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Take that back

Summary:

“He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. The anger he felt disappeared almost instantaneously and was replaced with double amounts of guilt and self loathing. Sam, in his normal fashion, put on a mask of indifference and glared at him with stone cold eyes.“

Or, Sam and Bucky argue

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“And in the future, I don’t want to hear that kind of nonsense over the comms. Are we clear?” Steve ordered.

 

There were several mumbled agreements throughout the room. This was usually how it went during these mission debriefs - blindly agree with Cap’s criticisms until everyone could stumble their way back to their floors in the tower and face the no doubt mile high stack of paperwork they need to fill out.

 

Bucky didn’t say anything. He just kept his head down and tried to ignore Sam’s glare burning a hole through the side of his head.

 

Sam had a reason to be livid with him. In Bucky’s defence, all he had been trying to do (as he normally tries to do) was keep Sam safe. It isn’t his favourite thing that boyfriend throws himself into danger’s path for the sake of keeping earth safe. Who’s going to keep Sam safe?

 

They were fighting some evil guy not from earth as usual. Bucky, still new to his title as avenger, was trying twice as hard to keep these evil creatures the alien had summoned away from Sam. His left wing had suffered damage after the alien leader blasted him with some sort of laser beam, and he was doing his best to fight from the ground. Tony was in the air, shouting sarcastic comments through the comms while Steve yelled at him.

 

Just as Bucky shot a bullet through an alien’s grotesque skull, a large, fleshy alien hand (tail? foot? Something gross looking) reached out and snatched what was left of Sam’s falcon wings. Sam’s yell was cut off as he was tossed into the air, and landed somewhere behind a car, just beyond where Bucky could see.

 

Feeling panic grip his stomach and crawl ominously up his chest, Bucky effortlessly shot the alien who threw Sam. He leaned over the alien’s corpse, seething with resentment and a protective urge, and shot it one, two, three extra times.

 

That’s a waste of bullets, part of him chimed, but he couldn’t find it in him to give a shit.

 

Panic took over where anger once sat in him. Bucky took off running to where he saw Sam fall like a rag doll, and tried to ignore how he hadn’t felt this much of a protective urge over someone since Steve’s mom died in the thirties, and he realised he was, in his own mind, solely responsible for a person that was not him.

 

When he finally, finally , reached where Sam lay groaning, he vaulted over the car Sam lay behind and crouched down beside him. He placed a gentle hand on Sam’s back, willing his voice to stay steady as he carefully scanned his eyes over Sam’s body for injuries.

 

“Hey,” he said, comfortingly as he could manage, in a tone an adult would give an upset child. “How you holdin’ up?”

 

Sam huffed, somewhere between a sound of pain and a laugh. “Still alive, barely.”

 

Sam gave a reassuring grin up at Bucky, but it was strained and didn’t look like how he intended it to, and ended up being a grimace as he tried to lift his head up to show he was okay. Sam’s words and his obvious pain didn’t help Bucky’s panic, which was barely contained and seemed to be pounding in his chest along with his heart.

 

Somewhere, in the not too far distance, an explosion went off. Sam flinched and Bucky ducked down further, almost curling around Sam, making it so that his crouched position allowed his back to be facing in the direction of the sound of the explosion and consequently shielding Sam from any fallout.

 

A couple seconds later, when none came, Bucky straightened out slightly but made it so that he was still crouched in front of his hurt boyfriend. Sam, who had noticed his protectiveness (and who famously didn’t like being babied), immediately tried to get up.

 

“Don’t,” Bucky ordered, calm and commanding.

 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Buck,” Sam told him with a harsh tone. “I’m an avenger, like you are. And I’m fine . These weird alien fuckers aren’t going to get rid of themselves.”

 

“You are most certainly not fine,” Bucky argued. “You’re just- god, look at you, Sam!” He cried as Sam started to get up again, pain clear on his bruised face.

 

“I’m just bruised, Bucky. I’ve had worse and still continued fighting.”

 

“I seriously doubt your wings were broken then. Your specialty is fighting in the air, not on the ground with broken equipment.”

 

“I am not arguing with you-“

 

“That’s right, you’re not. You’re staying here.”

 

“Since when can you tell me what to do!?”

 

“Since you decided putting yourself in danger was a reasonable idea! God, Sam! What the hell were you thinking? You fight in the air or not at all - that is your purpose on this team. For once in your fucking life, listen to me, and don’t go putting other people at risk so you can feel important!”

 

He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. The anger he felt disappeared almost instantaneously and was replaced with double amounts of guilt and self loathing, the second he saw hurt flash across Sam’s face. Sam, in his normal fashion, put on a mask of indifference and glared at him with stone cold eyes.

 

Just as Bucky was about to open his mouth to let out a string of apologies, Steve spoke through the comms and announced that the mission was over, the alien leader or whatever the fuck had retreated, and everyone was to report back at stark tower.

 

With a face like thunder, Sam stood up from where he was sat across from Bucky’s regretful face, turned on his heel and walked away.

 

“Buck.”

 

Bucky looked up from where he’d dazed off, and realised that Steve was looking at him concerned.

 

“You okay?” Steve probed.

 

Bucky glanced to his right, locking eyes with Sam for just a second, and immediately looking away back to his feet.

 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

 

Steve, reading the tension in the room and flitting his eyes between Sam and Bucky, quickly cleared his throat. “Dismissed,” he ordered, quickly deciding he didn’t want to be in the middle of a lovers quarrel.

 

Tony, who had needed to pee the whole meeting, quickly darted out of the room, frankly not caring enough about Sam or Bucky’s argument that was brewing more than his bladder situation. Natasha elbowed Clint next to her, rousing him out of his nap that he had decided to take during the meeting (seriously, why does this guy even show up?)

 

Once the room had cleared out - and Steve had thrown a concerned glance over his shoulder at his friend - Sam and Bucky were left alone. Bucky stood tensed, arms folded and and gaze at the floor, his dark hair covering his guilty eyes. Sam stood to his right, barely containing his anger that stemmed from hurt, his fists clenched at his sides.

 

Neither of them spoke for a while. Bucky couldn’t decide whether Sam was collecting his thoughts on what to say, or whether he was expecting Bucky to speak.

It didn’t matter, because Bucky was speaking first.

 

“Sam I’m sorry,” he blurted.

 

“Yeah you fucking better be,” Sam spat. Bucky flinched at his tone, and Sam - even though he knew on god that Bucky didn’t deserve it - softened his tone. “Bucky, what the hell was that?”

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky spluttered, and it was the truth, because he honestly didn’t. “I just- I was so goddamn worried about you, doll. I felt like I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe-“

 

“Oh, and so that’s an excuse to say that kind of thing to me?”

 

No, it wasn’t. Because Bucky knew better. Bucky remembered the hours that the two had stayed up, arms and legs wrapped around each other, talking about everything and nothing, and how during that Sam had opened up about his insecurities and doubts of himself. His fears over not living up to everyone else on the team’s standards - and how he was worried about not being valued beyond his superhero persona.

 

Bucky had held him close, kissed him all over, and reassured him of his importance on the team. He told him that Sam Wilson was just as important to the team as the Falcon, and, to Bucky, Sam Wilson was the best.

 

“You fight in the air or not at all - that is your purpose”

 

Sam had looked up at him, brown eyes shining, looking like he had placed all of the trust he could have possibly possessed into the veteran in front of him.

 

“Putting other people at risk so you can feel important!”

 

And Bucky had just completely shattered it.

 

It felt like he had been stabbed. Actually, no, being stabbed was better than this. He’d heal from stab wounds. Bucky had learned long ago that emotional wounds are worse than physical ones.

 

Bucky whirled around to look at Sam, catching a vulnerable look on his face until Sam once again put up his walls of indifference. Bucky’s arms fell to his sides as his brain struggled to process what it was feeling.

 

“Sam, Sam, honey,” he eventually got out. “I am so- I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I- I don’t know why I-“

 

Bucky cut himself off. Sam was surprised, having never seen Bucky so uncharacteristically emotionally flailing before. Not surprised enough to speak up, however.

 

Are you?” Sam questioned, his voice rawer than before but still angry. “You promised me, you looked me in eye and promised me, weeks ago, that you didn’t believe in what you told me today. And here we are.”

 

“I don’t know why I said it. I honestly, swear to god don’t, Sam,” Bucky insisted. “You’re irreplaceable on this team and that’s the truth. Hell, I don’t even trust Steve enough to watch my back as much as I trust you.”

 

Sam stared at him for a minute, seeming to genuinely think about what he said. He eventually shook his head and broke eye contact, muttering a short “I don’t believe you.”

 

“Sam, you- I’m- you’ve gotta believe me,” Bucky stuttered, feeling hopeless.

 

“Why?” Sam looked up at him, his voice thick with emotion and his face just so, so sad .

 

“I can’t have you not believing me, ‘cause I don’t think I could live with myself if you though as bad of me as I do right now.”

 

“Bucky, if I-“

 

“I love you.”

 

Sam broke off what he was saying with gasp. They’d been dating for three months, and the word love had been tossed around playfully, but never admitted so seriously or sincerely. Bucky was looking at him, looking so very sincere, his eyes starting to fill up with tears.

 

“I do. I love you,” Bucky reiterated. “More than anything. So you need to believe me. Because these things I said? They ain’t true. And they ain’t what I think about you. The truth is, doll, is that I’m not a good person. I’ve done horrible, terrible things that I wish you didn’t know about. And honestly, Sam, I think you deserve so much better than I could ever give you. I could never think anything bad of you. That’s why I don’t believe what I said - because to me you’re absolutely perfect. There isn’t anyone better on the team in my eyes, because there isn’t anyone better than you out there. I love you. I love you so much .”

 

Bucky was crying at this point. A raw, rare display of emotion he hadn’t shown anyone since as long as he can remember. Sam’s eyes weren’t dry either, his heart swelling at the man in front of him.

 

Of course, they both knew that there would need to be conversations on this argument as a later date. Issues still needed to be resolved regarding self esteem and anger management. But, for now, when Bucky needed it, Sam was there for him.

 

So Sam stepped tentatively forward, no longer angry, and reached out for Bucky. He took Bucky’s face in his hands and wiped away the tears from his cheeks giving him a small smile. He then moved one of his hands to the back of Bucky’s head and pulled his face into his shoulder and wrapped his other hand around Bucky’s back. He placed a kiss into Bucky’s hair as he held him, Bucky leaning into his embrace and putting his arms hesitantly around him, still scared of rejection.

 

“I love you too, Buck.”

 

And Bucky positively melted .

Notes:

Please be kind! This is my first fic in 4 years lmao.