Chapter 13
“Nat. Nat, talk to me.”
They were standing outside the shop, waiting on their ride home. It had taken him a couple of tries, but he was finally able to get Natasha on the line.
“I’ll assume you saw the news?” she asked. “I haven't heard from you in weeks.”
Sam looks over at where Bucky is sitting on the curb, staring intently at the cars passing by. He can see Bucky shaking, like the stress of potentially losing his best friend was too much for his body.
“I’ve been busy.”
Natasha contemplates that for a moment. “Steve’s fine. Or he will be.”
“What do you mean he will be?” Sam asked, his voice probably rising in pitch. He’s suddenly all the more stressed, and Bucky picks up on it, standing swiftly and coming to stand beside him against the wall. His presence grounds Sam a bit, his warmth melting some of the fearful ice inside of him.
“What happened, Nat?” he asked, somewhat calmer. “He was alone in the video. Why wasn't anyone watching his six?”
“Anyone like you?” Natasha asks coolly. “You’ve been holed away in D.C…doing something.”
Sam is completely thrown. “What? You can’t put this on me.”
“I’m not, Sam. He misses you, though.”
“I miss him. Nat, god I miss him. But he didn't want me there. He doesn’t. I don't know what he’s told you, but…”
Natasha sighs into the phone. “Nothing. Sam, he hasn't told me anything. But every time your name comes up, Steve brightens up like the sun.”
He sighs into the phone. Bucky squeezes his hand tighter, between finger and thumb. And even though he doesn’t have any special pressure sensors there, it still relaxes him a bit, and he gives Bucky a shaky smile.
“You still haven't told me what happened, Nat.”
“Standard op, only a few of us. New group, not HYDRA but not much better. Hostages, mostly women and children. They were heavily armed, more than we thought. Nothing S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't handle.”
“Or what’s left of it,” he mutters.
“But we didn't know about the bombs. Our intel told us about more hostages, but there weren't any. No bombs either. They wanted Cap. We weren’t going to let that happen though. Bullets were coming from every which way, a lot of them.” she sighs.
“He got caught in the crossfire,” Sam guesses.
“Yeah. But they were shooting at him.”
Sam runs a hand through his hair. “He’ll heal?”
“Yes, Sam. It looks worse on TV then it does here. It only took him a few days to recover after the Winter Soldier.”
Beside him, Bucky froze.
“His name is Bucky,” Sam said slowly. “And that wasn't his fault.”
“Maybe not. But it still happened.” Natasha said quietly.
“Can I talk to him?” It would be good for Bucky to hear his voice. It would be good for Sam, too.
“He’s not awake yet.”
“He’s unconscious? I’m coming up there.”
Natasha paused. “I’m not sure if he wants to pull you from your life.”
“Steve’s a part of that. A part of my life, Nat.” he said. A bigger part than she knew.
“How about I have him call you when he wakes up.”
“Fine,” Sam conceded. “24 hours or less. Or I’m flying out.”
“Alright Sam. And I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Me too.” Sam hung up the phone as their Uber pulled up, and Bucky pulled him into the car, foregoing seatbelts and pulling him close.
*
Date night mood long behind them, they got ready for a night of cuddling. Stressfully.
Sam expected to spend the night comforting Bucky. He didn't mind. Making someone he loves feel better gives Sam one of the best feelings in the world.
But today? Sam couldn’t. He was on high alert. He missed Steve, even more now. And he felt…guilty. Natasha probably wasn't intending to make him feel that way(or maybe she was). But Steve hadn't wanted him in New York. Had he?
Sam liked making people feel better. But right now, he couldn't be that for Bucky. Thankfully, he didn't have to.
Bucky was shockingly calm, bringing out the hot cocoa that had unofficially become their beverage of choice for less than ideal situations. He made two cups, and brought a blanket over to the sofa for them.
“Thanks,” Sam said quietly, accepting the cup, hands shaking slightly. He hated when that happened. It was rare now, something that only appeared when he was really anxious.
Bucky nodded, and looked at Sam.
“Am I this creepy when I’m worried about you?” Sam asks sometime later, once he’s calmed down.
“Creepy? You? Never. Me? Probably.”
Sam laughs. “You always make me smile. Even when…”
“When what?”
“Why aren't you freaking out?” Sam blurts out.
Bucky leans back against the sofa. “Steve was tiny. And really sick. If someone was sick in our damn building, the little punk would manage to catch it. I worried about him for years. My Ma’ told me once that I worried about him like he was my little wife.” He smiled a little, self-deprecatingly.
“I learned to keep it in. I’m a ball of stress right now. I probably won’t eat again until I hear his voice.” he added.
“You love him.” Sam guesses. Inwardly, he feels nothing. Everything they’d built the past few weeks could come tumbling down right in front of him.
“I did,” Bucky said quietly. “It took me awhile to work that out. Those feelings. It wasn't until…until I realized I loved you. That’s when I realized that’s how I felt about Steve back in the day.”
“Alright.” He turns away from Bucky ever so slightly, but of course, Bucky picks up on it.
“Sam, what are you doing?”
He shrugs, words not feeling like making an appearance.
“That Bucky loved Steve. I missed that chance when I slept with every dame in the neighborhood who’d let me. I missed that chance when my dumbass went and fell into an icy ravine.” He snorts at his own dark joke. “This Bucky? This asshole was some how lucky enough to meet this angel that’s way out of his league.”
Bucky pulled Sam closer, as if to make sure he wouldn't miss a single word. “That’s you.”
“Steve loves you,” Sam protested weakly, though it was hard to argue when those steel blue eyes were looking straight into his.
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, Sam. I’m not letting you go anywhere. Alright?”
Sam shivers, and allows Bucky to pull him closer, almost into his lap. He pulls the mug out of Sam’s hand and tugs the blanket up around him.
“Go to sleep, Sam. We may have to travel tomorrow.”
Sam looks up at him. “You’re going to go? You're going to see Steve?”
“It’s probably time. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, Buck. It’ll be good for you.” He snuggles in closer to him, Bucky’s arms holding him tight.
Sam was going to take advantage of this for as long as he possibly could. They were going to visit Steve. They were finally going to realize that they were in love. And then Bucky was going to leave him.
And he’ll let him.
*
Sam woke up slowly in the morning.
He was warm, though his back protested sleeping awkwardly atop Bucky for an entire night. Sam peeled himself out of his hold, though even in sleep Bucky seemed to protest.
Sam smiled at Bucky’s sleeping form. They’d come a long way. Nightly nightmares for Bucky had begun to stop. He trusted Sam enough to keep sleeping soundly when he moved around the house. And Sam’s mild insomnia had all but disappeared. It was probably the very…athletic sex that put him right to sleep. But he liked to think that Bucky’s arms were home.
They made each other better. But Bucky and Steve? Their love story spanned decades. Sam thought about ending it. But he wasn't that strong. Besides, Bucky needed to realize that on his own. Sam wasn't going to hurt him for no reason.
The only one getting hurt here, was Sam. But they deserved to be happy. Together.
Sam watched Bucky for a moment longer, before looking at his phone. Nothing from Nat. He sighed, and decided to put some breakfast on, to let Bucky sleep a bit longer. Sam had been a mess last night. But now, Sam could see Bucky’s stress written in his face.
He pulled out stuff for omelets, going for a healthier option than what Bucky usually did. Sam rolled his eyes at the ridiculous amount of Pop-Tarts in his cabinet. It was like he was raising a small army of children.
Bucky claimed that he wouldn't be able to eat until they heard, but Sam would most likely be able to coax him into a light breakfast.
Sam waited on the eggs to harden up, and thought about his mom. He realized with some horror that he hadn't spoken to her in a few weeks. She was going to kill him.
He dialed her number, and unsurprisingly, she picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Mom.”
“Is this my son? I almost don’t recognize your voice, it’s been so long since you’ve called.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Mom. I’ve been a bit busy.” He held the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, flipping the omelets over. “Besides, I’ve been texting you.”
“Texting isn't the same thing as having a conversation, Samuel.” she chastised him.
“Fine, mom.” He smiled into the phone. “How have you been?”
Sam listened as his mom talked about the people in their neighborhood in Harlem. Even after his dad died, she hadn't been able to leave, a New Yorker through and through. Sam on the other hand, got out. First, overseas and then to D.C., unable to leave the city life completely behind. His mom told him that his sister Sarah had gotten a new job, and that his niece Jody had joined a little league softball team.
“She win any games?”
His mom laughed. “I don't think so. But she's been asking about you. Maybe if Uncle Sam paid a visit, she’d win one.”
Sam chuckled in response. Another thing to add to his to do list.
Awkwardly, Sam managed to make two plates, and spun around to place them on the island. To his surprise, Bucky was right behind him. He jumped, letting go of one of the plates, which Bucky caught midair, with a sneaky smirk.
“You’ve got to stop doing that,” he chastised, completely forgetting about the phone at his ear.
“Doin’ what Sam?” Bucky asked in his most innocent voice.
“Sneaking up on me, you bastard.” In his ear, Sam’s mother tutted at his use of language, and he blushed, forgetting she was on the line.
“Sorry, Mom,” he apologized, glaring at Bucky who gave him his most angelic look.
“You should've told me you had company, Samuel. Who’s over?” she pried curiously.
Sam sighed. “A..friend.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, and shook his head minutely, so Sam corrected himself. “My boyfriend.”
“Oh,” his mom answered. “I didn't know you had one Sam. You’re so bad at keeping your old mother in the loop.”
“Put her on speaker.” Bucky suggested.
He did as he was asked, and grinned as Bucky got closer to him to be near the phone. “Mrs. Wilson? How are you, ma’am?”
“Hi honey. And it’s Darlene. None of that ‘Mrs.’ stuff. What’s your name?”
Bucky paused. “James, ma’am. Sam’s told me a lot about you and the rest of your family.”
“Well he hasn't told me anything about you. I hope that’s because he’s happy.” Darlene said.
Bucky looked at Sam, smiling softly. “Gosh, I hope so, Mrs. Wilson.”
They chatted mindlessly for a bit longer, not signing off until his mom made Bucky promise to come visit soon(and bring her son along, too).
“I’m sorry about that,” Sam apologized after hanging up.
“About what?” Bucky got up and poured a glass of orange juice, which Sam stole from him as soon as he sat it on the counter. Bucky glared and Sam stuck his tongue out.
He shrugs. “I know you didn't expect the 3rd degree this morning.”
“I like her. She seems like a good mom. I’d like to meet her.”
“She is. And that’s a first. People usually hate meeting the parents.” Sam said, grabbing more orange juice from the fridge since they were apparently sharing a cup.
“Not me,” Bucky replied. “And lucky for you, you won’t have to meet any,” he said amusedly.
“What the hell, Buck.”
“What?”
“Please don't make jokes like that in public, people will think you're crazy.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked, humor still in his tone.
“Aren’t we all?” Sam replied.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Cut the psych bullshit and give me the OJ.”
"Steve might kill me when he finds out about us," Sam jokes, though inwardly, he's nervous.
Bucky snorts. "I'd like to see him try. But he already cares about you, Sam. I doubt anything can change that.”
*
The day passed slowly, and stressfully.
As the time ticked closer and closer to the 24-hour mark, the more worried Sam got.
He began pulling up flights for two to New York, and Bucky dragged a couple suitcases out of the closet. They were hoping for the best, but realistically, were preparing for the worst.
If Steve wasn't waking up, then they needed to be by his side. Natasha’s words were ringing through his mind. If Steve needed him, why did he push him away?
Sam’s cell rang, and they both froze, before hurrying to pick it up.
Bucky got to it first, but handed it over to Sam reluctantly. He wanted to talk to his best friend desperately, you could see it in his body.
“Are you going to talk?” Sam asked curiously, before picking up the phone.
He hesitated. “No,” Bucky shook his head. “That’s not…a conversation that should be had over the phone.”
Sam nodded, agreeing, and answered the call. “Nat?” he asked.
“Sam,” she said lightly. “Wasn’t sure you were going to pick up.”
“I wouldn't miss it. We’re - I,” he corrected swiftly, “was just beginning to pack a few things up.”
“Steve’s awake.” Nat said, and Sam sighed in relief.
Bucky tugged him down the hall to their room, and pulled the phone out of his hand before putting it on speaker.
“Can I talk to him?” he asked, hopefully. Would Steve want to talk to him?
“He’s been asking for you all day,” she said. “You and Barnes,” she added.
Bucky sucked in a breath, but steeled himself quickly. They laid down on the bed, limbs stretched out, but still close.
“Put him on then,” Sam said lightly, not letting his stress show in his voice.
“Don’t be alarmed if he’s…wonky. He’s pretty drugged up,” Natasha cautioned. “Stark had to develop something really strong. As it is, we’re not sure if it’s actually keeping him out of pain.”
They could hear some sort of exchange in the background, before Steve spoke.
“Sam?”
He smiled instinctively. “Steve. Hey.”
“Hi, Sam!” Steve greeted happily.
“How you feeling?” he asked. Next to him, Bucky was completely censored in on the phone, unused to hearing his best friends voice, after so much time.
“It hurts,” he laughs. “But my head feels good.”
“Did you hit your head?” Sam asked.
“Nope. My head always hurts.” Steve replied.
Sam paused. “Why?”
“Cause I think so much. I think and think and think and my head feels like its gonna explode. But I feel good now. My head does. I feel floaty.”
If anything, this only increases Sam’s worry.
“I feel better though,” Steve continues. “Cause I get to talk to you.”
“That’s nice, Steve I like talking to you too. I’m glad I get to talk to you too.”
“Cause I love you,” Steve added.
Sam froze, laughing awkwardly. “What, Steve?”
Next to him, Bucky was impassive.
“Cause your my best friend,” Steve seemed to correct himself. “My partner.”
Like him and Bucky. But vastly different. The irony didn't escape him or Bucky, though he seemed to relax.
“I love you too, man. I’m not your side-kick though,” he joked.
“Never,” Steve said, very seriously. “I love all my friends. I love you, and Nat, and even Tony sometimes,” he laughs. “And I love Bucky.”
“I know you do, Steve. Bucky loves you too.”
“Does he?” Steve asks bitterly, mood flipping like a switch.
Thrown off balance, Sam struggles for an answer. “Of course. He’s loved you his whole life.”
“Then where is he?” Steve exclaims, brokenly.
After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “Sam,” Steve sighed, voice slightly tinny from a less than ideal connection. “Sometimes I feel like you're the only person I have in the world. The only person that really knows me.”
Bucky’s body tensed on the bed beside him, and Sam instinctively put a hand out to soothe.
“You’ve got Bucky. He knows you better than anyone,” Sam pointed out, though Steve’s words sent a wave of warmth over him.
“If Bucky knew me, he'd know that I need him,” Steve bit out. “God, I need him. And you, Sam.”
Bucky was shaking now, the guilt clearly written in his face, and there was little Sam could do.
“Steve, hey, Steve?” he asked, to make sure he was listening. “You’ve gotta give him time. He’s been through hell. But something tells me he’ll be ready soon. Right?” he asked, aiming his question toward Bucky.
Bucky nodded beside him, and Sam relaxed a bit.
“I miss you, Steve.” he admitted. “Can I come see you? How long will you be out of commission?”
Sam can almost see Steve shaking his head. “No, Sam. I don’t want you worrin’ about me, spendin’ money on me. I’ll be up and about soon enough. Then you can.”
Inwardly, Sam smiles at the drug influenced accent reappearing in Steve’s voice. Bucky had held onto a lot more of it than Steve it seemed.
“I’m always worrying about you Steve.” Sam says quietly, Bucky beside him, nodding in agreement.
“You sound like you’ve been spendin’ time with Buck,” Steve jokes.
Sam laughs, but it doesn’t come out quite right.
“He’d like you a lot. Always could see the best in people. Always could find the ones that shine the brightest,” Steve said.
“Like you.” Sam replies.
“Like you!” Steve laughs.
They talk a while longer, but eventually Nat takes the phone back. Sam promises to call again tomorrow.
For the next couple of days, they talk constantly. Steve’s lucid, and in less pain. With every conversation, Sam misses Steve even more, and makes it known. What Steve said about his head the other day had him worried. But more than that, he missed Steve’s presence.
*
Steve Rogers dragged a piece of luggage up the familiar walkway to Sam’s house. He winced inwardly when it pulled at a couple of still healing wounds in his abdomen.
He’d left the hospital against medical advice, but he couldn't stand that place. In his day, the hospital was where people go to die, not to be healed. And without Sam there, it was almost unbearable.
Nat had raised her eyebrow suggestively when he'd explained where he was going.
“Escaping, you mean.” She’d said.
Natasha was the only one who new about his slight…crush on Sam. It was hard not to be attracted to the guy. And he was, like a moth to a flame.
Steve dug the key to Sam’s house out of his pocket, smiling at the memory of Sam giving it to him.
He unlocked the door, and was greeted with an instant feeling of warmth. Steve was happy to be back.
“Sam?” he called out, to no response. He could hear music coming from the kitchen.
Steve put his bags down by the door, carefully, and walked toward the sound.
He ducked his head into the kitchen, and froze.
Sam was over by the sink, elbow deep in a pile of dishes. He seemed to be struggling though, because his best friend Bucky Barnes was wrapped around him like an octopus, kissing his neck and laughing, swaying their bodies softy to music despite Sam’s annoyance.
Sam looked back at Bucky, an exasperated grin on his face. Then, he noticed Steve in the doorway, and his smile fell from his face. Instantly, Bucky noticed his mood change, tuned in to his mood just like he used to be to him.
“I’m sorry - I, uh didn't mean to interrupt,” Steve said weakly, backing out of the kitchen quickly, crying out when he bumped a wound against the doorframe.
“Steve,” Bucky exclaimed.
And Sam knew in that moment, that he’d lost him.