Headshots
Sam held up his hand to stop James from speaking. Opening the oak cabinet, he grabbed the first mug his hand landed on, filling it up to the brim. Four gulps, Sam finished his water, before pouring himself another half cup.
“This sounds like a conversation we need to have with Captain America.”
James sighed, dejected. “I think you’re right. The thing is he might be compromised right now, we’ll have to wait.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You just said you didn’t want to wait.”
“I know- but right now, from what I understand, our best bet is to do that. SHIELD, the government branch that employs Cap, has been infiltrated by Hydra for decades. The Director of SHIELD was shockingly not appointed by Hydra, and will pick up on suspicious activity soon. Without me, there won’t be an attempt on Nick Fury’s life, especially since there’s no one else skilled enough to injure him. He'll discretely alert Cap, and with Steve suspicious, Hydra will flag him as a target. They’ve likely bugged his place along with tailing him already. I know. I..was one of those people.” James muttered the last part into his mug, clearly ashamed.
So that was a lot to take in. He’ll circle back to the attempted murder later. One thing at a time. “You’re telling me that there’s Nazi’s running the United States government since what, at least 40 years ago?”
James grimaced, dodging eye contact with Sam. “Unfortunately, yes.” He appeared as though he wanted to say more, but Sam held up his hand. He was looking to understand as best he could only the bare facts tonight.
“Why am I not compromised?”
“Because all you are is a charitable veteran helping out others, at least to Hydra and the government. You just happened to run into Cap today, and the only reason I know that is because you told me. It’s not on any files anywhere.”
“In the future, right?” Future Sam, what a concept. Being buddy-buddy with this guy, who appears to be too easy to retrieve information from. Does James really trust Sam so much? He said 10 years in the future, so much must have happened. Can James be so confident the Sam in front of him is the same man he once knew?
Apparently, he doesn’t seem concerned about confidentiality at all. Even if Sam asked him at that moment to tell him every little detail that happens, Sam had a feeling James would divulge it all in a heartbeat. It’s an odd concept Sam can’t quite wrap his head around. Having someone he doesn't know trust him so easily, so unabashedly. It felt too one-sided, and irritation prickled once again. How could he feel bad for not knowing someone he never had the chance to know? How did any of this make sense?
Although, like the Battle of New York, there seems to be a lot he didn't understand nowadays. He’s not inexperienced in going with the flow, so Sam tried to focus on what was important at the moment.
Nazi’s, SHIELD, assassination attempts. Sam leaned against the counter, swirling his remaining water as if it were more liqueur. Maybe he should break open a bottle. Thinking back to what James said, Nazi’s in the government? He most definitely should.
“Okay. Say you’re right. How long do we have to wait? Honestly, I don’t have a way to call him, how will we meet him?”
“It shouldn’t be very long. Within the week, Cap will approach us, and we can tell him once we all get to a safe location.”
Sam tapped his mug. Nothing to do than to sit around then, twiddling his thumbs, knowing more than he should. With a stranger bunking in his house… a stranger that, now Sam thought about a little more than superficially, was apparently captured and defected to this Hydra.
Sam narrowed his eyes again. The whole ‘assassin’ thing, James kept repeating it. Was this guy going to snap or something?
“Hold on, you keep mentioning attempted murder and stalking. You have to explain more in depth. Are you compromised James? Can I even let you meet Steve Rogers when the time comes?”
“I removed my tracker states ago, and I terminated or lost anyone tracking me. You’re safe, as long as I stay hidden.” James exhaled brokenly.
“I have to admit, I’m not…100% safe. There's a specific way Hydra manipulated me. I never did anything willingly, and tried to escape hundreds of times.” He tapped his forehead lightly before continuing. “Command words were drilled into my subconscious to make it easier to control me as a tool. A series of random Russian code words that would make me oblige anyone who said them in the right sequence. That’s a big reason why I couldn’t-” James choked. Sam suddenly felt sympathetic towards the man, seemingly small in the dim lighting, despite his large stature. “Couldn’t escape, sooner.”
Sam stayed silent for a moment. “Did you get rid of this in the future?”
“Yes. I had to get a… complicated procedure done by some scientists in a type of research lab. They forced a medically induced coma, within a cryo-freeze chamber until they could erase the words from my head. I still had to go through grueling therapy afterwards to truly break their effect on me.”
Sam shuffled uncomfortably, then once again followed age old advice.
“I’m not going to lie, today was a bad day, and if you approached me better about this you could have saved me a world of stress. But, I am sorry for what has happened to you. No one should go through that.”
James didn’t say anything, just continued staring into his cup.
“I’ll help you James. I’ll help you recover, and keep you here in hiding until the time is right. Until we get those chains scrubbed from your head, and apparently save the world, I guess.”
He still didn’t say anything as Sam drank the rest of his water before placing it in the sink.
“Bucky.”
“Mmh?”
“Call me Bucky, instead of James. You called me that when we were first getting to know each other too. Close friends call me Bucky.”
Sam didn’t feel close friends with Jame-Bucky, but he’d try. If someone shows up at his doorstep begging for help, he is not one to turn them down, no matter how annoyed he is. His father taught him better than that. Sam smiled softly at Bucky, seeing just another veteran in need, resting at his kitchen table, government conspiracies aside.
“Alright then, Bucky, you can sleep in the guest bedroom upstairs, across the hall from mine.”
“Okay. Thank you Sam. Thank you.” Bucky whispered, refusing to look up as he soundlessly set his mug down and went up the stairs. “Oh and Bucky?” Sam called out behind him while he washed the dishes.
Still whispering, he replied. “Yes Sam?”
“Please, make some noise instead of ghosting around the place, you’ll give me a heart attack with how silent you are.”
Sam didn’t turn around to look at him, but he’s positive he could hear Bucky’s grin as he softly agreed.
The next morning Sam felt like he had a hangover, without having an actual hangover. Or maybe he was still asleep. Is this what lucid dreaming is?
Sam awoke, groggy, simultaneously well rested and sleep deprived, completely forgetting the events of yesterday. It wasn’t until he clumsily tumbled down the stairs, when a historical figure from his high school textbooks quietly greeted him with a cup of his favorite tea, guided him to the kitchen table to wait while he apparently prepared pancakes, that Sam’s mind provided the bare minimum of an explanation.
The white man - Bucky, Sam’s brain belatedly supplies - had no qualms in giving Sam a show by attempting to flip pancakes with one hand, causing his muscles to flex and bulge out of a black tank top.
Sam felt like he was straight out of a time travel 90’s flick; maybe meeting Captain America reminded him of his brief hyper fixation on the 107th way back when, gifting him a raunchy dream. Though, he wasn’t complaining at this very vivid fantasy, and if he wipes a sliver of drool from his mouth at one point, no one is none the wiser.
Once he eventually found his voice, and attained a semi-reasonable mind again, Sam figured it rude not to greet his guest. “Good morning Buck.”
“Good morning, Sam.” Bucky glanced at Sam, sparing him a small smile before getting back to work. He was clearly intent on cooking all the pancakes before serving any, despite Sam’s audibly growling stomach.
“I should have asked before using your kitchen, I will clean it by the way, I just thought you could use a little pick me up this morning. Today’s your day off right?” He flipped another pancake, more successfully this time, plating the golden brown goodness while just as delicious. Sam was getting distracted. He seriously needed to get a grip.
“Yesterday was my impromptu day off, because someone decided to throw off my schedule. Today I have some catchup paperwork to do for the clinic.”
“Sorry again.”
“‘S all good Bucky. Thank you for breakfast. It really is okay.”
Bucky smiled shyly, quickly tidied up the kitchen, then served them both.
Neither men said a word, sharing companionable silence over breakfast. Bucky handed him another cup of tea - he later realized he never told Bucky his favorite morning tea, nor where it was stashed away from temptation - before Sam worked up the courage to get to the point.
“So.”
“So…” Bucky drawled as he washed the dishes.
“I’m going to ask some questions.”
He slightly faltered soaping up the sponge. “Shoot.”
“How and when did you get in my house?”
When Bucky looked up, grinning at the question Sam knew he wasn’t going to like his reply. “When you got into the Uber, I knew where you were going so I jogged over, and right when the cops came I slid through your bedroom window. You really should get a security system Sam.”
The veteran raised an eyebrow at this. He'll show Bucky security when he installed it later that day. Poignant sass aside. “How did you beat a car going 30-40 miles per hour? And scale a two story house with no footing?”
“I work in mysterious ways.” Bucky winked at Sam, and he was suddenly thankful for his dark complexion, taking a gratuitous sip of his tea.
“Seriously though, the very first Hydra experiment was trying to copy the super soldier serum Stevie got injected with decades ago. They didn’t really succeed completely, no one ever did. I got a-”
“A boot-legg version?”
Bucky chuckled coldly, shaking off excess water from a plate. “Yeah. I didn’t quite quadruple in size like Cap, but I still got the metabolism, healing, strength and speed for it.”
“Mmh…”
“Something else on your mind Sam?”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but did it make your, you know, bigger?”
“My-” Some pink dusted Bucky’s cheeks again as he cleared his throat unnecessarily. “Yes…unlike Steve’s.”
“Oh-oh that’s unfortunate.” Sam laughed into his cup, the grand Captain America, larger than life itself, didn’t have quite the package to match apparently.
“Don’t tell him I told you this. I’m only telling you now because he tells you after he gets drunk off Thor’s Asgardian liquor.”
“Holy- that must be some strong alcohol if it can do that to a super soldier.”
“Never tried it myself, heard good things from Stevie about it.” Bucky finished the last pan, leaving them on the rack to dry, and joined Sam at the table.
Wait a damn minute, Sam knew he was being watched the whole time in the bar, Bucky saw him order the Uber and was holding onto his book last night. "Hang on, hang on. Does that mean you saw me get a drink thrown in my face?"
Bucky grinned a little too easily. "Yeah, got some on me too. Almost blew my cover by laughing."
"Huh? Were you sitting right next to me or something?!"
Bucky tilted his head, eyes full of mirth. "So you knew I was watching but couldn't pinpoint where. I'd say you're slacking Samuel." Sam stomped his foot on Bucky’s, earning a satisfying yelp from the other man.
"Ow… I was sitting in the seat behind you. I grabbed your book after you stormed out, it was the least I could have done for not stepping in. Speaking of which…"
Bucky pulled out $60 and laid the bill's neatly in front of Sam. "She ended up paying for it."
"Wha-"
"I told you before, didn't I?” Bucky said with a wink. “Any other questions?"
Sam gawked as he slid the bill's into his pocket. He had to admit the guys skills were kind of impressive, though he’d never give a genuine compliment out loud.
To answer Bucky, he pondered asking about the ‘bad stuff’ again, alternatively deciding on a less heavy question. “If you’re from the future, are you even supposed to be here? Did this happen before-in the future-I mean past?”
The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up a little at Sam’s fumble. “I’m not even sure how it works either, but no, it didn’t. I was still under Hydra’s control the first time around.” He hums thoughtfully before continuing, “There is someone who’s more of an expert with this stuff, but from Avengers files I've read, there’s no way to contact him until 2016, and I’m not sure who his predecessor was."
“Predecessor.” Sam mocked. “What is he like a wizard or something?” He laughed at his own joke, but when Bucky just stared at him dead in the eye, not a twitch, chuckle or giggle, Sam faltered.
“You’re…kidding right.”
Bucky shook his head in dismay.
“...Purposefully ignoring that until it’s actually important, how did you wake up here in the first place?”
Bucky looked apprehensive, before scratching the back of his head. Bucky made himself a cup of coffee, as if to keep busy, while explaining the events preceding their meeting. During his story, Sam couldn’t help but inquire more about Bucky’s relationship with Hydra, spurring Bucky to briefly summarize his time in captivity, escape, and his revenge.
Sam was pensive as he played with the cold tea bag in his cup, hearing Bucky gulp at his unnatural silence. “You… and Steve were the most important people in my life besides the team who treated me. I would never again be the same man Steve knew before he went into the ice, but I made a new life for myself, eventually. Recovered as much as I could. You were a really big part in that too.”
Sam sighed minutely. He couldn’t begin to empathize with Bucky, and he could tell the other man was holding back on retelling his experiences. Even though it seemed like Bucky eventually made amends, it also appeared Future Sam couldn’t step in for his recovery until a few more years down the line. It made him want to help Bucky even more, now . Sam got the feeling that even if Bucky suddenly changed his mind about needing Sam, he wouldn’t be able to let him go in good conscious.
With what Bucky knows, and the trauma of having to deal with all of this a second time, the experience of being ripped out of a normal day - hell, Sam’s mind still couldn’t fathom it. How he and Bucky were taking a walk in a park together, Bucky tripped, passed out and suddenly woke up 10 years in the past. How in the world was Bucky handling the whiplash? Which got him thinking, if this wasn’t the bad stuff, Bucky’s past, the government conspiracies, freaking aliens, it made Sam scared. Genuinely scared. For the first time in a long time. Maybe knowing the future really wasn’t a good idea. Sam felt there was more to this thought, but understood he wouldn’t be able to articulate it properly, so he decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.
With more inquiries about his recovery, Bucky geeked out about Shuri’s workshop, T’Challa’s unique powers and the wonders of the Birnin Zana, along with how well the Wakandans integrate the natural world into their magnificent architecture. Sam freaked out, having heard legends of a place where black people ruled luxuriously and generously. Knowing it was real was better than finding out about Disneyland. Through Bucky’s detailed description of the hidden country, Sam almost felt like he was there, stepping off the quinjet, shaking hands with the King, and soaking in the glittering golds with the man across from him.
It took a minute for their laughter to die down at Bucky’s recount of Steve trying to pronounce ‘Amanzi Kwakhona Umlambo’ at the King’s insistence. Once Sam was able to catch his breath, he patted Bucky’s arm stretched out across the table, wordlessly excusing himself to get some work done. The other man nodded, a pleased expression settling his face.
Sam thought it was a satisfying alternative to the strained one Bucky had earlier.