Finding your bondmate was always talked about as one of those rare, golden moments of your life that should be celebrated with friends and family. He'd gone to enough vow ceremonies in his life, for both his friends and his family to want the same. I twas supposed to be that moment everything clicked.
It was supposed to be good.
Sam told no one for six months and quietly, horribly, hoped his bondmate would have the good sense to die. If they didn't come across one another again then maybe it wouldn't wind any deeper than it had in the few brutal moments it took to forge. The whole thing didn't make sense in the first place. How the hell he was intended for Brock Rumlow, he couldn't figure out. Seemed more like biology and nature making some gross error and maybe with enough time the bond would break or the forces that be would realize their mistake.
Not that lucky, though.
He busied himself with following Steve and his own desperate, headlong chase after his bondmate who seemed more set on a long game of cat-and-mouse rather than turning around and facing the tie between them. They got close only for Steve to look up and realize that Bucky was moving away it was that strong between the two of them that he had a pinpoint better than any sort of tracking system but even then it wasn't flawless. Every time Bucky pulled away he watched a new line of pain etch itself into Steve's face.
Eventually though, Bucky came around. Sam heard what parts Steve deigned to share though he didn't come back with Barnes, he came back easier with the frequent distant looks that said he was speaking to his bondmate as a new addition. And Sam was happy for him. He was even if he doubted that he'd even have that sort of easy thing. Happy to be packing it up after traveling cross-country and jumping continents (their European tour had been nice, the bond in the back of his head no more than a odd, distant tickle only in his most unguarded moments in his sleep).
He failed miserably at settling back into work at the VA. Failed in ignoring the louder itch and thrum in his head and he told Steve when something felt like it clicked when he mentioned the raid the remnants of SHIELD was planning. The look on his face...
Hell of a thing having Captain America look at you with something akin to pity under the confusion. Shouldn't have been possible. If it was he would have bonded long, long ago.
They let him on and Steve at least kept it between the two of them who Sam was really there for while they raided what was frequently described as the Hive in HYDRA's recovered files. Smooth as the raid was going Sam still felt a gross tightness in his stomach and up his throat which wasn't helped by the failed experiments – twisted bodies, god- sometimes just limbs- they'd come across in the block before.
Steve was off providing cover, having tossed the fancy all-access pass coded once they'd broken in over for use. Sam didn't have to consult the chart hanging at the front of the hallway, neatly listing the names or numbers of the cells residences. He went right to the fifth one down, an urgent tugging pulling him along. The bond a strong dark cord-
Simple cell. Stark, cold, plain with the florescent lighting bright. HYDRA wasn't treating their former operatives with much grace, but he'd already read as much.
When his eyes fell on his bondmate from over the train of his gun they widened. Not what he expected. He looked-
no subject
It was supposed to be good.
Sam told no one for six months and quietly, horribly, hoped his bondmate would have the good sense to die. If they didn't come across one another again then maybe it wouldn't wind any deeper than it had in the few brutal moments it took to forge. The whole thing didn't make sense in the first place. How the hell he was intended for Brock Rumlow, he couldn't figure out. Seemed more like biology and nature making some gross error and maybe with enough time the bond would break or the forces that be would realize their mistake.
Not that lucky, though.
He busied himself with following Steve and his own desperate, headlong chase after his bondmate who seemed more set on a long game of cat-and-mouse rather than turning around and facing the tie between them. They got close only for Steve to look up and realize that Bucky was moving away it was that strong between the two of them that he had a pinpoint better than any sort of tracking system but even then it wasn't flawless. Every time Bucky pulled away he watched a new line of pain etch itself into Steve's face.
Eventually though, Bucky came around. Sam heard what parts Steve deigned to share though he didn't come back with Barnes, he came back easier with the frequent distant looks that said he was speaking to his bondmate as a new addition. And Sam was happy for him. He was even if he doubted that he'd even have that sort of easy thing. Happy to be packing it up after traveling cross-country and jumping continents (their European tour had been nice, the bond in the back of his head no more than a odd, distant tickle only in his most unguarded moments in his sleep).
He failed miserably at settling back into work at the VA. Failed in ignoring the louder itch and thrum in his head and he told Steve when something felt like it clicked when he mentioned the raid the remnants of SHIELD was planning. The look on his face...
Hell of a thing having Captain America look at you with something akin to pity under the confusion. Shouldn't have been possible. If it was he would have bonded long, long ago.
They let him on and Steve at least kept it between the two of them who Sam was really there for while they raided what was frequently described as the Hive in HYDRA's recovered files. Smooth as the raid was going Sam still felt a gross tightness in his stomach and up his throat which wasn't helped by the failed experiments – twisted bodies, god- sometimes just limbs- they'd come across in the block before.
Steve was off providing cover, having tossed the fancy all-access pass coded once they'd broken in over for use. Sam didn't have to consult the chart hanging at the front of the hallway, neatly listing the names or numbers of the cells residences. He went right to the fifth one down, an urgent tugging pulling him along. The bond a strong dark cord-
Simple cell. Stark, cold, plain with the florescent lighting bright. HYDRA wasn't treating their former operatives with much grace, but he'd already read as much.
When his eyes fell on his bondmate from over the train of his gun they widened. Not what he expected. He looked-
His gun lowered.
What the hell did they do to you?
“You tired of staring at this box yet?”