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Bucky didn’t know what having a home is like. Not anymore, really. He knew what it was like to live somewhere, sure, but the concept of a home… well. That felt far away. A distant memory. And his relationship with memory was already hazy at best.
He didn’t know why he was having such a hard time remembering things lately. At first he chalked it up to the shit HYDRA pumped into him, the programming for the Winter Soldier still residing in his brain pushing back against it, still trying to fight the memories off in the background, like a virus. But even after that was decoupled, when Shuri was able to pick and pluck apart his fried neurons, it was still hard to remember sometimes.
He could barely remember who he was before the Winter Soldier, either. James Barnes seemed… distant. Unrelated. He knew that was who he was supposed to be, but seeing his face in pictures from back then, he didn’t recognize it. He cringed when people called him ‘James’. That wasn’t him, but he didn’t know why.
He felt a tug just then. A kind that he hadn’t felt in quite some time. One that he didn’t know was possible.
It felt like he was losing control. That there was something deep inside him that was fighting to get out, clawing its way out through his ribs. Panic grips his throat, choking him. No. No no no, oh God, no. He can’t- no. Shuri took it out of him. The Winter Soldier was gone.
No, he’s not.
The plates of his left arm flared, and it buzzed lowly as his fingers flexed and his body tightened.
Bucky coughed, because it felt like there was something worming its way up his throat, and he had to get it out, out out out-
When he came to, it felt like a sharp yank. Like he had been hovering just outside of his body and was pulled back into it by connecting threads. He was standing in his living room, now, still in his sweats and ill-fitting t-shirt, next to the window that had clearly been jimmied open from the outside.
Did he leave? Did someone else come in and he just… didn’t notice?
No. There was nothing to indicate that there was currently, or had ever been anyone else in here besides himself.
Regardless of that, he lived several floors up. How would anyone have gotten up here to come in through the window, anyways?
The first thing he did was close the window again, and the second thing he did was grab his phone and dial Dr. Reynor.
The line buzzed. And buzzed. A few panicked moments ticked by, until– click– voicemail.
Fuck.
He pulled it away from his face, staring almost wild-eyed at the screen. Fuck fuck fuck.
In a moment of pure panic, his thumb tapped on Sam’s name.
Buzz. Buzz. Click–
“ Bucky? ”
Sam sounded tired. Bucky didn’t realize how late it was until just now. Fuck, what time was it before? Seven? He didn’t know anymore.
“ Bucky you haven’t returned my texts in weeks, and now you’re just gonna call me at two AM to breathe into the phone? ”
He didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything yet, either. He felt like he couldn’t.
“Sam…” he managed to force the name out of his lungs.
Sam’s tone changed when he spoke again. “ Hey, Bucky, are you alright? ” Concern. Bucky heard a shift, that he assumed was Sam sitting up in bed.
“I… I’m sorry.”
“ Wait– ”
Bucky hung up.
Immediately after, his phone rang. It was Sam. He wanted to pick up, but he felt like he was being choked. He couldn’t. He let it ring out.
But it was Sam, here. So of course he called again.
And a third time.
Bucky stared down at the caller ID like it was a venomous snake about to bite him. He didn’t pick up that night.
“So…”
The dreaded ‘so.’ He hated when Dr. Reynor led with that.
Bucky pressed his lips together in a thin line and waited for what she had to say.
“I’m sorry I missed your call, James.” He visibly twitched a little at the name. That’s not his. He doesn’t know why, but it’s not.
She continued. “You just have to understand that I won’t be available for you 24/7. I’ll try my best, sure, but I can’t promise anything. What did you want to call me about?”
“It’s nothing,” Bucky deflected.
She raised an eyebrow in the way that she did when she knew Bucky was full of shit. She didn’t say it, but she wanted to, he knew it. Dr. Reynor lifted her pen, and his body tensed up.
“Okay, listen, I had…” he paused, finding an excuse to not look directly at her. “I don’t know what it was. It felt like…”
That choking feeling was back. It was almost like the Soldier himself was behind him, wrapping a cold metal hand around his throat. Our little secret.
He coughed involuntarily. “It… It felt like the Winter Soldier.”
“Can you describe what kind of feeling it was?”
Bucky worried at his lip, but the invisible pressure around his throat was lessening. He still felt the piercing red eyes of the soldier boring into him.
“I don’t know… I just…” Shut up. Shut up. “I felt like I lost control. Like I was the Soldier. But I was far away…”
Dr. Reynor pursed her lips, thinking over what he said and formulating a response.
“Well,” she spoke after a time, uncrossing her legs and adjusting how she was sitting. “I believe the first part of what you experienced is called dissociation. It’s a very common trauma response. It could be that you just associate that kind of feeling with the Winter Soldier. Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”
Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his head listing to the side slightly. The pressure on him was gone, but the presence wasn’t. “No. That… that helps.”
She made that face again. He knew that he had to say something, but he… fuck, he was scared. He didn’t want to be here. He wished he could just be at home by himself and go back to sleep for another hundred years.
“James, you have to give me something here. Being a stubborn brat about it isn’t going to help you. Just tell me what happened.”
Bucky licked his lips, head falling back against the couch as his eyes flicked up to the ceiling. “Jesus, okay. Way to drive a hard bargain.”
He managed to look at her, now, his shoulders falling as his hands slipped from where they were fitted into each other, and he continued. “I… I blacked out last night. I… dissociated, I guess, like you said… and then I blacked out. I don’t remember anything. I was just… somewhere different suddenly.”
Dr. Reynor made a face that he hadn’t seen her make before, it wasn’t in his catalog of what to expect. It was confusion, he thought, but also like she understood, in a strange way. After a moment, she stood, and took a few steps to the side of the room where a small bookshelf stood, and she began to look through it.
Bucky couldn’t help but feel his stomach sink a bit. Maybe he was crazier than he thought. Oh, God.
The worst part was, she actually reached past the books whose spines were visible, and pulled out a battered paperback from behind the rest of them. When she returned to her seat, it was probably evident that she could tell Bucky was nervous.
“This is not something I like to reference often, it’s a bit… archaic and wordy for my tastes, but it is still a resource,” she spoke as she adjusted her glasses to skim the table of contents. “It’s not bad, James. You can relax.”
Bucky’s fingers twitched. “Stop calling me James.”
She looked over her glasses at him.
“...Please,” he added on.
“Whatever’s most comfortable for you,” she concluded, before going back to skimming the book. Bucky got a glimpse at the cover. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders . Fuck.
“Now, like I said, dissociation is something that’s very widely experienced by people who have suffered trauma. In broad terms, it’s a coping mechanism used to get you ‘out’ of a certain situation, but it can happen for a lot of different reasons and in a lot of different ways.
If you’re open to it, we can go through the dissociative disorders in here and see if anything might describe the experiences you’ve had.”
Bucky pulled in a long, slow breath. “...Okay.”
Dissociative Identity Disorder. Those three words stared at him from the page, almost angry and writhing. Almost like they were something to be afraid of. He’d read the passage about five times, now, and yeah, it was wordy as hell, but… Fuck, it made sense.
And he wasn’t sure that he liked it.
It meant that the Winter Soldier was still in there. Maybe not in the same way, but it still… felt like the Soldier. In some way. That was what scared him.
Dr. Reynor had said that they would need more time to definitively say if that’s what it was or not, but either way, it was still not something that he liked the idea of.
Bucky let out a breath, putting the paperwork down, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on his knees that were partially pulled to his chest.
The idle noise of the news on television changed, though, drawing his eyes upwards. They narrowed instantly, because the first thing he saw, oh… That brought a tightening rage to his chest. The shield. Steve’s shield. And it wasn’t being held by Sam.
Alright, fuck this. Maybe it was time to talk to Sam.
This was beginning to feel more and more like a mistake.
Bucky fastened the harness across his chest, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he adjusted his uniform. He tried not to look, but his eyes drew over to it despite this effort.
His fingers twitched. Even though he had his hair up loosely still to keep it out of the way, seeing himself… like this. Like the Soldier. It was… haunting. His eyes seemed hollow as they stared over the muzzle fastened around his nose and mouth.
Zemo stepped through the door. “Are you quite done, James?”
Bucky’s eyes glazed over. Why does everyone keep calling him James? He began to feel far away, like something was pulling at his soul and causing it to hover an inch or so to the left.
Unconsciously, his hands went up and pulled loose the hair tie, letting his hair fall back down around his face. It didn’t feel like he had made that movement, but he was still… ‘there’ enough to register it. Bucky bit the inside of his lip, which pulled him closer again, and he nodded to Zemo.
It only got worse from there. He was still mostly there, or at least, he thought he was, but he could barely process anything around him the entire journey to Madripoor. He thought Sam tried to talk to him a few times, but he wasn’t quite sure. It felt like a strange blur, and then he was getting out of a car in lowtown, trailing behind Zemo like a dog.
The dog analogy was only strengthened when he heard Zemo’s voice cut through the noise of the music from the various bars and clubs and the loud chatter of the patrons. But Zemo was loud and clear.
“ Soldier, ” he began in Russian, and Bucky’s head perked up. “ Ready to comply? ”
It almost felt like a physical punch. He was pretty sure he heard Doctor Strange say something similar to this, except it wasn’t like being soul-punched by a sorcerer, it felt like something was trying to claw its way out of him.
He couldn’t stop it. His head twitched sharply, and the last thing he noticed was Sam giving him a brief look of concern as they bellied up to the bar.
He– it– he? No… It didn’t know what it, or what its mission was. Its eyes scanned the bar, predatory. Madripoor? It must be there. It recognized Zemo. Handler? Yes… That sounded right. It darted its gaze over the other. Sam Wilson. It was not commanded to attack him, though it felt an itch in its fingers.
It stayed silent as the others spoke. It was not instructed to speak. So it merely observed.
Sam looked up at it after downing some kind of horrid drink, that it watched the bartender sloppily butcher a snake to serve, as if he expected some kind of reaction. It thought that might be humorous, but it didn’t react.
Sam’s expression changed when he made eye contact with it, shifting to something like concern. He looked like he wanted to say something, but it snapped to attention again as it was addressed by Zemo again.
“ Winter Soldier, ” he spoke calmly, as someone strode up behind him and placed his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. Yes. That was its name. “ Attack. ”
The command was loud and clear. It’s vibranium– that was new, it realized– hand shot out, grabbing the hand of the man who dared touch its handler, instantly crushing the bones as it pried him off.
Its body went into autopilot as the fight broke out. It barely registered what was happening, just that it knew exactly what to do. The throes of combat felt natural for it. Good, even. It liked this, it thought. It liked feeling vibranium strike out, liked the butt of a gun impacting the temple of another. This is what it thought it was supposed to be doing. It punched hard into the throat of one of them, and it just caught Sam flinch slightly out of the corner of its eye.
But it ignored this. There was another mook on it, and this one it struck in his chest, before its metal hand wrapped around his throat, and it dragged him over by it and hoisted him up onto the bar on his back.
It stared, empty gaze unrelenting towards the bartender. Until it caught a glimpse of itself in the mirrored surface behind the bar. Eyes dark, shoulders heaving with its breath. Bestial. But it pulled itself back to the mission, the command it was given.
“Selby will see you now,” the bartender reluctantly stated.
Zemo leaned close to it. “ At ease, soldier. ”
It slowly, almost unwillingly, let up its grasp on the man, who slumped to the floor sputtering, still making eye contact the entire time. Zemo began to walk away, and it felt Sam move up close to it. Too close. It pulled away sharply, which it can tell Sam notes.
“You good, Bucky?” Sam asked.
It pulled in a sharp breath, before hissing through its teeth.
“Winter.”
The first time Bucky stayed over at Sarah’s home in Delacroix, Sam noticed a small twitch in his fingers whenever Cass and AJ were around him. Like he wanted to say something, but was holding back.
It’s still there the next day, Sam noticed it over breakfast. After the boys had left for school and the two of them turned their attention to the boat, Sam spoke up.
“So,” he started, not looking up from where he had his hands in a rat’s nest of wires. Bucky glanced up from the stuck on old paint he was sanding off. “I couldn’t help but notice… you and the boys.”
Bucky tensed a bit, and didn’t respond right away, looking back down at what he was working on. “What about it?”
“Nothin’. You just seemed kinda tense around them.”
A small mechanical whirr as the black plates of Bucky’s arm shifted. “I… I guess so. It’s been a while since I’ve interacted with kids.”
“You think they’re gonna be scared of you?”
Sort of. Bucky shrugged. “Nah. It’s just…” Sam heard him draw a long breath, and looked up when the sound of sanding stopped. “Promise not to laugh?”
“I mean… don’t put that kind of pressure on me, but I doubt it would make me laugh.”
Bucky shifted, leaning back against the rigging post. “I mean, you know about my, like… deal, right? That I’m not the only one up here.” A vibranium hand lifted to point towards his temple. Dr. Reynor had mentioned it during their… ‘couple’s therapy,’ but he could tell Bucky wasn’t sure if Sam really registered what that meant, because they were both quite busy snarking at each other.
“Not my area of expertise, but I know a bit about it, yeah.” Sam removed his hands from the wires, setting the tools down on the console.
That was good, at least. “Well…” Bucky sighed, head falling back. “I’m still… tryin’ to figure it all out myself, but… I think there’s another one kickin’ around that really wants to talk to Cass and AJ.”
Sam gave a bit of a puzzled look. “So why are you all tense about it, then?”
“‘Cause it’s… weird, I dunno,” Bucky lamented, hands burying themselves in his pockets. “It’s me-not-me, and this new guy feels… kid-ish. I guess. It’s sorta hard to suss these things out.”
The other stood up, draping the grease covered rag he was using to wipe his hands off over his shoulder. “From what I understand, having alters that are kids is pretty common. Since this is usually a thing that happens in childhood. D’you want me to talk to the boys? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having another friend to play with.”
“I… uhm… You don’t have to. I don’t want to make it weird…”
Sam raised a brow. “I’m not asking Bucky. Would they want me to talk to the boys?”
Bucky lowered his head a bit, looking a bit sheepish. “...That’d be nice.”
“Yeah, man, like I said, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. And it’ll be good for them to learn about this, too.”
“I guess so…”
Sam took a few steps towards the other, lifting a hand to give him a brief, reassuring thump on the shoulder. “Chin up, Buck. You gotta realize your alters are their own people, too, they deserve to have their own friends.”
Bucky pulled in a long, slow breath, shaking his hands out. This was the first time ever that he had intentionally tried to do… this. Whatever ‘this’ was. The terminology was still foreign to him. He had asked Sam to be there, and he was, sitting next to him on the couch with a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
Thank God for Sam. He had talked to his nephews and Sarah, helped him explain himself more to them, and they didn’t seem averse, the opposite, in fact. Sarah definitely raised those boys well.
He wasn’t forcing it, no, he could feel that little nag in the back of his head, this was more like an ‘it’s okay, you can come out.’ The way you would extend your hand to a frightened animal you wanted to befriend.
And it seemed to work. He felt a pull, his head lowering as his eyelids fluttered, and then…
His gaze traced upwards, slowly, to the man who had his hand on his shoulder. When did that get there? He blinked at him.
“Hi,” he spoke, voice small. But not his voice. This voice was gruff, loud. This body in general felt much too big.
“Hey, there,” the other spoke. “What’s your name?”
Name? ...Oh! He knew who this was. His slightly timid expression melted into a little smile. “It’s James. You’re Sam, right?”
“It’s good to meet you, James. I am, indeed,” Sam responded with a smile, and withdrew his hand from James’ too-broad shoulder.
James took a moment to look down at himself. He sure… felt small, but certainly didn’t look it. Lifting his hands, he shook them out a little, before his gaze immediately focused on the vibranium appendage on his left.
“Whoa…” he couldn’t help but utter, squeezing up the forearm and bicep, rolling his shoulder a few times just to hear the whirring sound it made.
“Pretty cool, right?” Sam prompted with a chuckle.
“Yeah! I mean… I kinda kinda knew it was there, but… first time I getta use it.”
He continued to inspect the limb, fingers flexing, pinching and prodding at his hand to test how it felt. It was certainly strange, that was for sure. It wasn’t as responsive as flesh, he had to squeeze a bit to register the feeling, but it was still fascinating nonetheless.
After a few moments, though, the lock on the front door clicked open, and Cass and AJ barreled in like a tornado with Sarah in tow.
“Hey hey, how was school, boys?” Sam asked, standing up to greet them as they dumped their backpacks by the door and toed their shoes off.
“Fine,” Cass responded with a shrug.
“Yeah. Fine,” AJ chimed in.
James suddenly felt much, much smaller. He leaned in, peering around Sam, his wrists coming up to his chest and hands hanging down. He wanted to speak up as well, but couldn’t find himself able to do so, and he shifted a bit to hide behind Sam.
Sam put a hand on his shoulder, and that eased him a little, before he spoke again.
“You kids remember what we talked about before, with Bucky and his friends?”
The two of them looked up from grabbing their binders and books out of their bags and nodded.
“Well, this is James. He wanted to meet you.”
James slowly stood up from where he was sitting on the couch, and almost felt a bit dizzy for a second. Right. Being tall. Gotta figure that one out. But at the introduction, he gave a shy smile and wave. “Hi.”
The two returned the greeting, and Sarah stepped forwards and put her hands on both of their backs gently.
“It’s nice to meet you, James. The boys have homework to do, first, but after that, you boys can play.”
“Aw, come on,” Cass lamented. “Me and AJ just found the Nether Fortress! Can’t we just play for a little bit?”
James tilted his head curiously.
Sarah sighed as the two pleaded with her, and she patted them both. “Alright, just for a bit. Make sure James gets to play, too.”
“Yeah, we will! C’mon!”
AJ ran up and grabbed James by the wrist, tugging on it a bit before letting go, signaling him to follow, which he gladly did.
Going into their room felt almost like stepping into another world to him. It was humble, sure, there weren’t hundreds of things in here, and it was very nicely kept, but he was surrounded on all sides by colorful objects and toys that he had no idea what they were. Slightly overwhelmed, he curiously began to pour over every last thing.
“Whoa. You guys got a lotta cool stuff,” James commented. “Can I look?”
“Thanks! Yeah, you can totally look, just don’t break anything,” Cass teased a bit.
Break? Why would he… well, the robot arm, he guessed. And he still had to remember that physically he was almost twice as tall as them.
The two boys moved over to a small television and turned it on, along with a black box next to it, while James slid out a small clear bin from one of the shelves that looked to be full of robots and cars.
Curiously, he pulled one out, fumbling with it as he sat down cross-legged on the floor.
Cass turned around and noted this, and James looked up at him and held it out.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Optimus Prime,” Cass responded. “He’s a Transformer. He turns into a truck! Or… he would. But AJ lost the instructions.”
“No I didn’t!” AJ mock-angrily replied. “Mom threw ‘em out on accident.”
James couldn’t help but snort a bit at the exchange, continuing to fiddle with the small robot toy, noting its odd articulation. “He’s pretty neat! I’m kinda a Transformer, too.” He flexed his vibranium arm to emphasise the statement.
Both of their attentions were on his arm, now, but Cass was the first to speak.
“Can I touch it?”
“Cass! Mom said it was rude to ask that!”
“I don’t think it’s rude of ya,” James cut in. He held the arm in question out, making sure the plates were all lying flat. “You can totally touch it.”
Cass looked at his brother teasingly, before they both scrambled over to James and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
“Cool…” Cass muttered. “Did you always have it?”
James frowned a little, but wasn’t that bothered by the question. “No… I had an accident.”
“Did it hurt?”
That one bothered him. His face fell, and his eyes looked down and to the side. “...Yeah.”
“Oh… sorry…”
James’ head snapped up a bit, immediately bouncing back, as if the memory was plucked from his head entirely. “No, it’s okay! The Wakandans gave me this arm, and I like it a lot.”
“That is cool,” AJ spoke, turning James’ hand over to inspect the metal palm.
James smiled, head tilting to the side. “So what were you gonna play?”
“Oh! Do you like Minecraft?” AJ asked as he let go.
He blinked. “I got not idea what that is.”
The two moved over to the TV, and prompted James to follow, which he did, plopping down on one of the cushions they had set up around it.
“We don’t have a third controller, but we can take turns,” AJ said as he handed what James assumed was said controller to him.
James took it, of course, but stared down at it with an extremely obvious look of confusion. He immediately handed it back. “Gee… Maybe I should watch you play for a bit.”
The two laugh a bit, and sit down, booting up the game. James had at least an approximate knowledge of this century, so he was aware of what a video game was in concept, but this was the first time he (or Bucky) had ever actually ‘encountered’ one, so to speak. And it was fascinating.
“What kinda things do you like, James?” Cass prompted while the game loaded.
“Oh, uh…” he lowered his head, thinking about it for a few seconds. “Buck Rogers is pretty swell.”
“Who’s that?” AJ chimed in.
“You don’t know Buck Rogers?” James seemed almost scandalized, but it was more played up than anything as a joke. “He was in the papers. I had some Big Little Books of ‘im. He fights bad guys in the future!”
“That’s pretty cool,” AJ replied with a smile.
“Yeah! I’ll look ‘em up for sure,” Cass added.
The rest of the time Sarah had allotted them was soon taken up by Cass and AJ showing James around the strange cube world on the screen that they explained was how it was supposed to look, and that they had built most of the structures in there themselves. AJ showed off an impressive looking castle, and Cass explained how something called a ‘mob farm’ worked, which James most certainly didn’t understand a single word of, but he nodded along like he did.
He was handed the controller at one point, but the sheer number of buttons and things he had to remember made his brain hurt, and he felt a bit bad after a few minutes of repeatedly asking which button did what.
It felt like only moments before Sarah knocked on the door and told the two boys to start on their homework.
It was the dead of night, and Sam was awoken by a sound from the other room.
Not great news.
Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up slowly and forcing himself to get out of bed. Because it could’ve been nothing, but he also didn’t want to chance it if it was something. He held a hand out to feel along the wall, and dragged his feet along the floor to the next room. Moonlight filtered in through the window, giving him enough visibility to not kick anything as he moved closer, but also creating the silhouette of another figure. A figure that was unmistakably Bucky.
Sam’s brow furrowed, and he tried to get a better look at the scene, and noticed the window had been forced open, implying that he had just broken in. Which raised a lot more questions than it answers.
“Buck?”
The other whipped around, the light glinting in his cloudy blue eyes, and a snarl ripped from his throat.
Not Bucky. Sam lifted his hands, and he spoke slowly. “Hey, hey… Take it easy. I’m not gonna hurt you. Am I talking to Winter?”
The other’s lip curled, and he glanced over Sam briefly, before pulling away in a way that reminded Sam of a cornered animal. Slowly, though, it nodded.
“Alright, Winter. You know who I am, right?”
“...Back.” Winter’s voice was harsh, grating. The polar opposite of Bucky’s. Its left arm buzzed and clicked, a dull gold glow visible between the plates in the dark. A warning.
He didn’t know how deep Winter’s instincts ran. He and Bucky had discussed a plan for what to do if this happened, but actually being in the moment with this was terrifying, and there was still a lot that even Bucky didn’t know about its behavior. It’s not like he was exactly around to take notes on him or anything.
Sam wasn’t necessarily scared for himself, though, he was more scared for what was going on in that collective mind to have dragged Winter out like this.
“Winter… Hey, hey. I’m going to step closer to you now, okay?”
Sam gingerly did as he said he would, taking one, slow, careful step in Winter’s direction, testing the waters.
No go.
Winter’s hackles raised, its head ducking down, and Sam stopped dead before Winter sprang on him.
“Okay. I’ll stay right here,” Sam spoke low, still making sure his hands were visible. “You wanna tell me why you’re here?”
“Hurt…” it rasped, fingers curling like claws. “Have to.”
“You want to hurt me?”
It shifted, and this time, the claws did come out, its vibranium fingers flexing to allow the claws in their tips to unsheath. “Have. To.”
Sam kept his breathing slow, and didn’t take his eyes off Winter for a second, worried that if he did, it would know and take advantage of that. “You don’t have to do anything, Winter. Not if you don’t want to.”
It hissed a vile sound through its teeth, lurching forwards like the goddamn Creature from the Black Lagoon .
“I’m not your enemy, Winter. I want to help you.”
Winter paused in its movements, if only for a second, but that was enough to clue Sam in a bit more.
“You’re not the Winter Soldier,” he continued. “You have his memories, have his experiences, but you aren’t tied to that anymore. You can be your own person, now.”
Winter’s shoulders heaved with its breath. Sam could tell that despite not actually being muzzled, it was almost acting like it was, the way it breathed and spoke like there was something muffling it.
“Too close,” it huffed.
“To you?” Sam took a half step backwards. Winter mimicked him and stepped forwards.
“To Bucky.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “I’m not following.”
Winter raised a claw, taking a few more steps as it pointed to the center of Sam’s chest. “A warning. Stay away… from Bucky. He hurts. Will hurt. Me being here is...” Its speech was interrupted but a twitch in its neck and a gutteral clicking noise that Sam could swear was an exact copy of the Predator, before it continued. “...Is a sign.”
“Winter… I know you want to protect Bucky and James, but you’re doing the opposite, okay?” Sam very slowly, very tentatively began to extend a hand towards Winter. “I know what I’m getting into, I can make my own decisions.”
Winter’s eyes went wide, and before Sam could even react, its hands were on him, gripping his shirt and picking him up like he weighed as much as a feather to shove him against the wall.
“You’re my mission!”
Sam gripped onto Winter’s wrists, hissing as he felt vibranium claws pierce the fabric and dig into his skin, though he didn’t think he was bleeding from it.
“I know you don’t want to hurt anyone. But you feel like you have to, right?” Sam managed to get out, struggling to hide the fact that his heart had leapt into his throat and pounded to try and get out.
“ No! ”
Sam pulled in a breath, shaky, trying to keep everything about his body under control. “It’s okay, Winter. I promise you. The fact that you picked a name, your name, it proves that you have choices.”
Winter bared its teeth, its eyes seeming to flash with anger, but also… Sam could tell that there may have been some sort of understanding. Just that Winter wasn’t willing to accept that.
It dropped him abruptly, claws sliding back into its fingertips, before it pulled away from him, and ducked back out through the window through which it came.
Sam tried to go after it, but by the time the thought had even made it to the rest of his body instructing him to move, Winter was already long gone.
Sam felt himself rouse from sleep, eyes peeking open to squint at the numerals on the clock. 7:56 AM. Close enough.
Lifting his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes, he shifted, and noticed that the spot next to him was vacant. Bucky never got up before him. The lazy ass stayed in bed for as long as physically possible, until Sam made him get up and get ready.
He heard a high pitched mew from down the hall, the kind that he had come to learn was Alpine’s ‘begging’ noise, followed by a grumble.
Well, he knew where Bucky was, at least.
Sliding out of bed, Sam made his way into the kitchen, not entirely sure what to expect when he got there, and, admittedly, kind of expecting the worst.
Instead, though, he laid eyes on Bucky’s back to him, hair up in a messy bun, hunched over the stove with the smell of pancakes, and Alpine enjoying her own breakfast off to the side. Sam blinked a few times, completely unsure of what to think. Was it a special occasion? He genuinely had no idea, and he definitely would’ve remembered if there was something important today.
Bucky didn’t seem to notice him though, or if he did he didn’t acknowledge him, and Alpine was far too food motivated to care who was there, so Sam decided to take advantage of this.
He stepped forwards, closing the distance between them, waiting for Bucky to set his spatula down and take his hand off the handle of the pan, in the event that he did startle him, before looping his arms around the other’s waist.
“Morning, Buck,” he chimed, voice sort of sing-songy.
Bucky didn’t startle, thankfully, but… “James. Sorry.”
Sam pulled back, face going red, and he could swear, if it was possible, Alpine was laughing at him by the way she looked up from her food bowl at them. It wasn’t audible, but it sure felt it.
“Shit… Sorry, man.”
James laughed audibly, though, unlike the silent judgement from Alpine, turning to face Sam with that cocky little smile across his lips like the photos from the 40s that Steve had shown him. His mannerisms were so different yet similar, especially when he was like this. Well… like an adult. It was uncanny.
“You’re good, Sam. I get that you’re an eager beaver, just warn a guy first, y’know?”
He turned back to what he was doing, chuckling slightly to himself, and Sam leaned back against the kitchen counter, deflating.
“Hey, I had a fifty-fifty shot.”
James snorted, dipping the spoon into the bowl of pancake batter and pouring it out into the pan. “I’ll take it as thanks for being your dame for the day.”
Sam paused for a moment, before moving to crack open the fridge and grab out the jug of orange juice. He poured himself a glass, stealing a glance over at James, before putting the jug back where it was. This was definitely a kink in his usual daily routine, he was generally out jogging by now, but he figured that sure, maybe today was a special occasion.
“Any reason you’re up and at ‘em, James?” Sam asked, leaning against the counter again.
James didn’t look up from what he was doing, and Sam watched him prod the pancake with a vibranium finger before shrugging. “Eh, Buck was tired, I guess. Didn’t sleep great. The ole fuddy-duddy needed a break. Figured I’d at least make myself useful.”
“You don’t have to make yourself useful, you know,” Sam mused as he sipped from his glass. “We’re not making you pay rent to use the body.”
James puffed out another laugh through his nose, flipping the pancake over– thankfully with the spatula and not his metal hand, because Sam’s seen Bucky do shit like that– before reaching over to grab the plate that had a few done pancakes already sitting on it.
“Well, then maybe I wanted breakfast for myself and decided outta the goodness of my little heart, I’d make some for you, too,” he teased, sliding the plate towards Sam. “Here. I know you got, like, a schedule ‘nd all. So you can eat first. I’ll dine with the pussycat.”
It was Sam’s turn to laugh a bit, now. “Nah, it’s cool. I can have a cheat day. Besides, I don’t really get to talk to you like this much. It’s nice.”
That statement seemed to confuse James greatly. He paused for a moment, glancing over Sam like he had never seen him before for a second, before returning to what he was doing.
“Well… shucks, Sam… It’s nice talking to you, too.”
The day had been going quite slowly, for once, and for that, Sam was thankful. He was able to actually take a break, breathe, and finally catch up on some reading that he's been wanting to do.
It was then that the silence was abruptly and violently snapped in two by Bucky screaming. Properly screaming. Sam damn near jumped out of his skin at the sound of pure anguish, and he sprinted at full speed into the other room, not sure what he would find. He literally had no idea what could’ve possibly caused Bucky to make that sound, because he’s never heard anything like that before.
When he laid eyes on the other Avenger, though, there was… nothing amiss. Bucky wasn’t sprawled out of the floor bleeding, there was no sign of a struggle. Just Bucky sat cross-legged on the floor, slouched over.
Sam wasn’t taking chances, though. “Bucky? What happened? Are you okay?”
Bucky turned, looking up at him with big, wet eyes. He then held up what looked like a small, flat plastic egg. “The Tamagotchi died!”
Sam almost lunged at him like a jungle cat and mauled him to death for giving him a heart attack like that, but he was too dumbfounded to do anything other than stand there and stare. “The… what? ”
The other looked down at the little plastic egg-thing, shifting how he was sitting so he could face Sam. “The Tamagotchi. Cass gave it to us.”
Sam took a few steps forward to get a better look. He squinted down at it and yeah, sure enough, the little square screen displayed prominently the little black and white pixel spirit of the ‘deceased’ digital pet. He lifted his hands, rubbing his face and sighing as his previously defensive posture deflated.
“Bucky… You can’t scream like you’re being murdered like that. Over a digital pet.”
“Listen!” Bucky defended himself. “It’s James’, he’s gonna be so pissed I killed it!”
“Can’t you restart it?”
“... What? ”
When Bucky wasn’t worried over actual serious issues, he was cute as hell, Sam would admit. He moved over to sit down next to the other, lifting a hand to comfortingly place it between Bucky’s shoulder blades.
“Baby, it’s okay. You didn’t ruin it. You can make a new one.”
Bucky stared down at the toy, turning it over a few times in his hands. God, it was kind of funny seeing the translucent neon green egg in the stark black and gold vibranium hand, and just how seriously Bucky was taking this kids toy from the 90s.
“I didn’t… know that,” he spoke after a moment. “But still, I mean, it won’t be the same, right? James tried really hard to take care of it.”
Sam sighed, moving his hand to brush it across Bucky’s cheek. “Well, when he comes around, you can tell him it was an accident. He’ll understand it, he’s also an adult.”
Fuck, his head hurt. His head hurt a lot.
When Bucky woke up this morning, it was just a dull thrum, a minor annoyance, but it wasn’t getting better. It wasn’t helped by the subject matter of his dreams last night. He couldn’t remember what it was, but he felt it scratching at the back of his head, like the memory was trying to come back through, but it couldn’t. Like there was a wall in his mind between them when he tried to recall it.
“Bucky,” Sam broke the silence, looking up from his phone.
Bucky’s eyes snapped up.
“You’re tapping again.”
He didn’t realize his vibranium forefinger was drumming on the table until it was pointed out. He promptly stopped. “Sorry.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face. “I dunno. Weird dream. Can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You remember what it was about?”
“That’s the thing. I can’t remember a damn thing about it. But it’s not like… normal not being able to remember it, y’know? It’s like something’s stopping me.”
There was a pull. A familiar one. That explained a lot.
Sam uncrossed his legs, and motioned for Bucky to join him on the couch.
Bucky stood up to take him up on that, but the pull got harder. A brief thought flickered across his mind, like a warning, a thought of him grabbing Sam by the throat. He took a half step backwards. “It’s… Winter.”
Sam’s expression changed to something more serious, and he tucked his phone back in his pocket as he pulled in a slow breath. “Does he want to come out?”
“I don’t want to put you through that…”
Sam frowned a bit. “Baby, you wouldn’t be ‘putting me through’ anything. If you think it’ll help, I wanna help, alright?”
Bucky took a few slow steps forward, but he felt Winter pull on him, like invisible strings attached to his limbs. His head twitched to the side, lip curled slightly, and it felt like a snap.
It– he– wait… It didn’t know anymore. It shifted, posture changing, a silent snarl across its expression as it took a step backwards.
“You…” it hissed.
Sam pulled in a slow breath, and very carefully rose to his feet. Winter flinched, and he held up his hands to show they were empty. “Take it easy, Winter… I wanna help you, remember? Can I walk towards you?”
It drew back slightly, eyes darting over Sam abruptly.
The other took a half step forwards, testing the waters, and Winter’s fingers curled, but it otherwise didn’t react. Sam took that as a sign to approach, albeit he still stayed a bit of a distance away just to be safe.
“Everything alright?”
Winter’s shoulders pulled, and it made a low chuffing noise. “Stop… rrr ruining us. You’re making… a mistake.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Sam chided gently. “Were you protecting Bucky from that memory?”
“Shut up,” it snapped.
“Like I said. I wanna help you, buddy. And I know you want to help, too, but you gotta work with me.”
Winter huffed a breath… its body language changing to something more defensive, but… weaker. More tentative. Stop. Stop it. Stop being so soft. Have to be sharp. Have to… do something.
Sam shifted closer. “I’m gonna lift my hand now. Is it okay to touch you?”
Touch. Winter’s body tensed. It wanted to snap at Sam, bite his fucking hand off, tear him to shreds, but… it couldn’t. No matter what it did, how hard it pushed and fought, nothing would deter Sam.
It still held his defensive posture, but there was nothing behind it; all show.
Sam’s hand lifted, and everything in Winter’s body screamed to draw the claws and slice it off. Be it held still. Still enough that Sam’s hand was able to gently brush its cheek, settling down to cup its jaw.
No… His .
Winter made a soft purr in the back of his throat, eyelids fluttering slightly, and he shifted to lean into the touch.
“See? I’m not gonna hurt you, Winter,” Sam’s voice was much, much softer, now. His thumb gently rubbed Winter’s cheek, and he moved closer, still, not at arm’s length. “That’s the last thing I want to do. We can help each other.”
Winter’s hands lifted, almost involuntary, gripping onto Sam’s forearms. He felt… desperate, almost. From something just as simple as having his face touched by another person. But… the first time someone had laid their hands on him without intent to harm. He had never experienced something so… gentle before. Everything used to be so sharp.
“Scared…” he mumbled out.
Sam leaned in. “You don’t have to be. You got me. You got Bucky and James. That memory? It’s just that. You don’t have to be like that anymore.”
Winter responded in kind, feeling a pathetic almost sob rise in his throat and he rested his forehead against Sam’s.
The 4th of July. A celebration for most Americans, literal nightmare of military veterans and PTSD sufferers everywhere.
Bucky knew that tonight was probably going to be absolute shit. In fact, he was counting on it. Sam had taken the liberty of conversing with most of the people in the area about it, however, there wasn’t much he could do about everyone planning to set off fireworks within earshot, but Bucky was thankful of the sentiment nonetheless.
The first crack of fireworks in the distance was heard, and Bucky visibly flinched.
Sam put a hand on Bucky’s thigh reassuringly. “You good?”
“Yeah… I think I–” CRACK!
Bucky’s hands went up over his ears. “Fuck!”
Sam shifted so he was facing Bucky, now, looping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. “Hey, hey… It’s okay. Focus on me, okay?”
Bucky’s head was a mess. Memories tapping at the walls of his head, clawing at them, wearing them thin. Shit he thought he had a handle on, that he thought he had under control. For once, it wasn’t the soldier, though. It was tank shells and gunfire. God knows he was well fucking aware that the sounds outside weren’t guns, but it wasn’t necessarily the sound itself, it was the fact that he couldn’t predict it.
Too much.
A yank at the back of his head. A twitch in his fingers. Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes big and wet, hands pulled up to his chest as he looked up at Sam fearfully.
“Hey, James,” Sam spoke softly. He recognized him. “How are you doing?”
James tilted his head to the side a bit, pulling his legs up onto the couch to make himself smaller, and keeping his body as close to Sam as possible. “Hi…” His voice was feeble, barely there. “I’m… scared…”
Sam gave the other a gentle squeeze. “I got you, buddy…”
“I’m sorry, Sam…” he muttered, eyes turning down and away. “I know it’s kinda weird like this.”
Sam shifted his position again, still keeping a gentle hold on James. “Hey, it’s okay, lil’ man. I don’t mind.”
CRACK! POW!
James flinched and curled in on himself, tucking his body as close to Sam as physically possible. It was a bit awkward, since James still struggled with understanding his body, and he still felt much smaller than he actually was, but he could tell Sam was trying his best to keep ahold of him.
The other buried his face into Sam’s shirt, gripping onto it tightly with his metal hand, tucking into Sam as best he could despite being physically larger.
James had sort of wormed his way onto Sam’s lap, which wasn’t the most comfortable thing, considering just how heavy super soldiers are, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. He just continued to run his hand through James’ hair, holding onto him tightly.
“It’s okay, James… Just focus on me. Breathe. You’re gonna be just fine…”
Sam awoke with a bit of a start, nothing horrible (that is to say, not triggering), but still not an entirely pleasant dream. The thing he remembered most from it was the fact that he felt like he couldn’t breathe, despite the fact he was in a dream and didn’t need to.
And then he saw the source of the problem.
Heavy vibranium was draped across his chest, which wasn’t entirely the most uncomfortable thing, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant and was making breathing a touch more difficult. The other thing to note is that it was trapping him here.
Sam nudged his partner with his foot. He didn’t budge. Sam tried again, a bit harder.
“Get up. I love you to death, but you have to get your arm off me,” Sam chided.
The other finally groaned, lifting his head, but instead of removing the one ton appendage, a low growl formed in his throat, and his arm curled further around Sam and pulled him closer.
Sam could see through the curtain of brown hair, steely blue eyes, still clouded with sleep, but still clearly displaying some kind of primal focus.
“No,” he snarled.
At that point, Sam let his head fall back against the pillow, surrendering himself. “Well… Good morning, Winter.”
Winter grumbled, pulling Sam closer still. Sam had no idea what was compelling him to be so… tactile, since Winter was usually extremely averse to any form of physical contact, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. It was much nicer than him making threats against him or Bucky and snarling at him.
Winter hauled his body over, and Sam was dragged up against his chest. His breath was hot against Sam’s shoulder as he buried his face into it, purring in the back of his throat.
“Alright, hey, so we’re cuddly, now,” Sam observed, shifting a bit to tuck himself up against the other.
“Sssshut,” he hissed, squeezing around Sam’s chest.
“Not judging. It’s a good thing.”
The two stayed like that for a good while, and Sam could feel himself begin to drift off again. That was, until his alarm went off.
Winter snarled, staring daggers over Sam’s shoulder at the phone that buzzed incessantly on the nightstand. Sam reached for it, tapping the screen to get it to turn off, before lifting both hands to run them down his face.
“Sorry, man, but I gotta get up,” Sam mumbled.
Winter’s grip around him got tighter. Much tighter. The mechanical limb even buzzed a little with a small shift in the plates.
“No you don’t.”
There wasn’t a lot Sam could do in this situation. James, he was able to shirk off, he tended to forget about the super strength thing, and Bucky, while stubborn, usually yielded if he spoke with a firm enough tone. Winter on the other hand… he wasn’t that keen on arguing with him. There was still a lot of work to be done there, since he wasn’t a usual fronter and tended to actively avoid or sabotage any conversation surrounding that. So he surrendered himself to the bone-crushing super soldier embrace.
Winter almost cooed when Sam relaxed, and y’know, that was incentive enough. He’d never heard Winter ever make these kinds of sounds, and he had to admit, it was pretty goddamn adorable.
Sam turned over, facing the other, which at first, Winter seemed opposed to, but that faded the second Sam spoke. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
For once, Winter… nodded, followed by a small, barely there ‘ yes. ’ And good God, that almost made Sam cry on the spot. His heart swelled with pride, and he lifted a hand to brush the hair out from Winter’s face, cupping his cheek in the most gentle and caring of ways.
Winter’s eyes closed, and his own hand came up, metal fingertips ghosting along the back of Sam’s hand, down his forearm, fingers hooking around his side as vibranium draped over him again.
Sam tucked himself closer, head tilting forwards so that their foreheads rested against each other.
“See? It’s okay to let your guard down,” Sam spoke softly, barely above a whisper. “Not everything is going to hurt you. Especially not me.”
Winter shuddered, breath shaking, and he pulled hard on Sam, burying his face into his chest and holding onto him like his life depended on it.
“...Thank you.”