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samsseptember · 7 months
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For @samsseptember TFATWS prompt
This is purely self-indulgent and I completely understand that no one else cares.
-----
"I'm sorry," cried Karli.
Sam shook off the ringing in his ears from the gunshot and looked into her eyes, and he saw her for the scared child that she was.
Yes, she made mistakes.
Yes, she hurt people.
But that didn't mean she deserved to die becuase of it. Enough blood had been shed.
"Shh, I got you, kid," Sam assured her. He put pressure on the wound before speaking into the comms. "Buck, I need you to get an ambulance over here."
"What's wrong--are you hurt?"
"No, it's Karli. She's been shot."
"Sam, I not sure an ambulance can get through the way they have the streets barricaded."
Karli went limp as she lost consciousness in his arms and Sam knew what he had to do.
"Fine, then I'm coming to you."
Sam scooped up Karli and turned to Sharon. "You gonna be fine on your own?"
She let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, I can take care of myself." She looked down with a small frown for a moment before she said, "Sam, I only did it to protect you. You know that right?"
"Yeah, I know. Go on, get outta here before you get caught."
She was gone in the blink of an eye.
Sam shifted Karli's weight and headed back out the way he came in. As soon as he stepped outside, he spread his wings and took off. He flew a a few blocks before he found the intersection blocked off with police squad cars and ambulances.
He noticed the reporters and GRC members, too.
His blood turned to steel and he slowly descended, wings stretched wide.
--
That girl almost died trying to stop you.
Sam's thoughts remained on what he said to the GRC members. He was trying to ignore the beeping and humming of the hospital equipment as he sat by Karli's bedside. He had spent enough time in his life sitting vigil like this; it never got easier.
But he knew he wanted to help her, that he wasn't going to give up on her.
The radio of the officer standing guard outside her door squawked. He couldn't hear the response, but he gave the officer a thumbs up when he glanced through the door window.
"Where am I?" He heard Karli croak.
She groggily tried to sit up and Sam hopped up to hold her steady as he propped the pillows behind her back. She gave him a small smile that looked more like a grimace as she waited for his answer.
"You're in the hospital. The shot was through-and-through, but still did some damage. Lucky for you, that serum has helped you heal a whole lot quicker than expected. "
"So, what happens to me next?"
He watched her look down at her hands and wondered if she could still see the blood she spilled on them them.
"What happens next is up to you."
She frowned up at him in confusion.
"That guard out there will take you to The Raft as soon as the doctors give the go-ahead. But I have another idea. Called in a favor to an old friend."
"Hmm, and what can this friend do?"
"He can let you recover upstate in a safe location. And then we can work on getting your life back on track."
She gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah, right. There is no life for me. I guess I'll go rot in a supermax. It's what I deserve."
"Are you sure?"
"You disagree? After everything I've done?" She asked on the verge of tears.
"I think you wanna fight for those who won't be heard. You care about others and won't stand for the injustices of this world. But, you need help channeling that energy. And I know we can help with that."
Her eyes grew wide as realization dawned on her.
"You think I can I be an Avenger?!"
Sam just shrugged. "Why not?"
"Sam--"
"Look, we all have a past. What matters is what we do moving forward. You don't have to answer right this second, but like I said, once you're recovered the government has a plan for you."
"Then how exactly do you plan to get me upstate?"
Sam crossed his arms with a bright smile.
"Don't worry about that. I know a guy."
She couldn't help but grin back at him, even if she wasn't in on the joke. If he was offering her a chance at a future that didn't include a cell, a future where she could make a difference--a future where she could make amends...then who was she to say no?
"Alright, then. Yeah, I'm in."
As he took out his phone with a grin to text someone, she promised herself she would do her damndest to never disappoint him again. But if this was going to work, he deserved to know the truth.
"Sam? There's something you need to know about Sharon."
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Heart
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/hje4S62 by Six2VII Sam and Riley are training to join the EXE Squad. The only thing standing in their way is their hand-to-hand combat and weapons trainer, James Barnes. Words: 2484, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 37 of Couch Sessions Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Riley (Captain America movies), Nick Fury, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Training Camp read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/hje4S62
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samsseptember · 7 months
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September  30 - Sam Wilson 
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Samtember ‘23, Post-Canon SamBucky, 10K Words
Summary:
When Bucky had asked if Sam minded if he took the lead on his special day because he wanted everything to be a surprise, Sam had been, well, surprised. No, they hadn’t been together on Bucky’s birthday, but Sam had insisted they hang out, and the whole thing was like pulling teeth — not the hanging out part, but the celebrating Bucky’s birthday part. So, yeah, Sam was definitely a little surprised by Bucky’s offer, but he had readily agreed. Birthdays were pretty much tailor made for surprises, and Sam wasn’t any more immune to enjoying them than anyone else.
Or: Sam just wants to have a good birthday, Bucky just wants to give Sam, well, everything, and Sarah just wants Bucky to get it together.
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samsseptember · 7 months
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September  29 - Uniform | Cap Suit 
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Please Tell No One
This is a little, goofy fic based on @samsseptember's Samtember 2023 prompt "Hurt/Comfort", though it's more hurt pride than hurt hurt 😂 It is also inspired by this gymnastics tiktok. Enjoy! 🥰. Enjoy! 🥰
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Please Tell No One
| Pairing: SamBucky | Rated: T | WC: 2.6K |
Summary: Olympic Gymnast Sam Wilson gives Rising Star Bucky Barnes a private gymnastics lesson. Shenanigans ensue.
Excerpt:
The man blushed, full-on turned into a tomato, staring at Sam. “I watched you every Olympics,” blurted the man. Sam laughed; more out of surprise than anything. “I think a lot of people did,” said Sam, a little confused. “No, I mean, I – I didn’t really watch anything else during the Olympics other than – um – oh wow, I am just embarrassing myself, aren’t I?” asked Bucky as he seemed to take all of Sam in, “Wow, you’re right here.” “I am right here. You asked for this private session,” said Sam as he reached out his hand, “Bucky, right?” “You know my name,” said Bucky as he shook Sam’s hand. And. Kept shaking it. Sam snorted. “That’s what happens when you schedule a private session,” said Sam, “I learn your name.”
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Written for the @samsseptember prompt: On The Run (kind of) // Rated E CW: shaving with a straight razor, no injury but continuous mention of the razor // 3.8k words // Read on AO3
The Closest Shave (Excerpt)
Sam held the straight razor gently, examining the blade and all the familiar knicks in the wood handle.
“That thing looks older than me,” Steve said with a playful trepidation as Sam continued to fiddle with it.
“It might be,” he humored because he knew this was all a diversion tactic. He pretended to sharpen the blade on a discarded piece of Steve’s suit before he handed it over. “It was my grandpa’s. First thing he ever bought. Gave it to my dad, and I got it when I turned sixteen. Other kids got cars but…” He shrugged like the razor didn’t mean the world to him, like he hadn’t brought it with him to the end of the world. He was pretty sure none of his classmates could say that about their early aughts cars.
“Your grandpa had good taste,” Steve said. When he caught sight of the shaving cream and brush again, he attempted to worm an arm around Sam’s waist and tug him into a kiss. When that didn’t work, he begrudgingly lifted his face up to give Sam room to work. Such a drama king.
Sam pushed Steve’s hair back from his face, thought about telling him a trim was next but shelved it for another day, and instead cupped Steve’s jaw to kiss him. “I inherited it. The good taste,” he said, just to see Steve smile, which he did.
“How did I ever get this lucky?” he asked.
“I’m at a total loss,” he answered with a grin. “By all accounts, it doesn’t add up.” He dabbed out some pre-shave oil–that was new to the kit, but that didn’t matter–and slowly worked it against Steve’s beard. Sam knew the texture of Steve’s hair in and out and all the way through. He knew how it felt when it was clean and when it was wet and when it was sweaty and when it was greasy. He knew how humid it had to be before it started to curl at the nape of his neck. He knew how his beard grew in slowly and then all at once and how coarse each day was.
Truly, Steve’s beard shouldn’t be less coarse than Sam’s, but Sam took care of his facial hair and Steve decidedly did not. Which was infuriating, especially to Sam’s thighs. The oil seemed more necessary for Steve than it did for Sam some days. It was odd to brush it through a long beard too. Sam hadn’t grown his beard out to any kind of length before. He didn’t need a lot of oil to soak into it and soothe his skin. Steve’s hair felt like wading through a jungle. Not that Sam was going to say as much because he’d just gloat about it for ages.
“You know,” Steve said, when Sam leaned around him to rinse his fingers off and let the oil sit, “if you keep this up, I’ll never shave myself again.”
“I’ll shave your eyebrows off if you don’t behave,” Sam threatened lightly. He stepped between Steve’s legs and took a second to just appreciate the man in front of him, with his twinkling eyes and easy smile. A bruise was already mostly faded from around his cheekbone, just a memory and a slight line from where the cowl dug into his cheek. “Actually, maybe I won’t see this through,” he said.
“Oh?” Steve asked, rubbing circles into Sam’s hip bones with his thumbs. The simple motion alone was better than any full massage Sam had ever gotten.
“Yeah, your mouth is really pink like this.”
“How pink?” Steve asked. Then slowly licked his lips like the teasing bastard he was.
Sam pitched forward a little unsteadily, aware of the oil in Steve’s beard but completely incapable of caring about it, and pressed his mouth against Steve’s gently until Steve opened up beneath him, hooked his legs over Sam’s hips and tugged him in closer. It made Sam’s body lit up and flush to life all over again, his heart tripping in his chest at the encompassing adoration he had for the other man. And the reciprocating devotion that was pouring out of Steve too and sinking into Sam’s bones down to his very soul. In another life… God, in another life, this could be every Sunday morning.
“That pink, huh?” Steve asked when Sam pulled back again.
“Behave,” Sam warned once more. The glint in Steve’s eyes said he was well aware that Sam was the one misbehaving, but he didn’t argue.
He unhooked his legs from Sam’s waist and sat up again, tilted his head back without being asked. He even held still as Sam painted on shaving cream. It had been a while since Sam had really used the brush and thicker cream. He couldn’t remember ever shaving someone else. Certainly never like this, with his grandpa’s razor and Steve’s knees bracketing his bare hips, hands warm and grounding against his skin. He was beginning to wonder just how he’d been so lucky too.
“This is really makin’ me feel like a dumb kid again, wasting money to get shaved at a barbershop instead’a just doin’ it myself.”
“Could you even grow facial hair before the serum?” Sam teased back. “Besides–” He finished spreading the cream on the brush over Steve’s cheek and then dragged it over his bare thigh slowly. “If you were getting this kind of treatment back then, the history books need a few revisions.”
Steve laughed, smile and eyes bright as he looked at Sam. “No, sir, you do know how to make it special for a guy.”
Sam gently wiped away shaving cream that was too close to his mouth. “Keep those pearls put away, soldier,” he teased gently. “Might drive a man to distraction.” He kept working, focused on covering Steve’s beard without excess.
“You’re so beautiful,” Steve continued. “Have I told you recently?”
“Not recently enough.”
“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated. “How did I get this lucky?”
Sam brushed cream over the tip of Steve’s nose and rolled his eyes. “Eyes forward, you ain’t sweet-talkin’ your way out of this one.”
Steve obliged comically, schooling his expression forward for two/tenths of a second before he leaned over to kiss Sam’s shoulder, which got shaving cream everywhere.
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samsseptember · 7 months
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This is for @samsseptember's prompts "Part Time Avenger | On the Run", "Working for Fury | Wakanda ", "Post Blip | TFATWS", and "Post TFATWS | Meanwhile, On the Boat". The idea behind it is that ever since Bucky stole Sam's steering wheel and went into hiding, Sam and Bucky keep trying to one-up and annoy one another. They both want each other's attention but also want to show off. To the point where they egg each other into a fake relationship, trying to best each other with each date. They soon find out their feelings may be more than just frenemies. Perhaps they discover that their feelings are more than banter, a shared best friend, and a need for the other to acknowledge them.
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samsseptember · 7 months
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September  28 - Post-TFATWS | Meanwhile, On the Boat
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samsseptember · 7 months
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A Debt Paid in Full
I was inspired, so I made a steamy prequel to A Debt Owed 😆 This is also for @samsseptember's "Western AU" prompt. Enjoy! 🥰
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A Debt Paid in Full
| Pairing: SamBucky | Rated: E | WC: 3.3K |
Summary: A Prequel to A Debt Owed about Sam and Bucky's first time together.
Excerpt:
“Chores are done for the day,” said Bucky, leaning on the porch post as he played cool as always, “Could I join you for a drink in there?” Usually, Sam would avoid the question. Sam would dodge it with a joke or an excuse. Bucky would tip his hat, keep smiling and bid Sam a good night before returning to the cabin a way off where the ranch hands stayed. Well. Ranch hand. There was only Bucky, after all. Sam could make another excuse here. Do something to stop Bucky from taking another step up his porch stairs. Sam knew Bucky wouldn’t mind. He would do as he always did. He would be patient with Sam. He would leave Sam to his devices for yet another night. But Sam couldn’t find it in himself to do that any longer. Twenty-nine was too young to stay a widow. Maybe if he was in his thirties like Bucky, Sam would be a little more patient, but Sam wanted more than this. Sam wanted more in life. More with Bucky. “Why don’t you come on in?” asked Sam, a little shier than he usually was.
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samsseptember · 7 months
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September  27 -  Post-Blip | TFATWS
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Samtember Day 25: Part-Time Avenger | On the Run
((I chose On the Run for day 25 of @samsseptember))
The story behind the moodboard: After the events of Civil War leave them branded as criminals, Sam and Steve go on the run together. Forced into close quarters, they realize that their bond goes deeper than partnership in battle. What began as a profound friendship slowly turns romantic during their travels across America's backroads.
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samsseptember · 7 months
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Been Runnin' Ever Since
SamBucky | Rated T | 3,927 words | Complete | AO3
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Written for @samsseptember​'s Samtember 2023, prompt: Riley
A very special thanks to @questinwitchface for beta reading for me!
Summary: Sam's still grieving over losing Riley when he goes on his first date in two years. He's not expecting to feel anything until he locks eyes with a man who's not his date for the evening.
Excerpt:
Grief is endless. That’s all Sam has concluded from these long months. Every day, he waits to feel lighter, to finally feel okay, but he continues to struggle with the loss of his partner. When he decided to try dating again it wasn’t because he necessarily wanted to but because everyone told him it was the only way to move on.
The bar is small. The music's loud enough that Sam has to nearly shout to answer each question his date asks. His date is... fine. Handsome, anyone would probably say. He has dirty-blonde hair that hangs in thick strands over his eyes, a strong jaw, and a drawl to his voice that makes Sam think he's originally from the South. He's nice enough, Sam thinks.
His date's name is Austin. Austin reserved them a table which in this tiny bar means one of the small tables that line the walls where the back of each chair is pressed up against another. But at least, he made a reservation.
Sam looks at his date again. Austin is handsome, he has to remind himself once more. He stopped seeing people after Riley. He knows what other men look like and understands people like Austin are attractive but it doesn't register in his brain when his head feels like fog most of the time, clouded by a grief he can never fully let go of.
When Austin gets up to use the bathroom, Sam shamefully lets out a breath of relief for the moment of solitude. He checks his phone, wondering how much longer he has to stay before seeming rude. Another twenty minutes, he decides, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Then he looks up and meets the eyes of a man sitting at the table across from his.
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samsseptember · 7 months
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September  26 - Working for Fury | Wakanda
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samsseptember · 7 months
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A Debt Owed
Here’s a longish SamBucky Western fic for @samsseptember’s Samtember 2023! Enjoy! 🥰
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A Debt Owed
| Pairing: SamBucky | Rating: M | WC: 12K |
Summary: Leah visits Sam and Bucky's ranch, asking for help.
Excerpt:
“A little latish for y’all to be coming in town, boys,” said Sarah, smiling at the two of them before seeing Leah right behind them, “And what’s this? Are y’all molled this evening? What’s the taradiddle here?” “The man who killed Riley has struck somewhere close,” said Sam solemnly, “I’m prepared to make them pay what they owe to me.”
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samsseptember · 7 months
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Written for the @samsseptember prompt Amnesia // CW: Amnesia and all that goes along with it. I did it again guys. I wrote another heavy one. I swear the rest are better // Full Story on AO3
When the Light Gets Into Your Heart
When Sam finally convinced his eyes to open, everything was blurry and fuzzy and far too bright. His ears were fuzzy too. Like he was under water or had a pillow wrapped around his head. He'd woken up in hospitals a handful of times in his life. Once, after he'd been clocked in the face during a baseball game. They said he'd been conscious off and on beforehand, but he didn't remember any of that. Once, just a little while ago when he and Riley had first tried on the wings and Sam had promptly fallen out of the sky. And once when he was younger and had had to have surgery on his appendix, though that was hardly as exciting.
So what the hell had happened this time?
He tried to move his head, which felt like the most difficult task in the world, and a voice said, "Do you know you sleep with your eyes half open?"
Sam tried to blink away the fuzziness in his vision but only succeeded in smearing it more. "Being unconscious and being asleep are different things," he said. His throat hurt like hell. When he pawed at the edges of his bed, he didn't find a glass of water.
The unknown man in the room grunted and it sounded like an agreement. "That's true. I'd have noticed sooner if it was every time you slept."
It wasn't Riley's voice and Sam couldn't fathom who else would have seen him sleep. Sarah's new beau maybe? Still, Sam had a knee jerk reaction to say 'like you ever stay up later than me or wake up first,' though he didn't. That was the kind of thing he saved for Riley.
His body ached like he'd been asleep for ages or had just been in a fight, but he didn't feel like anything was broken-broken. The inside out bruise pressure of bleeding wasn't pronounced. He didn't feel like he was numbed out of any body part. Why was he in the hospital?
"What happened?" he finally asked. "Where's Riley?" Because if something had happened to him out had either happened to Riley too or he needed to be told about it.
His vision was finally starting to clear, though it just made his eyes burn and his head ache flare, and he could see the man at the end of the bed was a stranger. Sam had a knee jerk reaction that he was military. There was just something to the breadth of his body, the way he held himself, the tilt of his jaw. But his hair was long and where his arms were crossed over his impressive chest, he had a prosthesis. Sam blinked at it a little bit, willing his eyes to accept it. It was far more advanced than anything he'd ever seen the VA pay for.
The man's handsome, severe face was pinched in along the midline, eyebrows drawn in, nose scrunched, mouth puckered. "Riley?" he asked.
"Yeah, Riley. Don't play games. If you know who I am, you know who Riley is," Sam snapped. He tired to sit up. Failed. Made it seem like he was just shifting on the bed. "They're supposed to call him when I get hurt. Shit, I get called enough about him."
"I know who Riley is," the man assured tightly. He dropped his arms and then crossed them again without otherwise moving. "Where do you think you are?"
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. He didn't really feel like he could keep enough air in his lungs to do that, but it was necessary. "I don't know. A hospital somewhere near base. I don't know how I got here. I don't know why I'm here. But Riley should be here to check me out at least."
"Sam," the man said. There was a pleading tone in his voice. The desperation made him seem much younger. "Do you know who I am?"
Sam tried to puzzle it out. He was pretty sure he'd remember an engineer or commander who was missing an arm. He was decidedly not Sarah's new beau. Was he supposed to remember someone from basics? Or, God, high school? "No, man. I've never seen you before."
The half-constipated look fell from the man's face, replaced by slack horror and dejection. “I’m going to go get your doctor,” he said and then disappeared before Sam could really fathom that he was leaving.
The room was like no hospital room Sam had ever seen. It felt more like a retirement home room or something. Outside the window, through a crack in the curtains where the AC kept letting them drift apart, he could see a sprawling campus of some kind. Sleek, modern metal and glass buildings in weird shapes dotted the landscape of rolling green hills. Everything was as clean and manicured as the room he was in.
Even with its beige walls and dark curtains, the room was too bright for his pounding head. Was he in the hospital with a concussion? That felt like as good a guess as any. But how would he have knocked his brains loose without Riley around to point and laugh afterwards? It wasn’t like him not to sit vigilant beside Sam’s bed when he was worried. Had he been hurt too? Is that why the stranger was being so cagey about where he was?
Without anyone else around to see him, Sam tried to sit up. His right wrist was lightly wrapped in bandages. It twinged when he put too much pressure on it, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t work with. The rest of him seemed to be in one piece. He pulled the loose t-shirt he was wearing up and examined his ribs and belly for any signs of internal damage, but came up clear. There weren’t bandages around his head, despite how much it hurt. All of his teeth seemed to be in place.
What the hell was going on?
He was just yanking a pillow from under his ass when the stranger and another man walked through the door. If this was his doctor then Sam had fully fallen into a dream world. Firstly, he was weirdly handsome. Like an old 1920s painting come to life. Or a Magic The Gathering card. And his hair was so pointy for a doctor. Even the distinguished grey stripes at his temple didn’t make up for the electro-shock hair. And what kind of doctor–
“Why are you wearing a cape?” Sam asked.
“Hospitals get cold,” the man answered blandly without looking up from the notes in his hands. “I’m a surgeon, Barnes. Not a neurologist. I don’t know what you want me to assess.”
“I’m not concerned about the literal application of medicine here, Strange,” the stranger snapped. Barnes. A last name, Sam assumed. “You know what those things were capable of. Distorting time and shit. They did something to him.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked.
“It’s probably just a classic case of retrograde amnesia. He likely took damage to the temporal lobe. I am sure it will work itself out.”
“He didn’t get hit,” Barnes snapped. “I was on his six the whole time. He wasn’t injured.”
On his six? Why would this man be fighting with him instead of Riley? Where were they? What had the mission been?
He asked all of these things before Barnes and the doctor could escalate their own argument.
“Captain,” the doctor began.
Sam snorted. “Not a pilot.”
The doctor’s mouth curled just a little, eyes alighting for a split second. “Mr. Wilson,” he amended. “You seem to be suffering from a form of amnesia. It appears you have forgotten a substantial length of time. Now that you’re awake, we can begin to monitor–”
“How much time?” Sam interrupted.
“Well, I’m not sure neurologists would want to affect your own cognition by telling you–”
“Over a decade,” Barnes answered. His arms were crossed over his chest again. Tight. Like he was trying to hold himself in one piece. “A whole second life for you, actually.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Sam asked. Had he died before? Could amnesia catapult him back to before some other traumatic event, even if it meant going back a whole decade?
“I don’t know,” Barnes said. “But something happened and it wasn’t an injury.”
“What else could it be?” Sam asked.
“Barnes,” the doctor said lowly. A warning.
“Where the hell is Riley? Where am I?” he asked again. He could feel anger boiling below his skin. As if this wasn’t all confusing and terrifying enough, he couldn’t even get a straight answer about where he was and who these people were and where the hell his partner was. “Riley will know what happened. Where is he?”
Barnes turned away then, scrubbing his hands over his face and letting out a frustrated noise. The doctor kept his cool eyes on Sam. “You’re in Washington DC. Well, just north, actually. You’re on the Central Campus. You were part of a battle against an enemy I suppose you may not be able to believe right now. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
But Sam shook his head. “I’m not answering any questions until you tell me where Riley is.”
The doctor almost glanced to Barnes, but aborted the movement before his eyes got all the way off of Sam’s bed. “Mr. Wilson, it’s been over a decade,” he said. It wasn’t soft and comforting. Just a fact. “You are no longer in the Air Force. Riley Wiatrek is no longer your wingman. You have been working for SHIELD, and its iterations, for much of the time you’ve forgotten.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “There is no way Riley and I would leave each other. Or the Force. He’s the last thing I remember. I need to talk to him.”
“Riley died,” Barnes said without turning around. Still, the words were like an arrow aimed right at Sam’s heart, landing true, and ripping out the back of his ribcage.
“You’re lying,” he said and hated how quiet his voice had gotten. “You’re lying to keep me away from him.”
“Barnes,” the doctor repeated warningly.
Barnes turned then. He looked almost as distraught as Sam felt, though there was a hard foundation to his expression where Sam had no foundation at all and was currently free falling through several stages of grief at once. “Your way isn’t working,” he snapped at the doctor. “He deserves to know. It’s his damn life.” Then he turned those steely, wet eyes on Sam. “He died before I met you. During a night mission. It grounded the EXO-Falcon program and you were living here, in DC, when you met Steve Rogers.”
“What?” Sam asked. He felt entirely hollowed out. Barnes’ words were entering his ears and then banging around in his skull without sticking to anything. There was an all-consuming terror and grief that was snaking around every muscle and nerve and fiber and bone in his body, constricting him inwards until he was sure he was going to crumble into nothing.
“Then you met me. I was worse then. You saved the world. You trained to become an Avenger. You kept looking for me. Eventually, you found me, though it was more complicated than that. You became a wanted fugitive for breaking a UN declaration about superheroes. You were on the run for a few years. We saved the world again, after different kinds of complications. You and I eventually reconnected, stopped a terroristic threat, moved in together, and have been running the Central Campus since. Oh, and you became Captain America.”
“What the fuck is happening?” Sam breathed. “Is this a joke? Are you pranking me? What the fuck is happening?!”
“Sam, I swear to God, I’m not lying to you. You’re a superhero. You were best friends with Steve Rogers for years. You stole the wings back and were a hero called the Falcon. You’re Captain America now. Steve gave you the shield. We’ve been training new heroes. Saving the day over and over again. We were just fighting these things that distort time. I think they fucked with your head.”
The doctor was looking at Barnes with a wildly unimpressed look on his face. “Though said completely without tact, Sergeant Barnes is correct. I would like to help you, though,” he added quickly. “I think I can find a spell to reverse the effects of the time distortion.”
“It’s not distortion,” Barnes snapped. “They stole it from him.”
And then, all of a sudden, the doctor’s expression almost seemed to soften, like a realization dawning over him. Whatever it was, he didn’t vocalize it. “I will need to examine you more thoroughly to assess the full extent of the damage,” he told Sam. “And then I can begin to create a solution.”
“How can you possibly find a solution for this? This is insane. You are both insane. Let me out. I want to go home.” He tried to swing his legs free from the bed, but his head swam so heavily he almost pitched backwards. Barnes was there faster than anyone should be able to move. His hands were like hot coals through Sam’s shirt as he held Sam steady.
“You were affected by magic,” the doctor said. “I happen to know my fair share of it too. I do think returning home may be beneficial. If familiar surroundings should jog your memory, it may go a long way to breaking the spell.”
This wasn’t a fairytale. Spells and magic and lost memories, lost loves. This was impossible. He didn’t want any of this.
“Sergeant Barnes, I assume you will be alright with Mr. Wilson at home?” the doctor said.
“Could use a lift,” Barnes answered drily. His arms were still around Sam, rubbing at his ribs mindlessly. Sam shrugged them off.
The doctor ticked his head to the side and then flicked his wrist. A tear in the world opened up right in the middle of the hospital room. Sam leapt to his feet and Barnes stayed right beside him to hold him up. Which was good because Sam’s knees were clacking together with exertion and disbelief.
“What the hell?” he asked, staring at the room in the middle of the room. It was somewhere in Louisiana. Sam would know that in his bones. The color of the sky outside the windows, the way the paint on the railing peeled, the swaying grasses and mosses. He could practically smell the salt air. It was home.
“Magic,” Barnes said. “Come on. Help me through.”
Somehow, Sam found himself walking towards the glowing circle and then stepping through. Well, lurching through maybe, like all the distance that should’ve been between them and home was whipping by him all at once. And suddenly he was home.
It wasn’t the Wilson house, but it couldn’t have been very far from it. Without thinking, Sam stepped away from Barnes and stumbled to the window. He wrenched it open and let the early fall air breeze into the house. He took his first deep breath of the afternoon.
“How long has it been?” he asked as the sea air calmed him down.
“If you think you’re still in the Air Force? At least fourteen years.”
“And Riley’s really dead?”
“I would never lie to you about that,” Barnes said with a sharp, protective edge to his voice. “If I could bring him back to you, I would.”
Sam nodded like a bobblehead. He kind of forgot he was doing it eventually. “And who are you?”
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