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philtstone · 11 months

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45, Sam Wilson

#45 -- shining like fireworks lol this is way longer than it was supposed to be and also was crafted around the #25 prompt, because I can't read. but I made it work. zainab i know youve already written something like this but i wanted to try my hand at it too! my homage to the epistolatory fic...

"You made me a scrapbook for my birthday?"

Okay.

Maybe he should rewind.

Sam won't lie and say it hasn't been a rough few months. So technically, the weight of the world doesn't need to be on his shoulders. He keeps thinking he oughta take a page out of that Spider-kid's book, and just be a friendly neighborhood Cap, or something. It's just between intercontinental warhead measuring competitions (something he can say around his nephews without Sarah raising both eyebrows), dickhead suits (come on, Sarah), flying green men, and regular old food shortages in his own damn home state ... well, it's hard not to feel it all, when you care.

He used to call Bucky and bitch about things, before. Or rather -- he'd call Bucky, and Bucky would start bitching about things, which gave Sam the opening to also start bitching about things. Funny how that worked out. But they weren't even living together then. They were miles apart! Since he and Bucky got that stupid bachelor pad apartment six months ago, they've barely spent more than three consecutive minutes in each others' presence. They've both been out of the apartment for such mutually overlapping long stretches of time that every time Sam checks the fridge, the brand new carton of milk he got on the last grocery run has gone lumpy. The worst of it is, he hasn't had any chance to talk to Bucky about it properly, and there's a weird, tireder-than-usual Sam part of his brain that worries maybe this isn't the best solution to Bucky's isolation issues. Wasn't that part of the reason they decided to move in together, anyway? A solution to loneliness? Humans weren't made to live all alone, grown assed men or not, Sam thinks.

All of this is making Sam in more of a bad mood than he needs to be, given that it's his birthday.

It is his fortieth birthday, so maybe that, too, is contributing.

By rights, he should be turning forty five. That part though, Sam refuses to think about at all.

"Yeah, yeah, complain about how old you are," Bucky says, leaned too far back in his own porch chair, long legs stretched all the way out against the rail, and nursing the twin of Sam's own cool beer. "Is it 'cause you need reading glasses now?"

"Bucky," Sam grits out, because he's not sure how to communicate, I am stupidly glad you, one of my dearest friends some-fucking-how, are here, I've missed you, I really didn't expect I would this much, but also I am five seconds away from drop kicking you into a small body of water, so help me God, in a non embarrassing, well-adjusted kinda way.

"Aw, it is," says the most annoying man alive, who at one hundred and seven has the general face and physique of a particularly genetically-blessed thirty-eight year old. The fact that technically, if you do the in-and-out-of-cryo math, Bucky clocks out at two years younger than Sam is possibly the single worst fact in the universe, right now.

"Both of you shut up and let Sam finish opening his presents," says a third voice, and Sam, miffed, turns to glare at his sister, while Bucky, the bastard, is grinning like a set of cheap fireworks.

Sarah had promised that they won't do nothing big til tomorrow, and that this afternoon was just for family. Sam should've expected that meant four neighbors and three of their childhood family friends and two cousins, also, but by four pm, most people have filed out and lunch is a demolished mess of scraped-clean plates and almost empty pots on the big fold out table on the backyard porch. He's already opened AJ and Cass's humble contribution: a baseball mitt, which Uncle Sam can use to teach them baseball, much to Bucky's endless amusement ("Didn't you say baseball was an old people sport? You played baseball in school, Samuel? When you were even younger?" Yeah, he's real close to Bucky-cide, today). He knows Sarah's got him an old record player of their dad's upstairs, which he'd been planning to get fixed up all those many years ago, before their lives were torn apart; the fact that it has survived, and they have survived, makes Sam feel a certain kind of way. What Sam wasn't expecting was the lumpy, large, rectangular package that emerges from under the porch table, wrapped in brown paper and presented to him by his nephews.

"And that one's from B," Sarah says. Sam's too busy staring at it incredulously to clock the amused twinkle in his sister's eye.

"You got me a birthday present? Forreal?" Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or be suspicious or tear up like an idiot. Jesus, it's not like he's Bucky, getting all misty at basic kind gestures. Bucky shrugs and takes a drag from his beer.

"What, you can get me stuff, but I'm banned?"

"You're not banned, oh my God. I'm just surprised."

"I get people presents!"

"I know you do!"

"So, it's your birthday, I got you a present."

"What is it?"

"Now he's making it weird!" Bucky says, helplessly, to Sarah. AJ and Cass have started giggling.

So Sam rips off the wrapping paper, muttering to himself.

Which brings him back to an immutable, inescapable fact.

Bucky Barnes made him a scrapbook for his birthday.

"It's not a scrapbook."

"It's literally a scrapbook. Holy shit, are those stickers from Joanne's?"

"Hobby Lobby," offers AJ solemnly.

"Look, okay, it was Sarah's idea! Just read the fuckin' -- I mean, uh --"

At this point, the boys' giggles are threatening to turn medical. Sarah mouths nope, all him, from behind Bucky's chair, while Sam gapes helplessly at the shockingly neat mess of .... post it notes?

No. No way.

"You put all the annoying sticky notes you left me about the fucking soured milk in a scrapbook?"

"Oh, guys, come on!" Sarah throws her hands up in the air. "That's two in half a minute! You want these boys to grow up cursin'?"

"Half of them are yours!" Bucky points. "Which, by the way, were also annoying!" He's not quite embarrassed, but there's an airy, funny kind of laugh bubbling up behind his words at the ridiculousness of it all. Sam's feeling it too. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his reading glasses.

Bucky cracks; he chokes on his laughter, stuffing it roughly behind one metal fist; AJ has plastered himself against Sam's side and Cass is literally slumped, hiccupping, on the floor. Even Sarah's having a hard time fighting it.

Primly, Sam begins reading at a random place in the middle of the book; the note is written on an overlarge, bright blue POST-IT.

SAM. WON'T BE BACK TIL THURSDAY. PICKED UP THAT WEIRD MILK YOU LIKE FOR YOU. -JBB

Bucky, just got in. Leaving again tomorrow 0600. Hope Ross isn't being too much of a pain in the ass. Lactose free milk is a sexy modern invention, NOT weird. Its kind of gone bad tho. Did you not drink any of it???

Also, u dont have to sign post its. - Sam

I WASNT GONNA DRINK YOUR MILK. ITS YOURS. THANKS FOR TAKING OUT THE LEFTOVER TRASH, HAD TO RUN. GOT YOU MORE MILK FOR WHEN YOU GET BACK. YOU WILL DO GREAT. RIP STR MALONE A NEW ONE - JBB

I know who you are! Milks bad again. Jesus, i need a vacation. I didn't rip any senators new ones

Wanted to, tho. You keep switching burner phones so i cant text you this shit

LEAVE NOTES. THEY STICK TO THE FRIDGE NICE - JBB

Oh my God, you did not get a cat while I was gone

SHE CAN LIVE IN MY ROOM. GOT YOU MORE MILK AS A BRIBE :-)

She tore up ALL THE CURTAINS. I LIKED THOSE CURTAINS. And do your own laundry instead of getting me milk!

I DO LAUNDRY! IVE DONE YOURS THREE TIMES IN A ROW.

FUCK. MILKS GONE BAD.

You tried to drink it? What happened to its Sams milk?

Your cat peed in my shoe by the way!

IT WAS GOING BAD!!!!! -JBB

It's always goin bad!! - STW

Hey B, heard about the op from Rhodey. Im in Delacroix tmrw, come down if you can. Take care of yourself, man.

At this point, Sam stops reading. That was a couple days ago. He looks up again, pulls his glasses off. As irritable as he was earlier, there is relief in seeing Bucky perfectly in-tact, effortlessly whole. Maybe a little tired around the eyes, but Sam thinks that's maybe a detail about him that's never really gonna go away at this point. He'd been worried, yeah. Annoyed, that they hadn't talked properly before parting ways. Missing his friend and pissed off about the milk. What was the point of living with a person if you never fucking interacted, and then they got blown up?

"I can't believe you kept all of this shit," Sam manages.

Rubbing at one eye, Bucky shrugs, looks down, then up, like he's not actually embarrassed about it at all. He says, "I had to prove to my therapist I was living successfully with a roommate somehow."

Sam snorts. After a beat, Bucky adds, "Hadn't had a roommate in years. It would've been weird to throw them out."

Yeah, Sam thinks. Yeah.

"Hey, man," Sam says, while Sarah (still chuckling), begins cleaning up the plates on the table with Cass's help. "I missed you too." Bucky smiles -- "You better tell me where you found that mangy stray cat, though."

At which point Bucky's mouth drops open in what is apparently mortal offense, and the rest of Sam's birthday is spent arguing over viable pet names for the tiny white demon kitten from hell.

#this is far from perfect but im kind of just pleased i wrote something at all #do i look like i know how the marvel timeline works. no. so sams forty #my writing #taylor swift prompt meme #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #sam x bucky #tfatws

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goblins-oc-askblog · 2 years

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Fallout

Fallout OCs hold a special place in my heart so please please tell me about them if you have any.

Player Characters

These are the characters that are the player character for their respective games (Fallout 3, New Vegas, 4, 76)

Ivy Amari (She/Her)

My lone wanderer, Ivy is a clinically depressed bisexual who struggles with self harm. She also is a pretty heavy drinker and she smokes! She has a dog named Dogmeat, and a boyfriend named Butch DeLoria. Image credit goes to @beyx

Scar (She/Her)

My Courier 6, Scar, was born as María Cortez, when she was 14 raiders attacked her family, killing her mom, abducting her, and leaving her 10 year old brother, Asher, that was hidden. She was inducted into the raider gang, getting the nickname Scar. She eventually left and became a courier with the Mojave Express. During her work there she was ambushed, shot in the head, and buried alive. That starts off the game, her eventually siding with the NCR and beginning a relationship with Cass. She reunites with her brother too.

Crow (She/Her)

My current sole survivor, she was married before the bombs fell, took shelter in Vault 111 where she and her neighbors were cryogenically frozen without their knowledge for 200 years. Her wife, Nora was shot and presumed dead when people abducted their child. Crow escaped cryo after, and went looking for her son. She hired a mercenary named MacCready and they eventually fell in love.

Harper O’Leary (She/Her)

Harper is a Vault 76 dweller, and she was born in the vault. She’s nineteen, a mechanic, a massive lesbian, and she kinda raised herself. She’s irish-american, has an extremely high alcohol tolerance, has a really bubbly personality, and lost her right hand to a mirelurk. She hand-made her prosthetic out of the scraps she could find.

Tiny Tess (She/Her)

Tess is my Nuka-World overboss, becoming the leader of the raiders living there after killing the last overboss. She then helped clear some dangerous areas to give the gangs there more territory. She’s a born and raised raider, eventually dating her second in command. She’s pretty calm, although she does like violence/fighting and is pretty ruthless.

Misc OCs

These are OCs who aren’t player characters but are Fallout OCs

Asher (He/They)

Asher is Scar’s younger brother and he was 10 when raiders attacked them. Their mother stalled the raiders while Scar hid him. When he came back out their mom was dead and Scar was missing. He made his way to a nearby town after a few days and eventually settled in a small farming village.

Stiches (She/They)

Stitches is a 15 year old scavenger from Little Lamplight, a town of kids under 16. She’s pretty abrasive most of the time and her beanie is a safety blanket for her. She has a massive gay crush on Delilah.

Locket (He/They)

Locket is somehow Stitches’ best friend despite them being polar opposites. They go on scavenging runs with her and they’re basically attached at the hip.

Delilah (She/Her)

Delilah is a 15 year old who lives in a settlement somewhat near Little Lamplight. She’s friends with Stitches and Locket, even inviting them to live with her when they age out of the town. She’s got a crush on Stitches and she’s thinking of telling her before they age out of Little Lamplight. She’s got the nickname Dell but so far only Stitches and Locket call her that.

Kit/TS-17 (She/Her)

Kit is an ex-institute courser who escaped and tracked down the Railroad, choosing to keep her memories and join them in freeing other escaped synths. Her designation in the institute was TS-17 (First image is her as TS-17 and second is of her after she escapes)

Pallas (She/They)

Pallas is a pre-war ghoul who works as a courier that travels across the US. Their name pre war was Mary, but she never tells people it. She’s very sarcastic and tries to avoid conflict when she can. (First picture is pre-war, second is after the bombs fell)

Nora Anderson (She/Her)

Nora’s an Asian-American lesbian dumbass, she was dating Crow (named Abigail at the time) when she joined the military, getting the large chemical burn on her face before being discharged. She and Crow got married as soon as she got back. They adopted their son, Shaun, and then the bombs fell. They were rushed into cryo, and Nora was shot while Shaun was being kidnapped. She was presumed dead, but was actually frozen while severely injured. A little over a year later, Crow came back to bury Nora, and discovered that she hadn’t died! Crow had already moved on, but they stayed close. Nora stayed in Sanctuary for a while, and eventually started travelling, joining up with a reporter named Piper, and eventually dating her.

Rat (Any Pronouns)

Rat is a kid in the commonwealth, they spent a lot of their early life living with molerats that were kept by some raiders. Eventually he was discovered by the Atom Cats and adopted by the group. She’s nonverbal and once she became less feral, it turns out she’s very happy and kind.

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alexbrokenn · 11 months

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long post below bc i want to share batfam headcanons. im insane and got noone to talk to

i EPICALLY came back to genshin after a 1.5 months break and i couldnt help but to vision assign batfam members...and think some headcanons on their skill sets and back stories 😖 this didn't blow up on tiktok so i hope tumblr is kinder (note: i didnt add steph cass and duke bc idk shit abt them😔)

i like to focus on characters' dynamic rather than the characters themselves, so maybe this isn't 100% accurate, i just wanted to make my fav duos work well together. the thought of tartaglia dick and kaeya damian poisoned my mind sm that i went and built cryo childe (very fun to play with emblem of severed fate kaeya)... i just cant get them outta my head and also cant decide what i like most: older brother dick or father dick🥹

diluc coded bruce who gets upset when another one of his kids gets anything but a pyro vision is so hilarious to me. he's so sad that no one of them shares his ideals. i wasn't sure with jason and tim tho, jason looks very much like pyro vision haver to me but i gave him anemo vision so bruce could be even more upset. more drama for drama god but it kinda makes sense in my head

with tim it was difficult... i just dk him much but dendro kinda made sense and i decided to leave it like this. aside from him being the smart kid he reminds me of tighnari so be it. i also think he's slightly dottore coded idk why... he was so pissed of being kicked outta the academia (he walked there through half of teyvat!!! on foot!!! just to educate himself!!!) that he burned the place down. and maybe (just maybe😉) some of his pyro friends helped him do that. ofc bruce wasn't very happy with that🙄

i also did this to some rogues and jla members but not enough to make separate posts so maybe later... when i finish hyper focusing on genshin god save me it happens again

#bat family #genshin impact #vision assign #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #jon kent #tim drake #jason todd #barbara gordon #katherine kane #alfred pennyworth #god forgive me

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lcstinthestars · 2 years

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Closed Starter for Cassandra Cain ( @astcrfieldaway ) Where : Cambria Library

Kory had been digging through the archives on her off days, trying to get a better bearing on what she had truly volunteered for. With the added bonus of finding new music and media she had never experienced before. The Archives were something out of a dream with the sheer amount of knowledge within, “Hey Cass.. I’m not sure if you remember me.” Kory spoked as she recognized a familiar face. “I’m Koriand’r.. Friend of Jay and Dick’s.”

“I heard you’ve been here a bit..” Kory added with a warm smile, “I was wondering if you knew anything about the Cryo Chambers.. particularly if there was a way to know who may be in them?”

#convos : Koriandr

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mercyorangebeam · 2 months

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id be interested to also categorize different kinds of abilities and how that contributes to complexity

valo

smokes (7) - brimstone, viper orb, cipher, omen, jett, astra, harbor

blinds (10) - phoenix, reyna, breach, omen, skye, yoru ball, yoru fake, kayo, fade prowler, gekko

mollys (damage) (8) - brimstone, phoenix, sova shock, viper, killjoy swarm, raze grenade, kayo, gekko

recon (6) - sova dart, sova drone, cipher cam, skye dog, fade orb, deadlock sensor

CC (9) - sage slow, cipher tripwire, breach stun, astra stun, astra pull, chamber slow, neon stun, fade sticky, deadlock net

heals (3) - sage, reyna eat, skye

walls (intangible) (6) - phoenix, viper, neon, harbor wall, harbor slow wall, iso wall

walls (tangible) (2) - sage wall, deadlock barrier

teleports (3) - omen, yoru, chamber

dash (2) - jett dash, neon run

spike planter. weirdo. (1) - gekko.

dmg boost (1) - brimstone stim beacon

hack (1) - kayo knife

turrets (1) - killjoy turret

invuln (2) - reyna fade, iso bubble

vulnerable mobility (2) - jett updraft, raze satchel

vulnerability (debuffs) (1) - iso projectile

damage (4) - killjoy alarmbot, breach aftershock, raze boombot, chamber pistol

heals (9) - hog vape, mei cryo, soldier heal, bap shift, brig pack, illari pylon, moira orb, zen orb, lucio aura/amp

immortality (2) - bap lamp, kiriko suzu

invuln (2) - reaper fade, moira fade

dmg boost (2) - mercy blue beam, zen discord

shields (4) - rein, sigma, winston, ram

bubble (1) - zarya

boops (4) - pharah concussive, brig whip, lucio, zen kick

overhealth (3) - ball shields, jq shout, torb overload

dmg reduction (5) - mauga overdrive, orisa gold, doom block, ram block, cass roll

CC (9) - orisa spear, hog pigpen, sigma rock, ball piledrive, doom punch, ram vortex, cass hinder, junkrat trap, ana sleep

recon (1) - hanzo sonic

anti heal (1) - ana nade

heal boost (1) - ana nade

dash (3) - genji, pharah, tracer

recall. weirdo (1) - tracer

teleports (4) - reaper, sombra, symm teleporter, kiriko

invis (1) - sombra

hack (1) - sombra

res (1) - mercy

speed boost (1) - lucio

turrets (2) - symm, torb

matrix (3) - orisa spin, sigma suck, dva eat

hook/pull (3) - hog, jq knife, lifeweaver

platform (1) - lifeweaver petal

damage (10) - rein firestrike, doom slam, bastion grenade, echo stickies, echo beam, hanzo storm, sojourn orb, soldier rockets, jq axe, moira orb

form shift (2) - ram, bastion

DOT (2) - ashe dynamite, widow mine

passives (14) - support passive, dps passive, tank passive, mauga, jq, zarya, echo, genji, hanzo, kiriko, junkrat, sojourn, brig, mercy

deflect (1) - genji

vulnerable mobility (16) - mauga charge, rein charge, winston leap, ball grapple, ball roll, ashe coach, echo flight, junkrat mines, pharah flight, sojourn slide, soldier sprint, widow grapple, brig bash, illari shift, mercy GA, dva boosters

wall (1) - mei

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shepardyke · 4 years

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nothing like two latinx’s spilling their guts to each other

#and they are gay to boot!!!#they speak spanish to each other and he reminds cass of her brother sebastian in cryo... 😭😭#sofi plays mass effect andromeda

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years

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Bucky Barnes Appreciation Week - Day 5

AN: I hope you all enjoyed yesterday's steamy story for our boy's birthday. Little bit more angsty today.

Un-beta'd, so sorry in advance.

Still using dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and mood board by me.

Master list still here

Pairing: Bucky x Sam (referenced only in this fic)

Word Count: approx 500

CW: Angst, Introspection, Hope, Self-acceptance.

Bucky hated winter. Well, normal 'winter' winter anyway. The type of winter he’d grown up with in Brooklyn, when every cold day threatened to take Steve away from him. His best friend would shiver and cough and they’d have to eat less so they could spend more on the heating. Bucky would ban Steve from going outdoors, confining him to their apartment, wearing every sweater he could lay his hands on. On the bad nights Bucky would pull the small shivering frame against his, scared to sleep, scared also when the shaking ceased in case it was for the wrong reason.

Then there was the hard winter of 1944/45 when he thought the very blood in his veins would freeze. He was still recovering (or so he thought) from all he’d experienced at Azzano. The Howlies were always on the go, making camp where they could when out on missions. Bucky always wondered if this would be it; the last mission for him, or for Steve, or one of the others. It was Steve who looked after him then, Steve who hugged Bucky in the night, keeping him warm, in juxtaposition of their previous winter nights.

The memories of those winters merged in his mind with memories from his time as the Soldier, when the end of mission meant being returned to cryo-freeze, and the last thing he’d remember before waking up again would be the bone-chilling cold. Winters on the run weren’t much different. He’d spent one in Eastern Europe, and it had been as bitter as the one’s he’d known before. Running scared, moving from place to place to place, several nights spent hiding in the woods and other places to make sure he wasn’t being followed or tracked.

He’d had one winter awake in Wakanda. At least it hadn’t been cold. But despite the tests he done with Ayo, he’d still had the underlying fear that the Soldier was just sleeping, that he wasn’t really gone. And even if he was gone, could Bucky ever be able leave Wakanda? He was still a wanted fugitive. Steve was still a wanted fugitive of all things. His whole life felt like it was on hiatus, with no resolution in sight. And he was lonely. The people were friendly and he had his goats, but it wasn’t the same.

Winter in Louisiana was different though. It wasn’t cold for one, just a reduction of the boiling heat, to something more pleasant. But it wasn’t just that, because now he was no longer scared. He knew now that the Soldier was gone. Zemo had tested that and made certain, inadvertently helping Bucky by including him in his machinations.

Bucky had fought, and he’d won. And he wasn’t alone. He had a family again; Sarah, Cass, AJ and Sam. He smiled to himself.

Sam.

His partner in everything.

Who made every dull day brighter, every cold day warmer.

Bucky had purpose now, a life of his own. No-one was gonna freeze to death, the soldier was gone, and he was no longer alone. So, maybe he didn’t hate winter after all.

Tag List; @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tinnedowl @beelicious-barnes @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @turbolisedcomet @buckybarnesweek2022 @poppunksnowwhite

#buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #late to the party 81 #late writes #bucky imagine #bucky introspection #marvel #bucky barnes week 22 #bbweek22 #bucky barnes

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samwilsonshandsandass · 3 years

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Sam’s Favorite Mug

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader, side of Sarahbucky Summary: Sam has a favorite mug. Warnings: none, maybe getting a slight craving for a wintery beverage Word count: 834 A/N: I had a thought about being more or less domestic with Sam, then I remembered this mini comic about the favorite mug no one else is allowed to drink from and I put some Sarahbucky in this fic because I love this ship and will go down with it

It was an early morning and Bucky was the only one awake in the Wilson-Barnes-Y/L/N household after his morning run. He started to lay the table; plates, cereal bowls, cutlery, glasses and mugs. Two identically patterned mugs in different colors for AJ and Cass, that cheesy “Best Wife in the World” mug he had picked up on a whim for Sarah. The cup that always reminded him of when his Ma used to make him and his sisters’ cocoa although he couldn’t say why it did. It didn’t look remotely like the mugs from back then. He put the mug that said “It ain’t gonna suck itself” with a crawfish on it next to your plate; Sam had probably given that to you as a joke gift when you had visited the first time. Next to Sam’s plate, Bucky put the mug with the cheesiest saying of them all, “Some angels don’t need wings.” with stylized wings around the words.

Bucky quickly showered and when he came down again, there still was no one but him there. He sat down to wait and read. Sarah was first to come down with a big yawn and Bucky greeted her with coffee at the foot of the stairs. They shared a kiss and promptly heard a “Not here!” from Cass who dragged his brother behind him. Sarah and Bucky chuckled and sat down.

You and Sam trudged down the stairs next and at the table, you both blinked. And blinked again. Then you recognized what your sleep addled brain had already registered. You smiled in Bucky’s direction, more precisely his back because he was busy getting things from the fridge, and you switched your and Sam’s mug around. Breakfast went as usual, the boys went to school, Sarah was on the boat and you, Bucky and Sam looked over intel for a mission.

Looking over all the intel took quite some time. The mission was very people heavy, while the building was new in where it stood, it wasn’t new in its layout.

“I’ll feel so damn relieved when this mission is over” Bucky said.

“What do you think they’re playing at by using this layout?” Sam asked.

“If I had to guess, I’d say they wanna play on Bucky’s trauma when he sees the cryo tubes” You answered.

“And the dead Winter Soldiers. Probably. Wait. Did anyone bury them? At least anonymously?” Sam looked from you to Bucky.

“I at least didn’t. I’ll bet my arm Stark didn’t either. Steve had other things to do.”

“No shit, Sherlock” Sam dead panned.

“Should we find them there, they’re probably not decayed.”

Sam and Bucky looked at you like they had seen a ghost.

“And apart from that, maybe they’ll think we’re gonna let our guard down, because we already know that building” You continued.

The three of you had a working lunch and Sam brought over coffee. In front of Bucky, he put a simple mug, you got the mug with the stylized wings and for himself Sam took the crawfish mug.

Several days later, the three of you took of to one of the fly-over states. With the small jet you touched down in a corn field and drove several miles to the once abandoned and now repurposed and relocated building.

When the building came into view, Sam put on his wings and grabbed the shield, Bucky stared so intensely you both did and didn’t want to know what went through his head. You strapped your several weapons close to your body. Some people felt naked without their precious armband. Some felt naked without their gun on a mission. You felt naked without feeling the flat side of your ornate dagger along your underarm. You only threw it if you could be sure to get it back from where it lodged.

Quickly extracting the data you needed, dispatching two or three goons and, led by Sam, indeed anonymously burying the bodies of the remaining Winter Soldiers, you were now on the way back.

“We should get a mug as souvenir” Sam murmured.

“Sure, let’s get a mug after each successful mission” Bucky deadpanned.

“You know, Sarah would probably look at you like-“ You smiled.

“I’m old; not behind the times.”

“And the whole kitchen would be full of mugs” Sam grinned.

“Cocky, are we?”

“Just sometimes. And you know, I already have a favorite mug.”

Back at home, you made your hot chocolate. Outside temperatures didn’t exist for you, even down in Delacroix, when you made your traditional after-mission hot chocolate. One after the other, the mugs were full and hot, marshmallows and extra syrup in several flavors on a tray. Sam’s crawfish mug was last and he was also the last to take his mug off the tray.

“You really seem to like this mug” Bucky remarked and shoveled marshmallows onto the surface of the beverage.

“This is my mug. My favorite mug. Never drink something warm from another mug at home” Sam said.

#my things #my writing #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x reader insert #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #captain america x reader insert #captain america

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry, was an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t.

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him.

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn��t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they do watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you. No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit.

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry, what? What the fuck?

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s worth saving . Fucking hell.

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he- fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him, this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no. Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I need to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing, desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!”

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening. It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger. Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is- Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten. My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body, that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore , he reminds himself. They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head. That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves- loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

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cogentranting · 3 years

Text

Braid Your Life with Mine

Summary: A series of snapshots over the course of Sarah and Bucky's lives, showing their past and their intertwined future as they meet and find healing alongside each other. Read on AO3

Falling

Bucky couldn’t make sense of it. He was still falling. He must be. Otherwise he’d be dead. Hanging there from that train car, he’d known with absolute certainty that he was going to die. It had all played out in slow motion. Grabbing the shield. The energy blast. Holding on so tight his fingers felt fused with the metal rail. Blood running down his arm. Steve reaching out to him. The sickening sound of tearing metal as he was dropped off the edge of the world. Falling. Falling so far he had time to think about how it would be the last thing he ever knew.

But he wasn’t still falling, and he wasn’t dead because surely, surely, being dead wouldn’t hurt this much. Being dead couldn’t feel like being crushed and torn apart at the same time. So he must be alive. He couldn’t be sure though because everything was fading in and out, reality and unreality mixing like a scream in his mind. He could see trees above him and feel rocks and snow against his back. They were dragging him. Who? Steve and the team? They’d seen him fall—had they found him? No, Steve wouldn’t be this cruel, wouldn’t drag him knowing it hurt this much. The question slipped from his mind without an answer. The pain demanded too much attention to focus on anything else long enough to make sense of it. The one sight he kept coming back to when the world faded back in was that thing dragging beside him, leaving a trail of red on the snow. A bloody, mangled thing. Right where his arm should be but somehow distant and disconnected. It stayed with him as they dragged him, and he couldn’t understand what it was. The thing jarred against a rock and Bucky blacked out again.

He must be falling. He was falling, and this was all a nightmare, the hallucination of a single moment before he hit the ground. There was a steel table beneath him. People moving around. Straps tight across his chest and limbs. All of it familiar in a way he couldn’t lay hold of with the wisp of consciousness available to him. It didn’t matter though, because his body was at war with itself, fighting to die while something within him kept him bound to life. Then there were needles and machines and a saw. And as the saw began to do its work Bucky had a realization, fully formed in a moment of startling lucidity. This wasn’t a nightmare, and he wasn’t falling; he never had been. Falling was what woke you up from a dream. That’s what it had all been—Steve, the Commandos, Captain America, the entire two years since his rescue—it was all a dream. A ridiculous composite of bits of his life. He had never been rescued. Now, he was awake again. Still strapped to a table in Zola’s lab. The nightmare was the only real thing.

***

Emptying

Sarah looked down at the little plaque grave marker. The funeral had felt odd. Like she was standing still as time moved in spirals around her. There was a big turnout. People from the neighborhood, family, friends from different corners of his life. Everyone cared so much. They brought more food than she could possibly eat. They swept in with hugs, and advice, and offers of help. They all had so much to say. There had been hours of stories, sweet, funny, simple. All the ways that he had touched the people in the community. They had laughed. But they also cried. And Sarah resented it. What did they have to cry about? He wasn’t their husband. How could their grief compare to hers?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d been young. She was young. “Widow” wasn’t a word that meant a woman her age. “Widow” wasn’t a word that meant less than ten years of marriage. “Widow” wasn’t a word that meant… her.

The little things were what took her feet out from under her. They’d had their big plans. Hopes and dreams. Those were gone too, but they weren’t what paralyzed her. It was the thought of empty mornings, and conversation-less dinners. The movie he’d been looking forward to that he’d never see. The fishing trip he wouldn’t take AJ on. The anniversary present she wouldn’t buy this year. The couch she’d sit on alone each night once she put the boys to bed.

When they were getting things ready at the church for the funeral, Sam had had his nose in everything, always doing the most, and ended up with his arms full of flowers stacked on programs, on the verge of dropping both, having three conversations at once. Always the same, and she’d shaken her head and made a mental note to tell him all about Sam’s antics when she got home. Until she remembered he wouldn’t be there. Cass had laughed that morning, his sweet little baby giggle, and Sarah had turned to get his reaction. But, of course, he wasn’t there. At the church, one of the old ladies had worn the same ugly hat they’d joked about for years, and Sarah turned to share a knowing smile with him, but no one met her gaze. He wasn’t there, and he never would be again.

The wind blew through the trees in the cemetery. Sarah closed her eyes and twisted her wedding ring on her finger. They’d danced under trees like these at her wedding. She could almost imagine herself back there, if not for the ache that hollowed her out. More than loneliness, more than missing someone. Those things have an end. But this loss. Where was the end? That was what weighed her down. He wouldn’t come home in a few weeks, sit with her on the couch and tell her about his trip. The man who made her laugh, and smile, the father of her children, her best friend, her other half. Just gone. All her life past and future was sloped toward that moment of gravity, the moment where someone cut out a piece of her and left the widow in place of the wife.

So she resented their tears even though she knew it wasn’t fair. They’d all cry and tell their stories and find their way to remember. But how could any of them ever feel even a shadow of the grief she felt for him?

Cass started to cry from across the way where Sam waited with the boys. She knew she had to go over there soon. But she needed a moment more. In a few days, Sam would go back to D.C. where he had a new job at the VA. The neighbors would go back to their routine. The extended family would scatter again. None of them were abandoning her, of course. They would be there. They would support her. But none of them would have to live in the grief the way she would. So in a moment, she would go over there and be a mother, and a sister, and a community member. But for a minute longer she squeezed her eyes shut against the world and nursed the open wound where the world had carved out her heart.

***

Withering

It was the same for the Winter Soldier every time. The respirator forcing air into his lungs, his body too warm and too cold at the same time as they ripped him back from the brink of death where they kept him for months or years at a time. He’d wake shaking, fighting against the phantom cold that sat like ice in his gut and in his lungs.

In a way that first space of time was the worst. It was when he was most and least a person. The memory of his last mission was fresh and untouched by Hydra’s meddling. HIs programming was loose, allowing just enough room for him to chafe at the control. And sometimes, depending on how long he’d been awake the last time, fragments of something from before filtered through, unsettlingly strange, like someone else’s memories staining his simple frost-scorched reality. The three mixed and competed: programming, experience, and a past that was more sensation than memory. There was more in him then, than at any other time, but it did not coalesce and left him a wounded animal. He was confused, he was afraid, he was volatile, and he was oh so violent. That was when he resisted. Maybe for fear of the one thing he knew was coming. Maybe because of those glimpses of old faces and whispers of forgotten names that had come seeping through in his sleep. Maybe just because fighting was all he knew, and there was no one else to fight. Then they’d strap him into that chair. It would drive out everything. All the past missions, all the conscious programming, all the hallucinatory memories. Everything but the sound of his own screams. That was the one constant in his world: how much he hated and feared that machine. Then the words would come, a vise around his throat, narrowing the world until all his will, all his rage, all his pain, all the training and experience of the Winter Soldier, was neatly compacted into a bullet to be pointed wherever they chose. And his own voice in his head was muzzled.

Every time was the same, even the last one. They had to wipe him twice, yes. That was uncommon but not unheard of. And after it happened, he wasn’t even fully aware of it at first. Not until it all started to crumble. Not until the helicarrier came crashing down around him, and he found that he was too aware. Too aware of decades of pain. Too aware that he was afraid for his life. Too aware that he couldn’t make sense of the world. Too aware of the shadowy past clawing at him. Too aware of the voice in his head screaming against the muzzle.

Afterwards when he was alone and on his own for the first time, he spent days trying to anchor himself. The quiet lack in his mind had always been painful. Like frostbite. But now there was too much. Where before there had been chained and frozen order, now there was chaos. Guilt competing with fear, bloodstained and sepia memories at war with each other, life and half-life both claiming to be real. Through it all his programming still tearing at him, demanding he return to his masters. He wouldn’t have been strong enough to resist it had he not known they were dead and dismantled. In those days he knew that, given the chance, he would have chosen the burning, suffocating flash as the cryo chamber froze the blood in his veins and the beat of his heart, would have chosen a return to the brink of death and nothingness over all of this. And he was ashamed of that.

***

Dreading

Sarah was in town when she saw the first person turn to dust. The woman was reaching for a box of cereal in the grocery store, but when her hand touched the box it gave way into a million pieces, and Sarah watched the woman’s face turn to horror a second before it too collapsed. For years to come Sarah would remember the way time slowed down as everyone tried to take in what was happening. People across the floor falling into nothing, and those remaining waiting in a stunned panic to see if they would be next. She’d remember looking around the store with the slow, dawning realization of the scope of what was happening. And she dropped her groceries on the floor and ran for her car, ran to get home to her babies. The babysitter was gone when she got there. A pile of dust in the kitchen. Later Sarah would feel sick sweeping that up. AJ was crying. Cass had slept through it all. She snatched them both up and sat on the couch, holding them against her, not letting them go even when they squirmed in her embrace. She gripped them as if she was holding them together with her bare hands. As if the second she let go they’d dissolve in front of her. And, as she held them, she played the news. Watching it all unfold. The chaos. The confusion. The fear. The slow realization of what had happened. She watched for hours, eventually letting go of her boys when it seemed clear that no one else would disappear. But she kept them on the couch beside her as she watched the news for any glimpse of the Avengers.

When her phone rang, after hours of waiting, her hand shook so hard she could barely answer it. “Sarah-“ Steve Rogers’s voice. She’d met him a few times after he started working with Sam, before the Sokovia Accords had sent both of them into hiding, and she’d seen him on tv. His voice was rough. She could hear the tears in it. In the weeks and years to come, eventually she’d spare a thought for his grief. But not then. Then all she thought was how his voice was the last voice she wanted to hear because if he was calling, it meant Sam couldn’t.

She didn’t remember the rest of what Steve said to her. But she remembered, when the call was over, going into the next room and closing the door so that AJ and Cass wouldn’t hear her sobs. She stayed there for a long time.

She sat up all that night, watching her babies sleep where they’d dropped off on the couch. The world was suddenly a much more terrifying place to have such dear lives to care for. Her sobs were long depleted, and she was exhausted in that terrible unique way that only comes from a long time crying. Still, she was kept awake by the single echoing thought, I’m alone. Her parents, her husband, her brother. Gone. That thought nailed her to the ground. I’m alone, and I can’t protect them. So she sat on the living room floor, without even any confidence that the sun would come up in the morning.

***

Impact

Sarah smelled like fish and engine grease most days. Her back usually hurt too. And her thoughts were crowded by a million worries big and small. Could they afford to keep the boat? Did AJ finish his homework? Was the neighbor boy getting enough to eat? Was Sam safe wherever he was in the world? Would the business make money today? She was a dozen things at once. Everything she needed to be. But, oh, she was tired sometimes. Her whole little world on her shoulders. She sometimes felt she’d aged a hundred years since the Blip. Today wasn’t so bad though. A million worries, sure, but with Sam and the whole town out to help her sort through them, that wasn’t so much.

A pipe was leaking, gushing steam. Sam ran to fix it, trailed a moment later by his friend. Bucky. He greeted her as he went by. There was a complicated story. She’d heard most of it from Sam. She hadn’t, however, really thought that much about the man himself, except as his story related to her brother. Most of the pictures she’d seen of him were either faded black and whites from the 40s, entirely removed from her reality, or distant and blurry news shots related to his time as a fugitive. She got a real look at him for the first time as he passed by her and fixed the pipe. 106 looked good on him, she noted as she went back to her work.

Most days Bucky didn’t feel hardly like a person at all. Just a tangled mess of guilt and grief. Haunted images of the things he’d done casting shadows over the holes left by everything he’d lost. It was his anger that kept him stitched together. Anger at himself. Anger at what had been done to him. Anger at Walker, at Raynor, at Sam. Anger at the world for being different from the way that he remembered it in all the insignificant little ways that made sure he never fit right. Mostly anger at nothing at all. When he didn’t feel broken or monstrous, he just felt lost. Today wasn’t a day like that though. Today he’d fixed some things. Zemo was back where he belonged. Ayo had forgiven him. He was here, making things right with Sam. The sun and the sea breeze and the sounds of people sharing in life together, it all chased his anger away to hide in some dark corner. Not gone, just retreated.

He didn’t think of any of that when he saw Sarah. He saw her, competent, self-assured, beautiful, and fell back into old routines like muscle memory.

“Hi. I’m Bucky.”

She didn’t think of any of her responsibilities or worries or aches when he greeted her. She saw him, skilled, strong, charming, and felt the shiny, bubbly rush of infatuation.

“Oh. Sarah,” she said.

“Sarah,” he repeated with a smile.

He felt like the soldier of old, confident and full of swagger. She felt beautiful and captivating and full of life. For just a moment the scars of the past were swept away, and they felt young.

***

Waiting

Sarah was at the dock with the boys when Bucky rolled up this time around. Both he and Sam were coming in from different parts of the country, and they’d chosen to rendezvous here before heading off on some mission. Sam’s flight had been cancelled, so he wasn’t there yet though he was supposed to have arrived a few hours ago. Bucky always arrived with Sam or just after. He was careful about that. If he’d beaten Sam here it meant he hadn’t gotten word about the cancelled flight. When Bucky realized Sam wasn’t there, he made some excuse about driving back into the main part of town to get something. She waved him off, convincing him to hang around and entertain the boys while she finished work on the boat and then head back to the house with them to wait for Sam.

She had gotten used to Bucky coming around. He’d show up with Sam after some trip. She got the impression that it was the space immediately after missions that Bucky struggled with—it was an experience he’d never had until recently. Returning home. So Sam brought him here. They’d roll in, both of them a little bruised, bickering with each other and asking her to take a side. As part of her solemn duty as a sister, she usually sided against Sam. Just to aggravate Sam, she told herself. No other reason.

For their part, Cass and AJ loved Bucky the way young boys love anyone they can climb on. Cass had grabbed Bucky’s arm and was trying to climb up his side. He was too big for that sort of thing really, but that didn’t matter with super soldier strength. Sarah watched them out of the corner of her eye with a smile. Cass jumped off and wandered away, while AJ began to shadowbox with Bucky.

It happened fast. A missed step. The thud when Cass’s head hit the post. Then blood. A lot of blood.

Bucky was by her side a second after she had the boy in her arms. He pressed some cloth—a clean shirt from his truck—against the boy’s head to stop the bleeding. Cass was crying. She couldn’t tell if he was more scared or hurt. Sarah could hear herself talking but didn’t hardly know what she was saying. Asking or telling Cass that he was okay, over and over. A little too fast, the words tripping over themselves. It was so much blood. Bucky had one hand holding the cloth to the wound, the other on her shoulder. He was saying something, that it wasn’t that bad, how much head injuries bleed, and she was nodding.

A part of her did what she always did. It was her voice coming out strong and clear, making the decision to go to the hospital. It was her who led the way to the car as Bucky scooped up Cass. But inside the panic reigned, and she couldn’t shake how small Cass looked with blood running down the side of his face. So when Bucky insisted on driving so that she could sit in the back with Cass, she was grateful.

By the time Sarah found a chance to slip out and check in on AJ out in the waiting room, she was exhausted. The second she entered the room, Bucky left off whatever he’d been distracting AJ with on his phone and crossed to her for an update. Six staples, no concussion, Cass a little shaken, a little teary but fine overall. Bucky listened attentively. She was glad he was here. Glad she didn’t have to worry about AJ too, through this. Glad just to have someone to say these words to.

Bucky sighed in relief. Sarah was struck, yet again, by the simple indisputable fact that this was a good man. What a thought: the Winter Soldier, waiting with baited breath to see if her son was okay.

Bucky’s gaze broke off from hers, trailing after a cart of medical supplies being pushed by a nurse. Syringes. A scalpel.

“Does being here remind you of…” she glanced at his metal arm and trailed off. Of when they cut off the rest of your arm and stitched on a machine. Of the years they spent experimenting on you in labs.

He followed her meaning. His hand flexed slightly. “No.” He shook his head dismissively as he said it. But he’d hesitated, and his eyes didn’t meet hers.

Sarah ran a hand over her hair. She made her tone light. “You know what, it’s still gonna be a while here. Why don’t you take AJ back to the house? Sam can pick me and Cass up when he gets here.”

She watched him study her for a couple seconds, his blue eyes carefully taking her cues. But he dropped his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets as he responded. “No, that’s okay. We can wait, at least til Sam gets here.”

Sarah hesitated.

“You shouldn’t have to wait here alone,” Bucky insisted.

Relief flooded her. She accepted and, after a brief word to AJ, headed back to where Cass was waiting. She would hold Cass and keep him safe. Bucky would watch over AJ. She could keep her boys safe. And when she got back out there, Bucky and Sam would be waiting there for her. Warm calm blossomed in her like a sunrise.

***

Reviving

It was the same each time Bucky saw her. A little hitch in his breathing as she caught him off guard. To be near to that much life stunned him. The force of her brought everyone else into orbit; grounding Sam, lifting up her boys, seeing and sheltering those that others overlooked, and inexorably drawing Bucky in.

He took her to dinner. Someplace quiet and comfortable, down near the water, where the sunset cast oranges and pinks across them as they ate. A simple date. They knew each other. He didn’t need to make a big gesture to impress her. He didn’t want excitement. He just wanted to talk to her.

Words didn’t come easy for Bucky anymore. They did when he was young in Brooklyn. But even before he fell, he’d felt his throat closing. Already Zola’s lab and fields of death and violence came between him and the man he was in Brooklyn. There were things in those memories that couldn’t be named, shouldn’t be named lest it give them a foothold in his mind. So even in those days, he smiled for Steve and the team while the shadows pooled unspoken in his mind. Then for 70 years that tendency for reserve was gouged deeper and deeper into him. The Winter Soldier had no stories, only reports. No opinions, only tactics. And if he ever found any of those things in himself, an opinion, a question, a free thought, welling up from some long-dammed spring, any attempt to voice it would have been punished with a beating or, worse, being sent back to the machine to be wiped. Then there were the years of hiding, isolation, and self-imposed punishment. Life had spent 80 years silencing Bucky.

But with Sarah he wanted to tell stories. Stories that he usually kept close, locked away and guarded because their warmth was a rarity to be jealously hoarded. Every time he came around with Sam and saw her there in lively step with the heartbeat of her community, he felt it wake in him. Springtime Brooklyn. Wakandan summer. Even a few clear-skyed days in Romania. Everything in his past that was good and alive yearned to be near Sarah.

They sat at their table long after the food was gone because the words wouldn’t stop flowing, from either of them. Sun-soaked days by a lake in the Louisiana woods. Stickball matches played with life and death intensity. Cookouts on the dock with the whole neighborhood. Little sisters trailing him on his walk to school. Sam’s antics over his first crush. Dragging Steve away from impossible schoolyard fights. First job. First kiss. First apartment. Anything and everything, so long as it had deep roots in their past joy. They talked until the restaurant closed.

He walked her up to the door, and they lingered on the porch. The youth of the night had soaked into the marrow of their bones and neither wanted to let it go.

Bucky was alive with restless sparks. “Let’s go dancing. Can I take you dancing?”

Sarah laughed. “What, you wanna go find a club? You don’t really seem like the club type.”

He made a face of exaggerated contempt. “No. That’s not dancing. Here let me show you.” He pulled out his phone and with a quick search brought up a song he remembered. A song he’d danced to when he was young and uncomplicated. The music drifted out of the phone’s speakers, unconcerned with time or history. Bucky offered his hand and felt a moment’s hesitation at the sight of the sleek metal. Sarah took it eagerly. They danced on her porch. He forgot the steps. She stepped on his feet. He spun her around. Their hearts beat fast with laughter and June moonlight.

***

Aspiring

Sarah looked up at the warm light spilling out into the twilight from her kitchen window as she drove up to the house. Cass and AJ were spending the night with friends, and she’d expected to find the house empty. She felt a little butterfly start up in her stomach at the expectation of seeing him, then chided herself. She wasn’t 14. But she was so glad it wouldn’t be an empty house tonight.

Bucky greeted her with a kiss in the kitchen. She breathed in his scent. Lately, she’d chased the echoes of that scent in her mind when he wasn’t around. d

“James Buchanan Barnes, did you break into my house?”

“It’s hardly breaking in when you don’t lock your doors.” He smiled that lopsided, roguish smile that made her feel like a teenager falling for the first time. “I thought I’d surprise you with dinner.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You cooked?”

“Of course not. Why would I want to make your day worse? I ordered in.”

She dropped onto the couch with a groan as they waited for the food to arrive. “You would not believe the day I’ve had.” She launched into an animated retelling of the day as he settled next to her.

From the start she’d been amazed how easy he was to talk to. The way he saw the world was so different from her—from anyone really—after all he’d seen and done. But something about that met with her experiences so well. Interlocking mechanisms. Maybe it was because he listened with the same intensity he brought to everything. He listened with fire.

“I swear, these people… I’m gonna lose my mind.” She finished her rant.

Bucky nodded very seriously. “Do you want me to kill them for you?”

“Of course. Why else would I be dating the world’s deadliest assassin?”

She curled into his side and rested her head against him. If the food didn’t come soon, she’d fall asleep. His arm wrapped around her. Her eyes closed, but she didn’t fall asleep. Time slowed around them. Her breath had fallen into sync with his. The symphony of the wind in the trees drifted in through the open windows, serenading them. There were a dozen other moments from her day that she wanted to tell him, but she wasn’t in any rush. There would be time later. Time stretched around her like the teal depths of a lake, and for now all she wanted was to float in this moment endlessly.

“I would marry you if you asked me.” She hadn’t planned on saying it, but she didn’t second guess it. The thought had been carried in the beat of her heart long enough for her to be sure of it.

Bucky looked surprised. Only by the comment, though, not the concept, Sarah was pretty sure. He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Would you marry me if I asked?”

“Well… I’d kind of like to do the asking.”

She smiled. “Well don’t take too long, or I’ll beat you to it.”

“Fair enough.”

There was a pause. His fingers traced circles lightly on her back.

He lifted his left hand from the couch and examined it. “How do you think wearing a ring on a vibranium hand works?”

Sarah reached for his hand to consider it. “We’re just gonna paint it on.”

She felt his laugh in her bones. Her hand trailed up to rest over his heart. She held it there, content to just sit and count every steady beat.

***

Abiding

Bucky was transfixed by the moment. The hushed chatter from where AJ and Cass had sprawled out on the floor to watch the movie. The smell of microwave popcorn. The cool breeze drifting in the window. Sarah’s touch. Every sense flooded him, as he tried to drink in every detail, etch it into his memory.

Sarah’s fingers ran absent-mindedly over his hand, making slow circles over the smooth vibranium, occasionally breaking off the rhythm to trace the gold-lined grooves. By now a familiar habit, Sarah’s attention to the movie didn’t waver—she knew every whorl and curve of that metal, could trace every line without a thought. But Bucky couldn’t focus on the movie. All he could do was thank God for Shuri’s genius because he could feel it. He could feel the warmth of Sarah’s hand on his. Not quite the way he felt in his right hand, but there all the same. The other thought was almost too big for him to form—it overwhelmed his senses. He thanked God for Sarah. It had been years, but her touch still awed him. Still captivated him so much that reality melted away. In it’s place all that was left was her. Her and this family- his family. All of it washed in gold like the rising sun.

He reached across with his right hand and played with one of her braids that had come loose. A smile graced the corner of her mouth and without looking away from the movie, she stopped caressing his hand long enough to squeeze it. He kissed her cheek.

He’d spent dozens of evenings just like this one. Still sometimes he lost himself in the wonder of it all. It was like a dream, a dream he’d spent years afraid he’d wake up from. But that fear faded with each day that rose around him. So perfect he couldn’t make sense of it.

#tfatws #sarahbucky #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #buckysarah #my writing #sarahbucky fanfiction

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Bloodlines (1 of 3)

After receiving a vague warning from his mother about his cousin and Richard, Damian goes looking for his runaway ward.

This chapter started as a flashback in the latter half of the story, but I felt like it was running on too long so I decided to cut it out and make it its own chapter. As such the events of this chapter occur a little under five years before the events of the main story, which takes place a few months after “Family Weekend.”

Part of Batkid and Robin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian was surprised to see Nightwing in the Hatch when he arrived. He knew his ex-partner noticed his entrance, but the Super didn’t look up from the conversation he was having with Señal in the doorway to the infirmary.

Taking the hint, Damian turned to E-ko. “What happened?”

“We’re not entirely sure. Izzy and I were both in class and Dax was at work when Dick’s distress beacon went off so only Duke and Dre responded,” she said, glancing towards the infirmary. “By my estimate, they sent out the request for backup almost immediately after they engaged. Nightwing had been finishing up something with Metro across the bay so he responded. Izzy and I were suiting up when ‘Wing dragged them in. He thinks they were fighting talons when he got there, but the guys took off as soon as he got close. Dre was already knocked out -- drugged we think -- and Duke passed out on the way here -- bloodloss.”

“Richard?”

“Your son wasn’t there,” Nightwing said as he and Señal approached. “I didn’t know he was involved until I got here and the girls filled me in.”

“He’s not -” Damian closed his eyes and asked, “Did Signal say anything before he passed out?”

“He slurred something about Cobb and Halloway and I think he tried to say something else, but he was fading fast at that point. Didn’t recognize either name, but I’m not surprised since this seems to be Gotham stuff.”

“Nightwing.”

“Batman.”

Damian glared up at neon blue eyes. “We’re not doing this while Richard is missing.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just stay quiet then. Not sure I have anything to add since I don’t even know the kid.”

The only reaction Damian allowed himself to have was to clench his fists as he turned to Señal. “If the talons are involved, then Cobb is William Cobb. Why would he be after Richard though? The Court has only ever targeted adults for kills and street kids for would-be talons. A child from a prominent family doesn’t fit their M.O.”

“We’re not sure,” she said. “Oracle’s looking into it. In the meantime, Selina’s pulling Stephanie and Jason out of school in case they’re targeting Wayne kids. Cass and Mia are also going to bunker down somewhere safe with Tim if they can drag him away from wherever he is now on his mental breakdown road trip.”

“Don’t call it that.”

The group turned to see Duke slumped against his IV pole in the infirmary’s doorway.

“¡Bobo! Lay back down!” Señal snapped, rushing over to him.

He let his girlfriend take his weight, but didn’t let her drag him back to bed. His chest and arms were heavily bandaged and butterfly stitches were keeping a few cuts on his cheek and neck closed. He was also glaring at Señal. “Lay off Tim.”

“Sorry, I know you want to humor him.”

Duke shook his head and turned to Damian. “We’ve got a problem.”

“I know. We’ll find Richard. Go -”

“No, you don’t understand. Halloway was there. From DCF.”

It took Damian a moment, but he put the name to the face. Cathy Halloway was one of the social workers that gave him the hardest time while trying to foster Richard, but not one of the ones who’d earned his respect because they thought Damian was taking Richard in on a whim. He wasn’t sure if it was Richard’s Romani heritage she had a problem with or if it was the fact Richard was white-passing while Damian had very clearly taken after his mother, but the family had dug up a few comments made by her about keeping Richard “with his own people.”

As if the Gotham branch of the DCF had placed Richard with a family instead of in a detention center.

Backward morals aside, the Bat’s investigation hadn’t turned up anything tying her to the court. “Why was she there?”

The Hatch’s main computer lit up green, announcing Oracle’s presence. “Because Cobb told her he was Dick’s grandfather.”

“What?” Damian asked. Richard didn’t have any living relatives, the Bats checked as had DCF at the Waynes’ insistence. “Why would she believe that?”

“I’m looking into it, but she’s started the paperwork to transfer custody and she was there to help Cobb pull Dick out of school. Selina played it off like she was picking Dick up alongside Steph and Jay then went full PTA mom when she found out they’d sent Dick off with strangers. Alfred’s bringing the little Bats to you while she puts the staff through the wringer to get as much info for us as she can. I’m trying to match our maps of the Court’s labyrinth to what little information from Dick’s beacon is making it through the scramblers so, hopefully, I’ll have a location by the time you’re all suited up.”

Damian made a mental note to bring his own version of hell down on the staff if any of them survived his Step-Mother’s fury then focused back on the matter at hand. “Señal, you know the labyrinth best. Can you see if you can help Oracle? I’ll get Duke back in bed.”

She nodded and passed Duke off to him after giving her boyfriend a quick kiss.

“Sorry, Dames,” Duke said as Damian helped him back onto the medical cot. “The talons cut us off before we could get anywhere near Dick or Cobb.”

“You did your best. We know what we’re facing now. We’ll bring him home, no matter how many talons we have to freeze. Get some rest.”

Duke nodded and leaned back.

Damian returned to the main room and approached E-ko and Nightwing. He asked the latter, “Are you staying?”

The Super gave a sardonic smile. “I guess I should get going. Don’t want to overstay my welcome. Call me if you think the situation is bad enough to need outside help.”

“That’s not what -” Damian started, but Nightwing was already gone. He sighed and turned to E-ko. “Has the Court been up to anything recently that could explain coming after Richard?”

She shook her head. “They’ve been quiet since we reclaimed that youth shelter they were using to try and lure in would-be talons. We knew they’d try to find a new way to bring in kids, and trying to get their hooks in the foster system isn’t too far out there if they don’t realize we’ve been keeping a close eye on it ever since Jason, but going after someone as notable as Dick doesn’t make sense.”

“There has to be a reason.”

“Who cares, let’s just get out there and find Dickie!” Jason called as he stomped into the Hatch. He and Stephanie came towards them while Alfred went off to check on the two in the infirmary.

“Knowing why a person is doing something is very important,” Damian said and Jason scowled.

“It’s not more important than rescuing my Red Bird! Let’s go!” he snapped, shoving Damian towards the changing rooms.

“Rushing in is going to get you in trouble,” Damian huffed, but let his younger brother push him along with Stephanie trailing after.

The three quickly changed into the extra suits they kept in the Hatch in case of emergency then they, Señal, and E-ko set off towards the labyrinth entrance closest to the approximate location Señal and Oracle had decided on.

Batman took the lead, keeping an eye out for danger as Señal directed him through the tunnels. Thankfully the closer they got, the more accurate the beacon's positioning became. He was keeping a sharp eye on everything, looking for the booby traps and talons, so he immediately noticed when Señal and E-ko began to share worried looks.

“What?”

“There aren’t any mazes, meeting halls, or holding cells this way,” E-ko said. “The only things down here are…”

“Labs and cryo-caskets,” Señal finished.

“Shit!”

Batman grabbed Batkid before he could race ahead. “Hold on.”

“Hold on? I’m not going to wait around while those psychos turn Red Bird into one of those monsters!” the boy snarled, then took off down the tunnel.

“They wouldn’t start the process so soon,” E-ko tried to reassure as the four chased after him. “They always start training before beginning the Electrum injections. They want to be sure the investment would be worth it.”

A shadow slid out of a side tunnel and Batman grabbed the edge of Batkid’s cloak. He yanked the boy back just in time for the talon’s dagger to cut through the air in front of his face instead of across his throat.

E-ko intercepted the assassin with her cryo-gun as Señal repelled another two with her chain whip.

“Go find Grayson. We’ll deal with these ones,” E-ko called out and Batman nodded.

He led Batkid and Batgirl forward, bringing up Richard’s distress beacon on his gauntlet computer. They raced up to a heavy door that he quickly kicked in once confirming it was locked.

Inside, scientists and talons stood over an operating bed that held a teary eleven-year-old. Thick leather straps wrapped around Richard’s arms, legs, and chest to keep him pinned to the bed. A scientist had been preparing an iv filled with a dark silver liquid while William Cobb had leaned over Richard with his hand fisted in the boy’s hair, but all eyes turned to the Bats at their entrance.

Batkid immediately launched himself at the scientists, ripping the one closest to Richard away from him and laying into them with a fury. Batgirl and Batman tossed liquid nitrogen pellets at the talons, partially encasing three of them in ice to put them into hibernation. Batgirl engaged another two talons while Batman tackled Cobb.

“You must be getting desperate for new talons if you’re starting to steal children from Gotham’s old families, Talon.” Batman ducked one knife strike, deflected another, then landed a blow that snapped Cobb’s arm with a loud crack.

“Wayne was the one who stole him,” Cobb spat, disengaging just long enough for the Electrum to twist his bones back into place before slashing at Batman’s neck. “The Gray Son was born and raised to serve the Court of Owls. Just as his grandfather, my son, was before him.”

Batman shifted back in time for the claws aiming for his ribs to cut through nothing more than armor. “Emil Grayson was a circus acrobat.”

“Emil was raised by Nathaniel Haley to be the perfect talon, just as I was. Had Nathaniel not passed before he could return my son or instruct his own in the ways of the Court, then Emil would have surpassed even me. Instead, that fool Cameron spirited my son away to Europe. By the time the Court could reforge ties with the circus, my son was lost to us while my grandson had been raised weak and the Court had no influence over him. We could only ensure that the child he bore would receive the proper training and be returned to Gotham when the time came.”

Batman felt sick. He wanted to deny it, but Cobb had no reason to lie and the Bats hadn’t bothered to look that far into Richard’s family’s past. “The Graysons’ deaths…”

“Not the Court’s work, though it provided us with an opportunity to place the boy somewhere we could have full influence over him.”

He’d never felt better about rescuing Richard from that awful detention center. He fought down a smirk that would be both telling and uncharacteristic for Batman as he slammed his foot into Cobb’s chest, audibly breaking a few ribs. “But Wayne took him instead.”

From his place on the ground, Cobb pulled off his mask to spit out discolored blood then glared up at Batman. “It doesn’t matter. The boy is destined for the Court. Whether now or later, the Gray Son of Gotham will be a talon.”

“Never,” Batman growled, freezing the talon with a liquid nitrogen pellet.

When he turned back to the room at large, Batgirl was taking down her opponents while Batkid had tied up the scientists and was pulling off the straps. Batman went to help the boys, pulling Richard into his arms as soon as he was free. The ladies agreed to handle the talons and scientists so Batman and Batkid could get Richard up to the surface where Oracle had police cars and an ambulance waiting.

Once they were out of the labyrinth and away from any cameras the Court may have had, but before they reached the authorities, Dick pressed his face into Batman’s neck. “Dami.”

“I’m here, Dick.”

“Th-that man, he said…”

Batman tightened his grip on his ward. “I know, but I’ve got you now and I promise, the Court won’t ever touch you again.”

Richard wrapped his arms around his neck and Damian quickly ran his fingers through the black-brown curls before Batman stepped out of the shadows and passed Richard off for a paramedic to check him over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Reference:

The Batcave: Under Wayne Manor in Bristol, acts as HQ for Batman, Catwoman, and Batgirl (and Batkid)

The Perch: Under Damian and Jon's house in Somerset, acts as HQ for Nightwing and Flamebird (and Robin)

The Hatch: Under the Lucius Fox Center in Burnley, acts as HQ for We Are Future (Signal, Señal, E-ko, Flyfox, and Allegro)

The Clocktower: At the top of Gotham Clock Tower in Old Gotham, acts as HQ for Oracle and Orphan

The Roost: Under Drake Towers in Blüdhaven, acts as HQ for Black Bat and Athens

#dick grayson #damian wayne #Jason Todd #robin #red x #fanfiction #batkid and robin

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