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questionableratatouille00 · 1 year

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Buckytober Thing

A note: I have basically given up on whumptober (lack of motivation) but this idea came to me and I would like to submit it into something, so here we are for the lovely @chaos-and-ink’s Buckytober. At the bottom of this post is a link to the prompts if you’d like to participate!

I know today’s not any of these dates, but I’d like to get this out there just for fun. This can be taken in any way you’d like, whether that’s past stucky, pre-sambucky, past winterwidow, or even just Bucky being Bucky. It’s up to interpretation! Lots of love everybody, and I hope you enjoy.

Days: 16, 19, 22, 28, and 31.

Warnings: alcohol, nonconsenual sterilization, talks of Bucky’s trauma, HYDRA themes (abuse, torture, and the like) references to sexual trauma, mentions of the Red Room, nightmares, homophobia in the 1940s, HYDRA beliefs, mass grave reference (is that a warning? I’m going to say it is). ————————————————————————

Bucky sipped his beer, staring off into the beautiful, serene water. He sat at the end of the pier, his feet dangling off the edge.

He heard footsteps behind him, the creaking of the wood giving away the presence of any attacker.

But Bucky wasn’t worried. He wasn’t alarmed or defensive, and he knew there was no ‘attacker’. That was probably his favorite part of the Wilson household, he never had to defend himself or fight any battles besides the ones in his head. There was safety there. Not safety like Wakanda, he noted.

Wakanda was safe, that was real. He knew it was real. There was a huge force field keeping any and all outsiders out, and there were the Dora Milaje, too. Wakanda was, from what Bucky knew, the safest place on the planet.

But the Wilson household was a different kind of safe. He couldn’t describe that safe with words, not like he could describe Wakanda’s type of safe. Maybe he could assign a few adjectives; loving, caring, protective, united, but even then he couldn’t string together sentences to make it all make sense.

Bucky decided that he preferred the Wilson household version of safe. Even if he couldn’t ever really decide much for himself, or even really have clear preferences for one thing over another, he wanted to believe he could.

The words had been rendered useless, sure, but the results of HYDRA’s efforts remained. There were bad days, where he couldn’t make choices for himself or he couldn’t give any responses to the outside world besides grim silences or a neutral—albeit creepy—expression, but there were always going to be bad days. Bucky knew that. Sam knew that. And that meant it was going to be okay.

A firm hand on his left shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. Sam groaned as he sat down, his knees cracking as he did so.

“God, I feel as old as you are.” He joked. He didn’t move his hand away.

Bucky gave him a small smile in response. He liked how Sam touched him. It wasn’t cautious, careful, or waiting for Bucky to snap like Steve’s touches were. Bucky didn’t have any dislike for Steve because of it, but Bucky always knew Steve treated him like glass, or like a broken piece of pottery that had just been glued back together.

Sam’s touches were firm, but not painful. Reassuring, but not overly gentle. Very obviously present, but not overwhelming nor overbearing. Bucky appreciated it. The way Sam touched him made him feel real. Like he wasn’t just living in some false reality he made up to cope with whatever trauma of the nightmare he was dealing with.

Sam had made up that phrase. ‘Trauma of the nightmare’. He’d made it up after his third time witnessing Bucky’s very present PTSD symptoms. Just saying ‘trauma’ was too broad of a term, because they both knew Bucky had a lot of that. But Sam knew Bucky didn’t want him to say the specific event that happened in the nightmare aloud, at least not when he was still panicking from re-experiencing it again.

Hence, trauma of the nightmare. It was Sam and Bucky’s version of ‘villain of the week’ or ‘question of the day’. Maybe there was a hint some kind of dark humor in there somewhere, having so much baggage you had to make a whole phrase for it, but Bucky didn’t care.

Sam took a sip of his own beer. “You’re technically older than the average age in most nursing homes, but you ever think of starting a family of your own?” He asked, sliding his hand off Bucky’s shoulder. There were very few people who could touch his left shoulder, and Sam was one of those people.

“No. I’ve..I wouldn’t make a good partner, let alone a father.” Bucky confessed, not looking at Sam. He knew Sam was looking at him. He always knew.

“I mean, the father thing isn’t my place to talk about, but who said you couldn’t be someone’s partner?”

“I’ve got too much bullshit to deal with. It’s just…a lot. I don’t want to put that onto somebody. I already feel bad for putting it on you.”

“You didn’t put anything on me. I opened the door to that closet. You know I expected to find a few skeletons in it.”

“It’s not really a few. It’s more of a mass grave, really.”

“I’m willing to help you lay those skeletons—however many there are—to rest. You know I am.” Sam said this so casually, Bucky couldn’t help but look at him. God, he wished he hadn’t. Sam’s beautiful brown eyes wouldn’t let Bucky look away, he was practically obligated to stare into them, to drown in them.

“I don’t even know if I can even have kids. I mean, we both know what the Red Room did to Natasha. And Yelena, too. HYDRA and the Red Room teamed up a few times. I don’t know if they…did that to me, too.” Bucky felt the words come out before he could even process them himself. That was the worst part about talking to Sam. He made it so easy to just..confess all your feelings to him.

“I’m sure you could see a doctor. They could tell you if you’d had it done or not.” Sam tried to provide a solution.

Bucky shook his head slowly, before looking out to the water again. “Probably. But..for me, doctors and nudity don’t really mix. They aren’t even really good on their own, either.”

Sam shrugged. “Fair point. I don’t think I’m interested in adopting or surrogacy or anything like that. Sarah lets me help with the boys, and I think that’s good enough for me.”

Bucky wondered why Sam didn’t just have his own children. He’d never mentioned having any procedures done, but would Sam really just tell someone he was infertile on a random Tuesday? Probably not, Bucky thought.

“I like guys.” Sam provided the context Bucky hadn’t known before. He felt his eyes widen, his mouth remaining shut. Bucky wasn’t sure how Sam could just say it so proudly, but Bucky thought about it for a moment. If Bucky had a problem with it, he could just leave. But Bucky didn’t have a problem with it.

Bucky looked at Sam. Sam looked at Bucky.

“Cool.” Was all Bucky could think to say. The minute after he said it, he desperately wanted to jump into the water below and drown.

Sam let out a laugh. “I could see those gears in your cyborg brain turning again.”

“Yeah, shut up.” Bucky ran a hand over his face.

“I’m guessing you don’t have the same views as your generation did.” Sam nudged him with his shoulder.

“No. I don’t think I ever really did.” He thought about it. He didn’t hate gay people. Bucky didn’t really hate any kind of people, besides HYDRA people or people who believed the same things as HYDRA people. “Steve didn’t either.”

“Well, Steve was a bisexual, so I guess not.” Sam replied.

“He was.” It wasn’t really a question, but it wasn’t exactly a statement, either. More of a thought, forgotten in the wind, carried out into nothingness.

“You know what that is?” Sam raised a brow.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded. “Might be me. Might not be. Yes. No. I don’t know.” Bucky cut himself off, but Sam didn’t respond. Bucky knew this tactic. Silence provides awkwardness. Awkwardness leads to the target providing the answers to the questions you’re asking. The answers provide success. Success provides a less painful experience once you get back to the base, Soldat.

Bucky snapped himself out of his own head. He wasn’t on a HYDRA truck being rented to who knows what evil organization, he was on Sam’s pier in Delacroix. Sam wasn’t manipulating him, Sam was just letting him continue his own damn thought.

Steve had a habit of trying to guess what he was thinking or saying without letting him even finish the sentence or thought. Bucky appreciated the thought, but it got annoying after the first few times he guessed wrong.

“Steve,” Nat had sighed, “let him think.”

He’d appreciated her, too.

“I never really had time to think about it. So…I’m not sure. Everything feels very..new. It’s all different. In a lot of ways.” Bucky finished his thought there. He didn’t feel like describing the different ways he was talking about, and he didn’t have to describe them to Sam, anyway.

“It is.” Sam nodded. “But you’ve got time to navigate it.” You’ve got me to help you, Bucky could identify the underlying meaning behind the words. He smiled. “I know.”

They tapped their beer bottles together before taking a drink at the same time.

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A link to Buckytober:

#sam wilson #Buckytober chaos #sam and bucky #steve and bucky #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #the wilsons

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