Chapter 7
On days like these, Sam really wished he could be anywhere else.
His morning group meeting had to be canceled because of a storm the night before, that had continued into the morning. The rest of the VA was perfectly fine, but the lights in the big room used for meetings were out.
So he was stuck doing paperwork, and listening to the still pouring rain outside. Rain made Sam feel one of two things: sleepy or sad. Neither one of those emotions were constructive to a productive day at work.
To make matters worse he'd forgotten his lunch at home. He could go out and get something, but as another crack of lightning exploded in the sky outside of his window, he decided against it.
Sam decided that he would have to tide himself over with sips of water and hope that his assistant Erykah had some snacks in that huge backpack of hers she always carried around.
He looked up from the paragraph that he was reading for the third time, when someone knocked on his door.
“Boss?” Erykah’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. Yes.
“Come on in. Hey do you have any snacks—“ he began to ask when he noticed the grin on her face. “What’s the smile all about?”
“Theres a guy here to see you. Not a patient. He’s cute. Said his name is Bucky,” she exclaimed.
Sam rolled his eyes. He was surprised that Bucky was here, especially in this weather. He hadn't been back to the VA since the group meeting a couple weeks ago. “Tell him to come in.”
The Bucky that entered looked like a drowned rat, literally, and Sam told him so.
“You forgot your lunch!” he said by way of explanation, holding up a plastic bag. Sam is sure his heart skipped a beat.
“You brought food? God, thanks man I’m starving,” he took the bag from Bucky and put it on the desk, before searching for a clean, dry shirt for Bucky to wear.
Bucky wore a hoodie that thankfully covered his hair and face from the elements, but the hoodie was almost soaked through, most likely getting his shirt wet as well.
“Alright, shirt off.” Sam said, tossing a clean long sleeve at him.
Unsurprisingly, Bucky caught it without looking away from Sam’s face. “You take care off me.” he said. A statement.
Sam gestured to the food on the desk. “We take care of each other.”
“Ok,” Bucky smiled tentatively. Sam was barely getting used to that smile. Bucky had a movie star smile, a traffic stopping smile. He wasn't used to it yet, and whenever he saw him smile, it made Sam smile because he was at least somewhat responsible for getting him to smile again. Sam’s smiles seemed to make Bucky smile. It was a disastrous cycle.
Bucky was still sort of smiling when he pulled his shirt off, and Sam gasped. Because it was totally unfair.
Unfortunately, Bucky seemed to take Sam’s gasp as one of disgust, because this was only the second time he'd seen him and his arm. The first time he wasn't able to really able to look at it. Bucky’s smile fell from his face, and he tried to put on Sam’s shirt in a hurry.
“Hey. Wait.” Sam said before he could stop himself. “I didn't mean that about your arm. I definitely didn't mean that about your scars.”
And scars there were. Ropey, thick lines on his back and left arm. The space just above the metal, and below the shoulder seemed almost irritated, even though the wound was from decades ago. Like it hadn't been given time to heal before a new appendage was thrust upon it. One it maybe didn't want, if the way Bucky looked upon it was anything to go by.
But somehow, it was also beautiful. Each plate of the metal seemed to move when Bucky did. Hundreds of moving parts that led to an almost unassuming, delicate looking wrist. His fingers were made to wield a knife, perfect for shooting a gun. But Sam also knew that those fingers were great for holding a hand.
“You know I don't mind the arm,” said Sam. “And I’ve never seen your scars in the light. If anything, they speak to what you had to go through, the absolute hell you had to go through to come out on the other side, stronger than ever.” He leaned up against his desk. “Honestly, you're beautiful.” Nohomo the part of his brain that was 10 years old whispered to him. Sam smirked.
Bucky looked surprised. “Really? Beautiful? Like you?”
“What do you mean, like me?” Sam was just thankful he wasn't creeped out by his choice of words.
“You’re beautiful, Sam.” Bucky’s face was open and honest in the way that Sam has come to love and hate. Love, because there was something so very refreshing about his almost…innocence. Hate, because it represented everything they took from him.
“So are you. But let’s put that shirt on. We wouldn't want those abs giving anyone a heart attack.”
Bucky giggled. Honest to god. He pulled on Sam’s shirt, that was predictably too tight. Truthfully, the shirt didn't do much to stop the whole giving-poor-innocent-office-workers-heart attacks situation. The tight blue long sleeve only enhanced the situation, making both of his arms look huge. And his chest? Well, there is a reason Sam identities as bisexual. Damn.
Ok. Clearly, the hunger is talking. “So…food?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I just made us a couple sandwiches. There’s chips too and some fruit and cookies, I think.” he sat down opposite Sam at the desk.
“Did you pack my entire cabinet, Buck?”
His cheeks flushed. “Well, I wasn't sure what you usually eat?”
Sam laughed. “Good thing you're here. We can probably finish it all with your appetite.”
“Oh, you want me to stay?”
“Of course,” Sam said incredulously. “I don't get to have lunch with you often enough.”
“You like having lunch with me?” Bucky asked, clearly surprised.
“Yeah,” Sam said, digging into his sandwich quickly. It was ham and swiss, but frankly he wouldn't have cared what was on it, he was so hungry.
“But, why?” Bucky asked, like he couldn't fully grasp why Sam would want to spend time with him. Right then, and in so many moments, Sam wanted to kill everyone who'd hurt him. He wanted to destroy them. But more than that, he wanted them to see what they did to Bucky.
“Because we’re friends,” he said simply.
“We’re friends?’” Bucky asked, like he couldn't believe it.
“Of course? If you want to be my friend.”
“I want to be your friend. But…I hurt you.”
“The people closest to you often do.” Sam closed his eyes. He knew from experience.
“I’m sorry.” Bucky looked down at his sandwich.
“I know your are. But you don't have anything to apologize for. Ok?”
“Alright.”
“Now, eat your food, Buck.”
*
That night, Sam woke, heart pounding, to the sound of Bucky screaming in the room next to his. He gets out of bed, and tentatively enters Bucky’s room.
Bucky was tangled up in a heap of covers in the guest room bed. He tossed his head back and forth, his hair softly blowing from the breeze coming through the open window. The light from the moon illuminated his body, revealing tears that were running down his face.
“Bucky,” his voice cracked. “Bucky, it’s me Sam. Wake up.” Sam placed a light hand on his flesh shoulder.
Bucky awoke with a gasp.
“Hey, hey. You're alright.”
To Sam’s surprise, Bucky grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him down into a hug. At first, Sam tensed, but when he realized Bucky’s intentions, he relaxed. He held Bucky tighter, which led to him falling onto the bed beside him.
Bucky was crying now, into his shoulder, head buried in Sam’s t-shirt. Sam rubbed his back, but the truth is, he didn't really know what he was doing. He'd never had anyone to help him after his nightmares. All he could do was be there for Bucky, until he was ok enough to talk. He was good at talking.
Eventually, Bucky’s breathing began to even out.
He pulled away from Bucky, who furiously wiped his eyes. “Let’s go get some hot cocoa in you.”
Sam made two big cups of cocoa, making sure to make it with water, not milk, so Bucky’s stomach could handle it.
He passed the warm cup to him, and Bucky took it gratefully. “Thanks, Sam.”
“You’re welcome,” Sam said.
“Is this what its like to have a friend?” Bucky asked, a bit later.
Sam smiled, but it was a sad one. “Yeah, Buck.”