Sam stares blankly at Wesker, red eyes narrowed and holding himself tense as he keeps himself geared up for a fight. There's a war in his mind and his body matches, a confusing jumble of his own determination not to let the Capitol know how much he loves Bucky mixed in with the Capitol's orders to fight for them, at war with his own stubborn defiance at an order from this fucker, with the bone deep need not to let him get away with hurting Bucky.

But the pained noise that Bucky makes pulls his focus away, even if he doesn't turn to look at him yet. Bucky's grip on his arm is an anchor, calming the battle in his head and helping him think a little more clearly.

Bucky's right, they need to go.

He tilts his head to Wesker, as if acknowledging the command, before he turns to Bucky. He keeps himself between Wesker and Bucky as he pulls him in, trying to stay gentle, and then launches up into the air.