Bucky can't sleep. That's not too far off course, though. He struggles with sleeping most nights, so what's one more restless few hours? Usually, what keeps him up are the nightmares and the memories of Hydra, but tonight is a little different. Tonight, what's keeping him up is a distinct lack of a certain person.
He woke a few hours earlier with pain in his head and heart, reaching out for someone who wasn't there. Someone who hasn't been there for a while now. He remembers being alone in Wakanda, healing and breaking the brainwashing, but alone for the most part. Sure, he had Shuri and Okoye, and they were fantastic friends, but he had ultimately been alone as each day wound down to night.
Children giggled and called to the White Wolf to wake him in the mornings and he'd pull himself from an empty home to do chores around the farm. Bucky Barnes had been alone for two years while he recovered. It hadn't been terrible, but it wasn't pleasant either.
Then, Steve had come for him, asked him to fight, and Bucky fought. He put on the new arm and jumped into the battle at Steve's side because that's what Bucky Barnes always did. He fought at Steve's side. He belonged at Steve's side. That's how it always has been. Whether it was Bucky and Steve or Cap and Sergeant Barnes, they were always side by side.
But Bucky disappeared. The Snap came and Bucky went. He doesn't know, to this day, where he went, what happened during those five years. He vanished. He came back to more fighting, to pain, to loss. He watched Tony sacrifice everything to save the world and put an end to Thanos and he thought maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
They weren't. Steve left to return the stones and Bucky said goodbye with dread in his heart. He saw it in his friend's eyes. Steve was going where Bucky couldn't- no. Steve was going where Bucky wouldn't follow. He wasn't about to go back to the life they'd had all those years ago. He was content with the future, with the life being offered to them now. He wanted to continue here, with the friends they've made. Steve wanted that dance.
Steve left, and Bucky was alone again.
He's been alone ever since. Sure, Sam comes and goes, but Bucky can't bring himself to let the other man in for good. He's terrified of getting his heart broken again. He gave everything to Steve, and Steve left. Steve took everything Bucky laid at his feet, crushed it to pieces, and left him behind for a dame that he'd known less time than they'd known each other, and Bucky still hurts over it to this day.
It doesn't help that he'd fallen in love with Steve somewhere along the line. It doesn't help that finding him again, after all that time, had been agony to those memories. It doesn't help that as soon as Steve started coming back to him, all those memories flooding back, Bucky remembered pining for the other man and being so damn scared to say anything. It was the only time Bucky had been scared, outside of that POW camp. He had been afraid to admit a part of himself that could have gotten him or Steve hurt. Killed maybe. So he'd kept it in.
Then, Steve left. Steve took his toys and went home, so to speak, leaving Bucky alone after they just found each other again and Bucky- He's still not over it. He wakes in a cold sweat some nights, crying out for Steve and reaching for him, clawing his way from the depths of the frigid Alps, begging for Steve to come back for him. Come find him. Before Hydra does this time.
Tonight is no different. He'd been shaken awake by the awful memories of plummeting to his death, freezing in the cold snow, the sound of Steve screaming his name dying in the wind. He sat bolt upright in bed tonight, gasping out Steve's name like a prayer, whimpering in terror and shivering over a cold that wasn't there.
Now, still shattered and shaking, trying to readjust to the real world, to life, he's curled himself into a corner of his sofa, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The news is on quietly, and he's watching a rerun of an interview Sam gave earlier today. Sam, the new Captain America. Sam, Bucky's closest friend in this world now.
Bucky can't bring himself to get too close to Sam, because he's scared to be left behind again. The problem is, as he's sitting here watching the recording of Sam from earlier today, he wants nothing more than to call him and plead for the other man's company. Sam makes him feel safe, and he hates that. He hates that he feels reliant on Sam now. He hates that he looks at Sam and he's starting to feel some of the same things he once felt for Steve.
Except it's stronger now.
Sam gives him hope. Sam makes Bucky want to be a better man. Sam gives Bucky joy and makes him want to always be there with him. Sam scares the shit out of Bucky, because Bucky doesn't know where Sam stands on the line when it comes to relationships and it's been so long since Bucky's even considered wanting to ask someone out, but God, he'd ask Sam out if he only knew.
He's pulling his phone out before he really has time to think about his reasoning. He pulls Sam's contact information up, hits call, and waits through the ringing. It rings exactly three times, as it always does, and Sam picks up, with video. It's almost always video with Sam, and Bucky loves getting to see his face when he's so drained.
"Hey, Buck," Sam hums, the sleep in his voice obvious. "What's going on, sweetheart?"
Bucky fights down the feeling the pet name pulls to his chest. To Sam, it's just an innocent thing. Sam does this, especially when he's tired. He gets affectionate and he calls Bucky sweet things while the sleep slips from his mind. Bucky loves it, but he doesn't want to press for more.
"Hey Sammy," Bucky sighs softly. He notices in the small thumbnail of his own face how his own hair is sticking out in different directions. It's getting longer again and he's not really been minding. It feels nice now that it's his choice, so he's letting it go. It's around the bottoms of his ears now.
"You're spacing out on me," Sam chuckles. "Come back to earth, Buck. You know I like that voice of yours."
Bucky blinks and focuses on Sam again. "I'm- Sammy, I hate to ask. D'you- could you stay up with me for a minute?"
Sam hums and Bucky watches him shift in his seat. He sits up fully and Bucky can see he's in his bed. "Talk to me, Buck," Sam says gently. "You know I can probably fly out to you in an hour's time if you need me."
Bucky shakes his head. "No, don't- please don't do that, Sammy."
"You look like you're having a real rough night," Sam says, and Bucky watches as he pushes himself up from the bed. He starts to walk around his apartment. "I'll come to you if you need."
Bucky runs a hand through his hair. "I can't ask that of you."
Sam shrugs. "I'm awake, and you're awake. Why not? You look like you need company. It's rare you get all bundled up like that. You're deep in your head, aren't you?"
Bucky sighs. "Yeah, I am." He glances away. "It's- I'm havin' a bad night."
Sam nods softly. "Yeah, I can see that, Buck," he whispers, glancing at the other through the phone before averting his gaze to something in his room. The angle shifts and Bucky watches as the ceiling comes into view and a shirt slips past the camera. Sam's getting dressed. It doesn't matter what Bucky says. Sam is going to come to him. And how that the wings are his and not property of the government, he can use them whenever he pleases.
"You wanna talk to me about any of it?" Sam asks from off camera. "Or do you want to wait until I'm there?"
Bucky sighs again. "Sammy, you really don't-"
"That's not the question I asked, baby Buck. I asked if you wanted to talk now or face to face."
Bucky hangs his head and chuckles softly. "I like your face," he mutters before he lets his brain run away with the thought.
"Mm, I like yours," Sam agrees. "Then it's settled. Put on some tea, get comfy. I've got my key. I'll be there soon, alright?"
"You're somethin' else, Sam," Bucky murmurs.
"Something out of your dreams," Sam chuckles. "I'll see you soon, Buck. Extra sugar for my tea, alright?" He hangs up before Bucky can answer, but it's okay.
Now that Sam's given Bucky a task, it's a little easier. He feels less stuck and he pushes himself to his feet with a soft sigh. He makes his way to the kitchen and sets about pulling out everything he needs for tea, humming to himself. He finds himself thinking about how far he and Sam are from each other. A drive between them is about three hours. A flight is one. Sam's got the wings, so that solves a big issue there, but it doesn't change that the distance is painful.
Bucky shakes his head. The distance shouldn't hurt. They're just friends. Coworkers, really. But, Bucky can't help but think of the way Sam calls him 'sweetheart,' and 'baby,' and he wishes it were more than just friends. He wants those names whispered into his skin in the first light of morning as Sam's getting up for his run. He wants to make coffee for both of them in his French press and meet Sam at the door with a mug, extra cream, two sugars, just like Sam likes it. He wants that domesticity and that feeling of being absolutely loved.
He has, right now, late night tea with Captain America, and he's grateful to have so much of the man's attention. Sam has so much on his plate and the guy could stand to have a break from the world. Yet, Bucky's here with his issues and Sam keeps giving of himself. Bucky wishes he could give back. Could do something. He doesn't know what.
He checks the clock and then his phone, double checking when Sam ended the call. He doesn't want to start the tea too soon, because he doesn't want Sam's tea to go cold. The man will be cold when he gets in. He can't do that to him.
When he judges it to be a good time, he sets the kettle to boil and prepares the mugs, tapping his fingers against the counter and humming a tune he doesn't remember. It's from some song on his Spotify, but he's been absent about his music lately. He isn't actively listening, so he doesn't recall band names or songs. The only ones he remembers are the occasional 40s remakes that pop up because of some of his likes.
After a few minutes, when the kettle starts to whistle, the front door opens. Bucky pours the water as he listens to Sam come into the apartment and deposit his wings by the door. There's a few moments of shuffling, and then Sam comes around the corner into the kitchen, leaning in the doorway and smiling at Bucky.
"You timed me, didn't you?" Sam teases.
Bucky turns and holds out a mug to the other man. "Couple minutes to steep and you're good to go, Sammy," he offers, winking.
Sam steps further into the kitchen and takes the mug in hand, setting it on the counter before he pushes into Bucky's space, wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you, Buck. But talk to me. What's wrong?"
Bucky nearly deflates in Sam's hold and rests his chin on the other man's shoulder. He takes a shuddering breath in and shakes his head. "Nightmares," he whispers.
"More than nightmares," Sam says. "I know you by now. Nightmares don't do this to you. You're shaking and jumpy. What happened?"
Bucky brings his hand up to fully return the hug. "Dreams about falling," he sighs. "And Steve."
Sam lets out a knowing sound. "Ah, Steve. Good ol' ditched his buddy Steve?"
Bucky takes a step back. "That's harsh," he says, not thinking in his instant defense of the other. It's learned behavior. He loves Steve. Maybe not to the same depth he once did, but it still comes automatically to defend him.
"It's harsh," Sam agrees, shrugging, "but it's how you feel. Isn't it? You feel abandoned. That's no secret. I can see it in your eyes any time anyone brings him up. You miss him and you hate that he just left you."
Bucky takes a breath and looks away. "It's terrifying how well you can read me sometimes," he mutters.
"He asked me to stick around with you for a reason," Sam grins. "He knew I could read you. Figure you out and learn to speak Bucky. You're hurting, and you miss him. And that's okay, you know? You're allowed to feel that way. It hurt. I gotta admit, I was upset he decided to leave, and I immediately wondered how you felt about it all. You guys just got back in touch and then he just decided he was done? That seems more harsh than calling him some names."
Bucky lets out a rush of air and laughs softly. "Jesus, I thought I was just being a selfish asshole," he whispers. "I thought my being upset was stupid and I should just shut up and be happy for him."
"Be happy for him if you want," Sam hums. "But if you're hurting, hurt. If you're angry, be fucking angry. I am."
Bucky takes a full step back, looking at Sam almost sideways and raising an eyebrow. "You are?"
"Pissed, yes," Sam says, crossing his arms. "I just started to get to know that ass, and then he decided to give up all of this time to go back to a time that has less rights for so many people?"
Bucky's eyes go wide and he covers his mouth for a moment, hiding a laugh behind a cough. He turns to the counter and sets about removing tea bags from their mugs. "Okay, I didn't think about that. That's- Shit."
"You know when schools started desegregation?" Sam asks.
"1950s," Bucky says with a frown. "I can't remember the exact date, but I read up on that. After my and Stevie's time, and far too late."
Sam chuckles. "You don't have to just say that."
Bucky looks over at him. "I'm not," he says. "I hated that shit. I thought it was all horrible. Fuck, the thought of war and segregation and everything that was goin' on back then never sat right with me. I was always hoping for the future, looking for new ideas, tech, the stars. I was a dreamer, Sammy. I didn't do enough to make a difference in my time, and I should've at least fucking spoken up a few times. But I hated it."
There's a moment of quiet between them and Sam finally smiles. "I believe you," he says softly. "You never struck me as one of those guys, Buck. I always knew Steve had his prejudices, but I don't think they ever ranged to race. Other things, though."
Bucky breathes out through his nose loudly. "Yeah. Other things." He closes his eyes and turns his head away.
Another reason he never gathered the courage to tell Steve how he felt about the man. Growing up, Steve had always been adamant about being a man, fighting when he needed to fight, and steering clear of queer. He didn't want to stick out, and one of the worst ways to do that back then was to be gay. Bucky kept everything inside, because even if Steve only meant it surface level, it still hurt.
After a couple seconds, he feels Sam's hand on his arm. "Buck? Do you need to talk about something else?"
Bucky pulls his arm from Sam's touch, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. "It's fine, Sam. Tea should be ready. We should drink it before it goes cold." He grabs up his mug and moves carefully around Sam to get out to the living room, clutching his mug to his chest protectively, as though it's the only thing keeping him grounded right now.
Sam joins him a few minutes later, sinking into the couch cushions next to where Bucky's bundled himself up. They sit together in a soft, quiet space for a few moments. Then, Sam reaches over and wraps his arm around Bucky, pulling him against his side.
"Did Steve scare you out of coming out?" Sam asks, his voice so much quieter than it's been since he got here.
Bucky swallows heavily and nods, just once. He tightens his grip on his mug and curls around his knees. For all he's done in his life, and it's a long one he'll admit, this is probably the scariest.
"He's got this sort of holier than thou, man on a mission way about him, doesn't he?" Sam continues softly. "Like he's so certain who he is and that means everyone around him better know themselves and conform to his ideals."
"Steve Rogers. Captain America." Bucky raises his mug in one hand in a faux toast. "The picture perfect man with his picket fence, hetero-normative dreams that he likes to thrust upon the rest of the world."
"I never thought I'd hear you say hetero-normative," Sam muses. "Honestly, I always got a feel off you. At least bisexual."
Bucky turns and looks at Sam, raising an eyebrow. "You always what?" He slightly unfurls from his cocoon and rests his mug against his knee. "A feel? You're saying you figured me out when Steve couldn't picture me as anything but straight?"
Sam chuckles and shrugs. "It's easier to find our own." He smirks at Bucky and winks, then takes a sip of his tea.
Bucky stares, confused. Sam just chuckles again and shakes his head.
"Oh, Buck. I thought I was giving enough away. Have you ever known a straight man to have a wardrobe like mine?"
Bucky snorts and looks away. "Meticulous sonuvabitch with your matching socks and 17 pairs of shoes."
Sam grins. "I call you things like babe and sweetheart all the time," he adds.
"I just thought you were being cheeky," Bucky admits.
"To a degree," Sam agrees. "Mostly, I was just being me. I see someone I like, I give them sweet names."
Bucky stops, turning to stare at Sam again. He takes a slow, careful breath in, then shakes his head. "You don't-" He furrows his brow in confusion. "Sammy."
"I've kind of got a thing for you, Bucky," Sam says with a shrug. "Never wanted to say anything, because I know you're going through shit. But all I've wanted for a long time now is to see you get through it all and be happy on the other side. Part of me wants to be by your side when you do, but I'd be fine just knowing you were there, even if I were nowhere in the picture."
Bucky scrubs a hand down his face and laughs softly. "So you- I'm sorry, you've been-"
"Not exactly flirting, but I have had a crush on you."
Bucky shakes his head and leans back, watching Sam. "Last time I got a crush on a friend, he left me for a gal some 80 years back."
"Last time I got a crush on a friend, he fell to his death during a mission," Sam says sadly. "I miss him every day. And I don't expect you not to miss Steve. And be mad at him. But, just so you know? Buck, I like you."
Bucky closes his eyes and runs his hand over them, laughing softly for a second. The sound catches in his throat and morphs into a sort of sob. "Sam, I- fuck."
Sam brings his hand around from Bucky's back and runs his fingers gently under Bucky's eye, wiping away tears Bucky didn't realize he'd let go. Sam smiles softly at him. "If it's too much, don't worry. I know when to step back. I can stay your friend."
Bucky shakes his head. "I want more," he says without thinking, the words leaving him in a rush. "I've wanted more for a while now. I've been scared shitless to say anything. And then all the bullshit with Steve, and-" He sighs. "I just was scared."
Sam nods. "Yeah, I don't blame you. You've been through hell, babe. Why would you wanna jump into things after all that?"
"Because that feels amazing," Bucky whispers. "When you call me babe, or when you get this low, tired gravel to your voice when we're talkin' late at night on the phone, I can't help but want more of you. I have bad nightmares, but some nights I have the best dreams. And those dreams are a life with you. Sharing breakfast in a place we both own. Living together and bein' happy together."
Sam smiles and ducks his head. "You think about that?"
"Too much," Bucky admits. "I was watching your interview over again earlier because your face makes me feel calm when I'm panicking. Your voice helps me know everything's gonna be alright. Hell, doll. Just knowing you're next to me makes me feel like I might actually be able to rest tonight."
Sam nods and shifts, leaning toward the table to set his drink down. He takes Bucky's and sets it next to his own, then reaches over and cups Bucky's jaw. "Buck? Can we try going to bed tonight, getting some sleep, and coming back to this conversation in the morning? When you're rested?"
Bucky leans softly into Sam's hand. "I- yeah, I mean. Sure, but why?"
"Because I want to make sure you're not clouded by your upset," Sam says gently. "Let's go get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow morning about how we feel. And then, maybe we do something about it."
Bucky nods against Sam's hand, sighing softly. He lets Sam guide him to bed and settle him under the covers, letting out a soft, happy murmur when Sam joins him a few moments later. They curl up together under the blankets and Bucky feels sleep pulling at him almost before he closes his eyes. Surprisingly, it's the best night's sleep he's had in a long while.
—
Bucky wakes the next morning to a warm pair of lips against the back of his neck. They brush against his skin and whisper a soft greeting to him as an arm squeezes him gently and a warm body presses against his back. He takes a slow, deep breath in, and hums happily.
"You just rest, sweetheart," a smooth voice murmurs in his ear, and Bucky lets his eyes close again, taking in the voice and the comfort. "I'm gonna take a run, okay? Let you wake up nice and lazy as you want."
Bucky chuckles and nods sleepily. "Be careful, doll," he says tiredly. "You gotta make it back home to me."
"Always," Sam purrs, then squeezes him one more time before slipping out of the bed.
Bucky's left with a soft breeze that's almost too cold, but he pulls the blankets around himself for a moment more and listens to Sam moving around the apartment before he heads out the door. There's a moment of worry, but it's immediately pressed down by Bucky's faith in Sam. He's going for a run, nothing more.
After a few minutes, Bucky slips out of bed and lazily makes his way to the kitchen after his morning routine. He puts on a kettle for the press and pulls out a few things to make some breakfast, humming to himself as he does. He gets almost done cooking by the time Sam comes back in, panting softly and damp with sweat. Bucky thinks he looks amazing.
"Do I have time to steal a shower?" Sam asks from the kitchen doorway.
"Mm, eggs are almost done," Bucky says, looking over at him. "You could take a real quick one. Or you could eat, maybe we share one later."
Sam smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. "So, you still feel that way, huh?"
Bucky nods, chuckling softly. "That didn't change. I can't remember the last time I actually slept, by the way."
Sam hums and seems to think for a moment. "I think that I need one more thing to check, make sure this is gonna work out." When Bucky looks up at him with a raised eyebrow, Sam moves into the room and steps up to Bucky, chest to chest. He curls his fingers around the back of Bucky's neck and pulls him close for a kiss. Bucky hums against his lips and kisses back, chuckling when Sam leans away.
"That check out, doll?" Bucky asks.
Sam grins. "I know what Steve did hurts," he says softly, "but for all the upset he caused, he brought us together. And I'm very grateful for that. I can't imagine what my life would be if I'd never known you, Bucky Barnes."