Sam has a key to Bucky's place.
Sam has a key to Bucky's place because the last time Bucky didn't answer to Sam's texts for two weeks on end, Sam had sort of learned what a true panic could be, and once he got his sights on the other man again and made sure he was safe, he'd insisted Bucky give him some way of checking up on him if he wasn't going to answer his damn phone.
So Bucky went down to the local hardware store and found a machine that duplicated keys, and he made Sam a copy of his apartment key.
Sam hasn't had to use that key, thankfully, until today. Today, he's been trying to get hold of Bucky for the past three days and he won't let it get to two weeks this time because he's not about to start panicking over this stupid old man one more time. So, he goes to Bucky's place and he shoves his copy of the key in the door almost angrily and he steps into Bucky's apartment to find…
Nothing.
Bucky's apartment is empty.
Well, it's void of life. Bucky's things are here. The television is even still on, some soccer game playing quietly in the dark of the room. The couch is in one piece. Bucky's blankets are in the corner. The bed is untouched, as it's been for God knows how long. Bucky's apartment is completely lifeless, and it's got Sam's nerves on fire as he tries to think of what could possibly have happened.
There were no missions. There was nothing urgent Bucky needed to do. The man hadn't told him about anything at least, and Bucky has been getting better about telling him when big things come up. They talked about it when they discussed boundaries. But here he is, in Bucky's living room, with no idea where the other man is.
He runs a hand down his face and turns about, trying to find a clue. Maybe Bucky left something behind that would tell him what happened. Maybe he could explain it away with a misplaced book or a plate on the counter, but it's immaculate. Sparse, but immaculate.
Tears threaten to spill down his cheeks as he tries to not think of all the terrible things that could have happened to Bucky. He can't let his mind wander right now. He can't think of losing him. Losing his partner. Losing another partner.
And while this is nowhere near comparable to Riley's fall, Sam notes that his feelings for Bucky aren't too far off for how lost he was over Riley, and that scares the shit out of him. He promised himself he wouldn't fall for another coworker. Especially in this line of work.
But honestly, how could he not have fallen for him? How could he not have fallen in love with this idiot of a man that serenades him with strangely beautiful renditions of old Sinatra songs while they bake old family recipes together on Thursday nights? And when did that become something they just did on Thursday nights anyway?
And it's Thursday now, Sam realizes, and the tears do fall now, because the apartment is quiet and cold and there's nothing in the oven and he can't hear Bucky singing, because Bucky's not here. Where the hell is Bucky?
He pulls out his phone and types another text to Bucky, asking him where he is for the umpteenth time. He's not expecting an answer. Why would Bucky answer suddenly now when he hasn't answered for the last three days and Sam's standing in the middle of his empty apartment anyway?
But then, Sam hears something that makes his heart freeze in his chest. It's a text notification. Coming from Bucky's bedroom. He goes in there and finds Bucky's phone under a jacket on the floor after texting it two more times. It's also on its last legs of battery. It's dim and running at 8%.
Sam sets it on the charger next to the bed and moves to stand up, only to pause when he hears the front door open and close. Someone comes into the front room and he hears movement. It sounds like they're taking off their shoes. Then there's a key dropping into a dish.
Sam knows that dish. It's carnival glass and he found it for Bucky at a thrift store a while back. He gave it to him telling him it made him think of little old ladies and their candy dishes, and Bucky may not have candy dishes or be a little old lady, but he could start a collection anyway. He'd been taking jabs at Bucky's age, as he often did, and Bucky had taken the dish and set it right by the door to drop his keys into it.
When Sam asked him why, Bucky had just smiled and said, "It's one of the most important things in the place, Sam. If I put my keys right there every time I come home, I'll never lose them. Kinda makes the dish home in its own way."
There's a sound from the front that brings Sam back to the present. Someone clicks their tongue, as if at an animal. He hears a soft meow and then a rumbled chuckle. He knows that laugh. God, he loves that laugh.
Then, as though he'd known San was there all along, Bucky spoke into the apartment with a soft laugh. "You gonna hide back there all day, Sammy?"
Sam stands up and moves out of the bedroom, his expression going from surprise at seeing Bucky to aggravation. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"
Bucky's eyes go wide and he stands up from where he's crouched by the couch. A small white kitten pads away from him and starts exploring the room.
"I lost my phone," Bucky admits softly. He had the presence of mind to look sheepish and Sam can't fault him for a moment, until irritation bites at the back of his mind again.
"There's other ways to get hold of someone, you know?" Sam says. "You could have used someone else's phone to call me. Or come over to talk to me in person even."
Bucky runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "I don't got your number memorized yet, so I can't use someone else's phone, actually," he offers. "And I got caught in something that needed my attention close to home for a couple days." He gestures at the kitten now trying to climb its way up his pant leg. "She's just a baby. I found her a few nights ago in an alley near here and I been back and forth with the vets tryin' to make sure she was okay."
He bends down and picks the kitten up, then walks over to Sam and holds her out to him. "Lookit that face, Sam. Could you say no to that?"
Sam looks at the cat, but then at Bucky. And honestly, it's Bucky's face he could never say no to, but he chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I couldn't," he admits softly, staring into Bucky's eyes. Because there's nothing more beautiful than how brightly those eyes shine when Bucky smiles, and when Sam says that, Bucky smiles so wide, it's like he got to light the tree at Rockefeller himself.
"I couldn't leave town until I knew she was okay," Bucky adds. "And you know it's an overnight whenever one of us goes to the other's place."
It is. Sam's very aware of that. Every Thursday night, when he comes over for that silly tradition they apparently have started with one another, he stays the night and leaves again some time midway through Friday. Sometimes he doesn't leave until halfway through Sunday, but those aren't often. Well…
They're more often lately.
"No, that makes sense," Sam chuckles. He looks at the cat and reaches forward, letting her sniff at his fingers before he scratches under her chin. She's tiny, but she almost roars in how loud she purrs. It makes Sam smile. "So, are you keeping her?" he asks, looking up at Bucky.
Bucky nods. "Yeah," he murmurs, pulling the kitten to his chest and gently petting her. "She's my lucky cat. Found her on a pretty bad night, when I couldn't find my phone and I- I kinda needed you? But she gave me somethin' to focus on and I was able to feel better for a bit."
Sam frowns. "You needed me?"
Bucky nods again and looks up at Sam. "I don't- I try not to bother you, but sometimes, I- it gets bad. Flashbacks, nightmares, what have you. Sometimes, all it takes is typin' it out to you and then deleting it before I send it. Just the thought that I got someone I could say it all to if I needed. But I don't like pilin' stuff on you, so I don't usually send the texts. That night. I think I might have."
Sam lets it a soft sigh. On the one hand, he's proud of Bucky for having a way to work his way through problems on his own. Even if it involves the idea of Sam, the fact that Bucky manages most of it on his own is really encouraging for Bucky's journey.
On the other hand, it breaks Sam's heart that it gets that bad for Bucky. Ever.
"I'm glad you're here," Bucky adds, pulling Sam's thoughts back. "It's Thursday. I didn't want you to think me not answering texts meant I was canceling or anything. I've come to really enjoy our nights together."
And he's saying it so casually, Sam has to take a moment. Just a few minutes ago, Sam thought something awful had happened to Bucky, and now he's standing with him in his living room hearing the other man talk about their… nights together.
"I'm not going to break tradition," Sam's saying before he realizes it, and Bucky is smiling softly at him, eyes twinkling in ways Sam will never understand and can't get enough of.
"God, I love you, Sam," Bucky hums, and he's drawing into Sam's space and pulling him into a hug with one arm, the cat gently tucked against him with the other. Sam can smell everything that is Bucky, along with the rain that's been falling outside and the way it mixes with Bucky in an intoxicating blend. He doesn't want to let go.
And he's reeling from Bucky's words. Because this is Bucky all over. Now that he's begun to become himself. His own person. Now that Bucky's healing, he's so much more open than before. At least, he is with Sam. And Sarah. Sam gets the affectionate Bucky. The one who holds him just a bit longer in a hug than what one might deem "socially acceptable." The Bucky who tells him he loves him regularly, with all that emotion in his voice and eyes.
This is the Bucky Sam's fallen in love with.
To be fair, he's fallen in love with all forms of Bucky. Even the sadder ones. But this is the Bucky he's most proud of. The Bucky that smiles and laughs and is alive. This is the Bucky Sam wants to see thrive.
"I found your phone, by the way," Sam is saying before he thinks about it, and Bucky laughs against his cheek.
"You did? My hero. Where was it?"
Sam snorts. "Clean up your clothes once in a while, you heathen," he teases Bucky. "It was under a jacket in your bedroom."
Bucky pulls back and looks at Sam with wide eyes. "Seriously? I thought I'd looked under that thing. Maybe it was in the pocket and I didn't realize it when I tossed the jacket aside." He shrugs. "Well, thank you for finding it. I think that calls for something special tonight. Ma had a pretty good dumpling recipe I've been wanting to try since I remembered it."
Sam laughs and nods. "Let's do that, Buck," he sighs happily. "God, you're an idiot and I love you."
Bucky grins at him and Sam knows they'll have to address whatever this is some say. Because sure, two guys can tell each other they love each other. That's fine. But there's so much more behind it when they say it, and they both know it. But neither one has just said it yet.
Maybe Sam will tell Bucky tonight, while Bucky's singing something by Sinatra. Or maybe Bucky will choose Dean Martin tonight. Maybe Sam will get him to stop with a kiss instead of pushing food into his face. There's options for everything.
He just knows that now he's sure Bucky's safe, he's going to super glue the man's phone to his hand so he doesn't have to go through this bullshit again.
Or maybe he'll suggest they move in together. Then, they'll never lose each other again.