my friends are so distressed

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Who| Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, and Clint Barton
What| Attempt one at a brainwashed assassins support group
Where| Capitol blind spot
When| Some time after the crowning
Warnings/Notes| Discussions of mind control, PTSD, violence, murder, etc.


Honestly, Sam had thought of doing something like this pretty much from the second Clint told him about what happened with Loki, and they both made a comparison to what Bucky’d been through. It’s what Sam does - what he’d done even before he started working for the VA, and even now that he’s stuck here - try to get people to realize that they’re not alone.

But he’d hesitated. He doubts Clint would have even said anything to him about it if he hadn’t been drunk, and Sam’s really not sure he’s in a place where he’d appreciate Sam trying to let someone else in on it. The same goes for Bucky, at least on the second bit, and it’s hard to ask either of them if they’d be okay with it with the Capitol listening in on them.

In the end, Sam goes for it. If they don’t like the idea, they don’t have to go along with it, but if Sam doesn’t at least try, he knows it’s just going to keep being on his mind.

He asks Clint to meet him at the same bar they’d gone to last time, then asks Bucky to go for a walk with him. It’s probably not a surprise to either of them that he’s angling for a blind spot meeting, he’s just… hoping the ‘why’ doesn’t end up with his ass in trouble.

As soon as all three of them are safely out of the Capitol’s sight, Sam leans back against the alley wall. “I got a proposition for you two. It’s not something you have to tell me yes or no right now, I just didn’t want anyone else listening in on any of this, you know?”

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[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam reaches out before he can stop himself, hands covering Clint’s where they’d been clenched into fists. It’s only after he makes contact that he wonders if Clint maybe doesn’t want him touching him right now, if Clint’s still a little too upset to be willing to take any support Sam might offer. Especially when it’s over something Sam’d caused in the first place.

But he’s not going to take it back now. If Clint doesn’t want it, he can shake Sam’s hands off, or take those steps back again.

“I messed up, man, I know that. That’s on me, not you.” You don’t have to get it, you don’t have to trust him, he means, but he leaves that unspoken.

“I know it’s a hard sell,” he adds quietly. “Bucky’s… not the kind of guy you trust on someone else’s say so. I didn’t even take Steve’s word on it, not at first.” There’s a pause, then he ventures, “Can I tell you what sold me on him?”

[cognitived]

He thinks about it, pulling away from Sam's touch, taking those steps. But he doesn't. Lets Sam's hands cover his fists, gaze sweeping up to meet Sam's eyes. Listens and thinks, because it's true, Bucky isn't the kind of guy you trust simply on someone else's dime. But Sam hasn't led him wrong -- beyond this moment, of course. And even then, well, Clint can't deny that Sam's already done his level best to explain just what he was thinking and hoping for.

They're partners, it still means something to Clint, enough that he doesn't pull away or leave. Simply stands there with his hands uncurling like morning glories under the sun that is Sam's touch.

"Go ahead."

Softly, voice low. He doesn't look away, because he wants to read the truth there in Sam's face, wants to know.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Honestly, it’d be easier if Clint did look away. Sam wants to look away here, because talking about what really sold him on Bucky means talking about Riley, means going into just how badly watching his best friend get blown to pieces messed him up. But Clint is his partner, and that means something to Sam, too.

It means a lot.

So Sam holds his gaze steady, thumbs smoothing over Clint’s hands as much to ground himself as for Clint.

“At the end of the space arena, I wasn’t doing so hot. Got in a fight with a Viking, not my best idea. Bucky found me trying to hold my guts in on the way back to the infirmary, and he sat me down with him, let me bleed all over him. The countdown’d already started, and I think we both knew what was coming.” He swallows, jaw locking briefly as he grits his teeth, trying to get this out. Yeah, maybe he talks a lot about this, but he rarely goes into specifics, into exactly what his weaknesses - triggers, he knows that - were.

“Riley, my wingman, he was hit with an RPG, our last mission out with the wings. I, uh. I’m not crazy about fire, explosions. Shit, the first fourth of July I was back, I spent an hour hiding in the bathroom trying not to puke. I mean, it’s better now, but-” Not the point, moving on. Clint can fill in the gaps there.

“Bucky stayed with me, held my hand, right up until the end. Without him I would’ve been in a lot worse shape.”

Fireworks may not bother him anymore, but goddamn, Sam knows there’s no way he would’ve been anything like ready to face getting blown up alone.

[cognitived]

He should have looked away, he really should have. Clint's regretting his decision already, heart lodged in his throat, something cold gilding his spine.

That first Arena -- god he remembers it, of course he does. His end was no less fiery, hand in hand with Natasha, spinning and drawing her into his arms, as if he could protect her with the shield of his body. Impossible, he knew, but still he had to try. Clint didn't know Sam then, not really, but now Sam's his partner and he aches with the image of Sam holding his own guts in as he tried to walk back to safety. Almost without thought, Clint's hands move under Sam's touch, lock their fingers together, squeezes gently, and then tighter, as if he could double check for sure that Sam was real.

Because this is news to him. All of it, Riley, the RPG that took him out, the end that Sam found not so long ago. Clint understands, he more than understands. He's been there himself, and sometimes, he's not entirely sure he's left it far behind at all. Loki was nearly a year ago, but that means jack shit. So yeah, okay, maybe he definitely gets now why Sam trusts Bucky, why he started to in the first place.

He's quiet for a long time, holding Sam's hands, gaze flicking away as he thinks. Briefly, his mouth twists, jaw tight, before easing out as his gaze slots back.

"Okay," careful, calmly, "Okay."

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Maybe Clint's doing it to make sure that Sam really did pull through, but the gesture soothes Sam a little bit anyway.

Especially when Clint doesn't say anything for a while, and Sam very carefully does his best not to read anything into that, not to let his mind wander down any roads that he might not be able to get it back from. He squeezes Clint's hands back, waiting, and then lets out a slow breath at Clint's response.

"Okay."

He's feeling a little exposed right about now - says the guy who regularly stands up in front of twenty or thirty people and talks about the things he regrets and the shit he brought back with him - but this is different. This isn't talking about his experiences to try to help someone who might have been through something similar, this is just talking about his experiences. This if for him more than for Clint, and he always has a harder time opening up like that.

"Okay. We, uh. We good?"

[cognitived]

The truth is, Clint's not the most touchy person out there. Reaching out for Sam is a comfort, yeah he's reaffirming belief that Sam's alright, but it's faintly selfish. A need to make sure, a need to keep him steady and close and sure. He needed to think, but he needed to make sure they were fine too.

Even if they're both feeling somewhat exposed, insides scoped out and set on display. Clint shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot as he spots that vulnerability written carefully in the lines of Sam's face. He doesn't pull away though, hands locked, leaning closer just a tad.

"Yeah," Painfully soft, quiet in the space between them, "Yeah, we're good."

He's not sure what else to say but that, what to follow this through with. The betrayal from earlier has faded, sour and bitter, an echo upon his tongue.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Honestly, Sam isn't one hundred percent sure of what to do here, either. He's painfully aware of just how badly he could have messed up here, and he's only mostly sure he managed to salvage it okay.

And he still has to figure out a way to apologize to Bucky, and god he doesn't even want to think about how he's going to manage that.

But he knows what he wants to do, and - fuck it, he might as well go for it. He tugs Clint in by his hands, letting go when he's close enough that Sam can wrap his arms around him for a hug.

[cognitived]

Clint goes easily, wrapping his arms around Sam, holding tight. His breath shudders out of him, but this close he can feel the beat of Sam's heart, steady, strong. It's good, they're good. Maybe everything isn't perfect, maybe he's still feeling vulnerable and shamed and unsure. But that's -- well, somehow that's not too unusual.

Instead, he holds tight, basks for a long moment like a cat laying in the sun.

It takes a moment, pulse soothing out from the jackrabbit rate, mind clearing from the blue and he fear and the panic. Eventually, he pulls back, but not so far as to lose contact all together. Eyes Sam, takes in the worry still written faintly into his expression, and doesn't know what to do about it beyond what he's already doing. So, he makes a joke. Kind of.

"Should I get used to the emotional hugs?"

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam closes his eyes for a moment, hands splayed over Clint’s shoulder blades and holding on tight. He’s not sure if he’s giving comfort or taking it, if he’s trying to soothe Clint after Sam’s fuck up caused him trouble or if he’s trying to soothe himself back out of being vulnerable. Maybe both.

Either way, he just breathes for a long moment, watching Clint closely when he pulls back. And then he grins at that joke - it’s almost a relief, something to lighten the mood, and Sam gives him a slight squeeze before he lets go.

“Nah. This was a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity, man, I hope you enjoyed it.”

He gives him a little shove, then slings his arm around Clint’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get back before they wonder where we are.”