[ It's - somewhere in between the two. Clint isn't a broodmate, and they haven't been in each other's heads as much as he has with Bucky - but they've gone far deeper than Sam ever planned, and for far longer.
He's not in danger of following Clint under the way he had been with Bucky, but there are pieces of his mind missing, the places where Clint should be hollow and aching. He tries, he holds on to what's left of their connection as tight as he can, but it's like clutching grains of sand, like trying to hold on to the fletching of an arrow that slips from his hand.
His fingers are tangled in Clint's shirt, body angled towards the door like he's gearing up to fight whoever comes in - but he sags back when he feels that it's Bucky.
He doesn't know - he can't - he's never felt more helpless.
Sam reaches out with one hand, threading his fingers through Bucky's and holding on. ]
(I can't keep him here.)
[ I'm not enough, he doesn't say, but it's hardly the first time he's felt it. ]
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He's not in danger of following Clint under the way he had been with Bucky, but there are pieces of his mind missing, the places where Clint should be hollow and aching. He tries, he holds on to what's left of their connection as tight as he can, but it's like clutching grains of sand, like trying to hold on to the fletching of an arrow that slips from his hand.
His fingers are tangled in Clint's shirt, body angled towards the door like he's gearing up to fight whoever comes in - but he sags back when he feels that it's Bucky.
He doesn't know - he can't - he's never felt more helpless.
Sam reaches out with one hand, threading his fingers through Bucky's and holding on. ]
( I can't keep him here. )
[ I'm not enough, he doesn't say, but it's hardly the first time he's felt it. ]