Bucky might not have known for certain how Sam had dealt with his first birthday alone, his first birthday officially single and away from Bucky, not really anyway. But, he knew enough to know he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Sure, he didn’t have every detail, or even most of the details, but the busybodies in their lives had let plenty slip to Bucky without him even having to really ask. Like when Steve told him how he’d offered multiple times to throw Sam a party, but that Sam had politely, but firmly, declined each and every time. Or when Bucky had gone over to his parents’ house for dinner a few days before Sam’s birthday, and his ma not so subtly mentioned that Mrs. Wilson told their book club how Sam made his folks promise not to do anything special for his birthday because he wanted to spend it with Aisha only, sulking. (To be fair, Bucky was pretty sure that the “sulking” part was a Mrs. Wilson addition, but he was also pretty sure that it wasn’t an incorrect addition.) Or, that following Friday when he’d picked his baby girl up from school, and she’d casually let him know that “daddy looked kinda sad his whole birthday, until I baked him a cake, and then he looked sort of happy again.”
So, yeah, Bucky knew enough, and he knew Sam well enough to fill in the blanks for what he didn’t know. Well, enough to take an educated guess anyway. Sam’s previous birthday had probably sucked, and he’d probably tried to make the best of it, more than likely for Aisha’s sake.
Now, if there was one person who could always put a smile on Sam’s face, it was definitely their daughter — after a day spent in her company, Sam probably really had been feeling better, lighter, happier. But, still, none of that changed the fact that Sam had most likely had a pretty crappy and lonely birthday the previous year.
And as selfish as it probably was for Bucky to even feel, let alone acknowledge he felt, he’d definitely spent Sam’s last birthday feeling both crappy and lonely himself.
Bucky had thought spending his own birthday without Sam was bad, and it was, but not getting to spend Sam’s birthday together was somehow worse. Christ. He hadn’t even gotten to see Sam’s special birthday outfit that year. Hell, he didn’t even know if Sam had worn a special birthday outfit that year. It could’ve been the first time Sam didn’t bother to dress nicely, and Bucky wouldn’t even know. Because he wasn’t allowed to know that stuff anymore. He wasn’t allowed to see, or ask, or touch, or hold, or care. Not really. Nope. Bucky had to survive on secondhand information from family and friends, and scraps from Sam on the rare occasions when he was feeling generous enough to share.
He had to rely on wacky plans and fake dates to even try to glean the smallest bit of insight into how Sam was feeling about damn near everything these days, especially how Sam was feeling about him. And, honestly, Bucky was sick of it. He’d been sick of it. Sick of having all this history with Sam while simultaneously feeling like Sam was a stranger.
Most of all though, Bucky was just plain old sick and tired of them being apart, especially when they didn’t have to be, and especially because he didn’t think either of them even wanted to be.
Well, he knew he didn’t want to be. Hell everyone knew he didn’t want to be. Oh, they all knew he was the reason for the divorce, but they also knew he hadn’t wanted it. He’d never wanted it.
Their divorce — who wanted it — was all Sam.
Only, ever since Sarah’s wedding, Bucky was beginning to think “want” wasn’t the right word. Yeah, he was really starting to wonder if maybe want wasn’t the right word at all. Maybe “necessary” was more fitting. Maybe Sam had served him those papers all those months ago solely because he’d thought it was necessary. Because, see, Sam didn’t dance like someone who wanted to be divorced, and he damn sure didn’t react to Bucky dating like someone who wanted to be divorced.
Sometimes, here lately, Sam, whether he meant to or not, and Bucky was pretty sure that he hadn’t meant to, well, sometimes Sam seemed like what he really wanted was Bucky.
Maybe it was wishful thinking on Bucky’s part. Shoot, maybe he was reading a lot into a dance and a quick exit from a party.
Then again, maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Sam wanted him around again, maybe he wanted Bucky’s attention again, at least a little.
Not that Bucky’s attention had ever really left Sam. The mere thought was laughable. Honestly, it was laughable that anyone that knew them would ever think that, especially Sam. But maybe Sam needed a reminder — of Bucky’s complete and unwavering devotion? Of his complete lack of chill when it came to Sam? Of the fact that he’d never really and truly leave Sam alone?
And maybe Sam’s birthday was the perfect time for such a reminder.
🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
Sam learned his lesson last year. Cutting everyone except his baby girl out of his birthday, because it was going to be his first one without Bucky and he hadn’t felt up to either putting on a front and pretending to be okay for so many people, or for letting so many people see that he wasn’t okay, hadn’t really made the day any easier. He’d still spent his entire birthday feeling oddly empty, like a piece of himself was missing, even if he’d tried his best to ignore it and have a good day spending time with his daughter. And, look, the day had been fine, and it had even ended on a relatively high note.
But, still, whenever Sam looked back on it, he couldn’t help but wonder if his day would’ve been better if he’d surrounded himself with people he loved, instead of shutting almost everyone out because one of the people he loved most in the world couldn’t be around anymore. It kind of felt like he’d cut off his nose to spite his face, honestly. And he wasn’t about to do that again. Especially since his birthday was on a weekday this year, and while he might have the day off from work, he couldn’t really justify letting Aisha take a day off from school. There wouldn’t be any daddy daughter day trips to a museum or ice cream shop to put a smile on his face and some much needed pep in his step this time. Nope, he’d be flying solo most of the day.
So the previous week when his mom called and offered to host a small dinner for him on his birthday, Sam had readily agreed. It wasn’t a distracting day spent in the always welcome company of his daughter, but it was better than nothing. Way better. It gave him something to look forward to and be excited about, and he was extremely grateful to have it when he got back home from dropping off Aisha at school the morning of his birthday, and found himself with nothing to do. Honestly, he probably would’ve sat around feeling sorry for himself all day, without the promise that his mom’s pot roast would be waiting for him that night.
But, since it would be, he merely sat around feeling bored out of his mind.
Two hours after leaving the school’s drop-off line, Sam had eaten breakfast, “cleaned” his already clean house, turned on the television and then almost immediately turned it back off after deciding that one: daytime television was the worst, and two: he paid for entirely too many streaming services for there to never be anything worth watching on any of them.
By nine-thirty, Sam had genuinely been considering going into work — something he hadn’t done on his birthday since paid time off had become a real thing in his life after getting his first grownup job. However, before he could give up all hope and change out of his new sweater and slacks and into the type of shirt and tie he typically wore to the office, his doorbell rang.
Sam couldn’t help the swoop of excitement he felt when he got up to answer the door. The night before he’d hinted to Riley that he was probably going to have a pretty empty day, at least until Aisha got out of school and that it would be nice if someone was around to hang out with. Riley hadn’t really said anything in reply other than agreeing that weekday birthdays were always kind of lame, but maybe…
Sam opened the door and was greeted with… well, the opposite of his boyfriend.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sam said, but there wasn’t really any heat in his words like there would’ve been just a short year ago. The response was just sort of automatic at this point.
Besides, Sam was too taken aback by Bucky’s presence to take umbrage at his customary greeting making a sudden reappearance out of the blue after so long. For weeks all conversations between them had been stilted and uncomfortable, to say the least. Sam knew it was mostly his fault — sue him, he was still acclimating himself to the fact that Bucky apparently had a Brandon now (and dealing with Riley’s feelings about how he was still acclimating to it). Other than custody exchanges and some very awkward planning for Aisha’s birthday the previous month, Sam had been going out of his way to limit their already fairly limited interactions. So, yeah, this was a surprise.
“Sorry.” Bucky shrugged, not looking sorry at all. “Force of habit. I forget sometimes.”
Sam scoffed. “The only way to break a habit is to actually try to stop doing it.”
“Who said I actually want to break it?” He asked, grinning cheekily.
Sam didn’t smile back, even though part of him kind of wanted to. Instead, he sighed.
“What do you want, Bucky?”
“To tell you happy birthday.”
Okay… “Oh. Well… thanks,” Sam said, feeling slightly thrown by the simple answer.
“And to take you out.”
Annnddd there was the Bucky he’d known all his life.
Sam shook his head. “Bucky—
“Now before you say no,” Bucky cut in.
But Sam interrupted him right back.
“No.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t—
“Before you say no,” Bucky repeated, talking right over him, trying not to shrink in the face of Sam’s instant refusal.
Because, look, Bucky was pretty sure Sam didn’t want to refuse. He just didn’t know it, or maybe he did know it and just didn’t want to admit it. But either way, he was glad Bucky was there, or at least he would be. Or, okay, maybe it was more accurate that he could be.
If only he’d let himself.
Sam needed to get out of his own way, at least in Bucky’s opinion. And Bucky was going to help him, and help them both feel better in the process, so he couldn’t give up, even if Sam’s knee-jerk reaction was to say no.
He took a deep breath. “Sammy, before you say no,” he said, for a third time, and that time he did sound a little nervous. “Just… okay, listen, did you miss me on your last birthday?”
Sam blinked, dumbly. “What—
“Because I missed you,” he rushed to say. “I mean, I always miss you,” he added, almost to himself, kind of under his breath.
But of course Sam heard him, and boy did it hit him right in the heart.
“But your birthday,” Bucky said, voice stronger, and he was looking into Sam’s eyes again. “Like, yeah, it’s your birthday, but it’s always been ours, you know? Kinda like our day.”
And, yeah, the thing was, Sam did know. Whether Bucky was getting him in trouble while trying to show him a good time, or defending his honor, or asking him out. He was always there. Always making Sam happy even if he was simultaneously making him mad. It was their day, for decades, and then it suddenly wasn’t. And that loss hurt like hell. God, even when their marriage was on its last legs, and they’d felt more out of sync than they ever had before, even that year Bucky had been there, trying to make sure that at least that one day was a good one for Sam, for both of them.
But that was then, and this was now. And while it was still Sam’s birthday of course, it was just another day for Bucky. Or, at least, it should’ve been. Even if he did miss Sam last year, even if he’d missed Sam as much as Sam had missed him, that didn’t mean he should be doing this, whatever this was… did it?
It couldn’t be healthy, for either of them.
And it definitely wasn’t normal.
“Look, I know this is strange,” he said, almost like he’d read Sam’s mind when he didn’t respond. “And probably entirely inappropriate.” He huffed a laugh. “But I guess I just don’t care.” He shrugged again. “We spent all your birthdays together before we were ever really together, I don’t see why we can’t spend them together now that we’re apart.”
“Really?” Sam shook his head. “You don’t?” He asked, sarcastically.
“Okay, so I do. But, like I said, I don’t really care.”
“Well, that’s—
“Right here, right now, all I really care about is the same thing I’ve always cared about on your birthdays, the only thing I’ve ever cared about on one of your birthdays, Sam — making sure you have a good day.”
There went Sam’s treacherous heart again, but he couldn’t help it, because he knew that what Bucky’d just said was the absolute truth.
Still though…
“Bucky.” His voice was quiet, gentler. “That’s not your job anymore,” he said.
“Sammy, that’ll always be my job, whether we’re together or not.”
God. He sounded so earnest. Why did he always have to sound so damn earnest? And why did it always have to do such a number on Sam’s determination? Jesus. Why was he even here at Sam’s door on a Monday morning, looking so nice and smelling so good and being so sweet, like he was allowed? Like it was in any way, shape, or form a good idea?
They were divorced for goodness sake. They were divorced, and Sam had a boyfriend who should be here trying to take him out. And… and Bucky had a…
“Where’s Brandon?” Sam practically spat the words, and Bucky’s head jerked back, his eyes widening in surprise.
“What?”
“Your boyfriend - Brandon, right? How does he feel about you wanting to spend the day with your ex-husband?”
Bucky almost laughed. What would Brandon think? Well, he probably wouldn’t care about the possibility of Bucky spending the day with Sam. But he might be happy to know that he’d really and truly earned those six free oil changes. As a matter of fact, Bucky was tempted to call him up and let him know he deserved three more. Because, while Bucky’d definitely thought Sam was jealous the night of Steve’s party — thought Sam was maybe even still in love with him — now he was absolutely sure of it.
Shoot, Bucky had been happy that night upon seeing Sam so obviously out of sorts because he was dating, but that happiness didn’t even compare to the pure feeling of ecstasy he was feeling now. He literally had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling when he replied.
“I don’t know for sure how Brandon feels about it,” he said, honestly. “We’ve been on some dates,” he added, less honestly. “But we’re not really dating,” he clarified, shifting back to the truth once again. “We’re closer to friends—
“With benefits?” Sam guessed, interrupting tartly.
And that time Bucky couldn’t help the smile from breaking out on his face.
“Why? You jealous?”
“Of course not,” Sam bit out.
Bucky didn’t believe him, but he nodded along.
“Cool. Then why are we even talking about him?”
“Because,” he snapped.
But then, almost immediately, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to get it together. Because, really, Bucky was right: why were they talking about Brandon? What was Sam doing? How had the conversation spiraled so quickly and completely? How had the day?
He shook his head and scoffed in disbelief — at himself, at their whole conversation really.
“We shouldn’t really be hanging out, Bucky,” he said, eventually, sounding much calmer. “Not when it doesn’t have anything to do with Aisha. It’s probably not the best idea, for a whole lot of reasons.”
“Okay.” Bucky dipped his head in acknowledgment. Then: “But what if we just want to?”
“Bucky—
“Maybe it’s selfish as hell for me to say, to keep saying, but your birthday sucked for me last year, and I’m willing to bet it sucked for you too. Maybe not the whole day, maybe not in every way, but I know you missed me. I know you wished I was there,” he said, staring at Sam intently, as he stepped up and joined him on the stoop. “So let me be here now, today. Tomorrow we can go back to our usual arrangement, but today let’s have your birthday the way we used to. Let’s have fun. Come on, Sammy,” he begged, softly, and took a giant chance by grabbing Sam’s left hand with his right. Then said, “Let us have this. Let yourself. Please.”
And like he’d done so many times before, Sam leaned in to Bucky when the smarter option would’ve been to let go, and nodded.
“Okay, Bucky. Okay.”