Sam had to shoulder past the curtain, the door, and the MPs to get into the hallway. It seemed too big, and the light too blue after the close, quiet treatment room. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that because Steve was coming down the hall. He was in track pants and a windbreaker, his face dark, and creases around his mouth that Sam had never seen before. Sam went to meet him. He needed the momentum right now. Steve didn’t look straight at him, and he wondered for a moment if they were going to collide, if Steve would try to shove past him, but he pulled up at the last second.
“Where’s Bucky,” Steve demanded. Everything about him was nervy, radiating barely-contained energy like he would still be moving if Sam’s body wasn’t blocking the way.
“Listen, man.” Sam kept his voice down and tried to pitch it calm and reassuring to soften the blow for both of them. He wounded a lot fucking calmer than he felt. “Bucky doesn’t want to see anyone right now.” Bucky’s lying in a hospital bed begging me to keep you outside, but he couldn’t think about that right now.
Steve blinked and Sam could see it, could see this sentence getting rearranged, somewhere between Steve’s ears and his brain, so that he was still right.
“He’ll want to see me,” he said, with a conviction that made Sam want to shake him until his teeth rattled. Somehow he had inched forward, by sheer force of fucking will or something, and Sam put a hand on his chest to stop him.
It was the first time he had seen Steve look desperate. Not angry or determined, but looking at Sam like he needed him something unnamed and maybe unknown from him, and Sam wanted to yell that right now, he couldn’t give him shit.
“He’s my best friend,” was all Steve said, like there was nothing else he could say. Sam was getting ready to say that he knew that, but it didn’t mean he was gonna let Steve into that room. Then Steve pivoted to face out the floor-to-ceiling window, feet shoulder-width apart and hands behind his back as if he was surveying a command post. Well, fine. If pretending he was in control was what he needed to do Sam wasn’t going to knock it, especially since Sam felt like he was doing the same thing himself.
“How is Bucky?” Steve asked, as clipped as if he were asking for a sitrep. Well if that was how he needed to play it, fine.
“I think he’s still in shock,” Sam said honestly.
Steve frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him. We both usually bounce back pretty fast.”
“Yeah, well,” said Sam, and cut himself off before he said the next part of what he was thinking. Nothing like massive sexual trauma to show you a new side of somebody.
“Your family’s safe.”
Sam’s hand hit the windowpane with a thump. He could feel his hand against the cold glass and his feet on the floor, but everything else was whirling. He had to breathe. He had to get somewhere stable, somewhere where his head wasn’t spinning one way and his feet another.
Sam used to feel like this all the time, when he first got back. He kept going to the doctor and calling Sarah or his mama right after. He remembered one time, standing on the curb waiting for the bus, and knowing he shouldn’t be yelling into his phone but doing it anyway – “Everyone keeps telling me that I’m crazy and I’m not crazy! I have a brain injury Sarah, I have all the symptoms and they’re not listening to me!” – while his sister tried to get a word in edgewise from the other end.
Steve was saying his name.
“I didn’t even think about them,” Sam admitted. It sounded like a betrayal. “My mama lives in –”
“Everyone’s together.”
“How much do they know?”
“Just that this is only a precaution, and you’re alright. We’re doing the same thing for the other Avengers’ families.” Steve pulled a bit of a face. “Everyone who isn’t already living in a secure location, which most of them are.” Steve didn’t mention how few of them actually had family, and Sam wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Do you think that’s what this was about? People’s families?”
Steve shook his head curtly. “We don’t know. We’re not going to fine out by letting someone get hurt.”
Steve wasn’t leaving and Sam wasn’t leaving him alone, so they ended up in the hallway across from the door, across from the MPs. Sam leaned back against the window, concentrated on how it felt against his back, his arms, his palms, and tried to think about that and his breathing and absolutely nothing else. He was okay. He had to be okay. Shit, what was the treatment-appropriate version of that joke that they used to make? FINE: Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and he couldn’t remember the last one. Yeah, Sam was just FINE right now.
He was fine right up until the sound came from the other side of the door, a high keening noise that didn’t sound like Bucky but couldn’t be anyone else.
Two of the MPs were going through the door by the time Sam had pushed away from the window. He tried to follow them, but another blocked his way.
Sam didn’t remember what the MP said, all he knew was that by the time he realized what was going on he had his own fist up and back, ready to hit, and Steve had shoved himself between them, hands on Sam’s shoulders, pushing him back. Sam felt like the floor was dropping out from under him. Steve was yelling at the MP, the MP was talking back, and somewhere there was a woman shouting, or maybe that was just the noise in his head.
It didn’t take long for Sam to be let in.
Bucky was on his side with his hands cupped over his face.
“What did they do to you?” Sam demanded, as much at Dr Luiz as to Bucky. Luiz ignored him in favor of pointing at the MPs on either side of the door and snapping, “Out, both of you. And don’t come back.”
“But ma’am,” one of them started.
“If I think my patient is going to hurt me,” said Luiz acidly, “I’ll scream for you.”
Sam was beside him now, and Bucky lowered his hands to look up at him, although he didn’t meet Sam’s eyes. He had been crying. “I didn’t want to do the test,” was all he said.
“You have the right to say no,” said Luiz, her tone strained in a way that made Sam think they’d talked about this before. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, or that makes you uncomfortable. And you can take as much time as you need.”
“I want to do the whole thing,” said Bucky thickly, and cupped his hands over his face again. If Sam hadn’t seen his face or didn’t know him so well, he might not know what his steady, hard breaths meant.
Sam put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It was his soft, warm right one. Once Sam had touched it, he couldn’t stop. He let himself rub the long, familiar curve of Bucky’s back, let himself lean over and bring his other hand up to cradle the back of Bucky’s head as he curled into the shadow of Sam’s body. Luiz was moving in the background, making some excuse about going out to check the tox screen results and leaving the two of them together.
“You don’t have to do it,” Sam said quietly as Bucky’s breathing evened out. “We can leave right now if you want to.”
“I want to do it. The whole thing.” Bucky groped out with one hand, the other still shielding his face, and Sam pushed a handful of tissues into it. “I want to get all the evidence we can.”
“You still want the sketch artist?”
“No good.” Bucky kept one hand up as he wiped his face. For Christ’s sake, Sam wanted to yell, you’re ashamed of this? But it didn’t matter what Sam wanted right now, it didn’t – “I didn’t see enough. Most of the evidence is – in me.”
When Dr Luiz came back, she announced herself with a quiet knock and, “It’s Rebecca.”
“What,” Bucky asked, straightening his face as he looked up, “No MPs?”
Everyone paused for a moment. Sam didn’t know what was going through her mind but for him, it was the sudden realization that this might be the longest he and Bucky had gone without picking a fight or making a joke.
Luis smiled, although somewhat tightly. “I told them to leave, again. I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me.”
Re: No Saltwater Lake (6/?)
“Where’s Bucky,” Steve demanded. Everything about him was nervy, radiating barely-contained energy like he would still be moving if Sam’s body wasn’t blocking the way.
“Listen, man.” Sam kept his voice down and tried to pitch it calm and reassuring to soften the blow for both of them. He wounded a lot fucking calmer than he felt. “Bucky doesn’t want to see anyone right now.” Bucky’s lying in a hospital bed begging me to keep you outside, but he couldn’t think about that right now.
Steve blinked and Sam could see it, could see this sentence getting rearranged, somewhere between Steve’s ears and his brain, so that he was still right.
“He’ll want to see me,” he said, with a conviction that made Sam want to shake him until his teeth rattled. Somehow he had inched forward, by sheer force of fucking will or something, and Sam put a hand on his chest to stop him.
It was the first time he had seen Steve look desperate. Not angry or determined, but looking at Sam like he needed him something unnamed and maybe unknown from him, and Sam wanted to yell that right now, he couldn’t give him shit.
“He’s my best friend,” was all Steve said, like there was nothing else he could say. Sam was getting ready to say that he knew that, but it didn’t mean he was gonna let Steve into that room. Then Steve pivoted to face out the floor-to-ceiling window, feet shoulder-width apart and hands behind his back as if he was surveying a command post. Well, fine. If pretending he was in control was what he needed to do Sam wasn’t going to knock it, especially since Sam felt like he was doing the same thing himself.
“How is Bucky?” Steve asked, as clipped as if he were asking for a sitrep. Well if that was how he needed to play it, fine.
“I think he’s still in shock,” Sam said honestly.
Steve frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him. We both usually bounce back pretty fast.”
“Yeah, well,” said Sam, and cut himself off before he said the next part of what he was thinking. Nothing like massive sexual trauma to show you a new side of somebody.
“Your family’s safe.”
Sam’s hand hit the windowpane with a thump. He could feel his hand against the cold glass and his feet on the floor, but everything else was whirling. He had to breathe. He had to get somewhere stable, somewhere where his head wasn’t spinning one way and his feet another.
Sam used to feel like this all the time, when he first got back. He kept going to the doctor and calling Sarah or his mama right after. He remembered one time, standing on the curb waiting for the bus, and knowing he shouldn’t be yelling into his phone but doing it anyway – “Everyone keeps telling me that I’m crazy and I’m not crazy! I have a brain injury Sarah, I have all the symptoms and they’re not listening to me!” – while his sister tried to get a word in edgewise from the other end.
Steve was saying his name.
“I didn’t even think about them,” Sam admitted. It sounded like a betrayal. “My mama lives in –”
“Everyone’s together.”
“How much do they know?”
“Just that this is only a precaution, and you’re alright. We’re doing the same thing for the other Avengers’ families.” Steve pulled a bit of a face. “Everyone who isn’t already living in a secure location, which most of them are.” Steve didn’t mention how few of them actually had family, and Sam wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Do you think that’s what this was about? People’s families?”
Steve shook his head curtly. “We don’t know. We’re not going to fine out by letting someone get hurt.”
Steve wasn’t leaving and Sam wasn’t leaving him alone, so they ended up in the hallway across from the door, across from the MPs. Sam leaned back against the window, concentrated on how it felt against his back, his arms, his palms, and tried to think about that and his breathing and absolutely nothing else. He was okay. He had to be okay. Shit, what was the treatment-appropriate version of that joke that they used to make? FINE: Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and he couldn’t remember the last one. Yeah, Sam was just FINE right now.
He was fine right up until the sound came from the other side of the door, a high keening noise that didn’t sound like Bucky but couldn’t be anyone else.
Two of the MPs were going through the door by the time Sam had pushed away from the window. He tried to follow them, but another blocked his way.
Sam didn’t remember what the MP said, all he knew was that by the time he realized what was going on he had his own fist up and back, ready to hit, and Steve had shoved himself between them, hands on Sam’s shoulders, pushing him back. Sam felt like the floor was dropping out from under him. Steve was yelling at the MP, the MP was talking back, and somewhere there was a woman shouting, or maybe that was just the noise in his head.
It didn’t take long for Sam to be let in.
Bucky was on his side with his hands cupped over his face.
“What did they do to you?” Sam demanded, as much at Dr Luiz as to Bucky. Luiz ignored him in favor of pointing at the MPs on either side of the door and snapping, “Out, both of you. And don’t come back.”
“But ma’am,” one of them started.
“If I think my patient is going to hurt me,” said Luiz acidly, “I’ll scream for you.”
Sam was beside him now, and Bucky lowered his hands to look up at him, although he didn’t meet Sam’s eyes. He had been crying. “I didn’t want to do the test,” was all he said.
“You have the right to say no,” said Luiz, her tone strained in a way that made Sam think they’d talked about this before. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, or that makes you uncomfortable. And you can take as much time as you need.”
“I want to do the whole thing,” said Bucky thickly, and cupped his hands over his face again. If Sam hadn’t seen his face or didn’t know him so well, he might not know what his steady, hard breaths meant.
Sam put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It was his soft, warm right one. Once Sam had touched it, he couldn’t stop. He let himself rub the long, familiar curve of Bucky’s back, let himself lean over and bring his other hand up to cradle the back of Bucky’s head as he curled into the shadow of Sam’s body. Luiz was moving in the background, making some excuse about going out to check the tox screen results and leaving the two of them together.
“You don’t have to do it,” Sam said quietly as Bucky’s breathing evened out. “We can leave right now if you want to.”
“I want to do it. The whole thing.” Bucky groped out with one hand, the other still shielding his face, and Sam pushed a handful of tissues into it. “I want to get all the evidence we can.”
“You still want the sketch artist?”
“No good.” Bucky kept one hand up as he wiped his face. For Christ’s sake, Sam wanted to yell, you’re ashamed of this? But it didn’t matter what Sam wanted right now, it didn’t – “I didn’t see enough. Most of the evidence is – in me.”
When Dr Luiz came back, she announced herself with a quiet knock and, “It’s Rebecca.”
“What,” Bucky asked, straightening his face as he looked up, “No MPs?”
Everyone paused for a moment. Sam didn’t know what was going through her mind but for him, it was the sudden realization that this might be the longest he and Bucky had gone without picking a fight or making a joke.
Luis smiled, although somewhat tightly. “I told them to leave, again. I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me.”
“I’m ready to do it again.”