It's highly irregular for a sun and moon pairing to separate, and Bucky knows this. Knows it will lead to questions he isn't prepared to answer, out of fear, out of depression, out of loyalty to Steve and the memory of all the good he's done. So what if Bucky is not at the top of that priority list? He's not the important one, here.
(He never has been. Not once this whole time. His chest hurts every time he's presented with the knowledge of just how true that is.)
There's a choosing ceremony, though Steve tells Bucky it's no big deal and Bucky, bereft and uncertain at the prospect of a long, immortal life without his best friend or, perhaps, of having that same life trapped in another areangement to the convenience of others with no regard to his own needs, believes him. Doesn't ask questions, just does as it gently suggested to him. Including granting a gift made by his own hands to one of three prospects.
He chooses Sam. Sam has a smile that makes his chest ache in a good way, has the richest brown skin Bucky has ever seen, and if Bucky didn't feel like an utter failure in every direction he might have managed to flirt back instead of just handing the bracelets he made over without a word.
He learns that this is what the entire ceremony hinged on, the moon choosing a new sun, and once he's finished being angry at being lied to (somewhat at Steve but mostly at himself) Bucky tells himself that once Sam returns from his introductory tour of the mortal world, Bucky will get his shit together. He just. Needs to fall apart first.
The problem with this plan is that Sam doesn't go on any such tour. He's home, with Bucky, increasingly confused with the latter's behavior and attitude and skittishness which, hey. It confuses Bucky too. Plus he hates it. He feels unmoored and unhinged. His arrangement with Steve was never great but he knew the steps, knew what was going to happen.
Sam is an unknown. An unknown he'd desperately would like to impress or at least come across as normal? Ish? To, only Bucky instead feels as though he's five minutes from a loud breakdown every meal they share in silence. His, mostly. Sam tries engaging him and Bucky manages a few answers but it's not exactly riveting conversation.
Bucky wakes up one morning to the realization that he's overslept. By a lot. And he feels like he's dying.
He doesn't want to call for Sam. He'd rather call Nat, the Guiding Sta, but her last guidance had been 'in the name of all we are, James, just try telling Sam what you need. Or anyone what you need. For once," and he doesn't know what that is.
He knows what it isn't.
It takes a few tries to get his voice to work beyond the fear and self-loathing and whatever other toxic feelings cocktail he's currently under emotionally. But he calls Sam's name a few times and when he hears the footsteps approaching manages to say "I can't do this again."
no subject
(He never has been. Not once this whole time. His chest hurts every time he's presented with the knowledge of just how true that is.)
There's a choosing ceremony, though Steve tells Bucky it's no big deal and Bucky, bereft and uncertain at the prospect of a long, immortal life without his best friend or, perhaps, of having that same life trapped in another areangement to the convenience of others with no regard to his own needs, believes him. Doesn't ask questions, just does as it gently suggested to him. Including granting a gift made by his own hands to one of three prospects.
He chooses Sam. Sam has a smile that makes his chest ache in a good way, has the richest brown skin Bucky has ever seen, and if Bucky didn't feel like an utter failure in every direction he might have managed to flirt back instead of just handing the bracelets he made over without a word.
He learns that this is what the entire ceremony hinged on, the moon choosing a new sun, and once he's finished being angry at being lied to (somewhat at Steve but mostly at himself) Bucky tells himself that once Sam returns from his introductory tour of the mortal world, Bucky will get his shit together. He just. Needs to fall apart first.
The problem with this plan is that Sam doesn't go on any such tour. He's home, with Bucky, increasingly confused with the latter's behavior and attitude and skittishness which, hey. It confuses Bucky too. Plus he hates it. He feels unmoored and unhinged. His arrangement with Steve was never great but he knew the steps, knew what was going to happen.
Sam is an unknown. An unknown he'd desperately would like to impress or at least come across as normal? Ish? To, only Bucky instead feels as though he's five minutes from a loud breakdown every meal they share in silence. His, mostly. Sam tries engaging him and Bucky manages a few answers but it's not exactly riveting conversation.
Bucky wakes up one morning to the realization that he's overslept. By a lot. And he feels like he's dying.
He doesn't want to call for Sam. He'd rather call Nat, the Guiding Sta, but her last guidance had been 'in the name of all we are, James, just try telling Sam what you need. Or anyone what you need. For once," and he doesn't know what that is.
He knows what it isn't.
It takes a few tries to get his voice to work beyond the fear and self-loathing and whatever other toxic feelings cocktail he's currently under emotionally. But he calls Sam's name a few times and when he hears the footsteps approaching manages to say "I can't do this again."