Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a nice day. Every day was a nice day recently. Bucky couldn't stop his paranoia from clouding his mind sometimes, so he was starting to get suspicious. This felt too much like the calm before a storm. Like, every day it was sunny, the air clear and calming, everyone got along and helped each other unconditionally. Everyone around Bucky was so nice and carefree it rubbed off on him; he was starting to get more open, more trusting, more...happy.

Even Sam was around a lot despite his new heavy burden as Captain America. No terrorist attacks, no secret missions? Nothing with "The Big Three"? This was bugging Bucky the most. He was definitely entitled to feel on edge and suspicious of…all this!

It didn't take too long for him to be proven right.

So, yes, it was a nice day, no different from the others when the weird ache in Bucky's chest started. He kept rubbing his chest every few minutes to ease it but it didn't seem to work –and, it was weird in two ways: a)Bucky had never experienced something like it before, b)he's a super soldier he isn't supposed to catch a cold or that kind of shit!

He kept ignoring it; if it was an illness it would go away soon anyway. He really, really did try to be optimistic. But then the coughs started.

His first thought was what the hell, and his second thought was –actually no, there wasn't a single coherent thought; he was hyperventilating about every bad possible scenario. There was no way he was sick! He was a hundred years old and he couldn't remember the last time he got sick! It was probably in the goddamn forties…

First thing he did after the first few coughs –which proved it wasn't just a reaction to whatever that could be in the air- he excused himself and ran to the bathroom. Everyone was busy doing their own thing so no one paid him any mind (Bucky tried not to think too deep about that.) when he got there and locked the door, he was already clutching at his chest, in shock and pain. He leaned against the door and shut his eyes, to think, to will the panic away.

He tried to reason with himself…'cause probably whatever caused this wasn't actually worth panicking over. So he took deep breathes in between his heavy coughs; willing his rational self to take over. He opened his eyes again, looking at his own flushed face in the mirror. He held the rim of the sink tightly and bent over it, knuckles turning white. He didn't know what the hell was going on yet, but he was a bit calmer.

But then. Then one strong cough hit him, filling his mouth with the taste of blood and… flowers?

He sealed his lips shut to stop himself from gagging all over the sink. He kneeled beside the toilet and spat in it, still coughing, and felt something solid hit the back of his throat. After spitting everything out of his mouth he finally opened his teary eyes to see what the hell that was. When he saw the pinked water with flower petals floating on it he uttered a quiet "ah,"

He'd had buddies with this disease in the past. He even lost a person close to him once. He recognized it easily: it was love. He had many acquaintances when he was Sergeant James Barnes, so he knew how this curse worked by seeing men cough up beautiful flowers because of beautiful women who couldn't love them back.

He sat on his ass and pensively stared at the blue and white petals for a few minutes. Now that he finally knew what was going on the confusion was gone, but that didn't mean he was feeling any better. This raised even more questions, in fact. He'd never met any other super soldiers with Hanahaki Disease for god's sake! He didn't know how it worked for them. Would it kill him, just more slowly than it would an average human? Would it never be able to beat his body, and he'll have to live with the disease forever?

He frowned and stood up after flushing the toilet, unable to look at it anymore. The question of "who?" didn't even need to be asked, it was obvious. There was only one person in his life important enough to give him Hanahaki.

He grumbled before splashing cold water on his face. He immediately searched the box beside the mirror to look for a mouth wash; the taste of blood and flower was driving him mad already. The thought of having to live with that for at least a while made his hand halt for a moment on its way to his mouth. He sighed deeply and cleansed his mouth. Now was not the time to ponder on that. Not in the light of the day when anyone could see him, or notice his mood.

So he composed himself, dried his face and hands, ran his hands through his hair just in case it had gotten messy, then went out…but not before plastering a (hopefully) convincing smile on his face.

Sam frowned upon seeing him which didn't help with his sour mood.

"Why in heaven did your bathroom break take that long, man?" he asked.

"Well, sorry, next time I'm about to take a massive shit I'll let you know first." Bucky snapped back, going into defensive mood instantly.

Sam scoffed at him but didn't push any farther. "Watch it, Barnes, there are kids around here. Don't teach them anything nasty or their moms'll kick your ass."

Bucky rolled his eyes but chuckled. He determinedly ignored his painful throat and went about his day, deciding he'd make a lame-ass excuse and leave early. He couldn't risk hanging around the Wilsons too long since they could catch him throwing up flowers.

He felt a painful pang in his heart. He really had to stop hanging out with them, huh? With the people who made him feel like he belonged in this stranger world; just because the cruel universe decided to out him by giving him an incurable disease.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath. Compose yourself Barnes, you'll have time to break down later tonight when you're alone, he chided himself.

When he opened his eyes, he was okay and smiling again.

❄️❄️❄️

The alone time he was anticipating finally came, but Bucky only felt numb. He laid down on the hotel bed he was staying in for the night and stared at the dark. He didn't feel like crying, he didn't feel like screaming –yet. He could only think about the fact that he was dying. Before breaking down completely, he thought of looking it up; it was 21^st century after all, there could have been a cure he was unaware of. But no, nothing. It was still the same: either your loved one loves you back and shows it to you explicitly, or you die.

So finally he was dying. He should've been happy. Why wasn't he?

Every time Bucky closed his eyes he could see Sam's face smiling at him. That was it. That was why accepting his death wasn't easy for him: he had a reason to live for.

Despite being bitchy to each other it was clear to both of them how much they cared about one another. It was just sticking to the old routine of bickering and snapping at each other was comforting, it felt familiar, and none of them took it to heart so there was no real harm in it.

But his reason to live, his best friend, and…goddammit, the love of his life, only loved him as a friend. This wasn't enough to defeat the Hanahaki. Power of friendship couldn't cure him.

Bucky blinked at the ceiling, feeling the tears finally coming. He kept blinking to maybe stop them from spilling. The fat droplets stuck to his thick eyelashes, his rapid blinking smeared the wetness over his cheeks. He gave up trying to stop the tears eventually; there was no one here to see him anyway.

The pain was too much (he wasn't really used to pain, but right now his body couldn't beat what it was against, instead it beat the painkillers fast. So they didn't do him any good. He was stuck feeling every bit of it.) He could feel the thorn tearing at his throat and lungs, petals drawing blood on their way out. Maybe some of those tears falling from his eyes were because of the physical pain as well.

He honestly couldn't tell which was worse, leaving Sam so soon, or the pain of his lungs being ripped from the inside out.

If the blood spilling out from the corner of his mouth stained the pillowcase, that was for the hotel staff to worry about.

Bucky was not exactly asleep, no, he was floating somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, completely aware of the agonizing pain in his throat but not fully awake. And that was why he didn't totally panic when his phone started ringing. His heavy eyelids fluttered before he was slowly pulled back into the real world. He looked around the room; from the blue light coming through the window he could tell it was early morning.

"'ello?" he answered groggily, his own voice making him cringe. All the coughing and crying had made his voice hoarse and his throat sore.

Gosh he needed water so bad.

"Hi Buck," Sam said from the other end, sounding uncertain about Bucky's mood. "Just called to let you know I'm going on a mission."

"Oh?" Bucky replied distractedly, looking for a bottle of water in the small fridge.

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna be away for a while so, just thought I'd let you know."

After chugging down half of the bottle Bucky finally felt like he could actually carry on the conversation with Sam. "Alright. Need my help with anything?"

"Nah. I think I can handle it on my own."

"Okay." He didn't know what else to say. Too many different emotions were stirring inside of his damned skull; he was incapable of making sense of any of them, not yet. But for the moment, he felt like he was being too cold so he quickly added "take care. Don't get your ass beaten."

"Thanks for the concern, buddy." Sam scoffed. "See you when I see you."

"See you."

And then they hung up.

Pain, anguish, loss, fear, wariness, loneliness, helplessness, relief.

He didn't have to pointedly ignore Sam for now, because Sam was gone already, Bucky thought. Yeah, that's why he felt relieved. But Bucky liked the rest of the Wilsons, and their other friends; he stuck around even when Sam was away doing his hero duties. So he knew Sam was gonna notice Bucky was avoiding them, so Bucky had to come up with an excuse.

That was a problem for another day. He shrugged and flopped down on the bed again. But immediately a coughing fit made him sit up again. He coughed and coughed until his mouth filled with flower petals, he had to let them fall on his palm. He inhaled sharply, looking at the petals in his hand and, oh –blue, white, and with the small red bloodstains covering them, they reminded him of the American flag. He chuckled bitterly. Of course they did. They also looked so soft and innocent; you'd look at them and deem them unable to hurt anyone. But here they were, killing Bucky bit by bit.

What atrocious thoughts. He sniffed before throwing them in the trashcan.

He had lost the sense of time. The room became dark, then light again, telling him whether it was day or night. That was the only thing he knew. His phone was on silent, so he was unaware of any calls or texts he might have received. That was good though, he didn't have the energy or stability for any human communication.

He felt dizzy as fuck. He had been throwing up blood without eating anything, only water. He was stronger than that, so he knew it was impossible for him to starve in just a couple of days. But he did eat more than an average person, usually. So now his body was begging for him to eat some food. At the same time, thinking of eating anything made him flinch and feel nauseous. His throat hadn't healed yet, so swallowing anything got to be painful.

He turned his head in time to see his phone screen light up with a text. He lazily reached for it, blinking a few times to see clearly. He had been napping a little again.

It was a text from Sarah, saying 'hey Bucky. You haven't been answering any of our calls. I just wanted you to know Sam called, he asked me to tell you he's ok and he'll be back in no time. In case you were worried…anyway, hope you're doing ok too!'

Oh. Right. He forgot to be worried about Sam. A little occupied with the incurable disease eating away at him to think of anything else, really. But he believed in Sam, he probably wouldn't have been worried…not too much anyway.

He didn't reply.

He got up when his stomach kept growling, but he hated the idea of going out to get anything –fuck, shit, he was probably brain dead or something because he forgot he could just call and order food to be delivered to his room.

He started trying to come up with food he could eat without hurting himself more. Soup, soup was a good idea. Also any kind of beverage was fine too. And uh…that was it. So he ordered just that. Good thing his conversing skills weren't that off, he did it with not much trouble.

Bucky didn't allow the servant (is that what they're called these days) to even see him…he knew for a fact that he looked like crap. But she said something like "I'm glad you're okay sir, we haven't seen you leave your room since you arrived!" anyway. Hell, she was right. He was kinda shocked they didn't come to knock on his door sooner.

He ate his soup and coffee with bread (dipped it first, to soften it); even though he didn't exactly feel full, he wasn't starving either, which was good enough for now.

Bucky really felt drained –in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He didn't remember the last time he was in love, which probably meant it didn't even matter. Loving Sam was very nice –at least, it was supposed to be, and it was at first. It was all happy fluttering in his stomach and a swooning heart, all starry eyes and longing looks exchanged.  He wished it could stay that way. Sam's love was pure, it was selfless and it was hard earned. It deserved to be respected, and wanted, and appreciated. But the damned Hanahaki –it was literally ruining it for him. He wanted to feel happy when he thought about Sam, not sad. He wanted to smile at the thought of him, not…not to trigger his disease and cough until he's passed out.

He silently cursed Hanahaki, and whatever deity who was behind it.

❄️❄️❄️

Bucky received a, somewhat angry, text from Sam informing him he was back in Delacroix, mission taken care of, and if he wanted to keep his ass un-kicked, then he should go meet him ASAP.

Bucky wasn't sure what to feel, he was giggling for no reason but he also felt a bit guilty for giving Sam the silent treatment for a crime he didn't commit. I mean, to be fair, it was a bit Sam's fault. If he wasn't so kind, so supportive, so brave and so fucking attractive, Bucky wouldn't have fallen in love with him. So yeah, dammit Sammy! (And, not to make it dark and all, but it was his fault for not loving Bucky back as well.)

After going through all the texts he'd gotten during his "isolation", he decided he wanted to keep his ass un-kicked. Smiling, he got up and went into the shower. He needed to clean up, and shave (the only cleaning up he'd done in this hotel room was brushing his teeth to wash away the taste of blood and flower.) after taking a shower, he stood by the mirror to shave; looking at his own face was a little scary. He had dark eye bags, a messy beard and longer-than-usual hair. He didn't like this look on himself, especially the buried memories it brought to the surface. He got to work pensively.

There wasn't much he could do to, uh, not look appalling. He wore clean clothes, brushed his hair, and ate some food (to not look pale, didn't work very much) before getting on the way to Delacroix. But he was sure Sam would take one look at him and notice something was off in a millisecond. Meh, let him assume, Bucky thought and shrugged to himself.

When he arrived, the sun was still shining up ahead, and the Wilson family were out hanging around with a few of their neighbors. The sight made him nervous. He tried to smile before approaching but he knew it looked off.

Bucky was perfect at controlling his facial expressions, his composure was flawless, in fact. When he was the Winter Soldier, he wasn't exactly allowed to show emotions, not that he had them anyway. He was less than a robot, so his face was blank all the time. (Hell, he kept a straight face when Sam was forced to down that disgusting snake gut drink.) And that was the problem: when he tried not to let his emotions show, he put on a blank face –that was what he was doing when he stared like he was in a staring contest, he was composing himself. So right now, he could only be blank faced. If he let anything show, his inner pain would be out for Sam to see, and if he tried to smile, it would look forced and fake as fuck.

He decided the blank face was safer before finally taking those last few steps towards the Wilsons.

They all went quiet.

Jesus. Holy mother fucking son of-

"Well, well, well," Sam drawled when he spotted Bucky and stood up to meet him halfway.

"Hi, Sammy," Bucky said, hating the way his voice broke. God, his throat was taking too damn long to heal (why the hell was that goddamn super soldier superfast healing taking so long?)

"Where the fuck have you been, Buck?" Sam scowled, but his tone didn't make Bucky uncomfortable at all.

"I was just chilling in a hotel." Bucky blurted before he could really think about an answer.

"Why didn't you answer any of us? Me, Sarah, hell even the boys tried to contact you. You ignored all of us because…?"

"Yeah, that was a part of the chilling." Bucky replied, voice full of sarcasm. "You know, relaxing, away from everyone for a while with no one bothering me…"

He was bullshitting and he was sure it was obvious as-

"Huh," Sam frowned thoughtfully. He turned to give his sister a look before asking Bucky, "is that something introverts need to do? Like, taking some time away from social life to recharge, or whatever?"

Bucky raised an amused eyebrow. Holy shit, it actually worked! He saw Sarah shrug and make a "mm-mmm" sound to show she had no idea.

"Yes," Bucky said simply.

Sam's frown got deeper. "You've never needed to do that before,"

Bucky only stared. He took another look at the others, saw all of them trying to pretend they weren't listening and it wasn't awkward at all. He switched his look back to Sam's face and sniffed before answering.

"Well that's probably why I needed it so badly at this point,"

For a few long seconds, Sam just looked at him. His warm brown eyes trying hard to read Bucky, to see Bucky's true feelings, trying to decide if he should be worried. Bucky was getting a bit warm under his gaze, but that was the least of his problems. It was triggering his disease; he could feel a coughing fit building up. He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, carefully keeping his expression neutral.

"Come with me," Sam said before grabbing Bucky's right arm and dragging him towards an empty spot by the beach, to talk in privacy.

When they were finally alone, Sam sat down on the grass while keeping his eyes on the horizon. Even though, Bucky got the message and joined him on the ground, putting a little bit more distance between them than usual. He took a look at Sam, who was glowing like an angel under the golden sun. Oh, his chest hurt, so much affection made him start coughing.

No petals came, thank goodness.

Sam looked at him then, breaking the silence, "so you were trying to relax?"

"ye-yeah," Bucky suppressed his coughs long enough to speak.

Sam crossed his legs. "You don't look well-rested to me," he locked eyes with Bucky, his were wary and concerned. "In fact, you look more worn out if anything."

Bucky started to panic internally. You saw this coming, Bucky! Keep it together! He told himself, taking a deep breath while staring at the ground to avoid looking straight at Sam's eyes. He coughed into his fist again, cleared his throat and got ready to talk but before he could reply Sam spoke up again.

"Are you-are you sick?!" he asked, turning completely to look at Bucky thoroughly. Bucky lifted his gaze and was faced with a worried expression that he desperately wanted to kiss away. He scoffed instead.

"In case you forgot: I'm a super soldier. I don't get sick." He tried to sound sarcastic and mocking, and he probably succeeded, but he was aware how washed out his face looked so he couldn't blame Sam for not buying it.

"So what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Sam," coughing was draining all his patience; he was already starting to get exasperated.

"Then what is it, hm? I do see you coughing." His gaze didn't waver even though Bucky pointedly avoided looking at him directly.

Bucky sighed, stretching his legs forward. "Probably something in the air…or maybe an illness my body hasn't healed yet –I don't know."

The silence between them stretched for such a long time Bucky had no other choice but to look up at Sam. What he saw made his heart pang; the look on Sam's face was absolute hurt. Bucky genuinely didn't understand why…

Oh. Oh no.

"Sam, it's not-" before he could finish that sentence he coughed again.

"It's not what."

"Tell me-" fuck he really missed being able to talk with no interruption. "Tell me what you were thinking just now."

"You're ditching me."

"Sam, that doesn't make sense."

"There's no other explanation!"

"Don't be stupid."

He wanted to rip his own lungs out at this point. He couldn't explain shit!

"You-" Sam paused, he sighed before saying in a hushed voice "you wanted to move in with me until a few days ago."

"I did. I still do!" Bucky dragged himself closer to Sam, finally as close as they always sat next to each other. He touched Sam's shoulder with his metal hand, his thumb slowly circling on the skin of his neck. "I do need to get my stuff ready before doing that, you know. I should be coming and going."

"Okay." Sam accepted his explanation with a tiny smile. Bucky was so delighted to see it back on Sam's face he was worried for a second he would throw up a huge flower right that instance. "Don't do that again."

"Do what?" Bucky asked innocently, still enjoying the smooth feeling of Sam's skin.

"Ignoring me like that," Sam frowned at him. "I was worried."

"Don't be. I'm always okay." He lied. "And I promise I'll try my best not to let my inner grumpy old introvert take control again." He lied again.

But Sam laughed. That was all he wanted and all that mattered for now.

❄️❄️❄️

Bucky shouldn't have made that promise; he knew clear as crystal that he couldn't possibly live in the same house with Sam. He would die within the first week, literally. He could feel it, the closer he was to Sam the more he coughed. By the time he got home he had thrown up a dozen flowers (it's not like he counted the petals. It just seemed too much.)

He was tired and achy and grumpy and he felt like he could just sleep forever. Maybe die right now, so he wouldn't have to wait for the Hanahaki to do the job. But every time he thought of…that, he also thought of Sam, and the fact that he got so worried about Bucky when he wasn't answering his phone…he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if something as extreme as death happened to him. He was literally only holding on for Sam.

And right now, Sam expected him to pack up and get ready to move in with him. Somewhere in DC, for Sam to be able to do his Captain Duties easier.

Bucky scoffed to himself and looked around his apartment. He didn't own many belongings, only some clothes that he could fit in his backpack.

He sighed after looking around his apartment for a few moments, sat down on the floor and clutched at his hair, just focusing on his breathing. He was familiar with this feeling, if he kept pondering on everything that had happened in the past week he was going to panic. He clenched his jaw until his teeth were creaking, shut his eyes tight and just kept breathing. This was proving to be more difficult with the plants rooting inside his lungs. Despite that, he was able to stay calm and keep the panic attack at bay.

After a while, without even moving from that spot, he fell asleep.

When he snapped awake in the middle of the night –typical- it took him a moment to figure out what had woken him. He could swear it wasn't a nightmare, he didn't remember what it was about –and he always remembered. His heavy breathing and panting ended his wandering. Of course, his lungs couldn't get him enough air. That's why he was woken up so violently. He coughed a few times in hopes of clearing his airways but it didn't work that much.

"Fuck! Fuck, please stop… please end…please… I-I can't anymore…" he cried between coughing up petals all over the floor, grabbing at his throat. He shouldn't be crying, it makes his nose run, and obviously making it even harder to breathe. "Stop stop STOP!! STOP IT! GO AWAY!"

Who was he begging? No one was listening to him. He was suffering alone. Not even one of those people he had come to care about were there to hold him through it, or end his misery somehow. (A rational part of his mind knew it wasn't fair, he had brought this on himself, they couldn’t possibly do anything about his disease, but he didn't care at that moment. All he could feel was pain, too much of it.)

He picked up and threw the first thing he could reach. It hit the wall and shattered, it was strangely satisfying. In just a moment he found himself thrashing his entire house. Was he screaming? He thought he might be screaming, he couldn't be sure because of the ringing in his ear and the ache in his head –but he could feel a burn is throat, and the blood gushing out of his mouth was another clue.

The chair was in pieces, the sofa was ripped apart, there was a hole in his TV, and any décor or dish from within his reach was broken. There were probably cracks in the walls. He didn't care he couldn't care. All he knew was rage and helplessness, he'd never felt so weak. It was disgusting him, how hopeless and desperate he was.

He was panting now, hunched on the floor, still not tired; it takes more than wrecked furniture to worn him out. Shudders and shivers were shaking his whole body, he felt like the source of all this pain he was feeling in his whole being was his heart. His exhaustion was a totally different type; he had more experience with this, though. He knew all the ways he had wished everything could just…end.

He whipped his head up, staring at the window. But before he could get his thoughts in order, his phone was ringing.

Wait, what?

He jumped. My phone is ringing, he thought with a frown. What time is it anyway, why should anyone call?

He had to listen closely to find his phone in the wreckage; he could hear it up ahead under the sheets. When he picked it up he saw Sam's name flashing on the screen. He didn't allow himself to get worried yet, if he was calling, it meant he was okay. Bucky took a deep breath and wiped his tears before connecting the call.

"Sam?" even saying this one word was a bit difficult, he cleared his throat a few times hoping Sam thought his voice was raspy because of sleep.

"Hey," Sam's voice was hushed, urgent. "Thank god you picked up. Listen, sorry to wake you up but I need your help."

Bucky still felt slightly dizzy, his face was still sticky with tears and there were random blood stains all over him, but as soon as he heard Sam say "I need your help" he was sober and alert.

"Tell me," he said firmly.

"Okay, funny story," he was still whispering –Bucky already could tell his funny story was not going to be funny at all. "Tonight I wasn't even supposed to fight; I just came out under cover to find some leads on a group of dangerous thugs. So uh, I'm totally unarmed and they've kinda recognized me."

"Wait, you're WHAT?" Bucky was already getting dressed and ready to go.

"I don't have my wings, I don't have the shield 'cause they'd give me away –but I have Redwing with me so I'm not totally hopeless…"

"Fucking Redwing –are you kidding me." Bucky held his phone between his shoulder and cheek to put his boots on. He checked to make sure he had all his daggers with him before dashing out. "Tell me where you are; will I get there faster if I run?"

"Shit Buck you are not gonna run all the way to- crap!" there was some cracking and shuffling noises, seemed like Sam was moving around. "Listen, I'll text you my location. I gotta hide now."

Bucky was so gonna run all the way there, even if it was the other side of the city.

He was at the location Sam had sent him, but there was no one in sight. It was literally a deserted area. What the fuck had Sam been doing here?

He wanted to call, but if Sam's phone wasn't on silence (like that other time in Madripoor, that freaking idiot fucked them up) it could give his location away or put him in danger. He was unarmed! For fuck's sake…

He started walking up the road when he heard a gunshot up ahead, and then a black car raced past him. His blood ran cold. It could be Sam. Sam could be shot…!

He didn't pay the car any mind. They could be on their way to blow up half of the city for all he cared –he'd find them and punch them into oblivion later– What he wanted right now was to make sure Sam wasn't wounded, or –god, dead, even.

So he started running towards where he had heard the gunshot. Ran like his life depended on it, he was pushing his limits so he was probably as fast as a train but he didn't even notice.

He smelt blood before he saw it. He was right; it was Sam who'd gotten shot.

He was lying still on the ground; Bucky could see a patch of red on his shirt, obviously blood.

Bucky wanted to scream, but instead whisper-shouted "SAM!"

Sam's head turned to face him when he heard Bucky. And Bucky had to take a second to thank all the gods in the universe he was conscious.

"Bucky!" Sam was breathing hard, but he didn't look like he was at the verge of passing out yet. "You-you're a bit late. But god I'm happy to see you-"

"Shhh, Tell me where you're hurt!" Bucky hurried over to kneel beside Sam, on the side he could see his grey shirt darkened by blood. "For god's sake bird brain! Why aren't you in your fucking uniform? It's bulletproof for a reason!"

"I-I already told you why… all-all this was unexpected." Sam gasped, he was still clutching at his wound, his fingers covered in blood. "I got Redwing to call for an ambulance… but I didn't think they'd get here on time-"

"Then good thing I got here before it was too late, hm? Now where the fuck is Redwing? Bring him here. I need his emergency rescue operations- I mean his damn first aid kit or whatever."

Sam looked curious for a second before asking "what for?" he ordered Redwing to come over to them anyway.

"Obviously to take care of you, what else?" Bucky was hiding his panic behind sarcasm but that was better than hyperventilating, that wouldn't help neither of them. When Redwing finally landed next to Bucky and opened its top to let Bucky access to the tools, Bucky said, "Gosh, light, I need light. Why is this place so goddamn dark?"

Immediately Redwing's flashlight turned on and pointed at Sam's flank. Bucky took a deep breath and peeled Sam's hand away from the wound. Sam flinched but didn't protest. From the multiple small holes he could tell it was a shotgun wound; he'd been lucky the bullets were close to the surface or his internal organs wouldn't have survived. Thankfully, Sam spoke up and pushed away his gloomy thoughts.

"You know how to-" he paused to groan when Bucky ripped away the remaining piece of cloth, but he didn't have to finish since Bucky understood the question.

"Of course," he whispered, still focusing on preparing a vile to give Sam a shot of morphine, he knew how much a shotgun wound hurt even if Sam wasn't letting on. "I was a soldier in war, Sammy, we had to learn to take care of some simple stuff –us smart ones at least. It's not like you're always lucky enough to have a medic around you."

Sam didn't say anything, but as soon as the painkiller was flowing in his blood his muscles started to loosen up a little. Bucky picked up a pair of tweezers and…he noticed his hand was shaking, so he had to switch it to his left hand, which never shook. Even when he was ki- no, he wasn't letting his mind go there.

He blinked a few times and took a deep breath before starting to pull the bullets out, slowly and one by one.

"Are you still with me, birdy?" Bucky spoke softly; he had to keep Sam awake until the ambulance arrived.

Sam hummed in respond, he looked calmer now, but his eyelids were starting to droop which was concerning. Bucky was actually still worried, he wasn't an actual doctor, he couldn't be sure if Sam was in any real danger or not. He couldn't see a lot of blood though, but still…

Sam's hand, his bloody one, gripped Bucky's shoulder but Bucky couldn't care less about that. Sam's touch was calming, even though it was doing horrible stuff to his lungs. Apparently it was calming for Sam too, because he kept his hand there while Bucky was pulling out the bullets.

"Almost done, Sammy. Just stay with me until the ambulance gets here. But don't sleep just yet, alright?" he declared after covering the wound with a gauze and kept applying pressure.

Sam nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky's face like he was looking at a literal miracle. Bucky smiled to himself. Sam looked beautiful even then, pale and sweating. And the dazed look in his eyes made Bucky feel like he might not be the only one who's feeling certain emotions.

"Hey Sam," he started. His heart started racing, was he really going to say it? "I-"

No, I love you sounds wrong, he would think I mean it platonically.

"Hm?" Sam urged him on when he didn't continue.

"I'm-"

In love with you.

No, no I can't say it now. Horrible timing! He'll think I'm only saying it because I think he's gonna die and want it to be the last thing he hears. I can't do that to him, he needs his hope.

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

Bucky locked eyes with Sam. He was thinking of a save when he heard the faint noise of sirens.

"I think I'm hearing sirens! The ambulance is here."

"You do?"

"Yup, super hearing." Sam smiled at that and Bucky gave him a lopsided smile in respond which soon faded.

None of them spoke after that.

Sam held on to Bucky's flesh shoulder, caressing it gently. Until the medics came and took him away (Bucky went with him of course, and no one tried to pry him away, they somehow knew they were inseparable, like it was obvious any effort would be in vain.) Bucky could still feel the warm tingling on his skin where Sam's touch had lingered for long minutes.

Maybe Sam had failed in his mission tonight, but he sure as hell saved Bucky's life.

It was very late, Sam was sleeping in a private room in the hospital he was taken to, and Bucky had nothing to do but ponder on everything that happened tonight. He was filled with rage at the people who'd done this to Sam, he kinda felt sorry for them, 'cause Bucky WILL find them and make sure they'll pay. But for now, he was staying by Sam's side; he decided he'll take care of them later.

His throat was still itching; the worst of it had healed, but he could still taste the flowers. It was rosy –he never actually thought about what the flowers might be or what their meaning was in flower language. He hadn't really cared, he still didn't. The message was already loud and clear: his love was unrequited.

Bucky took a look at Sam's sleeping form; he seemed okay, only a little bit pale. If it wasn't for him, it might have been more fatal, he could have lost a lot more blood or passed out because of the pain and thus unable to take care of himself in anyway. He frowned, couldn't believe he thought of ending his life tonight, just to run away from his own misery. That was a ridiculous thought; he couldn't just leave Sam alone. He needed Bucky, and the world needed Sam as long as it could have him, so the world needed Bucky. He had to fight for his life, cure this disease somehow, something other than being loved back by the significant other. He remembered reading something about surgery when he was looking it up, then it hit him he's in a hospital, full of doctors, he could ask around.

Since Sam was out of it, he decided he could go ask someone for advice. So he walked out of the room and down the corridor, stopped in front of the young nurse behind the desk. The nurse smiled up at him, unusually energetic and nice-looking for this ungodly time of the night. For the first time Bucky thought to check the time, there was a big circular clock on the wall behind the nurse, it was almost 3am.

"How can I help you, sir?" the nurse asked, flashing his big, bright green eyes at Bucky. His cuteness kind of overwhelmed Bucky so he struggled with the words for a couple of seconds.

"I, uh, needed some advice on something…" he said lamely and touched his hair anxiously.

"Sure, what is it?" he leant forward on his desk to give Bucky his full attention. The bounce of his shiny brown hair distracting Bucky, urging him to follow it with his eyes.

"Who could I talk to about Hanahaki disease? Just a little counseling with a professional can help a lot," he explained slowly, getting a little uncomfortable at the way the nurse's eyes softened.

"Of course, if that's all you want, I recommend Dr. Smith, he might not be a Hanahaki Disease and Surgery Specialist, but he's the best at guiding you. I have firsthand experience, he helped me a lot." He smiled at the way Bucky's eyes widened, seeming unfazed about the information he just gave away. "He works here a few days of the week; I can book you an appointment?"

Bucky nodded quickly and averted his eyes. "Uh, yeah, thanks."

"Great, I can get you one for tomorrow at…10 in the morning. How's that work for you?" the nurse said while checking in a big book with a pen.

"Good, it's great."

"Then it's sorted!" he wrote something down and closed the book with a loud thud. "Courtesy of mine, since I'm not his secretary. But he'll understand! Hope everything turns out well, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky stared at his kind face and the tension finally seeped out of his body. The awkwardness he was feeling suddenly gone at seeing this nurse's understanding smile. He was really pretty too, if both of them weren't fucked with Hanahaki over someone else, Bucky definitely would have asked for his number. He could at least ask for his name, though.

"So, what was your name?" Bucky put his elbow on the desk and leaned closer.

"Harry," the nurse, Harry, replies with a dimpled smile.

"Okay, Harry, I'm grateful for your help and all, but I hope you're aware that nobody should know about this conversation. I mean it, nobody." He tried to put on his intimidating mask, but he wasn't sure he was as good as before; Sam had made him soft unfortunately.

"Oh!" Harry's eyes widened, but his smile didn't waver. "Of course! I wasn't even planning to. My lips are sealed."

Bucky nodded and pushed himself away, sniffing before going back to Sam's room. He coughed a few times before going inside, afraid he'd wake Sam up with the noise. That's when he decided he couldn't stay here. First of all, he couldn't have falling asleep and waking up coughing up petals right there for Sam to see, second of all, he didn't want to look like this when he visited the doctor, he didn't feel comfortable in his skin. Sam would be asleep 'til tomorrow anyway, he'll be back soon enough.

Bucky tossed and turned all night but didn't get much sleep. He still procrastinated through all morning and if it wasn't for the need to see Sam and make sure he was well, he'd have stayed in bed. But he had to go to the hospital, for Sam, and for his visit.

So now there he was, walking inside the hospital and making a bee line for Sam's private room.

He could hear arguments coming from the said room, he frowned, but before he could get there and eavesdrop, someone came out of the room –a doctor– and brushed past Bucky without paying much attention to him. Bucky turned his head for only a second before facing forward again and letting himself into Sam's room.

He saw Sam leaning back against the headboard, a (adorable) frown on his face. The sight and the feelings it brought to life inside Bucky's chest made him cough.

"What has gotten your panties in a twist?" Bucky teased, hiding his mouth behind a gloved fist.

Sam seemed happy to see him for a moment before frowning again like a stubborn child. "They say I have to stay in bed for a few days, meaning no hero duties and no exercise."

"They're doctors for a reason, Sam. I think you better listen to them," Bucky made a face at the end like he was seriously thinking about it.

Sam scoffed. He looked like he was really upset about having to leave his mission with the thugs half-finished, which he totally was. It's Sam; he hates to be sitting around when he could be doing something (even though he literally couldn't be doing anything but to rest at the moment, but try telling him that and he'll pout like this.) He blinked a few times before smiling at Bucky.

"Thanks, for last night." He said gently, changing the subject with a soft smile on his face. "They said you really helped."

"Don't mention it, Cap. Just- don't be so stupid next time, alright?"

"Alright," Sam grinned at him. It made Bucky smile despite himself.

"How are you?" Bucky asked, trying not to sound like he cared too much.

"Eh, I'm okay. It might hurt like a bitch, but there's no serious damage."

"So you're in pain?!" this man was unbelievable!

"Nah, thanks to all the painkillers they filled me with. I asked them to lower the dose though; I hate the way they make me dizzy."

Bucky glared. How ungrateful, Bucky would sell his soul for a painkiller that could work on him.

"Well, seems like I gotta ask them not to listen to you, I got a feeling this is the only thing that can get you to settle down." He scolded gently, no real bite behind his words.

"Don't, I wanna be sober when Sarah comes to see me." Sam huffed and rested his head back.

"Ah, great, so she's coming here?"

"Yeah," that got Sam to raise his head and look at Bucky again curiously. "How so?"

Bucky looked at the clock on his phone. It was nine thirty –he had to go find Harry or some other nurse to show him to Dr. Smith's office. He put the phone back in his pocket and gave Sam a teasing smile.

"'cause I have some important business to attend to,"

"Wha-"

"Be a good boy and don't annoy the fuck out of the staff, birdy. And rest, for god's sake." He started walking towards the door. "Don't miss me too much though; I'll check on you soon, Sammy."

"Hey don't call me that!" Sam called out, obviously joking.

"Only if you don't call me Buck,"

"Never."

Bucky turned to give him a look with raised eyebrows which said "there, you got your answer" while walking backwards. He heard Sam laugh when he crossed the door.

He realized, when he made it to the nurse's desk, that it only makes sense for Harry not to be here; he can't work a night shift and a morning shift. He didn't care though, so he approached the girl sitting there and asked her to show him "Dr. Smith's" office, hoping there's only one (male) Dr. Smith here 'cause he didn't care to ask for a first name. Thankfully he didn't face any problem regarding the name and he got a straight answer. He started walking the directions he was shown.

Bucky was starting to feel a little anxious about how this whole ordeal will go. Going after criminals, fighting them and surrendering them to the police? Easy. Going to a doctor to talk about his personal problems and feelings? A real struggle. He took a deep breath to swallow down his anxiety and entered the office.

This time he was met with the doctor's actual secretary, she was a little startled and scared when she saw him, but she didn't let it show.

"Welcome, sir, please go right in," she pointed at the white wooden door with a nod of her head. Bucky frowned; shouldn't he pay and show his insurance first? He decided he'd do it when he's done, so he nodded his thanks and went towards the door.

He opened the door after knocking, not waiting for a respond. He was faced with a young man who looked to be in his thirties; he didn't look like a doctor at all, with his messy brown hair and big brown eyes shining with youth. He spun in his chair and gave Bucky big smile.

"Oh, Mr. Barnes! Welcome, I…"

Bucky interrupted him, "great, so you know who I am, what I am?" that could help a lot.

The doctor looked a little confused, but he nodded and said "please, sit down,"

Bucky obliged, he sat down on the leather armchair opposite of the doctor. He didn't know what to say, or how to start. He wasn't sure what to ask, he didn't exactly need a history lesson, but he didn't mind knowing his enemy well.

"So what seems to be the problem?" he asked and looked straight at Bucky. Bucky noted his British accent.

"Hanahaki," Bucky answered briefly.

"Okay," the doctor professionally kept his emotions off his face, tilted his head to the side questioningly. "How long has it been?"

Bucky had to think for a moment. "Almost two weeks,"

The doctor stood up and put his stethoscope on before stepping close to Bucky. He pressed the head of it to Bucky's back.

"Deep breath," he ordered and Bucky complied. He moved the head around and asked him to do it again. Bucky himself noticed that it was, in fact, harder than usual to breathe deeply. "I'd ask for an x-ray, but… hmm, it doesn't seem to be two weeks old. Your airways aren't that clogged."

"That's probably because I'm a super soldier, doc. I'm stronger than an average person." Bucky explained bitterly.

The doctor pulled the earpiece out of his ears before saying "that's right…"

"How- how long does it take until the…patient dies?" Bucky asked slowly, fearing the answer.

"It varies from two weeks to two months," the doctor went back to his seat. He interlocked his fingers on top of his desk.

"Do you think it will kill me?" Bucky whispered. "And if it will at all, will it take longer than it does for a normal human?"

"I don't know. It's a probability like any other. We shouldn't take any risks." He smiled apologetically.

Bucky swallowed hard. "Okay. How can I get rid of it?"

"Well," he drawled, "other than your S.O loving you back, there's surgery…"

Bucky stared a few seconds before saying "tell me about the surgery." He suppressed a shudder. He hated having to do this.

"The roots of the plant are destroyed and pulled out of your lungs,…"

"Wait wait wait! Does that mean you'll have to open up my ribs to get to my lungs?!" even though he knew he'd heal in no time the idea sounded horrifying.

The doctor looked like a child asked what they want for Christmas.

"See, that was the case until a few years ago before Mr. Stark invented a machine –a smart robot that can get inside your lungs through your mouth, it kills the plant without damaging the tissue and pulls out the remains. It has decreased the recovery time remarkably so…"

Bucky was frozen in his seat. Did the doctor just say Stark?! Before he could finish his explanation Bucky said dumbly "Tony Stark?"

The doctor nodded solemnly.

"Did he…?" Bucky couldn't even finish that sentence. The doctor shook his head anyway, understanding his question.

"No, it's not public info if it was him, or someone close to him that motivated him into creating the Hanahaki Fighter. But he did the world a great favor by making it."

Bucky didn't even know what to say. They were silent for a few long seconds, maybe it was in respect for Tony's services and sacrifices, maybe they were both tongue tied, but the atmosphere was heavy until the doctor finally broke the silence.

"So anyway," he exclaimed and proceeded to get back into explaining mode. "The reason why most people don't choose to undergo surgery is not because how horrifying it sounds, it's because with the disease, your feelings for your S.O also go away."

"Wh-what??" Bucky frowned, his heart felt heavy. "Will I forget him?" ah shit, he used he. He couldn't be bothered though, he was too terrified of the answer. He coughed a couple of times, probably triggered by the conversation taking a turn towards Sam.

"No," the doctor looked thoughtful, one eyebrow standing higher than the other, staring at somewhere behind Bucky. "It has nothing to do with memories, they're in the brain. The Hanahaki is connected to your feelings, so when it's gone superficially –like in a surgery– it removes your feelings towards them and how you remember them. So, you'll remember him, and know him, but only feel kind of…numb."

Most of the tension left Bucky's body, but he was still on edge. Before he could react in any way, the doctor started talking again. This time less solemn and with more energy, though.

"There's another problem. It makes 50% of the patients –among the ones who were never loved back- not choose the surgery option." He paused to make sure he had Bucky's attention (he was rather dramatic, really.) "There is a 40% chance you'll lose the ability to love ever again. The chance was higher though, in the past. But the Hanahaki Fighter lowered it to 40."

Bucky's blood ran cold. He definitely understood why most people chose death.

"Fifty-percent?! They all let themselves die, and no one stops them from being so stupid?" he whispered. He didn't know why he was focusing on that part, maybe to run away from the scariest thing he'd heard all day.

"Sadly there's no law to force them into it. There are many arguments against it." The doctor smiled at him sadly.

Bucky let his head hang on his chest, his fingers fumbling with each other in his lap. Losing the ability to love ever again, that's what the doctor said.

Loving Sam proved to him that he was still human. That this part of him still lived. This big part of being human, he had that. If it was taken away from him, he finally will be the heartless cyborg everyone thought him to be.

It was either his life, or his humanity.

The doctor noticed how down he was, so he smiled broadly and tried to drag him out of his thoughts.

"But surgery should be your last option! You still have a chance," he said with an excitement Bucky didn't feel. He stared the doctor down but he didn't seem fazed and just kept on talking. "It's been only two weeks, and it seems like you have longer than others. So, you should try to get your S.O to love you back. Maybe he already does."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up.

"What? Are you saying this isn't a message from a deity or whatever higher-power telling me I don't have a chance?" he asked, incredulous.

The doctor chuckled like the idea was absurd. He pointed at his own chest, touching his shirt where his heart pumped underneath.

"This disease comes from within, remember that, Mr. Barnes. Your emotions and your beliefs give it life. Your own thoughts make it bloom. So if you absolutely believe your love is one-sided, it believes it too, takes root inside your lungs and you keep it alive just like that, with your emotions and thoughts. It's something with no scientific explanation, but they're facts, and we have no choice but to accept them."

Huh.

Well that was news.

"So you're saying," Bucky observed with a crease in his brow. "I should try to seduce him before I die?"

"Yeah, why not! Maybe talk to him first, confess and see if he returns it."

"What- doctor, do you know how awkward it'll be if I confess and he doesn't feel the same, and then I'll have to undergo surgery and all of a sudden I barely know him? Jesus, that would be ugly." Bucky cringed at the thought and coughed into his fist.

The doctor shrugged. "You can always choose surgery, but I recommend you take your time. Because those feelings are something you won't be able to get back."

"There are too many complications, doc. I don't know many things, doubt many things," he couldn't believe he was opening up just like that, but Dr. Smith made him feel comfortable, and he didn't feel forced. He was doing this by choice, so it was okay. "Maybe…maybe I'll be better off with no attachments anyway. With my life style and everything-"

"Now that's where you're wrong, Mr. Barnes. You won't be able to love romantically; you can still love your family, and your friends, and the nature. And there's also less than forty-percent chance for that. So you shouldn't need to worry." He explained kindly with a lopsided smile on his lips. "There are many people who don't experience romantic attraction, they identify as aromantic; and they're proud of that, love who they are. It doesn't make them less human, or lacking. Your attractions don't define you, or your worth. You should understand that."

Bucky swallowed hard, again. He wiped his already-clean nose to hide behind his hand and collect himself. This isn't therapy; it's not his job to make you feel better. The doctor chose to do so, anyway.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, doc." He finally mumbled. He stood up to leave; the doctor leaned back and tipped his head to look up at him. "Can you, diagnose me with Hanahaki disease anyway, so I can go to surgery if I choose to?"

The doctor stared at him for a second before nodding, "yes, of course. Insurance, please?"

Bucky quickly handed it to him and waited there awkwardly until the doctor finished writing in it.

"I prescribed you a Hanahaki surgery, your choice to use it. And- Mr. Barnes, dig into it farther, don't make a hasty decision."

Bucky nodded and slowly went out of the room after taking his insurance back. He went to pay and go; it was time to find those people who shot Sam. He could think about his disease later.

He was shaking with determination when he stepped out of the hospital. They're about to get it.

❄️❄️❄️

"James Buchanan Barnes!"

"Hello to you too,"

"What have you done?!"

"Huh, you're welcome I guess," Bucky scoffed into his phone, "for ending your mission and taking care of the thugs, handing them to the police alive and…unwell."

"That is not the point!" Sam scolded, his voice held more concern and panic than ever. "Was I supposed find out from the news on a hospital TV?!"

"Oh… it's on the news already?" Bucky's tone lost its fight.

"It was live, Bucky!" Sam took a deep breath, "I'm not saying you shouldn't have done it. I trust you; I know you can take all of them down. You know what I'm shocked about? You not telling me! I need to know where you are, in case something happens or you need help! We should be in contact!"

Bucky didn't know what to say. Except "I didn't because I didn't want you to stop me,"

"I wouldn't have," this time Sam sounded softer.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Gimme some credit, will you?" Sam shook his head affectionately. When Bucky kept staying silent he added, "Next time you're going off alone, you let me know. Got it?"

"Yeah," Bucky whispered.

"Now tell me, are you alright? I saw some blood on you in there,"

"Sam you know every injury of mine heals in hours, right?"

"I only wanna know if they were able to kick your ass!"

Bucky chuckled, which caused him to cough. He tried to cover it quickly, "nah, they weren't. You're the only one of us who was whupped by them."

"I hate you,"

"I know you do," Bucky said with a grin, then immediately had to move his phone away from his face to cough. When he was sure he could talk again, he stuck it to his ear again. "When are you allowed to leave?"

Sam sighed. "Tomorrow at the crack of dawn. We don't want attention you know?"

"Fame has its problems,"

"Yeah," he chuckled quietly, "Sarah is being overprotective for some weird reason, like it's the first time I've been injured…" Bucky heard something in the background he couldn't understand, it was probably Sarah shooting a witty come back. "I know, I know, I gotcha, sis. So anyway, she's taking me back to Delacroix, to take care of me like a baby or something… awww, don't be upset, Sarah!... I am being grateful though!"

Bucky giggled. He honestly loved those siblings. Ah, both the thought and laughing caused him to cough; he could feel a petal climbing up. It made breathing a struggle. He cleared his throat a few times; he should finish the call quickly.

"Then I'll come to see you off at the airport. Right now I still have some stuff to get to. How do you deal with these? I was happy only doing the punching part."

"Now you know what I go through."

"Stop grinning,"

"You can't even see me!"

"I sense it."

"Bitch." He clearly was still grinning. The lil shit.

"See you tomorrow, partner."

"See you."

Bucky put his phone back in his pocket and stared right ahead, suddenly getting lost in thought. If he wasn't driven by rage, and vengeance, he would've felt his lungs burning much more clearly. He had his mouth almost filled with petals in the middle of the fight. Beating normal humans (no one was sure what they were until Bucky found and arrested them) used to be a piece of cake, but this time he was panting by the end of it and coughing up blood all over the floor. It was good it didn't make him slow down or beaten up, at lease.

He was definitely going to remove those annoying flowers by surgery. The sooner the better.

So he got up on his shaky legs, took a painful deep breath and decided to go to that one hospital he knew it was safe to go to, for famous people like him who wanted to stay private. They had a policy for dealing with superheroes and celebrities; no word got out. And that was necessary; he didn't want even Sam to know, now let alone anyone else.

They told him to come back at Friday, meaning a day after tomorrow, at 8am, the surgery taking place at 9. They said it'll be easy, it'll take less than an hour from what they were seeing in his x-ray. They didn't even need to say those, he didn't need reassurance. Maybe he did, he couldn't see his own face, after all. Maybe even through his blank mask, his distress was visible.

He had to go see Sam tomorrow. He needed to see him one last time with his feelings intact. He wanted to look at him and hug him once more with the fluttering in his stomach and his heart squeezing in happiness. He shuddered at the thought of looking at Sam and not feeling anything. Sam was literally his savior after everything, and now he was practically pulling him out of his system.

He could only heave an agonizing sigh and move on. There was no other choice

FUCK. He had forgotten about his thrashed apartment.

He was too tired though, so he fell in an uneasy and restless sleep in the middle of the mess.

❄️❄️❄️

Sam saw Bucky spot them from afar and break into a jog to keep up to them. He ignored the flight attendant who was moving his stuff inside to turn around and face Bucky. He looked a bit –like these past few days– pale and the eye bags that've begun to fade were back. It made Sam's heart ache, but he didn't know what to do. It wasn't new for Bucky to start pulling away, and each time Sam hadn't been able to do anything but to wait. He was a fool to think they were past that.

He pushed away these thoughts and smiled at Bucky, though. Bucky returned it, to his relief. They high-fived as a way of hello. He missed their random hugs already, but if Bucky didn't initiate them anymore, he wouldn't push either.

"Are you okay standing up?" Bucky asked with a frown. His concern warmed Sam's heart every time.

"Yeah, yeah, I mean come on, I've handled worse."

Bucky sighed. "Doesn't mean it gets better," He mumbled, making Sam's smile get bigger.

Then he looked up. The look in his eyes was weird. Sam literally didn't have another word to describe it. He'd seen many things in Bucky's eyes, pain and love and betrayal and trust, he could recognize his emotions while no one else could (at least that's what he believed, especially since Steve was gone he was the only one who could read Bucky.) right now, he had no idea what that was.

He wanted to wait for Bucky to open up, but he never did without at least a little probing. So Sam couldn't help but ask.

"What is it, Buck?" he said softly, trying to catch Bucky's gaze.

"I'm-" he paused, sniffing before talking again. "I'm going to be out of touch for a couple of days."

"What?!" he wasn't sure how to feel. This was surreal; he couldn't even be scared or worried yet.

"Yeah… I-I have something to do, and I need a few days. So uh, I thought I'd let you know that's why I'm not answering your calls –if you do call, I mean."

Sam could just say okay and go. But that would be extremely wrong, that's something casual friends do, not best friends, not family. And certainly not two survivors who've bonded over experiences they couldn't share with anyone else.

"Where are you gonna go?" he asked with a serious voice that wouldn't take no for an answer. Bucky glanced up at him, that strange look still in his huge blue yes. Before he even opened his mouth Sam knew he was gonna evade the question. "You promised me last night to always let me know where you go."

"I'll be in the city," he murmured.

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Wow! No shit?" the amount of sarcasm in his voice was immeasurable.

Bucky glared at him with his famous dagger-throwing look.

"I'll tell you when I get back, okay? Or not. I really can't be sure at the moment. Just…don't worry. It's nothing bad, just something I have to take care of."

Then why was he looking at Sam like he was never going to see him again?

Sam convinced himself it's just about making amends, and the story was something he wasn't ready to talk about yet. At least, that's what he convinced himself at this moment, to be able to let Bucky go (for now.)

"You're distancing yourself again, Buck. You know it hurts me when you do that right?"

Bucky's eyes went even bigger. "I'm not! Sam, seriously, we talked about this before, didn't we?"

"Your heart wasn't really into it, was it?"

"It was! Stop being so dramatic, birdy, seriously." He said defensively.

"I'm not being dramatic. You've been avoiding me for almost two weeks now." He tried to say it matter-of-factly but he was sure it did sound at least a bit hurt.

"I haven't! Why would I even come here if I was??"

"I-I don't know,"

"See, you're not being rational." Bucky pointed out, and when he faced no objection from Sam he added, "Just go to your sister's and chill until I come back. As soon as I'm done I'll go there to see you."

"Alright," Sam finally said, making Bucky's eyes go wide in surprise; he didn't expect to win this argument, apparently. After a long pause Sam asked solemnly "Are you sure there's nothing else you need to tell me?"

Bucky fidgeted in place for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth a few times. The sun was rising now, the golden light of it hitting Bucky's face. It helped Sam see his glassy eyes, and the little tear drops he was fighting so hard to hold back. Then he coughed into his gloved fist a few times, making his eyes water even more. Sam doubted for a second if those were sadness tears or his coughs were causing them. He could never be sure.

Bucky shoved his fist in his pocket without opening it, swallowing hard.

"Nah, that was everything." He finally said, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears. "We better not stall longer, everyone is waiting for you."

Letting him go was becoming harder and harder. Bucky was seriously making this sound like a goodbye, Sam couldn't decide if it was or Bucky was just being a drama queen. Before he could react though, Bucky shut his eyes tightly and wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Bucky…" Sam whispered, he was alarmed but he hugged Bucky back anyway.

Bucky sniffed against his neck, squeezed him tighter with his flesh arm for a few seconds longer before pulling back. He didn't go too far though; his beautiful face was so close to Sam's he could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He watched Sam like he was trying to commit his features to memory. Then he smiled vaguely, and though he looked unsatisfied –like he wanted to stay like this longer– he pulled away completely. Walked backwards before waving and turning to leave the area.

Sam could only witness this whole weird ass farewell take place in shock.

He had no idea what was going on but he intended to find out soon enough.

So he waved back at Bucky and waited until he was out of view before he put his goggles on (yes he always kept them in his pocket.)

"Redwing, come out," he ordered firmly and immediately heard someone yelp from inside the jet, probably startled by Redwing's sudden flight. Redwing flied out a moment later and waited for his order obediently. "Go follow Bucky, don't let him notice you, cameras on, I wanna see everything."

Redwing chirped, and turned on his stealth mode, going invisible in front of his eyes (but Sam could still see him with his goggles on.) Bucky might be able to sense him though, so he had to stay quiet as well. He watched Redwing take off and sighed.

Sarah, who had ran out of the jet to see why Sam had called Redwing all of a sudden exclaimed "what the fuck, Sam? Are you spying on your own friend?"

"Something's not right, Sarah," he turned to face her with hard eyes. "We're staying."

"Huh?" she saw the determination in Sam's eyes and instantly knew it was pointless to argue. "Where are we gonna stay?"

"I'm gonna tell them to send the car back, and book us a five star hotel. I got injured on their mission after all, they're gonna take care of me. Get your stuff, get the kids, be prepared to go."

Sam watched Bucky riding his bike home and sigh when he saw the fucked up state of it before getting to work. Sam was equally shocked and worried (also a little bit curious) he asked out loud "What the fuck happened in there? Looks like there's been a tornado in his house,"

Sarah glanced at him with concerned eyes; Sam could tell she was really worried from the fact that she didn't scold him for saying "fuck" in front of the kids.

Redwing stayed still in front of the window to Bucky's living room, where he literally lived –he didn't go to his bedroom or kitchen at all. Sam kept watching Bucky as he cleaned the room and threw away all his broken furniture (including his flat screen TV, Sam couldn't decide whether he wanted to kick Bucky's ass for doing that or hug and ask what got him messed up enough to punch the hell out of a poor TV.)

That's all Bucky did. After cleaning the apartment out, he just…sat there. He leaned against the wall and stared at the one ahead, unmoving and silent. Sam was confused for a few moments. Why in hell Bucky was doing that? He told Sam he had something to do, but instead he was literally doing nothing. Sam decided to call and see his reaction. To see if Bucky was gonna pretend he's busy and ignore him.

So he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Bucky's number without sitting up on the hotel bed. He watched through Redwing's cameras as Bucky jumped and stared at his phone for a few seconds before putting it on silence with a pained expression.

Oh what the hell?

Sam was now officially terrified, that's why it took him too long to notice the box of tissues Bucky kept near himself. In fact, Sam didn't notice it until Bucky started coughing horribly and reached for it to pull one out.

Is that…BLOOD?!

Redwing confirmed: it was blood.

Bucky was coughing up blood and never told him. Sam's heart was getting tighter and tighter the more he witnessed.

Maybe Bucky really was dying. Maybe today was really the last time they saw each other and he was none the wiser.

He couldn't decide what to do yet. He had to think it through, come up with something rational when he wasn't so emotional and hurt and goddamn terrified.

During the time Sam was watching, Bucky coughed many, many times. He his face would go red under the pressure, and pale immediately after. The heavy rise and fall of his chest proved he was having difficulty breathing. Sam found himself matching his breathing.

"Hey, are you okay, bro?" Sarah asked softly, sitting beside him on the bed. Sam's eyes shot up to meet her soft ones.

"I'm… I don't know." Maybe it was a mistake to get one suite for all of them, but he was certain Sarah wouldn't have let him anyway so no point to ponder on that. He thought of something else, "Why don't you take the boys to get some dinner? Take my card, everything is paid for."

Sarah observed him silently for a couple of second before nodding and getting up, ushering the boys out of the room. Now he had to get a grip before they came back. It was inappropriate for his kid nephews to see their hero fall apart like this.

Every thought of calming down was thrown out of the window when he saw Bucky spit out something that wasn't blood. It couldn't be, they couldn't be –multiple flat objects, in blue and white. Clearly flower petals.

Sam's brain slowed down in its panic. He sat up so quickly a flare of pain shot up from his wound. It made him hiss, and sober up a little. Bucky has Hanahaki (of course he knew about Hanahaki Disease, everyone knows about it thanks to all these stupid romance movies that romanticize it.)

Now everything makes sense! All the coughing, the weird behavior…it must be the magical nature of the disease that made it able to infect a super-soldier. He thought to himself, the ache in his heart getting worse.

Oh my god. What if he's actually dying and that's why he was saying goodbye today? He was starting to connect the dots slowly.

"Bucky is not someone who'd wait for his death. Just sitting down and getting it?" he mumbled to himself out loud, looking at Bucky who was throwing away the tissue stuffed with petals. "Nah, if he knew there wasn't a way to get out of it he'd start sorting everything, he wouldn't sit still. Not the Bucky I know. He would ask for forgiveness from all of us and etc etc… but there is a cure and he should be aware of-"

He froze up. Bucky knew, of course he knew. That's the important thing he was intending to do: surgery. But he said that weird goodbye only to Sam –why…

Oh. Oh shit.

He's gonna forget me. Sam thought, scratching his head desperately. He knows he's gonna fall out of love with me that's why he did this today.

"No…but what if it isn't me?" he said to the empty room. "If it's really me, then why- why didn't he try talking to me first?"

He needed a second opinion on this.

All this info dump was starting to drive him crazy. Absolutely crazy. He picked his phone up with shaky hands to call Sarah.

"Hey Sam are you alright? Is something wrong??" Sarah picked up after the first ring and started fussing on the spot.

"I'm okay Sarah. But can you- can you leave the boys for a mo'? I really need to talk to you." Now that he was talking he realized how stupid he was being. But this was about Bucky…

"Fine, okay, I'm coming. We're waiting for our orders anyway. Be right up." From the shuffling Sam could tell she was already moving, and the line went dead a second later.

He heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened with a click soon after Sarah walked in. she walked straight to him and sat on the bed, looking at him expectantly. Sam didn't know how to say it, so he went for blunt and straight to the point.

"Bucky's got Hanahaki," he blurted. Sarah looked like that was the last thing she expected. "I caught him coughing so many times, I should've known-"

"You couldn't have." She interrupted. Then, after a moment she added "It's you. Must be. We've never seen him with anyone else, let alone catch strong feelings. It's in his eyes, also."

Sam blinked at her. Oh, wow. None of them were being subtle apparently.

"I-I think so, too." He swallowed hard. "But I'm…I'm not sure. Why didn't he tell me today, and instead said goodbye to me like…" he took a deep breath, "like it was the last time we saw each other."

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh Christ, are you telling me he's planning to undergo surgery??"

Sam shrugged, looking down at his lap.

"Do you love him back, bro?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Because I know you do. You can cure him, so if you let him do this it'll be the most dumb and destructive decision you've ever made. You need to go to him and tell him how you feel like right now."

"But I can't just do that!" Sam finally looked up at her. Before she could complain he quickly said "first of all we couldn't be sure his S.O is me, and even if I am, he chose surgery."

Sarah scrunched up her nose and looked at him like he was covered in shit.

"Sam, dear bro, don't be an idiot." She said like she was talking to a stupid child. Then her eyes hardened before adding "be selfish. If he chose to lose his feelings instead of confessing, then you choose to tell him you love him and cure him. You get to keep him and his feelings for you, that's the only way if you want a chance with him."

"Wow, that- that is very selfish." He stated with an impressed raise of his eyebrows. He didn't feel like this was the right thing to do, though.

"He can't decide for both of you," she pointed out, her eyes showing she knew she was right. "It's your romantic life, too."

"But I'm not sure that's ri-"

"You should think about what you want. Think about it good. Figure out what it is that you want from him in the future and what's good for you or makes you happiest. You do that tonight, you have until tomorrow before it's too late." She stood up and smiled at him wickedly. "Me and the kids will be outta your hair for a few hours. Use that time wisely."

Sam did. He stayed up all night and thought about everything…well, not everything, just every aspect of his relationship with Bucky, and the impact of that over his reputation and duties as Captain America.

It wasn't about the fact that the world wasn't ready for a gay (pan, actually, but still) black Captain America, not really. He'd keep his relationship a secret, wouldn't matter if he was with a man or a woman or anything outside of those binaries, he would never make his love life public. For so many reasons and most important of them being safety; it would give his enemies an easy way to blackmail. So, no, he wasn't worried about public's reaction to it.

But his own heart was on the line. He felt like he'd be worrying twice as much –on missions and fights and such– and then worry about being a good partner, which was considerably harder than being a good friend. The trauma and regrets his past relationships left behind were something else entirely, and there was that.

After hours of pondering on that, he frowned at the ceiling in the darkness of the room. As Sarah said, he was being an idiot. Those were just lame excuses. They didn't make any sense! His feelings about Bucky wouldn't change after making it official, and he should stop letting his past ruin his future. If he wanted good things, he had to take risks.

Bucky was worth the risk. He always has been. Every single risk he'd taken for Bucky was worth it. He was ready for one more.

So, he decided he'd go to Bucky in the morning, confess and cure his disease and take it from there.

When he was drifting off to sleep, his subconscious wished that if it turned out Bucky's S.O wasn't Sam, then at least his ability to love would stay undamaged after the surgery.

❄️❄️❄️

Sam was woken up by chirping and cooing noises. He stirred in his sleep, groggily opening his heavy eyelids. He didn't know what it was that had woken him up. His mind took longer than usual to start, since he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Thinking about Bucky…

Bucky!!

He sat up straight in a quick move that had his head spinning. When he turned he found Redwing trying to alert him. He picked his goggles and wristband up to check what was going on.

Bucky was on his bike already, Redwing flying fast right above to keep up with him.

"Oh no," he muttered, throat closing up. "Where is he going?"

Well, of course he was going to the hospital.

Sam was late. So very late. If he didn't move fast, he was gonna lose Bucky- well, at least a life with him.

When Sam was dressed up and ready to go, Bucky was already at the hospital. Sam took a deep breath and decided to treat this like a mission; so he stayed cool headed and focused. He could get there in time. He should.

Sam was panting when he finally arrived at the hospital, heart pounding. He barged in; going the way Redwing had told him Bucky would be at. When someone tried to stop him or ask him what he needed, he shouted with authority "I'm Captain America and you will let me be anywhere I want."

He ignored the uneasy feeling his own attitude was giving him, right now it wasn't the time for pleasantries. He couldn't believe what Bucky Barnes was doing to him.

All thoughts escaped him when he spotted Bucky's back, walking down a hall with a nurse or two in tow.

"BUCKY! WAIT!" Sam yelled from a few feet behind, not caring that he was in a hospital and it was immoral. Bucky froze up and spun around, looking at Sam with wide eyes. Before he could say anything Sam spoke up again, "please don't do this. I love you, okay? I can't…lose my chance with you."

Bucky's eyes grew impossibly larger. Sam had to convince Bucky or it wouldn't work, so he got closer and said, this time more softly, "I love you, Bucky. Please believe me."

Bucky was still in shock, he was breathing hard, but before he could reply or say anything he was coughing violently. It was so bad he collapsed to his knees, Sam along with him. A nurse grabbed Bucky's arm and looked up Sam.

"Are you his S.O?" she asked Sam.

"I-I guess so…I'm not-" Sam stuttered. He was terrified of what Bucky was going through; a horrifying amount of blood was gushing out of his mouth. Witnessing this unsettling scene was making Sam's heart ache.

"The healing process has started," another woman said, her uniform and the air of authority around her showed she was the doctor in charge of Bucky's situation. "There won't be any surgery, but we can make this easier for him."

"You have medicine that can work on him?!" Sam asked, bewildered.

"Don't we just. We've worked for superheroes for ages, Mr. Wilson. We'll be taking care of him, alright." She answered him with a smile, then ordered the nurse "Help him up, get him a room."

The nurse who was already there and another male one grabbed Bucky under his armpits and dragged him up to his feet and started walking in a direction. Bucky went with them with no complaints, seeming too lost in pain to actually care. Through the entire conversation he's been coughing his lungs out.

"Can I come too?" Sam stood up quickly, letting Bucky be dragged away and not being with him was making him anxious. The doctor who was following the nurses and Bucky turned to give him a look.

"Of course you're coming. You're the most important factor in his healing." She said without waiting to check if Sam was tagging along. Because of course he was.

When they arrived at the room, a nurse was pricking Bucky's only flesh arm to insert the IV, him still hacking up flowers and blood. Sam quickly crossed the bed and sat on the leather chair beside Bucky and held his available hand. Even though it was his vibranium one, Sam knew he could feel it. The way Bucky glanced at him with his teary eyes proved him right.

"What exactly is going on with him?" Sam quietly asked no one in particular.

"The plant is dead, the root is coming out." the male nurse was the one who answered him, looking at them both sympathetically.

Sam's hold around Bucky's fingers became tighter. He was barely stopping himself from sobbing. Especially when Bucky's body bent upward, heaving in a loud breath, like he'd been under water for hours, and though he was finally out he still couldn't get the air he needed.

The doctor held Bucky's face with one expert hand and returned him to his lying position; she squeezed his cheeks so his mouth would open up and she could peer inside.

"Hold him down," she ordered. "It'd hurt more if he's moving around."

"How are we supposed to hold a super soldier down?!" the male nurse said with a horrified voice.

"Help, Mr. Wilson." She said before shoving two gloved fingers down Bucky throat, "give him mental support,"

The nurses pushed down on Bucky's shoulders, though he really wasn't thrashing that hard.

"Hey, Buck, listen to me. You hear me, love?" Sam talked softly, trying to give the mental support the doctor had asked him to give. Bucky's hand squeezed his fingers, giving him a sign that he was indeed conscious and listening. Sam took a relieved breath. "Now, stay still okay? It's going to end soon. You can do it."

Bucky held his head completely still, his chest rising and falling the only sign of the hard time he was having to breathe. After a moment a pained, high pitched whine escaped him –like a distressed wolf– almost crushing Sam's fingers (Sam could tell he was holding back, if he had put all his strength into it, Sam's hand would've been a pile of mush right now), Sam didn't know what had caused this until he saw what the doctor had dragged out of Bucky's mouth.

It was a flower –a wet, bloody rose with blue and white petal…his colors, with its soft and delicate stalk and roots.

Sam winced when he noticed the typical thorns along the stalk. He couldn't imagine that in his body…

"That's a whole ass flower…" he whispered. Everyone else smiled like it wasn't like in a horror movie.

"The roots are out!" the girl cheered and held a small basin for the doctor to throw the flower in it. Then she did the same for Bucky, "come on, spit here." She said soothingly.

Bucky spat out the remaining blood in his mouth and winced. Ah, any movement must hurt as hell. Weren't they supposed to make this easier for him, why was he still feeling so much pain? Then it hit him, it probably would've been worse. Sam didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

After the doctor was gone, Bucky turned his head to look at Sam. Even in this situation he was beautiful; his lashes were heavy with tears, his lips a little bloody which Sam grabbed a tissue from the supply box to wipe off. He dabbed the corner of Bucky's lips gently, all the time Bucky looking at him like he couldn't quite believe he was there.

When Sam sat back down, still holding his hand, Bucky smiled weakly. Sam's heart soared at the sight. Before he could say anything, though, he noticed the nurse, the girl with bright blue eyes, was injecting Bucky's IV and emptied two vials into it.

"What's that?" he asked, trying to sound more curious than suspicious.

"Tranquillizer. It helps him sleep it off." She explained with a soft but polite smile and then proceeded to get on with her work, ignoring him.

Sam's eyes found Bucky's again. He tried to smile broadly.

"You hear that? You're gonna sleep, and when you wake up you'll be completely healed." He told Bucky soothingly, but really, he didn't know who he was trying to encourage.

Bucky nodded and closed his eyes. "Will you be here?" he croaked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere, Buck." Yeah, he'll be here, always.

❄️❄️❄️

When he opened his eyes, he felt like a stranger in his own body. His head was a bit dizzy and it felt like there was a vacuum cleaner on inside his ears. He turned his head both ways, first noting the IV connected to his arm, and then Sam who was sitting on a leather black chair right beside him. He wasn't in the right mind to be startled yet, so he just blinked up at him. Sam looked a bit stiff and tired, and he was holding a cup of coffee in one hand. Bucky felt a little bad for causing this.

Sam felt his stare, at last. He turned his head to look at Bucky, and he smiled. "Hey, you're back with us!"

"How long was I out?" Bucky asked in a hoarse voice. His throat felt dry and raw.

"Almost-" he drawled while he checked his phone's clock, "5 hours."

Wow. That was longer than his night's sleep. Bucky coughed weakly, it wasn't like the painful ones from before, it was simply because his throat was dry. Sam noticed this so he got up to get him water. He put his coffee down on the white supply box, got a water bottle from the fridge (his, probably, as it was half drunk) and picked up a straw along with a paper cup.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked while he held the straw close to Bucky's mouth. He waited patiently until Bucky had drunk enough and was ready to answer.

"Healed. Just a little bit raw," He said honestly. He felt a lot better; breathing was much, much easier. The petals in his pipes were nonexistent; he could inhale with no obstacles, exhale with no burn. It was a blessing most humans were unaware of.

"Yeah?" Sam put the cup away and sat on Bucky's bed.

"Yes, I can feel it. No wounds in my throat and lungs. Can we get out of here?" he didn't want to sound like whiney baby, but he really hated it here. Hospitals, yes, but also anywhere he was being observed and supervised made him uncomfortable.

"Yeah, okay, let me alert someone that you're awake." He got up to leave. Bucky barely stopped himself from holding Sam's hand and forcing him to stay there. Oh, that would be embarrassing…

Sam came back with the nurse from before. She immediately started fumbling with his IV to remove it.

"You can sign your release papers and go as soon as I'm done with this," she said cheerfully, glancing momentarily at Bucky with her blue eyes.

Bucky only nodded. He was glad he didn't need any more inspection; that would've been annoying. He'd know if he wasn't fully healed, for god's sake.

She put a circular band aid over the tiny bruise the IV left behind –Bucky thought it was ridiculous; it would be healed before he got home. But he didn't say anything; it made him feel a little normal anyway.

"Done!" she smiled at them lazily, obviously tired. "I'm happy for the both of you, by the way."

"Yeah, thanks, Sarah." Sam said kindly before she walked out of the room.

"Her name was Sarah, huh," Bucky mumbles as he got up, "did you befriend the whole staff while I was out?"

Seriously, Sam and his freaky social skills.

"No, only the few who were around a lot." Sam chuckled, then stepped closer. "Let me help you."

Bucky wanted to snap and say he didn't need help, but he really couldn't complain when Sam held his hand and guided him out of the room. He glanced down at their hands, he had a lot of questions, he could tell Sam did too. But he could wait until they were home.

Home. He didn't really have that, yet. But his apartment was good enough at the moment.

When they stepped out, a black car with darkened windows was waiting for them. Bucky turned to look at Sam with a frown.

"What about my bike?"

"We'll be back for it later. Come on." Sam placed a hand on the small of his back and urged him forward.

Okay, Bucky could live with that. He preferred a quiet ride at the moment, so, no complaints.

The atmosphere in the car was disappointedly awkward. Bucky hated the big gap between them in the backseat, but he didn't want to close it either. Then bear with it, he scolded himself. He wished Sam would do it, though.

He didn't.

When they finally crossed the door into his apartment, he realized how un-homey it was. The air was cold and stale; the rooms were empty and shit. He ruined the numbered furniture he had, including the TV, making it even more boring. He was afraid to know what Sam was thinking. But Sam didn't say anything about it, thankfully.

"So…" Sam started, waiting for an instruction from Bucky. Bucky sighed, they had a lot to talk about apparently, but he needed to be mentally ready for this.

"I wanna take a shower first, I feel like I smell like the hospital." He murmured and started walking towards the bathroom after Sam nodded and said a simple "okay".

When he stepped out of the shower in a T-shirt and sweatpants –all grey-, he found Sam in his rarely used bedroom. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, arms stretched behind him, head tipped back to stare at the ceiling. Bucky let his eyes roam over Sam's neck and chest, a little less guilty about the warmth in his belly now that he knew Sam felt the same.

Jesus, Sam felt the same.

He couldn't believe this was the real world. How in hell…

Sam sat straight when he noticed Bucky standing there. He took a deep breath, obviously a little nervous as well. Then he smiled and patted the bed beside him.

"Come here," he asked Bucky softly.

Bucky walked to him stiffly, sitting down without making eye contact. He didn't want there to be another awkward silence so he decided to start the conversation himself.

"How did you know where I was?" Bucky said, still not looking at Sam.

"Well, I'm sorry to begin with, if this offends you or something. But I sent Redwing after you and I don't regret it."

What the fuck. "So you basically spied on me," he deadpanned.

"Yes, if you wanna put it like that. You weren't well and weren't willing to talk about it. I had to know, I was worried." As he had declared just seconds ago, Sam really didn't sound apologetic.

"What did you see?" Bucky hissed. He couldn't believe he had Redwing on his tail for a day and didn't notice. He felt many mixed emotions about what Sam had done.

"Just you throwing up flowers," Sam answered pointedly. (For some reason he didn't bring up the shitty state of Bucky's apartment, thankfully.)

"And you figured it was over you?" his heart was hammering against his chest. Sam figured out there was something wrong. Bucky had been horrible at hiding it. But Sam cared so much he had chased after him like that. Why would anyone worry after him this much? All of this, it made forgiving Sam for the spying part incredibly easy.

"Yeah well…it was a hunch, I took my chance."

Bucky was buying none of that. He finally looked at him; Sam met his stare right on.

"A hunch," he echoed, arching an eyebrow.

"Bucky…" Sam's tone wasn't short of begging. "This isn't- it doesn't matter. Just…why didn't you say anything?"

Bucky really, really wanted to leave this question unanswered. But he took a deep breath and forced himself to speak. "Well, I- I didn't know, of course."

"Didn't know what? That I felt the same?"

Bucky nodded.

"I don't know how obvious I am…or how good you are at reading me," Bucky whispered with a crooked smile, eyes fixed on his lap. "But you're either not obvious at all or I suck at reading people."

Sam snorted. "I am obvious, Buck. Sarah seemed to know about how both of us feel."

Bucky looked up at him in horror which made Sam laugh out loud. But it died out very quickly, and he looked at Bucky with much insecurity. He squirmed in place for a couple of seconds before he finally worded his thoughts.

"How long since you first got it?"

"Over two weeks,"

Sam sighed loudly. He looked like he'd been smacked.

"What?" Bucky urged with a frown.

"Buck, I need to know something," this time it was Sam who refused to look at Bucky directly.

"What?" he repeated.

"Did you-" he paused, but then braved through "did you want to completely remove your feelings for me? And you didn't want to give us a chance, or-?"

"Sam," Bucky interrupted, he turned his body to face Sam. "Of course I didn't want to. I thought that was my only way to survive. I didn't- I didn't want to leave you, even if it meant risking my ability to love."

His voice cracked at the end. He desperately wanted to touch Sam, anywhere, maybe hold his hand. But he was so unsure of everything that'd been going on between them he didn't dare reach out.

Sam made the decision for him (Bucky swore Sam could read his thoughts sometimes), he held Bucky's flesh hand and tapped his chin with a knuckle to make him raise his head. Sam's soft eyes searched Bucky's; the hand under his chin caressed his skin gently.

"I came to that hospital today because I want something more with you," his voice was powerful and sure. "But I won't ask that of you unless I'm sure you really want it."

Bucky stopped breathing for a moment. Sam was so close, so warm. In his touch starved state, this was almost too much. He was barely stopping himself from shivering.

"I do. God, of course I do, Sam. I want everything you'd give me." He blurted out, unable to look away from Sam's face.

Sam smiled broadly; he cupped Bucky's face and leaned closer. But before they could touch, he murmured "can I kiss you?"

Ever the gentleman. Bucky licked his lips, Sam's eyes dropped to his mouth –he knew he was testing Sam's composure.

"Yeah, but I'm a bit out of practice, I warn you," Bucky said with a tiny chuckle.

"No kisses since the 40s?"

"No kisses since the 40s,"

"Damn, I feel special," that was the last thing Bucky heard (and man, Sam didn't have any idea how special he was) before a pair of plump lips covered his. Bucky gasped and clutched at Sam's wrist that was still caging his head.

Muscle memory leading his movements, Bucky parted his lips and tilted his head. Sam's hot breath tickled his flushed cheeks. The way he was peppering Bucky's lips with tiny gentle kisses was making him melt. He was barely keeping an embarrassing moan from escaping his throat.

When Sam broke the kiss Bucky finally moaned – and he couldn't even be shy about it.

"You good?" Sam asked with a grin. He was a breath away, Bucky could just lean in and- he nodded instead. Sam's eyes softened, he kissed the corner of Bucky's mouth again before saying quietly "I love you."

Bucky shut his eyes. This was the third time he was hearing this phrase from Sam, but it was still new. It still squeezed his heart and made his head dizzy. He knew it was going to be like this for a long time to come.

Oh, and he should say it back. "I love you more."

It's too, not more, you idiot! Welp, it's true anyway.

"Don't make this a competition baby." Sam raised his eyebrows and said with a smirk

Shit. He said baby instead of buddy or man (which would've been weird, right? But god, Bucky couldn't help but shiver.)

"It's not a competition if I'm already the winner," he bit back with a tiny smirk to match Sam's.

Sam just laughed and hugged Bucky to his chest tightly. It was an unexpected but welcome reaction. Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam's middle and closed his eyes. He hadn't said I love you to anyone in forever. But it wasn't difficult to admit it to Sam at all. He didn't feel uncomfortable or weird while saying it, not even for a second.

The Hanahaki made sure he came in term with it, huh.

"No more secrets," Sam mumbles into Bucky's hair. "Please?"

Bucky gulped. "No-no more secrets." He promised. He almost sobbed when Sam took a shaky breath and held him tighter.

Bucky shifted around to get comfortable, because he was planning to stay like this for a long time. Just basking in Sam's warmth and scent, listening to his heartbeat and breathing. Any talk of technicalities could come later, for now he just wanted to believe he had someone who loved him, whom he loved, and was there with him.

Sam didn't protest. Instead he started touching Bucky's hair, kissing his temple every now and then. He needed this as much as Bucky did after all.

They both needed to only feel each other for a while.

Chapter Text

"Okay, so," Sam started, stretching his arms over his head, "you're good with all of it?"

"Yeah, Sam. All is good. If you're worried about me not being okay with keeping our relationship from the public, I'm telling you right now that I agree with you. It's fine." Bucky said and lay down on the bed they were sitting on. It was bittersweet, how Sam was worried about Bucky being okay with his conditions then he himself about Bucky's, well, situation (he was technically agreeing to date a crazy ex-assassin who was older than his grandparents. But Sam didn't seem to care at all, the trust he had in Bucky made Bucky have to hold back tears.)

They finally had that talk; about what they wanted from each other and their relationship, their dos and don’ts. It was a bit uncomfortable predictably, but Bucky was happy it was out of the way.

Now they've had dinner, they were in Bucky's bedroom (for now, they'd actually move in together in a decent apartment when they have time) ready to go to sleep. Bucky didn't want to sleep yet, though. It'd been only two days since they confessed to each other, everything was new, he couldn't get enough of Sam.

Sam lay on his side, a hand under his head with his elbow on the pillow to support the weight so he could look at Bucky's face. He just checked him out for a long moment.

"I just don't want you to interpret it the wrong way…" he explained and started playing with Bucky's bangs.

"Sam, love, I'm not a kid. I get it." He smiled up at Sam and touched his cheek tentatively.

Sam bent down and started kissing him, mumbling an "I love you" between the kisses. Bucky groaned at the taste, at the feeling. The way just a little kissing could rile him up was embarrassing… but he was sure Sam didn't mind, so he opened his mouth and let Sam lick into it, making small noises the whole time. Sam pinched his chin, forcing him to keep his mouth open. Bucky gasped when Sam finally broke away from the kiss to start putting open mouthed kisses along his stubbled jaw and neck.

"You okay with this?" Sam whispered before moving his head to kiss Bucky's lips again, his hand now touching Bucky's neck.

"Yeah," Bucky mumbled through a shiver. Sam's rough fingers against his neck were doing incredible things to him. A feeling he'd almost forgotten. "Just- as I said-"

"Not used to it yet, I got you." Sam completed his sentence and went back to mouthing at his neck. He'd explained to Sam how touch starved he was that day (it was hard, alright). "Take it slow?"

Bucky hummed in respond, craning his neck to give Sam more space. He felt Sam's smile against his sensitive skin and shuddered. Every little touch of Sam's lips on his neck shoot a hot wave to his belly, he could feel himself hardening already. Sam sat up to straddle him and stopped kissing his neck to take Bucky's t-shirt off.

He stared at Bucky's naked chest and abs in awe. Bucky's face got even hotter and redder. He squirmed under Sam's gaze, biting his lip when Sam's fingertips trailed down his body.

"I'm gonna touch every single part of you," Sam told him, looking into his eyes. "I wanna make you forget how it was living without being touched like that,"

Bucky held his breath, but it was punched out of his lungs when Sam grabbed his right hand and started kissing his fingers. He really was going to touch every part of him. Bucky moaned at the idea alone.

Sam kissed his palm, then his wrist which made him twitch, he dragged his lips along his forearm, bit and sucked gently at his bicep. Bucky gasped in shock at how good it felt. Sam smiled like he knew exactly what was going on in his head. Any thought turned into a faraway echo though, 'cause Sam resumed kissing him, now his shoulder and collarbone. He crossed Bucky's chest, got to the base of his metal arm.

He looked up at Bucky with a soft expression before doing anything.

"Can i?" he asked while tracing a line around the vibranium root of his arm with his index finger. It felt weird, but weird in a good way. Bucky would be damned if he didn't give this a try.

"Yeah," he said with a grunt.

Sam poked his tongue out and licked at the line his finger was tracing just seconds ago. The hot, wet feeling on his oversensitive skin made Bucky's eyes widen.

"Oh! Oh, holy shit! "

"Good?"

"Mmm,"

Sam straightened up again, leaving the root of his arm too soon for Bucky's liking. He held Bucky's metal hand, gently kissed every single finger, the metal whirring in his hold. Sam didn't look disturbed, like it was normal to kiss the robotic limb of your cyborg lover. It made Bucky fall even deeper.

Sam made eye contact with him, he probably knew what Bucky was thinking, and feeling. He kissed Bucky's lips gently before getting on with the whole touching-his-entire-body thing.

Sam placed his palm on Bucky's belly. The roughness and heat of it making Bucky twitch under his touch. At the same time, he wrapped his lips around Bucky's left nipple. That got him a loud moan and a hand on his head. He licked and sucked at it until it was hard and wet and Bucky was whimpering. When he pulled back to do the same to the other nipple a full body shiver went through Bucky as the cold air hit his slicky nub. He thought he was used to the feeling of a mouth abusing his nipple by now but realized he was wrong when Sam bit down on the other one. Sam snickered at the loud gasp Bucky let out.

He didn't comment though, he just went about his journey, kissing Bucky's stomach, tongued at the line under his belly button. But he stopped way too soon. His hands grabbed Bucky's waist and pushed a little.

"Turn around," at Bucky's questioning stare he explained "Your back's turn."

He grinned at the way Bucky's blush reached his neck and collarbone. He turned obediently, though, on all four when Sam's hands pulled at his hips. Sam got between his knees, kissed at his nape while touching his back at the same time. His fingers trailing down Bucky's spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

After leaving hickies on Bucky's nape and shoulders he dragged himself down, kissing every inch of skin in his path, enjoying the delicious noises he wrung out of Bucky. Finally reaching his ass (he was anticipating this) Sam pulled Bucky's pants and boxers down and bit his right cheek hard enough to bruise. Bucky jumped and made a dissatisfied noise. Sam only grinned and kissed the spot apologetically. He settled for touching Bucky's smooth thighs with his hands because it was a bit difficult to reach them with his mouth in this position –especially with Sam's wound still hurting a little bit.

So, he did what he'd been dying to do: He parted Bucky's white, round asscheeks and dragged his tongue down the crack to his hole. Bucky inhaled sharply and pulled himself away from the hot wetness of Sam's tongue. Sam followed him and sucked at his rim.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he murmured with his mouth still on Bucky's hole.

"No- fuck, don't you dare stop-" Bucky huffed out a breath, finally relaxing his muscles. "Ahhh! God, Sam…"

Sam hummed and circled his tongue around the ring of tight muscles and pushed in a little with the tip of his tongue. He had the feeling this was the first time someone was doing this to Bucky, he could tell the moment Bucky came in terms with it and completely relaxed and started rolling his hips. Sam smiled to himself and put more effort into eating him out, until Bucky was a whining, sweaty mess. He went farther down, liking Bucky's perineum before reaching his balls. The moan Bucky let out when Sam sucked his balls into his mouth was marvelous. But Sam couldn't take it anymore, and he had to see Bucky's face.

He flipped Bucky around, who opened his eyes to peak at Sam's face through his lashes. Sam inhaled sharply, he'd never seen this expression on Bucky's face, and he never wanted to stop watching him in this state. Bucky moved his hips impatiently, dragging Sam out of his thoughts. He took a long look at Bucky's cock, hard and leaking against his abs. he touched it gently at first, keeping in mind he might be oversensitive now.

Bucky suppressed a groan. It felt good to have someone touch him there after so long, but he felt like he could come with two strokes and embarrass himself. All thoughts on stopping himself from coming left his mind when Sam started moving his hand, from top to bottom, thumbing at the slit.

"Sam…" he moaned.

"Okay?" when Bucky nodded, Sam smiled and leaned over him to kiss his sweaty forehead, then his lips before whispering, "I would fuck you right now, but with no supply(!) and this waist of mine it'd be hard. So…"

He didn't give Bucky a chance to answer; he stopped the kiss to pull his own pants down. Bucky stared at Sam's dick, pupils blown wide and his mouth watering. Sam's words were still echoing in his skull, he couldn't even imagine that inside him; Sam was huge. And god, Bucky was picturing every way he could be ripped apart by it. Sam raised a teasing eyebrow. Very shy of him.

Then Sam pressed his chest flushed against Bucky's, licked his long fingers sensually –which made Bucky shiver– before wrapping them around both their cocks. They gasped at the same time, Sam's grip tightening while Bucky squirmed and moved around. He was trying so hard not to lose his goddamn mind in pleasure. The combination between the roughness of Sam's hand and his soft and smooth cock sliding against Bucky's was enough to make him almost black out.

"Sam…" he groaned.

"Shhh…I got you," Sam whispered into Bucky's ear before licking it. Bucky's hand shot up to clutch at Sam's shoulder in a bruising grip.

Bucky started touching Sam's body, looking into his eyes through his eyelashes. He held eye contact just like that while his fingertips were exploring every inch of skin he could reach. A faint smile formed on Sam's lips but soon it was gone as he flicked his wrist in a long stroke.

Bucky started kissing his lips softly, pouring all his love into it. Both his hands cupped Sam's face, his thumbs stroking Sam's cheekbones feather-light and his fingers massaging his scalp. All this sudden softness made Sam's heart flutter.

Bucky rolled his hips and mumbled against Sam's lips, "come on baby, cum with me, love."

"shit- Buck…" the movements of Sam's hand stuttered as he spilled all over Bucky's cock and thighs. Bucky bit his lips beautifully and threw his head back. Sam groaned when his fist was filled with Bucky's cum.

Bucky coming quietly like that sent another hot wave to Sam's belly and his dick twitched. Sweet god. He couldn't believe he's so ready to get hard again.

"God I love you." Bucky sighed and nuzzled Sam's neck, pecking at it gently. Sam laughed breathlessly and lied down next to Bucky; he had to go wash his hand… "You okay love?"

"Never better," Sam said cheekily.

Bucky frowned. "You've literally been shot,"

"And I just had sex with you."

"Ah, they even out I guess,"

Sam laughed again. This was the most emotional sex he'd had in his life. He was blushing so hard he was glad it wasn't visible on his dark skin. Bucky cuddled his side and kissed his cheek.

"I wanna be good for you," Bucky whispered against his flushed skin.

Sam swallowed, kissing the tip of Bucky's hair, "me too…" was all he could manage.

"But you are." Bucky left himself up to look at him.

Sam opened his mouth to answer but no words came out. Bucky smiled, showing him he didn't need to say anything this time. He understood and appreciated him and it was written in his bright blue eyes, there for Sam to see clear as crystal.

"You are worth getting Hanahaki for."

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