide shut.

So light he doesn't realize he's no longer responding out loud.

So light he doesn't realize he's slipping away from Bucky, from the cold, from everything.

The silent moment stretches on too long. Sam is cold. Sam is silent. Sam's chest does not move.

Sam's heart makes no sound in his chest.

The room is terribly, heavily, irrevocable silent.

[notworthallthis]

The nudge is met with… nothing. No shift in weight, no quiet mumble, just silence. Just stillness.

“Sam?” Bucky can hear his own voice pitch in panic, “Sam, come on,” he shakes him a little rougher but there is no response. Just the heavy weight of another death on his hands.

And everyone will tell him it’s not his fault. The same way they’ve all said every death he’d caused as The Winter Soldier wasn’t his fault. But he knows the truth, he knows that it was his finger behind the trigger every time. And he knows he was completely useless in saving Sam.

Why does someone like him with a river of blood between his hands get to live, while someone like Sam, who only wants to do the right thing, who is practically sunshine personified, dies. Locked in a freezer. It just isn’t fair.

He doesn’t even know when he shifted to his knees, body curled over Sam’s. Bucky’s fingers curl into the jacket he’d put around him and he presses his forehead against his friend’s chest.

It just. isn’t. fair.

Bucky will survive this, wherever Steve and Natasha are, they’ll come and he’ll be alive. But he won’t be okay, not for a long while.

[unclesam]

And just like that...

The lights go out. The room is plunged in pitch black darkness, and there is a loud sound, like something powering down. The next thing Bucky will hear is the thrum of the freezer's generators shutting down, followed by hurried steps, loud voices.

They're familiar. Steve, Natasha. They found Sam and Bucky, they managed to destroy whatever this facility is running on and then...

Electronic beeping. And with a loud hiss, the massive steel doors of the freezer open, letting in a sliver of emergency light from the outside, a sliver of warmth. Just like that, there is Bucky's out... but Sam is in his arms. Sam, who stopped breathing.... how long ago?

Not that long.

Maybe, just maybe... not too long ago.

[notworthallthis]

Everything happens so quickly, he barely has time to process it as it happens. None of it matters, none of it expect the second that door opens. Bucky is pulling Sam into his arms and rushing him out into the open hallway, which feels sticky and hot compared to the freezer but he barely registers this. All of his focus is on Sam.

He hears Steve and Natasha asking him things, giving him rundowns, but none of it sinks in. He’s too busy counting chest compressions and trying not to break any ribs in the process. Every new attempt to get him breathing again is more frantic than the last.

“Come on…” he murmurs, “this can’t be what takes you out…” he hasn’t even noticed the tears in his eyes.