Chapter 6
Bucky led the way, and Sam followed. They walked in mostly comfortable silence; Sam watched the people go by. He watched Bucky.
He weaved through the crowded D.C. streets with an ease that Sam wasn't even sure he was capable of. But Sam could sense the tenseness, the apprehension he held for the strangers on the street. Sam desperately wanted to something, anything to help. But reversing his fear conditioning wasn't something Sam could shoot or put a bandage over. He felt helpless. And he didn't like it.
Eventually, the arrived at a restaurant. It wasn't right off of the street, a bit more hidden. But that didn't stop it from being somewhat crowded. The interior was mostly modern, but the food seemed old fashioned; burgers and shakes.
Bucky headed straight for a booth in the back. one that gave him good sightlines and put him near a window. Sam remembers doing that unconsciously, after. Sometimes he still did.
“It had good reviews on Yelp,” Bucky said by way of explanation as they sat down. “A mix of modern and old fashioned.”
“Sounds like you,” Sam joked, and Bucky snickered. It was true.
When the waitress came around, Sam ordered a simple burger and fries, and Bucky matched him, though he choose a coke to Sam’s water.
“Where’d you go, Buck?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table.
“Did you miss me?” he tried to quip, but it fell flat.
“Yeah, I did.”
After a few breaths, he spoke. “I went to New York. To see Steve,” Bucky began quietly. “I just wanted to check on him, make sure if he was okay. I wanted to see if I was brave enough to see him. I wasn’t.” He looked down at his metal hand which was clenched into a fist. “I’m a coward.”
Sam reached across the table and grabbed Bucky’s left hand. He slowly unclenched it, looking at Sam with surprise, but allowed him to hold it. This was the first time he'd ever touched any part of Bucky’s hand, and he ran his fingers along it curiously. Bucky gasped loudly, nearly jumping out of his seat.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, immediately on guard.
Bucky’s eyes were wild but not in a fearful way. His pupils were…blown. “Please,” his voice cracked. “Do that again.”
He ran his finger in the space between index finger and thumb, getting the same reaction from Bucky. A full body shudder. He bit his lip, almost as if to keep from making a sound, and heat flooded Sam’s cheeks, as he felt the mood between them shift. He kept up the pressure though, until Bucky asked him to stop.
“I can—-I can feel that,” he managed to get out, face flushed from sensation. Sam was thankful for the corner booth. “Why can I feel that?”
Sam combed his mind for an answer that wasn't there. “I don't know, Bucky. Can you remember anyone touching you there?”
“Never. No one’s ever touched me like that. Not since - not since before.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and unconsciously tightened his grip on Sam’s hand. “Touch meant pain.”
He ran his finger lightly over that spot, watching the way Bucky’s lips fell open in a silent gasp. “It doesn't have to. Not anymore. Ok?” Sam had no idea what he was signing himself up for, but this felt right. “And you're not a coward. I know Steve would want to know that you're safe, that you are doing a little better. But its your choice, not anyone else’s.”
“Alright,” he agreed warily. They held hands until the waitress brought their food. They yanked their hands away quickly, which earned them a smile.
“You boys make a cute couple,” she said, putting their plates down in front of them.
Bucky began to stutter, that same blush coloring his cheeks, and it made Sam want to smile
“Thank you, ma’am,” he answered simply.
“What did you do that for?” Bucky asked, staring down at his burger in apparent embarrassment.
“What you mean this isn't a date?” he joked, smile in his voice. That made Bucky try to smile back at him. He wasn't managing it quite yet, but it was getting closer.
Bucky leaned in like he was about to tell a secret. “Are you…a fairy? I mean, gay?” he corrected swiftly.
He shrugged. “I don't really like labels. But I’m bisexual. I like people.”
Bucky nodded like he understood. “So, like Steve.”
Sam nearly choked on his sip of water. “Like Steve?” he asked casually, though his insides were screaming.
“Yeah. I only knew because I knew - know,” he corrected, “him so well. He never told me, which always kind of hurt, but the times were different.” He eyed their waitress. “She wouldn't have said that back in my day. She would've yelled at us and called the police. We’d wind up in jail, or worse. You being black wouldn't help much.”
Sam laughed, a deep laugh that he really needed. “Fuck, it wouldn't have. You ever go with a black girl, Barnes?”
He shook his head. “No, didn't have the balls. But there was this one girl, Connie Thompson - not sure how I still remember that name - but she was a looker. Long brown legs, big pretty eyes. Of course she never gave me the time of day, even if we could've been together. The prissy types never liked me much.” Bucky leaned back in his chair.
“But the rest did.” Sam quipped.
“Yep. I didn’t have the balls then…but now?” he smirked at Sam, who laughed in return, before urging him to get back to Steve.
“Oh right. Well, Steve wasn't getting much back then. He was the best damn guy in Brooklyn but none of the dames would look past his small stature or his asthma.” he shrugged. “I thought he was perfect, delicate. But he didn't believe me. So since he wasn't getting any, he'd look. Eventually I noticed that he'd look at both a feminine leg in stockings, and at a guys chest down at the docks.”
‘Didyoulovehim?’ a voice in Sam’s head wanted to ask. “And you wouldn’t have minded, back then?”
He shook his head. “Steve was my best guy. I trusted him with my life even before the war. His preference wouldn’t have mattered to me.” Bucky shoved a couple of fries into his mouth. “Did Steve tell you about our apartment?” he asked in between mouthfuls, which made the corner of Sam’s mouth turn up in a smile.
“A bit. After his mom died, right?”
Bucky nodded. “We could only afford this shoddy walkup with a shared bathroom. But it was ours. We lived in the queerie part of town. I can’t remember having a problem with it. Steve should've said something.” He looked down at his plate.
Sam took his hand, now that it was allowed. Bucky shivered, but it was the good kind, and he met his eyes. “You still have a chance to let him know you accept him.”
“Soon.”
“Whenever you're ready. Now finish your food so we can get out of here.”
*
Bucky had insisted on paying for dinner since ‘Sam was giving him free room and board’ and the two decided to walk home. Halfway there, they passed an ice cream shop, and Bucky stopped to look in the window.
“Want some?” Sam asked, not about to say no to a cone.
“I think I used to like ice cream. I think. But it was expensive.” Bucky said, the familiar shadow of confusion over his face.
Sam stepped closer to him, hoping his body heat would be a comforting presence as Bucky sorted it out. “Still is. Wanna try some to see if you like it?”
Bucky gazed longingly into the window. “I think I do. But I don't think my body can handle it yet.”
This time, Sam was the one that frowned in confusion. “You’ve been handling food just fine.”
“They…HYDRA…tube fed me.” Bucky swallowed. “When I was in New York I tried some cake or something I bought in the street and I threw up all over the hotel bathroom. The sugar and dairy…my stomach can’t handle it yet.”
Sam listened in slight horror, and held tight to Bucky’s arm as he began to shake. He could feel him pulling away slowly, retreating into the memories. “I’m sorry,” he said, refusing to look at Sam’s face.
“Look at me,” Sam said quietly. “Look at me.”
Slowly, Bucky lifted his head.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. We’ll get there. You and me, ok?”
“Ok.”
*
As weird as it may sound, Sam was thrilled to have Bucky back in his space. They didn't talk much that evening, they had done enough of that over dinner. Sam queued up Netflix and put Bucky in charge of the remote, to his excitement.
They started off on two opposite sides of the sofa, but Bucky wiggled closer and closer to Sam, who noticed and only smiled. He fell asleep to the warm weight of Bucky for the second time, his hair tickling his nose.
*
“Sam?” Sam wake up?”
Sam blearily blinked his eyes open. It was almost dark enough that it was difficult to see Bucky, the TV was dark. “W-what is it?”
“You can’t sleep here. It’ll be hell on your back?”
He snorted sleepily. “Tell me about it. But thanks.” He hauled himself to his feet, feeling but not seeing Bucky behind him.
“No, thank you Sam. For everything,” Bucky said as he entered the guest room.
“Night, Buck.”
*
A couple of days later, Bucky opened the freezer to find dairy-free, sugar-free chocolate ice cream. Sam’s hunt through the health food store was more than worth it, to see the smile on Bucky’s face. Bucky doesn’t save him any. Sam didn't mind.