[ Sam's gotta say it's almost a relief that Barnes isn't pushing him away, that what Sam's got to give is actually working. He's not fooling himself enough to believe that it's an instant fix - that any of it will be - or even that it'll work every time, but they've done pretty good so far. Whatever this connection is between them, Sam holds on tight to it, letting himself shut out anything that isn't him and Barnes and the sound of his own breathing.
And if he's got any feelings about actually being able to be a source of something good in Barnes' life, well, at least those are warm, too, and he can quietly bury them for now. ]
(Good, man, that's great. Keep up your breathing, and give me four things you can touch and feel, three things you can hear - and your thoughts don't count, it's gotta be in the room with you - two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.)
[Breathe in. One-two-three-four-five. Breathe out. One-two-three-four-five. Warmth pours through the link, scrubbing away at the caked-on chill, barricading against the programming that, too, hums in his head. Orders. Report.]
(The sheets're too soft. Left arm's gone.) [Bucky pauses as he mentally tallies: one, two--- breathe in. One-two-three-four-five.] (My boots--- they're laced up and I've got wool socks on.
[Static crashes through the mental barrier, a tidal wave of programming washing through him.]
[ It's... different, doing this mentally. Coaching someone in the skills he'd used himself, breathing with them to show them how to do it, he's done it all before, but never when he could feel the things they were struggling with in their heads. It makes things easier, knowing exactly what to react to, but harder when he experiences it, too.
He'd expected the static returning, though, and he's prepared enough that there's only the slightest hitch in chest before his breathing evens out again. Same as he'd do if it was his own shit, he takes in the static and lets it wash over him, fading beneath the cloud layer he uses as a visualization. ]
(I got you, Bucky, you're okay. Just keep breathing with me, you got this.) [ In, out, just slightly out of sync with Barnes, and he focuses on that for a few moments. ] (Three things you can physically hear?)
[The flood of static releases the quiet panic held behind closed doors, that he feels when he wakes up with more bruises and fewer memories. No. No, he won't go back to doing that. He doesn't do that anymore. He won't kill. He's drowning, can't keep his head above the static---]
(Don't let me---)
[He's trying--- onetwothreefourfive--- to tread water and keep breathing, but his focus is slipping to something darker and inevitable. The Soldier. Sam promised. He promised if it happened, he would---]
(Ain't how this works, man, we're gonna stop it together. Can't do it for you.)
[ Despite his words, Sam drops his shields even more, tugging on the thread of their connection and throwing it out like a lifeline, ready to pull Barnes back if he'll let him. There's been times in the past where he told people to ride it through, that it took a hell of a lot of practice to successfully use their skills and sometimes the greatest successes were holding off a panic attack or shortening a flashback by just a few seconds - but this is different, this is decades of brainwashing.
Besides, they have the brood link. This caught up in each other, Sam'd have to try harder not to let Barnes feel what he's doing. Sam treats it like it's his own focus slipping, pulling him under, and he breathes. Changes it up from square breathing to 7-11, pulling a breath in to the count of seven and letting it out while counting to eleven. Curls his fingers around the air force challenge coin in his pocket, thumbs over the familiar grooves and bumps, lets it ground him in right now.
And he pulls, gentle but firm, staying in his own mind as best he can while trying to hold tight to their link. Stay with me. ]
[Bucky feels the connection buckle for a moment before intensifying, curled about him like a lasso and pulling him from the ocean of static. Inch by inch, he's dragged free until he can breathe--- seven eight nine ten eleven. There's something in his pocket and the familiar grooves offer a comfort he's never known. Beneath him, behind him, the static roils and crackles without restraint, but it's somehow more distant, almost like he's watching through a window.
He breathes. Seven eight nine ten eleven.
He thinks he can feel his left arm again, but it isn't cold.]
[ Sam keeps up his breathing, calm and steady, as they work together to pull Barnes' mind from the static that threatens to overwhelm him and back to the present. The warmth that curls around them is tinged with affection while Sam isn't paying attention, focused on keeping them both grounded. He turns the coin over in his fingers, exploring over surface of the front and back. ]
(Tell me what you can feel?)
[ Technically Sam's the one with the grounding object, but the principle is the same. Besides, he's already decided he's going to give Barnes one of his coins when they're done here. ]
[Seven eight nine ten eleven. His heart pulses and echoes in sync with another and his left arm grows more and more real, warm and present and here. The grooves and edges of the coin's insignia rough his fingertips and the static begins to quiet.]
(Wings.)
[His mind builds the image, piece by piece. Wings. Letters. Air... Air Force.]
(You got this, man. Just keep breathing, all right, keep your focus on the coin.)
[ He keeps it up, measured breathing and fingers tracing over the coin, as he gently loosens his grip on their mental connection. It stays open, presence warm and steady, but with the static going quieter, he doesn't think he needs to keep holding onto it like it's a lifeline. ]
[Bucky loosens his vice grip on their connection bit by bit as his fingers run over the coin again and again. Wings. Boot. The sensation in his left arm quiets and fades into the bedroom around him as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. Four legs on the desk. Sketchbook with ruffled pages sits on the desk. Steve gave him that.]
(Yeah. Think so.)
[He's toeing back into his head like a kid and the deep end of the pool.]
[ Sam waits a few breaths more, feeling Barnes settle back into his own head, and then grins. There's a faint swirl of affection and respect mixed in with the warmth he's still putting into the connection, but he doesn't bother trying to untangle it enough to filter it out. ]
(You did it, man, hell yeah. Where are you, huh? I think this'll do more good with you than with me right now.)
[Bucky is more than a little uncertain, but the warmth bubbling alongside respect in the link fills in some of the cracks in his foundation. It's nice, feeling a touch more stable on his feet.]
[ He doesn't cut the connection off, even as he heads for the room Barnes is in. It's nice, the sense of camaraderie drifting between them. Like running together back in the airport, taking on the spider kid - only on a mental level, and at least on Sam's end, a hell of a lot less tentative. Sam could get used to this.
He raps his knuckles on the door when he gets there, pushing it on open and leaning in the doorway with a smile. ]
Hey, man. [ Sam rolls the coin over his fingers, then settles it in the palm of his right hand and holds his hand out like he's going for a handshake. ] Humor me?
[The bauble of light that is Sam Wilson curls closer and Bucky can feel him at the door before he knocks. It's bizarre, but also comforting in its own way. More surprising to Bucky is that he accepts that comfort and doesn't shy away. Bucky glances up at the knock and offers an inkling of a smile, though edged with the cold sweat that follows these episodes; he never quite knows how long he'll be him, if the him is even real.]
Hey. [Bucky blinks at the sudden formality of the handshake but nods and stretches out his hand.]
[ The smile is returned, small and warm, an echo of Sam's mental touch. This is a hell of a lot more than the flashbacks Sam used to get but he still remembers how shaky he felt coming back from one. Right about now, he'll give Bucky as much support as he'll take.
Doesn't stop his smile from widening a little when Bucky goes along with it, a brief flash of amusement and gratitude as he takes Bucky's hand. His grip is firm and friendly, but he holds on longer than a normal handshake as he tips the coin from the palm of his hand into Bucky's. The curl of his fingers around Bucky's lingers, becomes just about touch. Sam'd found it grounding, back in his bad days, and he smooths his thumb reassuringly over the back of Bucky's hand before he pulls away, leaving the coin behind. ]
It's how we passed 'em from one person to another, back in the Air Force. [ Well, aside from the last bit of touching, but that's beside the point. ]
[Bucky accepts the handshake and freezes for a moment when he feels metal press against his palm, but the comforting warmth of Sam's fingers on his own chase away the burst of chill. Before Bucky can stop himself, he finds himself curling around the link like a warm fire in a blizzard and his smile widens, piqued with a touch of curiosity.]
Wouldn't know. [He turns the coin over in his hand, deja vu thrumming through his nerves.] Army.
[ There's a faint note of encouragement over the link, another flare of warmth like gentle fingers stroking through hair. Sam's learned to take what he can get when it comes to grounding and comfort, mental or physical, and he's already started incorporating the mental link into that.
It feels reassuring, here, especially when followed by Bucky's smile. ]
Mmmm. [ Army. It's a huff of mostly playful distaste, and he leans in to lightly bump his shoulder against Bucky's good one. ] But I like you anyway, I guess. Got that one when I finished survival training, pretty sure it was because they never found out I was the one hiding chocolate covered crickets in our instructor's lunch.
[Oh. Oh. That's... actually really nice. And unexpected, but nice. Bucky's smile becomes a full-out grin at the bump to his shoulder and the confirmation of the age-old rivalry of air force vs everyone else who actually works. He holds up the coin as he listens to Sam's explanation.
Maybe in another time, another situation, another everything, they might've been buddies of some kind. Pulling pranks on COs sounds about up Steve's alley though.]
Can't remember if we had these or not. [He tries to remember the exhibit he visited, the one that hailed Sergeant Barnes as a hero when two years later he was known as an infamous assassin wanted by a dozen governments.]
[ If Sam stops and thinks about it - and he has, with Bucky in his head, and especially after this - he's more than aware that it's probably been a long, long time since anyone touched Bucky like this, gentle and playful and meant to comfort. Hell, he'd known a long time ago that it's been too long since anyone treated Bucky like a person, which is one of the reasons that Sam always has. He figures the last thing that Bucky's ever needed was someone else treating him like he was broken, or walking on eggshells around him just waiting for him to go off.
It's easy, to incorporate touch into that. To soak up Bucky's grin and return it with a gap-toothed smile as he hassles him about being in the finishing school they like to call the army, as he stays in Bucky's personal space, radiating as much warmth as he can short of actually running his fingers through Bucky's hair.
He might have technically just admitted he liked Bucky okay, but he's pretty sure that's a level they're not at. ]
They got 'em now, can't remember when they first started giving them out. There's a game that goes along with them - it's why they're called challenge coins. If someone pulls theirs out, it's a challenge, you gotta show yours, too. Whoever doesn't have theirs on them has to buy everyone else a drink.
[Moments like these- sitting side-by-side, talking as if Sam didn't have every reason to run and leave a broken weapon- remind Bucky of Brooklyn, of warm summer days, jumping from shadow to shadow to avoid burning brick. Or sitting in the shade under a tree overlooking the river.Things weren't easy back then, but they were simpler, uncomplicated by war or brainwashing.
He continues to beam, his mouth edging into a wry smirk.]
So what're you gonna do without this one if I challenge you?
[ The question catches Sam by surprise, and there's a startled burst of laughter, deep and genuine. ]
You're such a jackass, what the hell, man. [ And yet Sam's expression is lit up, and there's no mistaking the tone for anything else but fond amusement. Yeah, he can see why this guy is friends with Steve; they've both got the same kind of sense of humor.
Of course, it's Sam's kind of sense of humor, too. ]
Then I guess I'm gonna buy you a drink. You name the kind and you'll get it, probably not dumped on your head.
[It's almost a shame Bucky doesn't drink anymore; free drinks from Sam sounds like a pretty good deal. He meets Sam's laughter with his own low chuckling. It's been a long, long time since he's done something like this and it's like a breath of fresh air.
It quiets, like all bright moments in his life, but Bucky's countenance is a bit brighter, a bit more relaxed. He bites down on the side of his lip as he turns the coin in his fingers, a swell of affection and joy crashing through him.
He doesn't have much in the way of personal items, sentimental or otherwise. More since he came to Concordia, but every one of them leaves a significant impact on him. The weapon wasn't ever allowed to keep anything, not even his own memories. The assassin couldn't hold onto his freedom or his backpack of notes on his life.]
Thanks. [The word is small and quiet, but deeply reverent.]
[ It's good, seeing Bucky laugh like this. Being able to give him a space where he can relax a little, for however brief of a time. This, right here, this is one of the reasons that Sam'd offered to help Steve look for him in the first place, that he spent two years trying to find him. There was a time when Sam was the one who needed help getting his shit together, finding reasons to smile again, and he knows how important it is to have that.
It's become more than that now - it's become personal - but it hasn't changed the determination to plant himself firmly in Bucky's corner.
His laughter fades, but the smile doesn't, and he shakes his head before resting a hand on Bucky's knee. ]
Anytime. [ It's just as quiet, just as sincere, and he gives Bucky's knee a squeeze before he lets go. ] Come on, I'll make us something to eat. What d'you want? I've been making a lot of pizza, but I can do spaghetti or burgers pretty easy with what we've got.
[Bucky doesn't mind the touch to his knee as he does some deep breathing, but for a reason other than panic. He's not the type to get emotional. He doesn't do emotions, but the sense of gratitude is so profound he can't help but eek out some uneasy laughter in an attempt to vent some of the pressure under the surface. Bucky still focuses his gaze on the floor, but he nods anyway.
He's just shy of exhausted coming out of the other side of the mental ordeal and food sounds like a great idea, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it, any of this.]
[ Emotions are hard, Sam gets that. But he's come a long way to believe that the good ones are worth all of the bad, even if the bad are real damn shitty. As far as he's concerned, Bucky feeling emotions is a new success.
He'll just maybe try to ease Bucky into them a little, because he knows they can be overwhelming - hell, he can feel it a little, through the mental link. So he doesn't call attention to that laughter, just lets Bucky do whatever he needs to in order to feel a little more comfortable, as though it were normal. It is normal, really, at least to Sam.
Sam gives an amused snort at hot dogs, but he's definitely not gonna veto something if Bucky's actually volunteering a preference. ]
Hot dogs it is. [ He pushes himself up to his feet, absolutely using Bucky's shoulder to steady himself, and then offers him a hand up. ] If I make you a root beer float to go with, that gonna count as the drink I owe you?
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sizeofyourbaggage) wrote2016-05-22 03:26 pm
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And if he's got any feelings about actually being able to be a source of something good in Barnes' life, well, at least those are warm, too, and he can quietly bury them for now. ]
( Good, man, that's great. Keep up your breathing, and give me four things you can touch and feel, three things you can hear - and your thoughts don't count, it's gotta be in the room with you - two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. )
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( The sheets're too soft. Left arm's gone. ) [Bucky pauses as he mentally tallies: one, two--- breathe in. One-two-three-four-five.] ( My boots--- they're laced up and I've got wool socks on.
[Static crashes through the mental barrier, a tidal wave of programming washing through him.]
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He'd expected the static returning, though, and he's prepared enough that there's only the slightest hitch in chest before his breathing evens out again. Same as he'd do if it was his own shit, he takes in the static and lets it wash over him, fading beneath the cloud layer he uses as a visualization. ]
( I got you, Bucky, you're okay. Just keep breathing with me, you got this. ) [ In, out, just slightly out of sync with Barnes, and he focuses on that for a few moments. ] ( Three things you can physically hear? )
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( Don't let me--- )
[He's trying--- onetwothreefourfive--- to tread water and keep breathing, but his focus is slipping to something darker and inevitable. The Soldier. Sam promised. He promised if it happened, he would---]
( ---stop it--- )
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[ Despite his words, Sam drops his shields even more, tugging on the thread of their connection and throwing it out like a lifeline, ready to pull Barnes back if he'll let him. There's been times in the past where he told people to ride it through, that it took a hell of a lot of practice to successfully use their skills and sometimes the greatest successes were holding off a panic attack or shortening a flashback by just a few seconds - but this is different, this is decades of brainwashing.
Besides, they have the brood link. This caught up in each other, Sam'd have to try harder not to let Barnes feel what he's doing. Sam treats it like it's his own focus slipping, pulling him under, and he breathes. Changes it up from square breathing to 7-11, pulling a breath in to the count of seven and letting it out while counting to eleven. Curls his fingers around the air force challenge coin in his pocket, thumbs over the familiar grooves and bumps, lets it ground him in right now.
And he pulls, gentle but firm, staying in his own mind as best he can while trying to hold tight to their link. Stay with me. ]
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He breathes. Seven eight nine ten eleven.
He thinks he can feel his left arm again, but it isn't cold.]
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( Tell me what you can feel? )
[ Technically Sam's the one with the grounding object, but the principle is the same. Besides, he's already decided he's going to give Barnes one of his coins when they're done here. ]
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( Wings. )
[His mind builds the image, piece by piece. Wings. Letters. Air... Air Force.]
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[ He keeps it up, measured breathing and fingers tracing over the coin, as he gently loosens his grip on their mental connection. It stays open, presence warm and steady, but with the static going quieter, he doesn't think he needs to keep holding onto it like it's a lifeline. ]
( Back with me? )
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( Yeah. Think so. )
[He's toeing back into his head like a kid and the deep end of the pool.]
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( You did it, man, hell yeah. Where are you, huh? I think this'll do more good with you than with me right now. )
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[Bucky is more than a little uncertain, but the warmth bubbling alongside respect in the link fills in some of the cracks in his foundation. It's nice, feeling a touch more stable on his feet.]
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[ He doesn't cut the connection off, even as he heads for the room Barnes is in. It's nice, the sense of camaraderie drifting between them. Like running together back in the airport, taking on the spider kid - only on a mental level, and at least on Sam's end, a hell of a lot less tentative. Sam could get used to this.
He raps his knuckles on the door when he gets there, pushing it on open and leaning in the doorway with a smile. ]
Hey, man. [ Sam rolls the coin over his fingers, then settles it in the palm of his right hand and holds his hand out like he's going for a handshake. ] Humor me?
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Hey. [Bucky blinks at the sudden formality of the handshake but nods and stretches out his hand.]
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Doesn't stop his smile from widening a little when Bucky goes along with it, a brief flash of amusement and gratitude as he takes Bucky's hand. His grip is firm and friendly, but he holds on longer than a normal handshake as he tips the coin from the palm of his hand into Bucky's. The curl of his fingers around Bucky's lingers, becomes just about touch. Sam'd found it grounding, back in his bad days, and he smooths his thumb reassuringly over the back of Bucky's hand before he pulls away, leaving the coin behind. ]
It's how we passed 'em from one person to another, back in the Air Force. [ Well, aside from the last bit of touching, but that's beside the point. ]
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Wouldn't know. [He turns the coin over in his hand, deja vu thrumming through his nerves.] Army.
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It feels reassuring, here, especially when followed by Bucky's smile. ]
Mmmm. [ Army. It's a huff of mostly playful distaste, and he leans in to lightly bump his shoulder against Bucky's good one. ] But I like you anyway, I guess. Got that one when I finished survival training, pretty sure it was because they never found out I was the one hiding chocolate covered crickets in our instructor's lunch.
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Maybe in another time, another situation, another everything, they might've been buddies of some kind. Pulling pranks on COs sounds about up Steve's alley though.]
Can't remember if we had these or not. [He tries to remember the exhibit he visited, the one that hailed Sergeant Barnes as a hero when two years later he was known as an infamous assassin wanted by a dozen governments.]
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It's easy, to incorporate touch into that. To soak up Bucky's grin and return it with a gap-toothed smile as he hassles him about being in the finishing school they like to call the army, as he stays in Bucky's personal space, radiating as much warmth as he can short of actually running his fingers through Bucky's hair.
He might have technically just admitted he liked Bucky okay, but he's pretty sure that's a level they're not at. ]
They got 'em now, can't remember when they first started giving them out. There's a game that goes along with them - it's why they're called challenge coins. If someone pulls theirs out, it's a challenge, you gotta show yours, too. Whoever doesn't have theirs on them has to buy everyone else a drink.
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He continues to beam, his mouth edging into a wry smirk.]
So what're you gonna do without this one if I challenge you?
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You're such a jackass, what the hell, man. [ And yet Sam's expression is lit up, and there's no mistaking the tone for anything else but fond amusement. Yeah, he can see why this guy is friends with Steve; they've both got the same kind of sense of humor.
Of course, it's Sam's kind of sense of humor, too. ]
Then I guess I'm gonna buy you a drink. You name the kind and you'll get it, probably not dumped on your head.
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It quiets, like all bright moments in his life, but Bucky's countenance is a bit brighter, a bit more relaxed. He bites down on the side of his lip as he turns the coin in his fingers, a swell of affection and joy crashing through him.
He doesn't have much in the way of personal items, sentimental or otherwise. More since he came to Concordia, but every one of them leaves a significant impact on him. The weapon wasn't ever allowed to keep anything, not even his own memories. The assassin couldn't hold onto his freedom or his backpack of notes on his life.]
Thanks. [The word is small and quiet, but deeply reverent.]
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It's become more than that now - it's become personal - but it hasn't changed the determination to plant himself firmly in Bucky's corner.
His laughter fades, but the smile doesn't, and he shakes his head before resting a hand on Bucky's knee. ]
Anytime. [ It's just as quiet, just as sincere, and he gives Bucky's knee a squeeze before he lets go. ] Come on, I'll make us something to eat. What d'you want? I've been making a lot of pizza, but I can do spaghetti or burgers pretty easy with what we've got.
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He's just shy of exhausted coming out of the other side of the mental ordeal and food sounds like a great idea, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it, any of this.]
Hot dogs? [Okay he's not a man with fancy taste.]
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He'll just maybe try to ease Bucky into them a little, because he knows they can be overwhelming - hell, he can feel it a little, through the mental link. So he doesn't call attention to that laughter, just lets Bucky do whatever he needs to in order to feel a little more comfortable, as though it were normal. It is normal, really, at least to Sam.
Sam gives an amused snort at hot dogs, but he's definitely not gonna veto something if Bucky's actually volunteering a preference. ]
Hot dogs it is. [ He pushes himself up to his feet, absolutely using Bucky's shoulder to steady himself, and then offers him a hand up. ] If I make you a root beer float to go with, that gonna count as the drink I owe you?
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