Chapter 3
Sam woke the next morning to the sound of someone puttering around in his apartment.
Instantly, he was on guard, mind already suppling ways to subdue an intruder, which would most likely be pretty simple, unless they were HYDRA or something…
Oh. HYDRA. Bucky Barnes AKA The Winter Soldier. Was just hanging around in his home.
Sam relaxed himself, because this was now his life. He got started on his normal morning routine, somewhat thankful that today was a workday so he wouldn't have to make conversation with Bucky all day. He wasn't sure which version of Barnes he’d be greeted with. The manic version from the mountains, the broken - almost defeated version from last night, or the snarky version that keeps peeking through. Sam thinks he likes that version the most.
When he finally exits his his bedroom, after procrastinating as much as possible, Sam finds Bucky pouring coffee, two cups.
Sam makes a bit of noise to alert him to his presence. He’s worked with soldiers long enough to know its better safe than sorry. He’ll never forget the time he’d almost attacked his Mom, only a couple weeks out of the desert. He’d left for days afterwards.
“Morning,” Sam says casually.
“I wasn't sure how you took your coffee so I just made it black with a little sugar. That’s how I took it before, I think. When we had sugar.” Bucky skips all greetings, and immediately goes into a memory, to Sam’s surprise.
Sam shrugs. “I’ve never been too picky with my coffee. Especially when someone else makes it for me. Thanks.” He offers him a smile, wondering when Bucky will be able to fully return it.
Bucky shrugs, mirroring Sam’s previous movement. “I couldn't exactly figure out the whole breakfast thing. I can make cereal though.”
He chuckles. “I don’t usually eat in the mornings anyway. But yeah help yourself to whatever while I’m at work.” Sam begins gathering his things.
“Seriously? Dr. Wilson doesn't eat his breakfast?” Bucky almost gets teasing correctly.
“I’m no doctor,” Sam snorts. “I’m a non doctor who can’t be bothered.”
“Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime. Cooking. I can almost promise not to burn the place down.” Bucky meets his eyes.
Learning how to do something again could be very therapeutic for him. Or it could go terribly wrong. But Sam’s never been one to back down from a challenge.
“Sure. Though you know its usually the elderly who teach the young all their best recipes.”
Bucky snorted, and it made Sam’s heart warm to be able to pull amusement out of him.
Sam looked at his watch. “Shit, I’m really gonna be late. My phone numbers on the fridge.” He frowns. “We should probably look into getting you a phone.”
“I’ve got one.” Bucky pulls out an iPhone that looked newer than Sam’s. “It’s pretty cool.”
“It’s pink.”
“I stole it from HYDRA. They had like a shit ton of them in box. I just grabbed one before the place blew. I didn't know it would be pink,” Bucky says defensively, putting his pretty pink phone on the kitchen counter with a gentle metal hand.
“Hey man. I think it suits you,” Sam says, with only a hint of a smile.
Bucky looks at his phone with a doubtful expression. “If you say so.”
Sam only just manages not to laugh. “Well I’m heading out. Send me a text so I have your number. You’ll be okay today, right?” Sam touches a hand to his shoulder, like the first time they’d touched.
To his surprise, Bucky didn't shift away from him, but leaned into it, like a kitten being petted. He was probably more than a bit touched starved, what with going 70 years without touch, except for those tinged with pain.
Sam held his shoulder for a moment longer, still waiting on a reply.
Bucky shuddered, like it was physically taxing him to speak. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Good.”
Sam took himself out of Bucky’s space slowly, and gathered his stuff, conscious of the gun still on the coffee table as he walked out of the door.
*****
Sam was distracted all day at work.
Not with his veterans. Even the after the whole mess with Steve and the hellicarriers hadn't allowed him to lose focus on the others that needed him.
Steve. Sam was playing host to Bucky, essentially acting as Switzerland for him, keeping him away from any potential conflicts, either with the law or even with Steve. And Steve didn't know. A part of Sam was itching to reach for his phone, partially to inform Steve of this new development, and partially just to shoot the breeze with him.
Talking about stupid things with Steve relaxed Sam unlike most things these days, and he’d had a pretty high stress 36 hours. More than that, Steve would want to know. He deserved to. But the counselor part of his brain told him that Bucky should be the one to decide.
The second Sam sat down to work on paperwork, his thoughts went even more off track. He was desperately curious about how Bucky was holding up, and almost as if he knew Sam was thinking about him, his phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number.
i found these things in your freezer that say they can cook in 90 seconds in a microwave but i don't know what that is? - B.B.
Sam chuckled. The metal box next to the fridge. Open it up and stick one in, and press the number buttons for time.
OH and take it out of the box!!!!
The dots appeared on iMessage, signifying that Bucky was replying to his text. The reply didn't come immediately and Sam assumed he was struggling with the whole texting thing.
I’m not an idiot. Heat and paper - no bueno. I’m gonna try the ‘Hot Pockets’.
Sam snorted. Don’t get your hopes up too high man. I mostly only keep those for my niece when she comes over. Or if I’m really drunk - which doesn't happen much anymore.
They’re in right now. Ham and cheese. And then, Why not?
It took him a moment to get what Bucky was referring to. Work mostly. I’m getting old, man.
I’m old. Came Bucky’s reply and Sam laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Sam’s favorite intern peeked her head into his office, a curious smile on her face.
“Nothing much, Erykah. How’s your day been?”
“Mine’s been great boss.” She pushed a lock of her curly brown hair behind her ear and pushed up her glasses, movements that he’d seen her do dozens of times. “But you've been distracted all day,” she says with a sing song voice.
Erykah plopped into the chair in front of his desk, putting her Converse on top of it, simply because she knew how much he hated it. “You gotta tell me. You could barely sit through the meeting this morning. New girlfriend?”
Sam shook his head, amused. If she only knew.
The uppers at the VA (and Erykah) knew about his new ties with Captain America, and possible future ones with the Avengers. They’d given him the time off to recuperate(which was actually used to find Bucky), after seeing the videos of him flying around and fuckin’ shit up. But none of them knew about his tie to Bucky, or the fact that he was basically harboring a fugitive.
Her eyes widened. “Boyfriend?”
Sam groaned.
*
By the time the work day ended, Sam was absolutely ready to crash. Maybe order a pizza for him and Bucky if he ended up really hungry. Honestly, the guy probably had enjoyed enough carbs today with all those Hot Pockets.
Then again, he was a supersoldier.
So it took him by complete surprise when he unlocked the door to his home to find Bucky standing over the stove, stirring a pot, humming along to the radio.
“Hey Sam,” Bucky greeted without turning around. He probably looked perfectly calm to the average onlooker, still dressed in Sam’s plaid pajama pants. But he could see the tenseness in Bucky’s posture, and filed the body language away in his head.
“Hey Buck. What’s cooking?”
Bucky froze, spoon in mid air. “I think…Steve used to call me that.”
Steve. He hadn't mentioned Steve before. “I think he did. Does,” Sam amended.
He relaxed minutely. “Good. I was just checking.”
Sam nodded, even though Bucky wasn't looking at him. “I don’t have to call you that—“
“No!” Bucky interrupted. “You can. I like it.”
“Ok. Alright, Buck.”
He decided to give Bucky a few moments to recover, and changed out of his work clothes. Sam had been sleepy before, but his brief encounter with Bucky had woken him up just a bit. He reentered the kitchen, and poured a glass of water for him, and one for Bucky as well, who took it gratefully.
“What happened to me teaching you to cook?” Sam joked, peering around Bucky to look into the pot of spaghetti which frankly, looked delicious.
To his surprise, Bucky didn't react to the closeness. “I remember stuff, you know.”
“Oh?”
“I was looking at the food in your freezer and that triggered some memories.” He almost smiled. “I did all the cooking, Steve - Steve couldn't cook for shit.”
Sam grinned for him. “Tell me about it. Steve almost burned this place down a couple of times.”
Bucky’s eyes widened. “Steve was here?”
The smile on Sam’s face dimmed a bit. “Yeah. He lived here for awhile after… the Potomac. His apartment was trashed so I was happy to.”
“Oh. Ok. Let me get you a plate.” The mention of the Potomac made his expression darken a bit, but it was corrected with an eery quickness.
Bucky changed the topic quick enough to make Sam’s head spin. Bucky made a plate of pasta, holding the plate with his metal hand before passing it to Sam. He let go of the plate as soon as Sam held it securely, as if he was afraid to touch him with it. And come to think of it, he hadn’t. Even in the mountains all those weeks ago when he bandaged his wrist, Bucky had held on to the gauze with the metal hand.
“Thank you so much Bucky,” Sam said. “I was really tired tonight, I appreciate the cooking.” And the food was really good. It tasted just like his grandma would make whenever he’d come to visit. He smiled a bit wistfully at his plate.
‘What’s wrong?’ Bucky asked without speaking.
“Just thinking about the past, that’s all.” Sam voiced. “My grandmother used to make her noodles just like this.”
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Bucky looked down at his plate.
“You didn’t,” he said simply. “Thinking about the past is good, healthy. You should know that better than anyone right now,” Sam pointed out.
“You’re right. What was your grandmother like?”
Sam told him. Of Sunday dinners after church, and family reunions. His grandma was an absolute whiz at math, helped him with his algebra on more than one occasion. She planned all the events, holidays, birthdays. There was a house, in the middle of the woods that she always took him up too for weeks at a time in the summer. Those weeks were the highlight of his year as a kid, he’d play in the lake and watch the birds.
“I see they had an impact.”
Yeah, he guessed the had. Birds then, Falcon now. It’s interesting how it all comes full circle.
She didn't want me to serve. She wanted me to stay home and focus on my education. But I wanted to serve my country and see the world, so I went, he said. “By the time I got home, she’d passed.”
Bucky’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. He’d gotten lost in descriptions of the rocks by the lake and the little robins with red chests. “I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Me too. I used to wish I’d never joined up, I missed her funeral and everything. But the service was right for me. If I’d stayed home, I’d never had meant Riley and… I can’t regret that.” Bucky didn't know who Riley was, and he didn't ask. Sam was thankful for that. He wasn't sure how much further down memory lane he could go tonight.
The rest of dinner was eaten in comfortable silence.
“I think its…good for me to have someone else’s memories,” Bucky said quietly, as they put the dishes in the washer. “Thanks for sharing them with me.”
Before Sam could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed Bucky’s flesh and blood hand. “I think so too. Anytime you wanna ask me something, just ask.”
Bucky looked almost lost for a moment, the way he always did when he was touched. But he refocused quickly enough. “Thanks, Sam.”
They bid each other goodnight, and Sam decided that Bucky’s stay was going decidedly well. However, there was a small part of him that was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And drop it did.