The Man With Two Brains
"He's here."
Sam accidentally knocked his hip into the kitchen counter. Bucky wasn't even looking out of a window, hadn’t looked up or moved an inch since Sam came back from his morning run. Sam almost forgot he was there.
He rolled his eyes. "What are you doing still sitting there then?" They talked through what they'd disclose, how they’d introduce Bucky, ran through a few scenarios of Steve and Natasha's reaction, but there was only so much they could hypothesize. The past week culminated to this critical moment.
Using the cool air of the refrigerator to calm himself, Sam tried deciding what he was thirsty for while Bucky inaudibly climbed upstairs to Sam’s bedroom. The silence was deafening. He wondered, not for the first time that week, what the fuck he was doing.
Housing an unfairly attractive ex-assassin, moderately getting along with the man, and about to become a wanted fugitive with the Avengers.
Sam called Sarah after Bucky told him he’d become a wanted man for who knows how long. He couldn’t tell her much, despondent at the amount of time he could potentially lose with his family. She pestered him of course, almost pulling out the truth, until Bucky strolled into the kitchen for some ‘water’ - he could have sworn the man was eavesdropping from the look on his face, almost saying loose lips sink ships - compelling Sam to stick to his guns. His lie was doing some underground contract work for the government, and that no matter what happens on the news or otherwise, he loved her, Jody, AJ and Cas, he’d come back soon bearing gifts. Sam hoped so, bringing them treasures from Wakanda would be less than the bare minimum he could do.
Sarah, pissed as hell, dropped it, bidding him good luck in the form of threats of murder if he died. He held onto the hope that missing his family would be the worst thing about this looming adventure.
The knock at the door almost made Sam drop the orange juice. He retracted the blinds, opening the door hesitantly, unprepared for how shaken they looked.
Steve met his eyes. “Sorry about this, we need a place to lay low.”
Natasha kept glancing over her shoulder, making Sam nervous. “Everyone we know is trying to kill us.”
Sam glanced between Captain America and the Black Widow, rattled and dirty, desperate at his doorstep.
His hope died pretty quickly.
“Not everyone.” Sam stepped to the side to let them in, scanning the surrounding environment for any anomalies before slamming it shut.
Wincing slightly at how loud it was, Bucky made an even greater conscious effort to be as still as possible, slowing even his heartbeat.
It was certainly challenging, considering the image Sam imprinted on his brain not even 10 minutes ago. Bucky sat at the table with some coffee, hoping it’d calm his anxiety. Right when he felt more centered, Sam sauntered through the door, leaving almost nothing to Bucky’s imagination. Sweat stained Sam’s ridiculously too tight spandex dark blue t-shirt, muscles bulged from the leftover adrenaline, his pants were borderline salivating. Sooner than he could unravel why his thoughts escalated so quickly. Bucky picked up on Steve and Natasha’s one-of-a-kind footsteps about a block away, trying and frankly failing to ignore the heat radiating from Sam.
The guest bedroom was right across from where Bucky was sitting, on Sam’s bed.
Shuttap brain fuck, Steve’s gonna hear me-
Bucky focused on what they were discussing to distract himself. Steve wasn’t the best at comforting, but he would pat his buddy on the back for how well he handled Natasha’s inching existential crisis. He always wondered how close their relationship was, understanding now why Natasha followed Captain America so closely. If anything remained the same over the years, it was Natasha’s admiration of honesty, despite her own habits. Even when Bucky trained her in the Red Room, he was the only one to ever give her whole, honest pointers, instead of the half assed complaints or compliments she’d otherwise receive.
Sam interrupted their conversation, inviting them down for breakfast. He could see more than hear Steve’s might as well expression. Bucky frowned. He also wanted breakfast. Sam’s eggs - huevos pericos Bucky, say it right - were to die for. If he waited until after they finished breakfast, about when he estimated Sam would call him down, the food would be cold. Plus, Bucky bet Steve’s expression would be hilarious - bell pepper and onion, half-mushed falling from his mouth while Bucky plopped right across from him.
A chuckle escaped Bucky before he could stop, immediately regretting it. He could hear the pause of the plates, and could almost hear Steve give himself a stroke from listening so hard.
“Sam, there’s…no one else here, right?”
Shit.
He heard Sam swallow. “First off, y'all aren’t in danger. I wouldn’t let you in if you were.” Natasha stopped chewing. “Yes, someone is here. Someone who can help.” Sam tried to placate them. Bucky could just see the minute panic on their faces, tempted to introduce himself at that moment, just to take the heat off Sam. Even so, he and Sam agreed. Bucky doesn’t make a move until Sam utters the code ‘locals only’.
“Sam, who is in your bedroom?” Bucky almost clicked his teeth, his friend already pinpointed his location. Damn Steve’s good hearing.
“There’s no easy way to say this. I knew you both were coming, and heard a little already about Hydra. He showed up on my doorstep about a week ago, but I couldn’t contact you since there was a risk you both were already compromised. I had to wait until you two came to find me.” Sam was tense, unsure how this would play out. He gulped again. “He was declared dead. Tortured for decades, mind controlled to do Hydra’s bidding, but he eventually escaped. He came to find me, since he knew you two would seek refuge here.”
Steve’s unwavering pensive stare was making Sam want to fidget. No more excuses to postpone the inevitable, he raised his voice.
“Locals Only.”
Bucky’s footsteps were clearly audible from his bedroom, as if he put more weight in his step to alert the guests. Steve and Natasha whipped their heads to trace the sound, following keenly like wolves as the steps grew achingly closer. Through the hall, down the steps, excruciatingly slowly.
Once he reached the last step, Bucky finally looked up, meeting Steve’s eyes.
“Long time no see.”
Steve didn’t move for a second. Bucky just maintained his stare, he couldn’t see what Natasha’s face was doing. Probably something close to shock. Steve slowly rose to his feet.
“Bucky?” He asked softly. As if Bucky was going to pull off a face mask and say sike!
Bucky stifled a sudden burst of emotion. Becoming a semi-functional human being in the future, the reunion now was surprisingly harder than Bucky expected it to be. The first time, they both had ample time to become more accustomed to the idea of each other being alive, moving in and out of each other's lives for at least a year. Bucky researched as much as he could about their history, their friendship, his own identity, yet always felt like he was looking through a kaleidoscope. James Buchanan Barnes died on that experimentation table. He was shattered, different identities, the ebb and flow of who he was constantly changing over time. Understanding this, he grew apprehensive of Steve, despising the pressure he subtly felt from his old friend, and Sam stalking him proved to frustrate him further.
However this time, relief replaced the malice he felt as Steve hugged him close.
“Bucky…what…how are you-?” Bucky felt something wet stain his shoulder as Steve buried his face in the crook of his neck.
“Long story Stevie.” Bucky laughed, patting Steve’s back as he pulled back. He took a good, long look at Steve, holding his friend's neck and patting him again. Untainted, like Sam, from the worst of it. The Old Man was the last memory he had of Steve, which was unnerving, to see such a sudden change and to know he was the only one left. Bucky matched Steve’s wet smile, before looking at Natasha, standing in the spot she sat. The poor woman retained the same unsure, guarded expression he remembered from the first day they met.
“Natalia, Отставить, малыш.” (Stand down, little one.)
Her shoulders visibly relaxed. Bucky huffed, smiling a little wider before walking over to her.
“Ты выглядишь так, будто съел украденный кислый виноград, который ты считал конфетами.” (You look like you ate those stolen sour grapes, the ones you thought were candy.)
She raised her eyebrow, eyes red from nonexistent tears. He reached to squeeze her shoulder. “Ты тоже думал, что это конфеты.” (You thought they were candy too.)
Bucky smiled wider as she hesitantly stepped into his arms. He whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Вы прекрасно выросли.” (You grew up beautifully.) She chuckled softly, letting herself loosen just a little.
Steve cleared his throat, prompting Natasha to quickly step back, turning away from the rest of them. “Is this part of your long story too Buck?” Bucky couldn’t resist winking at Steve, earning him a half smile and disapproving head shake.
“So no one’s gonna kill each other?”
Steve laughed boisterously at Sam’s comment. “No, quite the opposite. We have a lot of catching up to do.”