"Halfway Happy"
Bucky was having a hard time remembering this wasn’t… his Sam.
That same Sunday, he hadn’t moved from the kitchen table, passing time with the Revenant he’d secretly swiped from Sam’s desk. Sam simply gave Bucky a huff and nod, which he took as enough permission.
Occupying the shared space was initially an attempt to show that Sam didn’t need to be apprehensive around him. Not that Bucky really tried to make any conversation the two times Sam would emerge from his bedroom, allured by snacks Bucky prepared. Although, he’d still pat himself on the back for the effort, considering it progress in comparison to tense car ride Steve tried and failed to alleviate. Each time, he was rewarded with a gracious smile from Sam, compelling Bucky to remain in his spot against the flares of agitation from existing out of time.
Bucky tried to relax and focus on the book. Truthfully, since last Tuesday Bucky didn’t afford himself a moment to catch his breath or question his morality out of fear of barely missing Sam, of missing his window of opportunity. If he was late, who knows where Sam could have gone into hiding with Natasha and Steve, since he wouldn’t ambush them on the highway. And, despite swearing off killing once he was ‘free’, he couldn’t spare the same sentiment on his trek to Washington D.C. There were too many Hydra agents crawling around, and although he was able to fly under their radar, he was forced to remove any risk that crossed his path. It was incredibly statistically low that Hydra traced Bucky to Sam’s, he ensured that, yet bits of anxiety still lingered. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to unpacking at the moment, so he buried the anxiety deep, deep down for his nightmares.
It was relatively peaceful, until Sam practically shoved Bucky out of the way in a frenzy to open a mysterious box that arrived at his door late into the evening.
“What’s got you so excited?” Bucky questioned, annoyed at Sam’s secretiveness.
“You’re gonna eat your words from earlier, that’s what.”
“My words?” Bucky quickly tried to run through their morning conversation, worried he said something improper or offensive. If this was his Sam, he wouldn’t be so concerned, he'd bite back, but he was trying to remain on his best behavior. First impressions were important, and since his didn't go so well he felt the non-existent pressure on his shoulders to make up for it.
Sam must’ve picked up on his concern. He hesitated digging the switchblade into the cardboard. He chuckled warmly and finished opening the package, beckoning for Bucky to see clearly what he meant.
“That…that is funny. Did you order those after this morning?” Bucky leaned against the table, unable to hide the amusement.
Sam didn’t spare Bucky a glance as he dumped the contents, organizing the pieces of the security system. “First off, how do you know about same day delivery? Aren’t you like a century old? Secondly, no, you were just lucky last night. With these babies, not even a super-secret assassin super-soldier can safely lurk around my place. Ha, say that ten times.”
The challenge was just irresistible. As much as Bucky tried to channel his inner 40’s gentleman, not even 24 hours in and they were already bantering.
“Back in my day, we already had same day delivery. The grocery store." Sam rolled his eyes. "And this super-secret assassin super-soldier will see about that.” Bucky purposefully let egoism drip from his words, fixated at Sam’s quirked eyebrow, quipping back, ‘do your worst’.
Not a second later, he suddenly remembered this wasn’t… his Sam.
When they were setting up a security system for their place in Louisiana, Sam incited a similar competitiveness in Bucky. Sam was insistent it was his uniform that granted him an impossibly soundless step. Without it, Bucky bumbled around without a care in the world, knocking over their photograpghs and snapping their Ikea coffee table in half from putting his feet up. In his defense, he said Sam made him too relaxed. Sam scoffed, discounting his assassination skills. Bucky, mock offended, refuted Sam’s statement through hiding from the cameras, initiating an intense game of cat and mouse.
If Bucky needed to take out the trash, he’d avoid the East and West cameras by scaling the roof to access the garbage bins on the other side of the house. If he needed to get the mail, he’d slip through the laundry room awning in the dead of night, checking his six behind the trees to avoid the rotating front door camera. One day, in order to wash Sam’s gray truck in the driveway, he ducked under the car and pointed the hose upward, and stood on the roof to aim the soap. That earned the ugliest laugh he’d heard from Sam, as they re-watched the surveillance footage a hundred times together.
And because Sam was an intelligent strategist, he eventually caught on to Bucky’s alternative routes, installing more cameras, outside and inside. They eventually called it quits, after Bucky nearly suffered a panic attack when Sam’s voice emanated from a hidden camera, poking fun at how long he spent in the bathroom.
Sam felt guilty, but saved the photo of Bucky’s horrified expression as his contact photo. He never did find out where it was located.
The Sam before him took Bucky’s silence as indication to focus on the task before him, so the other man began preparing dinner as a distraction. To his dismay, Bucky just couldn’t stop thinking about his Sam as he prepared dinner. Sam, who was muttering under his breath behind him, is technically Sam sure, but he hasn't experienced the same things that developed their friendship, their partnership yet. It made Bucky feel a confusing swirl of loneliness, to know he couldn’t just stroll over to hug Sam tight, laugh and cry at the ridiculousness of the situation, while wanting nothing more than to actually prevent him from hurting as much as he had the past - or next - 10 years.
Bucky critically understood, however, he couldn’t let himself get too comfortable with this Sam. Akin to opening the can of red beans in front of him, he wouldn't open the can of worms behind his plan to interrupt the ‘main timeline’, focusing on surviving one day at a time. He’d be more open with Sam this time, balancing an emotional distance of course, building the same kind of dynamic they had before be impossible. Bucky knew it’d be wrong to try and force the same thing anyways. No matter how hard he had tried to feel relieved, and a part of him was to see Sam, it wasn’t the same. It won’t last .
A similar thought he recalled having after a particularly bad fight two months into their partnership.
Flag Smasher copycats had popped up all over the place, serving as a platter of busy work for the two of them. These people weren’t supersoldiers, but they took steroids and strength drugs to mimic the effects. Captain America and White Wolf wisely used these missions as a trial run to understand each other on the battlefield; how Sam could compliment Bucky’s low kick, how Bucky could follow up on Sam’s wing shield. They used Sarah’s front yard as a think tank, going so far as to draw hardly discernible diagrams in the dirt road for hypothetical enemy attack patterns.
After a handful of missions that deviated from this agenda, Bucky got careless once they picked up another copycat case. Sam paid close attention to the mission brief from Torres, while a blue jay building a nest right outside the window utterly entranced Bucky. Sam recognized Bucky’s aloofness, settling on emphasizing their stealth and surprise attack routines instead of re-explaining everything. Bucky, assuming the risk of a super soldier was near zero, did not bother to retain the necessary vigilance Torres and Sam forewarned when they encountered their first target, who was in fact, a super soldier.
While they completed the mission of debilitating the encampment filled with only two super soldiers and five drugged targets, Bucky was extracted with his flesh arm broken, two fractured ribs, and a nasty lump in the back of his skull from being slammed against a tree. Sam fared slightly better, with a bruised collarbone and some superficial knife lacerations.
Sam didn’t speak to Bucky the whole ride home, which aggravated Bucky to the point of shoving the other man's shoulder for attention. He then rightfully snapped at Bucky for being negligent, risking not only Sam’s life, but his own. He shouldn’t have been so cocky, he shouldn’t have devolved the altercation into a fist fight, he should’ve choked the guy out instead. Bucky argued back, pointing out Sam could have helped, of course he wasn’t prepared considering the typical mission, it wasn’t that easy to take out a super-soldier. He’d never admit it aloud, but Sam’s temper and sass ranked top five on Bucky’s list of things to be afraid of. Of course, his partner bit back, stating bluntly he knew exactly how difficult it was, giving Bucky a cutting glare. Bucky reacted poorly, childishly avoiding responsibility. if Sam was going to continuously hold his mistakes over his head, mistakes Sam himself stressed weren’t his own, how would they ever last?
In the moment, it felt devastating to sit in the stifling silence of the aircraft. Now, Bucky chuckled at the memory. This wasn’t his Sam, and he’d have to remember that. He’d avoid imposing his Sam on this one, avoid mentioning things he knew of Sam, keep to himself without being reclusive.
Which was easier said than done.
Was this the pressure Steve felt with Bucky?
Once Bucky plated their dinner, Sam paused at the sight of his plate.
Sam hummed as he took the first bite. “Wow, it tastes like how my Titi used to make red beans and rice. She’d throw in plantains too. I didn’t even know I had these ingredients. Only thing missing is it’s not a Monday night.”
Bucky hesitated, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he cursed himself out in his head. In all his reminiscing he nostalgically chose to make the same meal Sam did on their first mission together after the Flagsmashers. The same one from Sam's childhood.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Y-yeah, you have quite the pantry.”
Sam looked at Bucky, indiscernible. The same one from that morning as he got up and left to work, and last night when he asked about their partnership. As if he was scanning the pages of Bucky’s mind while trying to decode Bucky's thoughts at the same time .
“Did you know?” Sam asked between bites.
He thought about telling the truth for a millisecond.
“No. I didn’t.” Bucky met his eyes this time. If Sam could tell he was lying, he didn’t say anything.
That was one of two lies he’d already told, the other being what he was doing before he woke up 10 years in the past.
It certainly wasn’t the last one he told over the next few days.
Bucky came to realize, with the difficulty of understanding this wasn’t his Sam, came with a remarkably easy capacity to lie. He lied about how he knew where Sam’s favorite morning tea was hidden. About how he knew where the security cameras were located. Where Sam’s clippers were in the shared bathroom when he asked for them. How he knew Sam’s favorite takeout was Hooks n’ Fish, when he was too lazy to cook on Tuesday. How he knew to play Sam’s favorite show Community Wednesday evening while they ate.
They were still technically the same person. Would Sam remember these lies? Would those lies catch up to him in the future? Is there even a risk for Sam to find out he was lying if Thanos is prevented, if they recruit new Avengers to provide support on that fateful mission? If he even stays in the past for that long?
Hell, Bucky was rewriting the past just by being here. Is Bucky at risk of losing his memories? Does that mean the time they spent together, their future together, is erased? What even happened to his present version of himself? Did they switch bodies or did his old self just die, or disappear?
So far Bucky had been semi-confidently predicting the future. How much of it would be thrown off by his actions thus far? Of debriefing the future to Sam?
The questions just kept flooding his brain. Crippling migraines kept rooting in his head from just thinking , but he couldn't help it. As days passed, the knots in Bucky’s head became worse and worse, the only alleviating action he could take was to remain in shared spaces for his own sanity. One of his favorite things about Sam, had shined through as a result. He carried on as if Bucky co-inhabiting his home was normal, as if they were new roommates getting to know each other. If he saw Bucky was zoning out for too long, Sam would sit across from Bucky with his laptop, or a random newspaper which would turn into passing the daily crossword back and forth.
Becoming accustomed to each other was much easier than the… real …first time they moved in together. This Sam didn’t really know Steve yet. Didn’t traverse Europe with Captain America. Hasn’t seen the Winter Soldier first hand. Isn’t on the run from the government yet. He’s still fresh out of the military, still recovering from Riley - though Bucky didn’t disclose to Sam he knew about his old partner. This Sam had different nightmares - ones about Afghanistan, instead of Thanos, Karli, martyrs and betrayal - that had him meeting Bucky in the kitchen at 3am. Alternatively, Bucky’s nightmares were solely about dying in his Sam’s arms, reliving the moment unable to move and comfort Sam as his world faded. When Past Sam asked him about why he was awake on Wednesday, Bucky lied again, using reliving Hydra torture as a scapegoat. He muses it would be true, had he never wormed his way into Sam’s life, had Sam never accepted Bucky into his family in the future. Either way, Bucky found himself retelling some of the more family friendly horrors he experienced, hearing a mirror of future Sam comforting him, listening to him, empathizing with him. While he’s grown accustomed to dealing with his issues in a healthier way, having gained the tools and support over time, he still found himself reopening old wounds with this Sam, along with easing the gaping one he felt at the moment.
It was much easier, as the two quickly picked up on each other's habits in less than a week. Bucky would cook or order food, and tidy up while Sam, working at the VA, picked up groceries and books for Bucky to entertain himself with. Until Steve dropped by at the VA on Friday.
"He seemed okay, distant. I gave him my number." Sam spoke through chewing on some of the garlic bread Bucky prepared as an appetizer.
He hummed in response, picking at his own with a fork. "It won't be long then, give or take a day. We should pack."
Sam apprehensively nodded. "We're really going on the run?"
Bucky explained to Sam on Monday what it'd really mean for Steve and Natasha to seek refuge. It gave Sam ample time over the week to sort out any unfinished business, yet Bucky still felt guilty, once again doubting the logistical decision of getting to Sam first. "We have no other choice."
The sound of scraping plates and utensils replaced their usual amicable small talk over dinner. It was tense, Bucky unable to meet Sam’s eyes as he cleared the table. Sam’s expression was unreadable, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves.
They later bid goodnight at their doorways, Bucky unable to resist calling out to Sam before he closed his bedroom door.
“Sam.”
He blinked in surprise, reopening his door fully. “Yes?”
“I-Thank you. For believing me. Taking me in.” Bucky still couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes.
He responded as Bucky predicted he would. “Of course man. Honestly, I did some research on you that night and you checked out. Even before then I was halfway to believing you, or planning on getting you some serious help.” They both chuckled. “Talking with Steve today just made everything more…”
“Real?”
Sam grimaced. “Yeah. I’m nervous. Scared. Don’t know if it was better or worse for me to know as much as I do right now.” Bucky gulped, guilt rearing its ugly head on his shoulders. “But if I can do something about it, I can’t sit still. If we can prevent people from dying, whether or not it's good you’re here doesn't matter anymore. So thank you, instead. For risking so much to come find me, to risk your ‘future’ to save others. You’re a good man. ”
Bucky wasn’t expecting that, though he should’ve considered what type of person Sam was. The other man didn’t even wait for Bucky to reply, hopefully didn’t see the heat rising on Bucky’s face either, before closing his door. Stunned, Bucky could only do the same, tugging his hand over his face.
“Shit.”