Work Text:
"Sam, please, this isn't on you, this is me asking." His eyes were filled with tears, biting down on the pain searing through him. He was caught in an explosion, trying to get civilians out. Most of his body was burned and his legs had been blown off.
He didn't want to keep going like this.
"Buck, I'm telling you I can't." Sam was still so damn insistent. "We can get you to a doctor, I'm pararescue, I know how to treat wounds." He was scrambling, trying to find something to help the burns and stop the bleeding all at the same time, trying to keep Bucky calm and grounded.
But Bucky was calm. He knew exactly what he was saying.
Reaching up with his metal arm, wincing in pain and letting out a small cry as he grabbed onto Sam. "Please." His voice was quiet and sincere, staring at Sam, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm asking you as a friend Sam. I— I've gone through this type of thing before but better and I don't want to do it again. I don't wanna live like this. I'm asking you as a friend, Sam, please , just… just make the pain go away."
Sam's heart was thudding in his chest, willing it to calm down as he looked at Bucky and his situation. He knew it wasn't going to be much of a life to live, and that Bucky had been tired for a long time but Sam… Sam wasn't ready to lose him. Not when they just started being friends. Not now. Not after everything they'd been through. Everything Bucky had been through, he didn't want this to be what tool the super soldier down.
But he also knew he couldn't say no to Bucky, not when he was like this.
"C'mon, man. Don't make me do this." And Sam was fighting back his own wave of tears, though he was less successful at holding them in. Quickly beginning to stream down his face, a lump building in his throat. "Don't do this man."
He was kneeling next to Bucky now, holding onto his metal hand because the other was burnt and he knew that holding it would only amplify the pain Bucky was feeling right now. But he wanted to hold him. Let him know it was okay. That Sam was there and he wasn't going to go anywhere. "Just…" His voice caught in his throat, choking back a sob. "Just wait till someone gets here, Buck. Let them help."
Bucky was adamant though, going as far to shake his head despite the pain it caused to prove his point. Metal squeezing gently around Sam's hand, eyes squeezing shut as a few years slipped past his eyelids. "They aren't gonna be able to fix this, Sam. Don't make me wait. Don't make it last longer than it needs to."
And Sam knew Bucky was right. He was losing too much blood. Sam wasn't even sure how he was still conscious with all the pain— maybe his back was broken too so he couldn't feel the pain in his legs, or lack of them. The pain that would be resonating from the stumps left masked by a broken back. It'd make sense. Plus, Bucky had endured a lot of pain he was forced to stay awake through.
So it made sense why he was able to stay awake through this.
He was just dealing with the pain of the burns, even if he knew it was worse.
Sam gave a small nod, hesitant and sad because he wasn't ready to do this. He needed to though. Needed to honor Bucky enough to let him have a death he wanted, not one drawn out in a hospital. Sam understood that, to a point.
Didn't let go of Bucky's hand, though. Simply taking his free one and grabbing a gun off his leg, pointing it at Bucky's head. And Bucky smiled. It was sad and pained but it was still a smile because he'd been waiting for the end for so damn long and now he was finally going to be able to relax. Bucky knew he wasn't going to go to heaven, if it existed at all, he'd lost faith a while ago.
Sam's hand was shaking, adjusting on the trigger. Because how the hell was he supposed to do this to Bucky? How was he supposed to kill him? Even if it was what Bucky wanted, it sure as hell wasn't going to be easy. And Sam was going to miss him. Miss everything they never got to do or say to each other.
"What's stopping you, Sammy?" Bucky's smile was weak, eyelids slipping closer to shut. Sam couldn't help the sob that came out that time, his entire body racking with it, shivering through him as he buried his face into Bucky's metal hand.
A quiet apology slipping off his lips, followed by another squeeze from Bucky to let Sam know it was okay. That this is what he wanted. That everything was going to be okay. That Sam just had to do this one hard thing, and then it'd be over.
But it wouldn't be over for Sam.
This would haunt him for the rest of his life. This moment. All the moments they didn't get to share. The image of Bucky lying helplessly on the ground begging Sam to kill him. And Sam knew it was the right thing to do, that it'd be a mercy in the end. But he didn't want to have this burden. Didn't want to have Bucky's death on his hands— but he knew he needed to.
"I'm sorry, Buck." He whispered, kissing the metal hand wrapped around his own, tightening his grip on the gun. "I love you."
It was a quiet confession, one Sam didn't plan on admitting anytime soon but this was going to be the last chance he had. Knew he couldn't live with himself if he didn't tell Bucky. So he took the last few moments they'd share, Bucky's last few moments to make the confession as more years poured out of him. Tears and mucus covering his face as it escaped him, trying to sniff it back into him but with no luck.
"I know." Bucky breathed, and it sounded pained and gurgled. "I love you too, Sam."
He pulled the trigger, eyes squeezing shut as the sound echoed around him. The metal hand loosening in his.
Sam's whole world went still.