6684/Really Buck

Really Buck
Date of Scene:	24 June 2021
Location:	04 James Barnes' Suite - Playground
Synopsis:	After finishing business in PA, Bucky finally takes Sam to the Playground. Breakthroughs happen, progress is made... and a vacation planned.
Cast of Characters:	Sam Wilson, James Barnes

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Sam Wilson has posed:
    The thing is, Sam's been a SHIELD agent mostly in name only for a while now. He considers himself a counselor first, and then an Avenger, and barely an agent at all--partially to mitigate the cognitive dissonance of working with a para-military organization, given why he'd chosen not to re-enlist after his second tour--so he's never actually maintained personal living quarters at SHIELD HQ.

    Not that it matters, as this isn't the Triskelion. But it means that, since he's here now and not going back to NYC unless he absolutely has to, he's calling dibs on Bucky's couch.

    Does Bucky even know about this? Did Bucky agree to it? Kind of immaterial, to be honest. He'll just have to deal with Sam being around until HYDRA has been put down, and then after they can go on long, separate vacations.

    When they return the quinjet to the Playground's hangar (Sam has some capital-O Opinions on that name, by the way) he stays behind to make use of some of the on-board maintenance equipment. It's been made plainly obvious that not having Redwing is affecting his efficacy out on the field, and the repair attempts he's made previously haven't stuck. Sam thinks he's close, though.

    In the great scheme of things he is, but it's several hours later before Redwing is hovering in the air, playing his usual midi clip hello to Sam. He runs through some diagnostics and has Redwing do a tour through the hangar before he's satisfied, and then Sam has him redocked into the back of his flight pack. At least now he's prepared for the next mission.

    Sam sighs and rubs his face. The smell of solder is sharp in his nose. When he got out, he never thought he'd be doing missions ever again.

    Rather than immediately head to Bucky's quarters, he heads to the cafeteria. The food he finds there is just... not up to Sam's standards, and he knows he shouldn't be bothered but he'd like to be done with MREs (or equivalent, quality-wise) for the rest of his life, thank you very much. So he requisitions a vehicle for a brief trip into town, hat and sunglasses on, and finds a nearby diner with good reviews online. Sam keeps his head down, doesn't talk much, and pays in cash. He's no spy but he thinks he can at least manage to fly (heh) under the radar in a podunk Delaware town.

    Back at the Playground, Sam is silent and steely-eyed to the point no one bothers him despite the surprise of his appearance as he passes through the halls to the living quarters. If he has to force a cheeseburger down Bucky's throat then he is absolutely prepared to do so. It's non-negotiable at this point, especially after Sam found the crumpled paper pharmacy bag in the quinjet and the receipt for caffeine pills inside it. Something's gotta give, here, and it's not going to be him any longer.

James Barnes has posed:
    Did Sam notice the completely empty bottle and the fact that receipt was dated *yesterday*. It's probably in Bucky's best interest if the answer to that question is no?

    As for the rooming arrangements, Bucky would never leave Sam without a place to sleep no matter how fucking much his friend makes him want to stab his own ears with a pencil sometimes. The true argument will be getting Buck to not take the couch himself.

    By the time Sam gets back, the former Winter Soldier has showered, changed into a pair of loose fit lounge pants and a t-shirt. He's sideways on the couch, legs up with a sketchpad resting on them. A German shepherd, Lili, a gift from Steve... is taking up the other end of the piece of furniture.

    He doesn't even look up from the sketch he's working on when Sam enters. No eye-contact... no talk, right?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Of course Sam noticed. He's already on high alert, there's no way he'd miss something like that, especially since he's kind of expecting it after the last time they talked about Bucky's (lack of) sleep patterns.

    Still, he doesn't barge in demanding answers, waving the evidence in Bucky's face or anything. He knocks, waits several seconds, and then opens the door. It's good to see that Bucky's taking care of himself in at least one of the three areas that Sam habitually harasses him over, and Sam's hoping that the smell of food might be enough to entice Bucky away from his extreme diet of processed sugar and coffee.

    "I got a double cheeseburger for Lili, plain, no bun. Is that okay?" Because Sam is both thoughtful like that and also absolutely an animal person, not just birds: he'd adopted an elderly cat when he was still in recovery, and he appreciates the good that a companion can do for a person.

    He drops down into the chair next to the couch and sets the bags from the diner on the low table in front of them, though he doesn't move to unpack it all immediately. Even though his stomach is gone well past grumbling and into actively sending little bursts of pain through his system; Sam's been to war, he knows how to ignore his body's needs if there are more pressing matters to deal with.

    Hopefully Bucky won't be offended that Sam thinks of him as something to deal with, because it's not really Bucky himself. Just the one big glaring issue that Sam can't help but grapple with, because they're basically partners on the field.

    And you don't turn your back on your partner.

    He leans forward, his elbow on the arm rest of the chair. "What are you working on?" he asks, not quite trying to steal a look at Bucky's sketchpad despite his own curiosity.

James Barnes has posed:
    Lili, cheeseburger... foodsmells... the dog certainly thinks that's just absolutely fine and okay. She climbs off the couch by putting her front feet on the floor first and then streeeetching until her back legs fall off too. Then she pads over to Sam and sits expectantly in front of him. She doesn't whine, that would be impolite, but she does thump her tail hopefully.

    "S'long as you clean it up if she shits in the floor," Bucky murmurs. But he likely doesn't even mean that. He loves that dog.

    He shifts around to sit on the couch the proper way and holds out the sketch pad. "I dunno, just doodlin' I guess." It really is a thing he does, just mindless sketches with no real plan or idea in mind from start to finish. It's a little like therapy for him really, if he'd only stop and look at them when he's done, but he usually just throws them away.

    This particular one depicts what has to be Bucky in the middle of the page but, at first glance, it looks like he's sprouting wings, wings that are half wrapped around his body protectively? They seem to be shielding him from the shadows gathering all around him and the screaming, evil faces in those shadows.

    Second glance? The perspective is wrong, he's not sprouting wings, the wings are ... behind him, definitely coming from a different source, from someone standing directly behind him, blocked by his body. Someone else's wings?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Lili's approach earns a big smile from Sam, who immediately leans forward to offer a hand for her to sniff, and then if that's acceptable, he goes all in on the petting. Ear ruffles, skritches, he really pulls out all the stops. "She wouldn't do that, she's a good girl," he says, even going so far as to lean down and kiss the crown of her skull.

    Dogs, man. So good.

    When Bucky offers out the sketch pad, rather than reach over to take it, Sam just leans forward more. His eyes go to the dark shapes at the edges of the page, like that's what he's expecting to see, so it draws his attention first. Shadows, evil, all that. But then he looks at the actual central focus of the sketch, and he's quiet for a long few moments. "You've got talent, Buck. I can't do more than stick figures," he says, though his voice has gone quiet and contemplative. He sits back, and looks at Bucky for a long while, before he nods.

    "I got into cooking when I got back, once I was ready to start doing something productive. I'd never spent much time in the kitchen with my mom, not unless she made me, but Sarah has all of her recipes." Sam looks down at his hands on his thighs. "Too bad there isn't a kitchen here."

    Which brings him back around to the topic of: food.

    As in, there's food right here in front of them, and Sam unpacks the styrofoam containers, which contain the exact same basic cheeseburger with fixings, except Sam's has sweet potato fries instead of regular fries. "You're eating," he tells Bucky, and then brandishes a plastic knife at him semi-threateningly, before he sets to work putting ketchup and mustard on his burger. There are a couple of water bottles in a separate bag, too.

James Barnes has posed:
    Despite the fact that there's food in her immediate future and she seems to sense that, Lili is all about the scritches and the attention. Before it's over, that little hopeful tail thumping turns into and outright full on wag. There's even a little butt wiggle involved.

    Bucky tosses the sketchpad aside without a second thought to it. Chances are that very telling drawing will go in the trash the next time he picks up the pad. "Steve's better," he comments quietly. It's a debatable fact, but most times it seems he just goes to immediately believing that someone else is 'better' unless it comes to making things that need to be dead stop breathing.

    "I don't like onions," he complains when he picks up the burger to inspect it. It seems as though that might be his excuse to ditch the whole meal, but in the end he picks them off. He's a mayo and ketchup kinda guy, don't judge. When he's got his all set up and ready to eat, he takes a bit, then another, then he sets it aside. Maybe he'll go back to it?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam can't resist continuing to pet Lili until he absolutely has to have the use of both hands, because she is a Good Dog. He even cracks a smile when she goes from furious tail-wagging into but-wiggling, and he ruffles her ears with both hands so that they flop around. For the few moments he's distracted with her, he can't help but have a huge grin on his face.

    "Then pick them off," Sam grouses back, as he leans over to set the container with Lili's double cheeseburger on the ground for her to snarf. And then he tucks one leg under the other and pulls his food into his lap to eat. Sam's not the kind of guy who eats a lot of greasy food on the regular, not when he's got two super soldiers, a literal God, and people who Hulk out to keep up with. He tracks his macros, makes most of his meals at home, and limits his meat intake, but with everything else going on right now, making those kind of executive level decisions about his life is too much.

    Plus, he feels little bit more capable of convincing Bucky to eat a burger than a quinoa salad or something. "Steve is Steve," Sam says, finally ready to take his first bite. Even though Bucky was the one complaining, Sam's the one being fastidious about his food. "Nothing about what I said was a comparison. You've got talent," he repeats.

    He doesn't yet say anything about how much Bucky is eating, but he's also not being subtle about keeping track of it, either.

James Barnes has posed:
    Lili really is a Good Dog. She's actually the Best Dog and even Bucky thinks so. At first the thought an emotional support dog put him off. It was Steve, so he graciously accepted and figured he'd pawn her off on someone else most of the time. But until recently, when things got too crazy to safely bring her along, Bucky was rarely seen without that dog. Of course even the Best Dog can make a few meat patties disappear in 2.2 seconds and she does so.

    She doesn't beg for more when she's finished, instead she moves to sit on the floor next to Bucky. With one of her paws resting on the top of his foot, she leans into his leg. Steady, light pressure, a constant presence, always there.

    He's made his way through a few of his French fries, but it's starting to become clear that ... well, Bucky's not fucking hungry. He should be starving. He has a Super Soldier metabolism, he should be positively famished. But he also has a whole lot of caffeine running through his system, way more than a 'normal' human could likely even live through. Super Soldier or not, that's gonna have an impact on appetite.

    "Just spill it Sam..." Because he knows something's coming and the waiting is now becoming worse than the actual talk. It's like when mom says, 'wait until dad gets home'.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Maybe Bucky wants to just get it over with, but Sam would very much like to continue eating his feelings with this burger right here, okay? And it's hard to have a real conversation when you're also battling to maintain the structural integrity of a cheeseburger in your hands.

    But Bucky wants to talk, and that's... something. That's something, alright, so Sam takes one more bite, then wipes off his hands, and sets his food down on the table. "You're not sleeping," he says, not a question but a statement. "And you know that's not enough food to sustain you, either. I know your calorie requirements are higher than mine but even with the way my eating is disordered right now, you're not keeping up. Something's got to give, Buck, and I know you can't appreciate me constantly hounding you about this."

    He picks at his own fries, maybe just to stall for time. Confrontation is fine, Sam can handle it, it's pretty commonly part of his job--but it's different when it's with friends. It's different when it's over a sensitive subject like this.

    "The fact that you're self-medicating is dangerous. You know that, right?"

James Barnes has posed:
    At first, as evident in the way his brow furrows and his jaw sets angrily, it seems like Bucky's about it to blow his top. Lili leans a little harder. She picks up that one paw and puts it back down again.

    That angry expression goes from nuclear to just... well, a little defeated.

    His right hand strays down to pet Lili's head absently. He leans back on the couch and looks up at the ceiling before his left hand comes up to rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger. ...that can't be comfortable with the whole metal fingers thing going on.

    Bad judgement on his part, he tries to lie about it to start, "I spilled'm down the drain accidentally. I only took a few. I can't get drunk on an entire bottle of rot gut Sam, do you really think a few caffeine pills will hurt me?" He adds to the bullshit by saying, "I ate on the jet on the way back to the Barn." Honestly though, there's a hint of a silver lining here. Not even six months ago, he could have looked Sam right in the eye and told those lies without blinking once. Now he can't even take his hands away from those pale blues when he's looking at the ceiling. Baby steps?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    The anger, Sam's ready for. It's exactly the kind of reaction he knows comes naturally in this sort of situation, which he knows from his experience both in therapy and as a counselor. So he's braced for it, quietly expectant, and Bucky surprises him by reeling himself back in.

    Sam spares a moment to smile at Lili, and make a mental note to keep treats in his pocket for her whenever he comes to visit.

    He waits until Bucky has worked through whatever he's got going on in his head to the point that they can continue the conversation. Though maybe he's actually just planning out his lies. Sam doesn't immediately speak up, but his jaw sets and he folds his hands together in his lap. It's not until Bucky's done and got it out all out that Sam sighs. "Really, Buck?"

    He sits up, leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees. "I get that you don't want to talk to me about this." He pauses, "I'm not your therapist." Then he adds, "But I am your friend, and I can't just sit around when you're obviously self-destructing."

James Barnes has posed:
    "It was worth a shot," Bucky mutters quietly, never changing positions to look at Sam. He does lower his hand from his eyes after a moment, but his head's still leaned back and his gaze is still on the ceiling.

    Lili moves around to sit between Bucky's legs, facing him, head on his left knee. Her paw is re-positioned to his foot. For the moment, she's completely ignoring Sam. Bucky is the only thing in the room that matters. She's good at her job. She nudges a cold nose against his bare right hand to prompt him to start with the absent stroking of her head again.

    Silence, uncomfortable and heavy, streeeetches on and on until finally he blurts out the truth of it, something he's actually never even admitted to his therapist. Hell, he's barely acknowledged it himself, "I'm fucking scared to sleep, Sam. Don't you get that?" There's an angry bite to his voice. Fear to anger, it's still his go to. "...and it's been so much worse lately. Every. Fucking. Time. There isn't one night that I... Fallin' asleep is like... I feel like I'm..." He's having an incredibly difficult time expressing the rest of it and after those few, halting, failed attempts he just falls silent again.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    The most important thing about being a counselor is patience. Sam's got plenty of it, even if it doesn't seem like he does all the time, at least with Bucky around. Right in this moment he's putting a lot of his patience to use, and it's something of a strain, because he doesn't have the emotional distance necessary to separate himself from Bucky's problems. Hard to, when this is the guy Sam has watching his back in life-or-death situations.

    So he lets out a gust of breath and shoots a narrow-eyed look at Bucky for the lies. Not something he'd do if this was any kind of professional setting.

    But he lets Bucky sit with his thoughts some more, even if it means *Sam* has to sit there with his hands gripped together hard enough for his knuckles to stand out against his skin. It'd be easier if he didn't have the natural (but inappropriate) urge to shake Bucky and argue. Like that would solve anything. Sam's human though, he can't help it, he's allowed to feel frustration at the kind of complex problem that Bucky's issue with sleep absolutely is.

    "Of course I get it. You think I can't tell?" This next round of silence is harder to maintain, but Bucky is honestly, verbally trying to work through his shit, and it isn't until Sam can tell that it's not happening that he speaks again. "But all you're doing by staying awake is hurting yourself. The stress and anxiety you feel as you put it off longer and longer is only going to lead your mind into a darker place, make it worse."

James Barnes has posed:
    When Bucky stops petting Lili and his leg starts bouncing up and down, she lets out a soft little whine of a sound and licks his hand again. Stay focused... bucko. ...and it does actually seem easier for him to focus when he's petting the dog. The bouncing leg stops as soon as his hand is moving through Lili's warm fur again.

    "What if I don't wake up in time?" barely a whisper. He's still staring at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact with Sam. Eye contact would just be too much to ask right now. "... y'know I almost choked Peggy out in my sleep once." Those words are louder, matter of fact, but it's only because he has to pretend he's talking about the weather to even get the words out. "...what if I didn't wake up in time?" ... back to a whisper.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Even if Sam didn't have experience with this sort of thing, he'd be able to recognize the signs of anxiety that Bucky's showing. The leg bouncing, the lack of eye contact, it's pretty obvious. So it does temper him, somewhat, against his natural urge to bicker. He can't help that Bucky is basically the only person to bring it out in him. It is what it is.

    "No, I didn't know that," he says. Sam takes a few breaths before he says anything else, his eyebrows drawing together as he thinks. He even stops holding his hands clasped together to instead rub his forehead. "But you did wake up. What did it? Do you know what snapped you out of it?" Of course Sam's going to come at this from the practical side of things. He of all people knows that there's not much that can be solved by them just talking right here and now. It doesn't work like that.

    His hands fall back to his lap. "Figuring out a schedule and ways to prepare before going to sleep would be a good way for you to start taking control. Not that it will make your nightmares stop, but you'll be in a better place to deal with them."

James Barnes has posed:
    "I dunno, I think she yelled at me. Snapped at me. It's... fuzzy, but it feels like she ordered me to stand down." At least the reply isn't a halting, hesitant whisper. He really is trying here, but his left hand starts tapping fingers to thumb, one at a time, rhythmic and on repeat. "But she's stronger than most, Sam. What if it was Sharon." Just a beat, maybe two, his voice drops to a whisper again, "Or ... you." Because Peggy was able to keep his choking grasp mostly away from her throat and well, not everyone would have been able to do that.

    Bucky doesn't care about waking up screaming and bathed in sweat, it sucks but fuck it, he probably deserves that. He cares about what he might do when the dreams don't wake him up, what could happen if he tries to live them out.

    Finally he lowers his head, leaning forward with Lili still right there between his legs. He looks Sam right in the damned eye and says, "I can barely fucking live with the things I've done now, Sam. If I fell asleep and woke up to find Sharon or you or..." well anyone... "...dead." It'd surely cause him to completely lose his fucking mind, or what's left of it.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam has to sit with the knowledge he's just gained for a minute. It's always been a consideration in the back of his mind, what to do if the Winter Soldier were somehow triggered. Even though Sam's an optimist, he's an optimist that knows you have to put in the work first before you get to the happy ending. And it's going to be a long road of hard work for Bucky to shake off all the nasty shit HYDRA put in his head.

    This is a little bit more real. Knowing what had happened with Peggy, and knowing what had happened in the Sphere, it changes things. Not how Sam feels: Bucky is still Bucky, still the one suffering, but it means they have to reconsider how they're approaching this. On the field Sam might be good at rolling with the punches and making decisions on the fly, but when it comes to a problem like this with big emotional consequences, Sam wants a plan.

    "Okay... did she try to wake you up, or something? Were you sleepwalking? I know you don't want to talk about it, but I think I need more details here, Buck." He's okay. Focused, because there is a problem before them and they're going to put their heads together to solve it. Somehow, just by opening up to him, Bucky has given Sam a little bit more hope. "We could try to monitor your vitals while you sleep and have an alarm set up to wake you if things get too intense. There's a way we can figure this out."

    Admittedly these measures are stop-gaps. What Bucky really needs some combination of cognitive behavioral therapy, desensitization therapy, and medication (if it will even work with the serum). Which would be under the purview of at least a psychiatrist, if not a whole team of mental health professionals. AKA: not Sam. But they don't have access to that right now, not with the world falling apart around their heads.

James Barnes has posed:
    "How the fuck am I supposed to know? I was *asleep*," Bucky snaps, his voice angry... fear to anger. Lili responds immediately by letting out a little chuff of a sound and moving her head up under one of his hands again. Petting starts, anger fades and... "I'm sorry..."

    The ensuing silence is weighted, but not exactly uncomfortable. Those pale blues of his are doing that thousand yard stare, but it's because he's really trying hard to remember more details of that day.

    His voice has a distant quality, one that reflects the fact that he's trying to pull up events that are foggy and unclear. "... I fell asleep on her couch, it was right after the Triskelion fell. She was trying to cover me up... I think anyway. I remember she mentioned it was her fault for messing with a sleeping soldier after. I remember a voice snapping, hers... it had to have been hers. Sergeant Barnes, stand down now..." That distant voice drops to a whisper again. "I woke up with my left hand trying to close around her throat, but she'd managed to get her own hand between it and her." He's staring at that left hand now, that metal thing that he sometimes loathes. This is one of those times.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    When Bucky snaps at him, Sam narrows his eyes in what is becoming a pretty standard 'Really, Buck?' sort of look. He doesn't rise to the bait, and he's glad for it, because a moment later Bucky gets himself back under control with the quiet, inoffensive help of his support dog, and Sam nods. "Thank you," he says, to the apology.

    Once again, it's a good thing Sam's patient. He stops to crack open one of the water bottles and take a long drink, because he's aware he's probably also fairly dehydrated--though that must mean Bucky is even worse off--and Sam should take better care of himself if he's going to be spending all this time getting on Bucky's case to do the same. It's not like he's actively trying to be hypocritical here.

    "So it sounds like you were triggered by her close proximity, or maybe the weight of the blanket. Either way it sounds like it could be your unconscious mind not being able to differentiate between friend or foe." Sam leans back, both his hands going to the arms of his chair so that he can grip them. And then he's up, stepping away so that is back against the far wall and he can take a look around the room.

    Sam nods, after another moment of consideration. The possibility of helping Bucky address this one glaring issue out of all of the things he deals with has Sam suddenly filled with restless energy, but he doesn't let it show in anything more than a quick clench and unclench of his left hand. "All we gotta do is make sure wherever you're sleeping is secured. I know that'll be more of an issue if we're on an extended mission, but come on, this shit is exactly within our wheelhouse."

James Barnes has posed:
    "I was thinking more making sure *I'm* secure when I'm sleeping," Bucky murmurs. He tries, he really does, but he can't manage to suppress the physical SHUDDER that moves over him at the thought. But he continues with that idea anyway, "They have straps in medical here that... well, if they won't hold through it all, they'd hold long enough for someone to get away from me." Dude is totally volunteering to be strapped down while he sleeps despite his horrific past. That'll work to stop the nightmares, right?

    "I can't... I mean, you're fucking stuck up my ass until this shit's over, I get that... I get that I have no choice but to accept it. You won't give me one." He leans back again and runs both hands through his hair.

    Lili jumps up onto the couch to lay her head in his lap. Bucky's right hand almost instinctively falls to run through her fur. "... but if I fucking hurt you? Or worse. That can't happen."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Yeah, that's not an option." Sam shakes his head. He adds, "Given how you unconsciously reacted the first time, that has just as much potential to trigger you even worse as it does to help."

    The personal quarters at the Playground are at least laid out in a way that makes this easy to consider. Sam's eyes immediately move to the door, which is the only real entry point. There's the vents too, but that's a slippery slope: if he starts thinking about the ways a potential metahuman or mutant agent could get access to Bucky while he's sleeping, Sam's brain probably wouldn't be able to cope. Too many variables for him to consider. "And you're right." Sam even smirks a bit when Bucky assumes (rightly) that Sam isn't going to let this go. "At least we can use that to our advantage--I've got training that Peggy doesn't. I'm not going to do anything, and with me on the couch I'd be able to get in-between you and anyone who might come in."

    At first he's thinking in terms of Steve or Sharon or someone who might try to wake Bucky up with no ill intentions, but then that's not the only possibility. One of his hands lifts to rub his face. "You sleep pretty light, right?" he guesses. "At least when you're not keeping yourself up until the brink of exhaustion. That's something else we have in our favor."

James Barnes has posed:
    "Yeah, I do." It's probably an understatement to say he 'sleeps light'. A feather could probably drop outside the front door and he'd wake up, or at least respond. Therein lies the problem. Waking up and 'getting up' can be two totally different things with him.

    ... he tries really hard to stifle it, but Bucky yawns? Oh MY GOD, he just YAWNED. It cause him to push himself to his feet and pace the room a few times in an attempt to shake off the sleepies.

    "I'm not sure what you're getting at here, Sam. Why it matters. Securing the threat, me, before I go to sleep makes more sense than whatever you're getting at."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Bucky yawns, and Sam immediately points. It's an actual struggle, the tightening of his jaw obvious, to not get snarky about it. Too ingrained. Instead he just gives a few quick shakes of his head and folds his arms over his chest. "What I'm getting at is that we know what triggered you, so we're going to avoid it. It's not a long-term solution but we can use it to manage your sleep schedule right *now*."

    His eyes track the path Bucky's pacing takes him across the room, Sam tucked against the wall and out of the way. "At least until we can get you real help. I know it's not perfect but, Buck, you're going to hit a point where your ability to function in the field is affected." He pauses. "If it isn't already," he adds.

    If Bucky keeps pacing for more than a moment or two, Sam steps forward to block his path. Easy enough given the small space. "There's limits to what the serum can do, and you're definitely running up against them. I don't want you to keel over suddenly because your body has started eating itself from the inside out."

James Barnes has posed:
    The pacing does continue. This is the point, pre-Sam return, where Bucky would go find something to do to keep himself awake. There were many nights he just spent hours lifting weights, hitting a bag, running. Then, when he was finally completely exhausted, he'd get a few hours of fitful sleep tops and start the whole grueling battle against falling asleep all over again.

    When Sam steps in his way, Bucky's first reaction is to snarl, sort of, it's not an audible thing, it's more just a curling of his lip. Lili has yet to get up off the couch, but she's watching Bucky like a hawk.

    "Fine," he growls before sidestepping Sam and moving to the bedroom area and the little bedside table. He pulls a .50 cal Glock from the drawer, pretty heavy hitter that. He checks the clip, makes sure the safety's set and stalks back out. "But only if you promise to fucking use this if you have to." His tone's a little snarly there. "...I'm not saying aim for the Goddamned head, you don't have to kill me to use it to slow me down."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam's under no illusions about how easily it would be for Bucky to move him out of the way, if that was what Bucky wanted. But he still plants his feet and does nothing except raise one eyebrow at Bucky's show of teeth. The thing is, Sam trusts Bucky not to do anything. That's key, here.

    "Thank you," he says, tone equal parts relieved and vindicated. Maybe something of what Sam has been saying has finally got through, to some degree. But his expression is guarded as he watches Bucky go into the nightstand rather than laying down, which was kind of what Sam was hoping for. His eyes are narrowed, focused more on the gun in Bucky's hand than Bucky himself when he returns. At his side, Sam's left hand clenches into a fist and releases, fingers shaking out the zinging along his nerves that he knows isn't really there.

    And maybe Bucky's expecting a rebuttal, but Sam's quiet. He swallows once and then, without a word, holds out his hand. Once Bucky's given it over, Sam goes through the exact same process: checks the clip, makes sure the safety is set, and then he tucks it into the back of his waistband. "Yeah."

    He looks over at their food, mostly uneaten. "...are you done?" The container in front of the sofa gets a frown aimed at it. Bucky used mayo, didn't he? Ugh. "I'm going to eat your fries." Fuck sweet potato fries, he wants the real thing.

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky was prepared for that rebuttal, he has all amped-up for it. When it doesn't happen? Well, he's not sure what to do with all that building energy. He ends up releasing it in a growling rush of breath and, "You're a Goddamned pain in my fucking ass, Wilson..."

    When he turns and stomps his way back toward the bedroom, Lili slinks off to follow. Guess that's a 'yeah I'm done' on the food? It almost seems the shepherd gives Sam an apologetic look along the way.

    He does try to sleep, he really does... and he manages to, but only after he pulls a pillow and the blanket from the bed and curls up on the cold, hard floor. There's something telling about that, just a little more evidence of just how much damage HYDRA really did over all those years.

    Four hours, two hours more than he's been getting at a stretch, Bucky sleeps peacefully for four whole hours. The nightmare that finally wakes him isn't one that has him trying to strangle Sam in his sleep, it isn't even one that has him screaming; not in the waking world anyway.

    The soft gasp that does come when he wakes may have been a scream in his sleep though. It's definitely a signal for Lili, who curled up beside him on the floor without complaint, despite the big soft bed being right there. She wiggles closer until Bucky rolls over and drapes an arm over her. He buries his face in her fur, rubs her ears, and just listens to the sound of her heartbeat while waiting on his own to slow.

    Sam won't wake to being strangled by his friend, but he will wake to a Bucky sitting in the chair in the living room watching Sam sleep with those intense pale blues and that damned creased brow, BuckyStare(tm). That's not creepy AT ALL.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Damn right I am," he replies, like it's a prize he's won or a medal pinned to his chest. Sam Wilson, Certified Pain in Bucky Barnes' Ass. He's still standing when Bucky stalks away, all the way up until Bucky's curled up on the floor. It's nothing Sam thinks is worth commenting on; sleep is sleep, wherever it is, he's not going to argue about where Bucky's getting it.

    He does sit, then, and he eats his lukewarm food, and Bucky's now-soggy fries. And then after a few minutes he eats what remains of Bucky's burger, too, because his body is suddenly reminded how desperate it is for energy to fuel it. After that he expects to be able to sleep right away, but even curled up under a blanket on the couch which is perfectly comfortable to him, Sam's brain won't settle. He lays there staring up at the ceiling, resisting the urge to pull out his phone. That won't help. In fact it'll probably keep him awake, so he doesn't.

    Eventually, though, Sam sleeps. It's fitful; he doesn't wake up but he tosses and turns, his breath ramping up into something anxiety-filled on more than one occasion when he hits REM sleep. It's never anything intense enough to qualify as a real nightmare, just flashes of images that spike his blood pressure and his heart rate, nothing that makes too much sense.

    The gun remains on the table next to him as he sleeps. When the snarl of his subconscious gets too intense for him to stay that way, he comes back to wakefulness all at once, his chest expanding deep. The air rushes out of him after, and he lifts a hand to cover his eyes.

    A long, long pause. Then, "Did you sleep?" Somehow he can just feel the weight of Bucky's stare on him.

James Barnes has posed:
    That's because that stare must weigh about a thousand pounds. "Yeah," he replies before pushing himself out of the chair. "I made omelettes, yours is getting cold." Two things to be take from this: One - Damn, that motherfucker is sneaky ass ninja quiet if he managed to get out of the room so he could go to the cafeteria downstairs and cook and get back in without waking Sam. Two - He said omeletteS, as in plural and Sam's is the only one getting cold? Indeed, Bucky's empty plate is sitting on the coffee table.

    Bucky makes a mean omelette, that should be noted. Bacon, ham, three cheeses, tomatoes, a little green pepper, mushrooms, onion in Sam's but not his own... light, fluffy, omelette perfection. There's also a large insulated cup of coffee and a few packs of sugar.

    So, he slept AND he ate. Fucking WIN! For today at least. But the road's still a long one in front of them and it gets longer every second that HYDRA runs the show.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sneaky ass ninja quiet, Sam expects. He's got half a mind to put a bell on Bucky if only for his peace of mind. Maybe he ought to be more concerned, but if they can't feel safe here with the last remnants of SHIELD, then... Sam can't even allow himself to consider that. He's trying to stay positive.

    It takes him a moment or two to drag himself up, and then he sits there with the blanket across his lap as he scrubs his hands against his face. "Wait." Brain is lagging, let him catch up. The smell of food, of coffee, rouses him enough to actually crack open his eyes, and he blinks them a few times, down at the table.

    "You--" But no words form to complete that sentence, so Sam just drags his plate towards him and cuts into the omelette with the side of his fork. His jaw works as he chews, and he stares for a long time at the far wall before he nods once and looks at Bucky. "This is really good. Thanks."

    This morning in particular, Sam is slow to get moving. There's something to be said for caregiver fatigue, and though he's set to deal with it more than most, the past few days have been stressful. He defaults to taking care of others before himself, and that's absolutely what's been happening. But the eggs and especially the coffee helps, and after that a shower, and then he's finally ready to face whatever the chaos they're swept up in is ready to throw at them. Today, at least, he doesn't feel like he's drowning in it.

    And through it all he doesn't comment further on how much sleep Bucky got or that he ate, though Sam does pause once to clap Bucky on the shoulder, both reassured and reassuring.

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky waits on Sam to shower before taking his turn, but as he's walking past his friend he tosses a phone in his direction. It's *Sam's* own phone. See, he was being thoughtful and didn't want the thing to wake Sam too early, sweet huh?

    "Oh, yeah, Sarah called. We talked while I was cookin' breakfast. She invited us down for the 4th. She's a little pissed that she hasn't heard from you. Something about thinking you were dead?" A beat and, "I'll drive."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Brain now fully awake, Sam's reflexes are more than capable of snatching his phone out of the air. He weighs it in his hand for a moment, and then lets out an exasperated groan. "Really, Buck?"

    "If you flirt with my sister I'm going to have you fed to the fish. I know people, man."