sizeofyourbaggage: (distant)
Sam Wilson ([personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage) wrote in [community profile] station72 2018-03-26 02:30 am (UTC)

Sam can feel Bucky's hesitancy, and it's... it's fair, he gets it. The memory of that night is still too fresh, still too much, and Sam does have a tendency to push himself too much with his ability.

He wants to do better. He wants Bucky to be able to trust him with this, to trust that he can keep it in check and do this without hurting himself too much. It's about finding a balance, he knows that, and for Bucky - for Bucky, he can do that. He slides his hand up, palm splayed over Bucky's chest, and concentrates.

It's a struggle at first, but he lets his ability go slowly. He can feel the poison in Bucky's system, a dark, burning pulse in the otherwise light, comfortable familiarity of his broodmate, but he ignores it. Pushes past it, focuses on Bucky's chest, on his lungs. On the fracture in his ribs, and he knits it together just the tiniest bit, just enough that it won't scrape on every inhale, but not enough to even register as pain in his own ribs. The boost his ability gives to his own healing is too quick now, as long as he can keep it small.

Same with the pain - Sam doesn't take it all, still doesn't touch the poison. Just bleeds a little bit of it off until there's air in their lungs, until there's only a faint ache when they breathe.

Then he cuts himself off, pulling his hand away for a moment until he can be sure he's got it locked down.

"Still with me?"

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