Okay, so I was watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier again today and I realized just how funny Sam is and I just really wanted to take a shot at writing a story with him in it.

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Captain America or any of its characters. But, I'll keep my fingers crossed.

It had been just under two months since Sam had assisted Steve Rogers, Captain America, in saving the world. Well, saving the world was a pretty self righteous term but, Sam liked to look at it that way. He never really got used to the fact that he was friends with the one and only Steve Rogers. It was every little boy's dream and it had been Sam's once, but he had disregarded the dream as wishful thinking. At that point in his life, it had been but now, here he was, friends with Steve Rogers.

The only slight annoyance was that no one else knew he was friends with Steve. Just the other day he had gone to the market to buy some milk and bread only to completely forget his original purpose of the trip and buy beer and the latest GQ, completely forgetting the milk and the bread. Whilst standing in the line he heard two women, probably only twenty-seven years of age, talking. He leaned in closer when he heard them say Captain America.

According to the small amount of information he had managed to gather from their conversation, no it was not eavesdropping, they were just talking too loud, the one woman was looking for the 'perfect' man. The other lady had suggested Captain America and the first lady giggled and said, "I wish. Wouldn't I be the luckiest woman on Earth."

Sam had to physically restrain himself from butting into their conversation and proudly announcing that he was friends with Captain America. He had no intention of actually introducing Steve to the two women and he had no intention of getting one of them into bed. He just wanted to tell someone, let someone know that he was associated with Steve. But, he never did because he didn't want to exploit Steve for his own benefit. Steve was a great friend and Steve's friendship meant more to Sam than status or popularity so, it was a secret well kept.

Now, walking into his house after a trip to market for milk, this time actually getting the milk after eating dry cereal for two days, he had just invited Steve over for some beers and to watch the game on his new HD-3D television. He couldn't wait to see Steve's face when he realized that the picture on the television actually 'stood out'. Unfortunately, Steve couldn't get drunk and, in the early stages of their relationship, Sam had found himself embarrassing himself in a drunken stupor as Steve looked on soberly, laughing quietly.

Sam had stopped trying to impress Steve by now. Sure, it was never a competition but, when you're comparing yourself to an actual superhero, you can't help but feel inferior. Especially when that superhero literally ran circles around you on your morning jogs whilst saying the dreaded statement, "To your left." But, two months later, Sam felt pretty equivalent to Steve considering he had been through so much with Steve and they had both survived to live another day. Granted, Steve nearly hadn't, he had flatlined once and been in hospital for four days followed by another two days of healing, which is pretty fast but to Steve it might as well have been an eternity. They had an indescribable bond that would be hard to break.

Sam walked inside and threw his keys on the kitchen counter before putting together a bowl of cereal. He needed more cereal, all he had left was that crappy bran stuff he had bought for the healthy dietary plan he had never fully taken on. He plonked down on the couch and ate his cereal, watching the latest episode of some show he had never heard of but, it looked pretty interesting. As he was putting the dishes in the sink, he heard shuffling coming from his bedroom.

He stood motionless as he tried to find a logical explanation as to what exactly was making that noise. It definitely wasn't Steve because Steve would have come in through the door, like a normal person, and not through the window of his bedroom. It couldn't be an animal because Sam didn't have any pets and rogue raccoons weren't exactly a problem in his area. Slowly and carefully, Sam lowered the plates into the sink, not making a sound.

He tried to remember if he saw anything of suspicion as he walked past the driveway, up the stairs and into the front door. His driveway had been empty, barring his car, of course. The front door had been locked, untampered with like he had left it before going out. There was no one outside, he didn't see any strange cars around his house and he didn't spot any hidden cameras. The only logical explanation was that an uninvited guest had made their way into his house and he planned on letting them know that they were unwelcome the hard way.

Quietly walking out the kitchen, Sam picked up the baseball bat next to his couch and held it at the ready. He tip-toed to his bedroom door, it was closed like he had left it, based purely on habit rather than safety. He listened intently for a second longer but didn't hear anything. Whatever, or whoever, was in there had either left or was keeping quiet. Either way, he wasn't going to take a chance.

He pulled down on the handle and pushed the door open in one swift movement of his left hand, the baseball bat still held up in the air, ready to be used as protection. The room was pitch black, all light that should have been coming in from the sun was blocked out by the drawn blinds and closed curtains. That's when he knew. He couldn't see anything but, without a doubt, he knew someone was in his room.

Before he had left to go to the store, Sam specifically remembered making his bed and opening the blinds and curtains. He even opened a window to let some fresh air into the stuffy room. Shit. The window. Leaving the window open had created easy access for any intruders looking for a way inside. Due to the fact that Sam's area was safe and practically untouched by crime, Sam hadn't installed burglar bars over his windows. Like his neighbors, he didn't see the need. Unlike his neighbors, he always locked the doors and closed the windows at night or when he was not at home.

That morning, though, he has decided to throw caution to the wind and leave a window open. Besides, what could happen in the space of the ten minutes it took to go to the market, buy some milk, then come back home again? Well, apparently, based on newly found evidence, a lot could happen in only ten minutes.

Sam switched on the light, never releasing the firm grip he had on the bat, and was shocked to find his room completely empty. Then, he second guessed himself. He was so sure he had opened the blinds and curtains, but maybe he hadn't. Maybe something else had caught his attention and, somehow, he had been distracted. It was unlikely. The military had taught Sam a lot of things, one of which was to complete the task at hand first then worry about other things later. In other words, distraction wasn't a word in the military's vocabulary.

But, Sam just couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. So, he tightened the grip on the bat and turned around but, not in time to see the stun gun being pointed at him. Before Sam had the opportunity to protect himself, the stun gun was pressed into his chest. Sam lost control of his muscles and he released the bat unwillingly and slumped to the floor, twitching slightly as the electricity currents ran through his body. He felt pain slamming against his sternum but, as quickly as the agonizing sensation came, it went, leaving Sam simply gasping on the floor in a heap.

Above him stood two men, one with the stun gun and one with a machine gun pointed at Sam's head. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly between Sam's eyes, the gun rock solid and unwavering as the man holding it stared into Sam's eyes. Suddenly, three more men ran out from Sam's guest bedroom, then three more from his bathroom and one more from his bedroom. Any hopes he had of fighting back were quickly pulled away as he took in the sight of nine weapons aimed at him. At the drop of a hat, he would be dead. Sam wasn't one for giving up but, he knew when he was outnumbered, defeated, when to stop trying.

"Don't try fight back." The man with a stun gun said, his steely expression not faltering.

All of the men were dressed in black combat boots and black cargo pants, black bulletproof vests covered black button up shirts and, black glasses and black helmets covered the majority of their faces, making it impossible to identify them. Sam glared at the man, getting to his feet determinedly. His legs were slightly shaky, the electricity coursing through his veins still hindering his movements slightly. As he made a move to stand, the guns were all repositioned and the safeties were released. Once Sam was on his feet he held up his hands in surrender and said,

"Calm down, I'm just standing up. A bit edgy there, are you? I have some cereal, would that calm you down a bit? It's bran so you can have it all, really."

The man with the stun gun scowled and jabbed it in Sam's bicep. Once again, Sam felt his legs give way as he felt to his knees, cradling his arm to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut as he let he pain run its course. He opened his eyes again and, after a few seconds of recovery, he stood to his feet. His legs felt like jelly but he managed to stay standing using the wall as support. He never broke eye contact with the man with the stun gun. If looks could kill...

"You idiot. Don't fight back, do as we say and maybe, just maybe, your death can be quick and painless. Maybe, if we're in a good mood. But, try fight back and you will die slowly, painfully. Understood?" The man with the stun gun said, his voice icy and commanding. Sam picked up the slightest trace of a German accent.

"Sir, yes sir." Sam said, unable to stop himself from assuming the 'heil hitler' pose. That cocky action led to another jab of the stun gun to his shoulder. Sam fell to the ground, unable to hold in his grunt of pain as the pain overwhelmed him for a third time. The, he heard his front door opening.

"Sam, I'm here." Came Steve's distinctive voice, quiet but confident, strong.

The man with the gun turned around immediately as seven of the other men did the same. One man with a gun picked Sam up by his hands and held the gun to his temple, the barrel of the gun applying a sizable pressure to Sam's forehead that could almost be described as painful. Sam saw as Steve dropped the takeaway bags he had been holding in his hand. Steve sized up the eight men and was about to attack, following his gut instinct, but a comment left him frozen in place.

"Move, Captain, and we will blow your friend's brains out." The man with the stun gun said. As if to emphasize the point, the man holding Sam pressed the gun harder against Sam's forehead and Sam couldn't suppress the whimper that left his mouth.

"Sam!" Steve called out, daring to take another step closer. Suddenly, a blast rang through the house and, for a moment, everything was still as time stopped. Then, Sam saw it, blood oozing from a wound in Steve's stomach. Steve held his hands against the wound, looking down in shock before looking back up and locking gazes with Sam. One of the men lowered his gun, smirking proudly.

"Steve! Hey, Steve, are you okay?" Sam called out, fighting against the hold the man with the gun had on him. His efforts were in vain, however, as the stun gun had left him shaky and weakened and no match for the six-foot-four man's brute strength. Steve didn't have time to reply before the man with the stun gun spoke.

"This was easier than expected. You know, Wilson, we came here willing and ready to torture you to get the information we needed to find Captain Rogers. But, it turns out Rogers walks right into us. No shield, no protection. Perfect, really, when you think about it. You're weak, the both of you." The man said, smirking smugly as Steve stumbled slightly, his hands still pressed against his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers.

"You're pathetic, why don't you try fight us without the weapons, huh? Hand to hand? Skin to skin. Then we'll see who's weak, asshole!" Sam yelled, struggling against the grip. He glanced at Steve briefly but just in time to see Steve stumble again and have to lean against the kitchen counter as his knees threatened to give out from underneath him. Blood dropped to the floor by his feet as it slid through the gaps between his fingers.

"Sam, Sam, did they hurt you?" Steve asked, his voice weaker than usual. He gulped and repositioned the hand on his stomach. He was starting to lean more and more to the right as he put more weight on the kitchen counter. Blood kept falling and pooling at his feet, but Steve refused to collapse, he couldn't when Sam was in danger. His face was pale and a sheen of sweat was already covering his forehead.

"I'm fine, Steve. Are-" Sam began but he was cut off as another wave of pain shot through his body when the stun gun connected with his chest again. The grip on his arms was released and he fell bonelessly to the floor, gasping in pain and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried his hardest to keep a hold on consciousness. He heard Steve call his name in the distance followed by a thud and a pained groan. Sam was lifted to his feet roughly and he cried out in pain but managed to stay on his feet with the support of the grip under his armpit. The gun returned to its position on his temple.

"Enough. I did not come here for idle chit chat. Now, men, get them into the van. Be sure to restrain them, especially Rogers. Understood?" The man with the stun gun said as he started walking out the front door, stepping over a fallen Steve, kicking him brutally as he lifted up his leg. Steve grunted in pain but recovered quickly and tried to get to all fours. He was bleeding heavily, already having created a small puddle on the floor by where he had fallen. He got to his knees and pulled himself, using the counter as leverage, groaning and whimpering in agony.

Sam was pulling away from the grip on his arm but another hand snuck its way around his other arm and he wasn't strong enough to escape the tight grips holding him back. He needed to get to Steve. Steve was wavering on his feet but he remained staring at Sam, as if to say 'it's going to be okay'. Two men grabbed Steve by his arms, much like the men holding Sam had, and pushed him roughly out the front door, ignoring his cries of pain as the rough movements jostled the wound in his stomach.

"Steve, it's okay. It's okay. You're strong." Sam called out as he saw Steve's knees buckle only to be pulled back up by the men holding him. Blood was dripping to the floor, small drops marking their path as they made their way to a black van that had shown up out of nowhere. It hadn't been there when Sam got home.

Sam and Steve were both thrown into the back of the van and restrained by their ankles and wrists immediately. The restraints gave them no range of motion whatsoever but Sam still pulled as he heard Steve gasp in pain as the man tying the restraints pushed against Steve's stomach. Then, Sam felt an excruciating pain in the back of his head. As dots danced in his vision, he watched the men bring the butt of a gun down on Steve's temple. The super soldier refused to give in and they had to do it a second time, harder, and this time, Steve went limp as his head lolled to the side.

Then, the world went black for Sam as he stopped struggling and he accepted the comforting unconsciousness beckoning him.