Bad Habits
Sam once again found himself staring into the frigid void of his refrigerator. A creak in the floorboard startled him out of his reverie, although he already knew who was lurking.
He shut the door, nodding at Bucky whose hip rested against the kitchen counter. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Sam replied, leaning against the refrigerator. Maybe he should move, they were a little close, less than two feet of distance. Close enough to smell something familiar. Sam sniffed.
“Did you…spray some of my cologne?”
Pink dusted Bucky’s cheeks but he didn’t move. “What are you talking about?”
“Was it before or after Steve and Natasha arrived?” Sam was intrigued by what could have possibly spurred Bucky to jeopardize his position. From what he’d been told by Steve and Bucky, super-soldiers can smell and hear up to miles if they tried. Not that it really mattered, because once he found out Steve heard a chuckle from Bucky in his bedroom later, he scolded his ass, internally admitting his image of shocked Steve was pretty funny.
“...Before. I wasn’t-”
Sam didn’t have the energy to laugh as much as he wanted to. “Man, who were you tryna impress? Got a little cuddly with the Black Widow for a second-”
“First off, no one! I was curious ‘cause I’d never seen that fragrance before-”
Sam mocked his word choice silently, inciting Bucky to take a closer step, as if that’d prove his point.
“And secondly, nothin’ between Natalia and I. What I said over dinner. Ain’t gotta worry about that sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice dipped halfway through, a Brooklyn accent peeking through his words.
Sam sobered, unable to resist glancing at Bucky’s lips before realizing how…closer they were standing. He looked back at Bucky, thinking he’d catch his gaze, finding Bucky’s own eyes trained on his mouth.
Sam cleared his throat, Bucky didn't move. He made eye contact.
“Hey.” Wow, Sam, clever.
“Hey yourself.” Bucky replied this time. He could make out a small scar under Bucky’s left eye, and confirmed his suspicions the man had an inch or two on him.
“You alright? Did a lot of chatting, something you’re not used to.” Sam whispered, subconsciously un-wanting to break whatever was slowly building in the air around them.
“Worried about me sweetheart?” Bucky cocked his head, annoyingly so. Maybe seeing his old friends dislodged something in his head, because his roommate from the past week hadn’t been this flirtatious. It was dangerous . “Yes, I’m okay, thank you for asking. It was more than I had done in a while. Necessary though.”
Sam nodded, this time turning slightly from Bucky’s direction to focus on his cabinet. Bucky held his stare to Sam's profile. Intent Sam couldn’t read practically vibrating out of him. This is escalating too fast. What was escalating, exactly ? Bucky had a habit of staring at Sam, but it never felt like...this.
Maybe he should tear out his kitchen. He’ll do it once he comes back. If he comes back.
“Are you okay? You didn’t really react much to what Steve said.”
Sam cleared his throat, looking back at Bucky. It wasn’t the first time he expressed concern about Sam over the week, randomly asking him if he was okay at all the moments he wasn’t. Sam had always been good at hiding his nervous breakdowns or anxiety attacks, yet Bucky managed to pinpoint almost every one, rushing to his side. For comfort or distraction, Sam knew he was willing to help, but never accepted the kind offer. Each time he’d been able to calm himself, it still made Sam wonder.
“You already told me about the corruptive hold Hydra has on the government. Not saying I was expecting Project Insight, STRIKE’s real purpose, nor the Lemurian Star file, but those are the details.” Sam shrugged. He had to take a quick vacation to his happy place after he heard of the supermassive satellite that would murder probably 70% of the Eastern Seaboard. “Fucked up details, details nonetheless.”
Bucky tilted his head again to the side, as if questioning. “I’ll be fine. We have a job to do. I appreciate the concern. You worried about me Bucky?” Sam jeered. Mostly to wave off the scrutiny, partially to keep up whatever they had going on.
Bucky looked like he wanted to say something, before his face twisted as if to choose a less controversial option. “You think it was okay not to tell them about the time travel thing?” Sam hummed, if that was his alternative conversation topic, what was the first choice?
“I don’t like withholding information, but the less people know about it the better. We should only change what’s necessary, and disclose it if absolutely necessary.” Bucky and Sam justified the POW’s presence through lying only about how long he’d escaped, and how he knew to track Sam down. Knowing of Hydra’s plans, once he saw Steve and Sam converse, he researched Sam, taking a gamble the former would rely on Sam once he caught on to SHIELD's plans. Natasha and Steve accepted the dodgy explanation to their relief.
“Plus, you don’t know everything and you won’t even be honest with what you do know.”
Sam couldn’t help it. He wasn’t gullible, like Bucky made him out to be. While he wasn’t sure, he picked up on a few potential lies Bucky had told him. Some were easier to spot than others, and there were probably more. He never pointed them out, since Bucky appeared to have a reason to cover how much he actually knew Sam after their initial meeting.
Bucky choked on nothing, standing a little straighter. “I-I am. Honest.”
Sam turned his head back to Bucky incredulously. Really, this game?
Maybe it was because it had been a while since he played one himself, and had been given relatively enough time between traumatizing life experiences, that he felt like taking whatever this was a little further.
“Uh-huh. So you weren’t lying when you said we’re just partners?” Sam took a step closer.
Bucky took a step backward. “You weren’t lying about how you knew my favorite tea?”
Another step.
“How you knew my favorite show?”
Another step.
“How you knew I’d make huevos pericos?”
Another…step.
“You weren’t lying about why you chose to spray the cologne reserved only for date nights?”
Last. Step.
Sam crowded Bucky against the corner, the other man flushed down to his neck.
“Why are you calling me sweetheart?”
Bucky gaped open his mouth, unable to form words. Sam leaned in a little closer, more curious than anything. Was he really right on the nose? He wasn’t expecting to be. Sam had a feeling Bucky was hiding things, maybe was even a little attracted to Sam. He leaned back, just in time for Steve to round the corner.
“Oh…Am I interrupting?”
Sam didn’t take his eyes off Bucky as he said no, patting Bucky’s shoulder and bidding them both goodnight. Bucky’s eyes trailed Sam as he walked away, lingering on where he disappeared up the staircase.
“So…you leave something else out at dinner Buck?”
“Huh?” Bucky turned to Steve, he forgot he was standing there. Shit. He was thinking that far too often lately.
“No. Couldn’t sleep either.” Bucky didn’t acknowledge Steve’s suspicious scrutiny as he focused on finding something to do, settling on putting away the remaining dishes.
Steve was never one to let Bucky live anything down. It was one of his worst traits no one ever saw. Even in the future, amongst their bickering and arguing, Steve was the first to point out after the final battle, with an all too eager smile, how good of a team he and Sam were. He nudged Bucky’s shoulder while he quietly helped Sam with his wing maintenance. He mentioned how nice it was that Bucky cared so much about how Sam might react to being omitted in Steve’s final decision. He winked at Bucky when they were driving to Stark’s funeral, eyes communicating that he saw them in the bathroom. Bucky never got the chance to correct him, he never completely understood what Steve was trying to convey; regardless, it likely wouldn't have deterred his friend's secret desire for drama.
In the end, it wasn’t out of character for Steve to do exactly what he was doing now.
He opened the fridge to get himself an apple. Who eats an apple at 9pm? “I see.” If it was someone who didn't know him, they wouldn’t catch the undertone of mischief. Bucky rolled his eyes, hoping Steve even heard his trochlea move from the effort.
“I know you rolled your eyes, Bucky.” He mocked Steve’s condescending tone soundlessly as he put the last plate away.
“I mean, I just met the guy, but I can see why you’re sweet on him.” Bucky cringed, at both the sound of the obnoxious apple crunching under Steve’s teeth, and his comment. He loved his friend, he really did, but Steve was increasingly annoying the younger he got.
“I’m not sweet on him. Just met him too. Could you chew any louder?” He still didn’t turn to look at Steve.
“Less than a week huh?” Steve tossed the apple in the air a few times before posting himself right next to a fuming Bucky. “You’ve fallen in and out of situationships with girls and guys in half the time.” Steve had the audacity to laugh, ducking as Bucky swiped at him with his metal arm.
Promiscuous wasn’t who he was anymore, who he stopped being decades ago. He didn’t like Sam like that, not now, not in the future. Sure, he was a grown man, he could admit he had a tiny, tiny crush, admittedly was very interested to see how Sam’s biceps would tast- goddamnit - yet the logistics of a relationship, a real one, wasn’t doable for people in their position. The job came first, and pursuing whatever they were slowly, subtly flirting towards in the future, no matter how tempting to indulge the tiniest bit, would only lead to disaster. No. The reason for his fuzzy feelings remained in the fact that they were extremely close. Coworkers, roommates, mission partners and family, as adopted by Sam’s. There was no way to not eventually find him attractive, but Bucky was realistic, and understood how human emotion worked. Things simply could get confusing, muddy with friends sometimes, that didn’t mean he wanted anything more.
“Woah Nelly, I’m just trying to get a better understanding of…whatever that is alright?”
“I thought Natasha was supposed to be the nosy one.” Bucky grit through his teeth. “There’s nothing goin’ on. He was asking me about stuff alright? Nothin’ to be worried about on the field or otherwise. Drop it.”
Steve raised an eyebrow, turning serious at Bucky’s simmered anger. “Okay buddy, didn’t mean to make you upset.” Steve set a soothing hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m not really worried about that. Just worried about you. I want you to be happy, Bucky.”
Bucky rolled his eyes again, less aggressively this time. “Not even a couple hours in and you’re already back to the same habits.”
Steve grinned. “Not my fault you are too, flirting with studs every chance you got.” Bucky shook his head, only a little amused.
“To tell you the truth Stevie, that’s nowhere near who I am now.” His eyes conveyed that he understood the deeper implications of what Bucky was saying. The ex-assassin had been through too much to be the same person, but glimpses of him still remained. Steve understood that better than anyone.
And still loved to beat a dead horse. “So it is courtship then?”
Bucky swung, making a conscious effort not to wake Sam as he head-locked a giggling Steve in the kitchen.
Around midnight, the house stirred awake. Everyone moved in quiet coordination according to the plan established at dinner:
Steve directed with his mouth half full, tracing the interstate on the map with his finger. “We’ll use Sam’s car to get to the airport, book four one way flights, swipe some employee attire, and hotwire a few cars along the way.”
Sam expected something a little more clever. “That’s it? Grand theft auto all the way to New Windsor?”
“Yup. This isn’t the Great Escape, don’t gotta get fancy with it.” Bucky winked at Steve, who blankly finished chewing.
Bucky slowly set his tipped chair back down, appalled at Steve’s uncultured movie palette. Future Sam would have words . “...You-” Bucky glanced at Sam who narrowed his eyes warningly. “That was one of the first movies I saw once I got my brain back, dude, it’s literally us.”
“Didn’t you just escape only a month ago?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.
Bucky gulped the rest of his food along with his lie, shrugging. “I got bored.”
It was supposed to be a simple plan they all reflected on, that ended with extensive scolding from Steve and Natasha by the time they arrived at their destination.
It was a disaster, for Bucky, needless to say.
Which began when Natasha and Steve were waiting in the car, while Bucky and Sam were crammed in a storage closet, with two unconscious bodies, stuck in a dispute over who’d wear what.
“Why the fuck would you grab a woman, a flight attendant in a skirt !?” Sam whisper shouted, pointing his finger in Bucky’s face.
Bucky bit at Sam’s finger, who pulled it back as if Bucky really did. “Why the fuck would you grab a sleeveless ramp agent?!” Both the shirt and the vest were sleeveless, which was an insane coincidence considering the weather had a chill of 56 degrees.
“ I was going to wear it moron! Didn’t know we were shopping for each other!”
Bucky threw up his hands, knocking over a bottle of bleach. “And risk hypothermia!?”
Sam quickly grabbed it before it could hit the ground. “It would take thirty secon -”
Natasha interrupted impatiently. “Bucky, Sam, come in. What’s the hold up?”
“The holdup Nat, is that Bucky here nabbed a chick about five sizes smaller-”
“I panicked because there was no one else around Sam .” Bucky slapped Sam’s hand away from where he was holding down his comm, the both of them ignoring Natasha and Steve’s protests.
“You’ll fit in the jacket.”
“Why don’t you wear it then if you’re gonna complain about no sleeves, Terminator?!”
“I literally can’t fit in it!” Bucky flexed as if to prove a point.
Sam flexed too, muscles not quite as big as Bucky’s, yet glaringly larger than both her arms combined. “And I can?”
“Duh! If-If you don’t f-flex, she’s around your size…I’m pretty sure.” Bucky uselessly flailed at her as if she was, in fact, his size. He knew it’d be a tight squeeze, but what other choice did they have at the moment? Sam’s intriguing muscles weren’t helping the spiraling stress Bucky felt mounting.
Alternatively, all Sam could think about was how much he wanted to strangle Bucky for choosing a damn woman. Being realistic wasn’t sexist. “If I magically lost 10 pounds, sure! Maybe I’ll fit in the damn skirt too!”
“No just wear-” The ramp agent started twitching, catching the pair's attention.
Sam relented. Each second they spent longer in the airport were critical minutes Hydra discovered them. They were running out of time. “Fine, I’ll put on the jacket and that’s it!”
“Fine!”
“Fine! Asshole."
Changing, they pointedly avoided looking at each other. As always, Bucky had to get the last word in, grumbling, “That’s what I was gonna say anyway.”
“Oh-oh sure, like you didn’t wanna see me walk out in a skirt-”
“Sam I swear to god-”
Natasha, pissed off course, accelerated before they could close their doors. Steve gave Bucky a questioning look that Bucky returned with a glare. Sam finally let himself relax, causing the jacket seams to split open. Yanking off the offending clothing, he ruthlessly tried to smother a chortling Bucky.
It escalated on the road. Their trip wasn’t supposed to take long, less than ten hours. Sam and Bucky, stuck in the backseat together, quickly started, and just as quickly stopped from a look of either pilots, small fights sparking out of seemingly nowhere. From sharing leg room, to sharing the center console cup holder, to fighting over the last bag of peanuts, they couldn’t agree. Sam wanted equal parts for the peanuts, yet couldn’t give up leg space. Bucky was ravenous, needing to use the center console to rest his head. Bucky truly didn’t want to be reduced to a bickering child, especially with the opportunity of a brand new impression on his old friends. However, every time he thought he’d calm himself down, Sam would rile his irritation, unable to resist giving into a ghostly familiar form of bonding.
It peaked, when they made a pit stop just outside of Annapolis, Bucky and Steve urgently needed the bathroom because of something about faster metabolism. Natasha took it as an opportunity to raid some nearby convenience stores while Sam kept watch over their belongings. He was just teetering off the edge of sleep when the slam of the car door beside him startled sleep away.
“So much for keeping watch.”
Sam let out an exasperated groan, unmoving while wheezing his best great grandfather impression. “‘Oh Sam, what are you doing awake at 3am? You should go back to sleep. Rest Sam! I’ll keep watching Sam. I care about you Sam. I even-”
Bucky growled before the other man could continue. “We have a job to do, you can doze off when one of us is back.”
Sam rolled his eyes again before shutting them. “Okay, great, your back. Thanks mom.”
The amount of attitude condensed into one man’s body. Bucky didn't know what to say, thought of expressing his gripe, before merely gaping frustratedly. He settled on crossing his arms.
Sam sighed. "Why are you annoyed?"
Bucky frowned at Sam, ignored him, then set his sights toward his window when something kicked his shin. "What the fuck Sam!?"
"I asked you something, pouty face." He opened one eye. Bucky's attempt to kick Sam succeeded, albeit unexpectedly. “What the fuck man!?”
Bucky guffawed, crossing his arms again. “So you can kick me but I can’t kick you?”
“Yes!” Sam threw up his hands. “It was a friendly kick! That wasn’t a friendly kick.”
“A kick is still a kick sweetheart .” The endearment just slipped out, he didn’t even notice. Bucky rolled his eyes. He really should stop. Maybe take a deep breath, calm down, exit the car. He didn’t, of course, because Sam was just the same as Bucky. Overly competitive and overly petty.
“Damnit I’ll show you a real kick!” Sam kicked Bucky harder this time, and Bucky snapped. Maybe it was the cramped quarters of the backseat, too small for two large men, the tension in the car, building up over the past seven hours, from last night, to the airport. Both weren’t feeling right in the head since their guests arrived, stress from the incoming confrontation weighing on their actions…or maybe they finally just wanted an excuse to get their hands on each other.
They brawled in the back seat, semi-serious, not enough to hurt one another, but enough to let out some pent up frustration. Sam, to Bucky’s surprise, caught him off-guard enough to pin both his hands against the window. He could break loose, but that’d require getting Sam off of him. Remember, don’t fall for it, don’t-
"What the fuck is with you man, why are you getting on my nerves so damn much?!" Sam brusquely asked, rightfully so. His annoyance and anger at Bucky pushing his buttons, and vice versa, wasn’t healthy. Then or now.
Bucky thrashed around a little, sighing. “I’m stressed.” Sam’s glare invited him to continue. "Just...not sure how things will play out differently. Hoping for a lot less casualties. The closer we get to Fury the more anxious I get."
Sam maintained his gaze on Bucky, unresponsive. In combination with the bent angle Sam had him pinned on the backseat, his weight resting on top of Bucky’s and the ability to feel every breath on his face made him squirm.
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
"What."
Sam continued staring, narrowing his eyes. "Nothin', you just been through a lot man. I'm amazed you're still trying to do good."
Bucky blushed, how could he not? Which prompted him to make a mistake.
"I could say the same about you." Bucky's genuine smile faded as he realized what he said, and Sam curled his eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
Bucky shrugged as best he could in his position, equating to tightening his shoulders, prompting a quick glance by Sam. "Nothin, just the military you know, gets to everybody."
"Yeah no, not this time. What do you know, Bucky." He dug his grip into Bucky’s wrists.
"Ow okay! I swear sweetheart I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Bucky didn’t know if it was good for him to hide, or omit, since Sam could pretty much tell when he was lying if evidenced from last night. Despite this, Bucky believed in his promise to himself. He felt it was the one thing keeping him from losing his mind.
Sam's interrogation was cut short when Steve knocked on the window, looking in the distance and shouting, "you guys can continue this later, we gotta go. We're almost to another rest stop, you can continue this later."
They simultaneously screamed 'there's nothing to continue!’
It went too far, when Natasha had to pull the car over twice, once to force Bucky into the passenger seat instead of Steve, and another when it didn’t work.
“Вы оба ведете себя как дети!” (You’re both acting like toddlers!) Natasha rarely raised her voice, even in the future. Bucky felt shame creep up his spine.
“Я просто-” (I just-)
“заткнись. Либо ты молчишь и не развлекаешь его, либо я раскрою твой секрет. “ (Shut up. Either you be quiet, don't entertain him or I'll spill your secret.)
Bucky darted a look at where Steve scolded Sam. “Какой секрет?” (What secret?)
Natasha narrowed her eyes, before stomping toward the driver's seat. She paused, raising two fingers to signal she’d be watching for a single hair out of pocket. Bucky kicked the gravel, willing the embarrassment to shrivel away, before following her into the passenger seat.
“I don’t get it Sam, why can’t you two just keep it in your pants until we get where we need to go?”
Sam gawked. “W-what!? What are you talking about?”
“The car? You two making out, last night-”
“We were not making out Steve! We fought. I pinned him down, that's all.”
Steve clearly didn’t believe him. “Yeah sure, anything else?”
At this point, Sam was doubting himself. “That’s it man, I swear.”
“Then whatever you two are doing isn’t flirting?”
“No! God no! Man he annoys the shit out of me, has been since the airport!” Annoyed was the best way to describe it. He wanted to throttle Bucky for overcomplicating things in a high stress environment, but also couldn’t help sneaking a few peeks at Bucky shrugging off his jacket, and shrugging on a neon vest over his tight long sleeve shirt.
“Why?”
“I don’t know Steve, I was asking him that in the car when you interrupted.”
Steve appeared as though he was having a hard time stifling a grin. “Looked like I was interrupting something else-”
“ No -”
He held up placating hands at Sam’s tone. “Okay okay. Figure it out Sam, both of you are distracting, acting ridiculous. If you like him-”
“I don’t -”
“Or don’t. Either way, handle it.” Steve patted his shoulder, giving him a few moments to himself. Sam didn’t know how he’d do so, the whisper of Bucky’s skin under his hands taunted him, his writhing under Sam was excruciatingly haunting. This had to be the stress. The military was the same, too much testerone, too much stress needed to be wrung out, and it was clear Bucky and Sam weren’t dealing with it professionally. Sam took a few deep breaths, steeling himself to follow Captain America’s orders.
No other hiccups arose, thankfully. There was a moment Bucky and Steve heard some drones, but it was thanks to Sam’s high tech Falcon visor they narrowly avoided detection.
The tension in the car buzzed with anticipation as Natasha parked under an abandoned parking garage to the building Fury was hiding in. Bucky had a moment of clarity, questioning if it were a good idea for him to follow them in.
“Fury probably knows who I am. He’ll know what I’ve done. He’ll want me restrained.”
Steve contemplated for a moment, before reassuring Bucky. “We’re a team, Buck. He’ll have to go through me if he wanted to hurt you. If he doesn’t want to work with us, he’ll work without us.”
Natasha chimed in as she strapped on her Widow bites. “And me.”
Sam smiled, genuinely. “Me too.” As corny as it was, Bucky appreciated it. They were willing to risk themselves, their chances at success against a government evil, to stay by his side. He saw the airport in Berlin, he sees them now, looking at Bucky, validating his existence.
Damn, he wasn’t going to cry again.
Instead, he sniffed, nodding. They exited the car cautiously, finding a corroded backdoor that didn’t survive Natasha’s expert lockpicking. Inside, the lights were mostly off, save a few dim bulbs illuminating the factory hallway. Steve held up his hand for a few moments, biding time for any traps or alarms, before waving a go-ahead. Bucky and Sam trailed behind Steve and Natasha, clearing open doors and continuously checking their six. Sam nearly stepped on an empty half decomposed water bottle, before Bucky halted him with an arm across his chest. The tingling sensation didn’t leave Sam for the next half hour, until Steve nodded to a door with light escaping the floor clearance.
The four moved into a defensive position as Steve opened the door slowly.
“‘Bout damn time.”
Bucky had to admit, Fury’s reaction to seeing him was tame. From what he heard of the man, he was shrewd, calculating, with a zero-tolerant attitude. He was expecting a gun to his head, or a needle in his neck.
Not just a nod, a hot plate of macaroni and off-brand cola.
He couldn’t say no unlike his teammates, having an appetite for information rather than food. Surrounded by laptops, Fury and Maria Hill debriefed them on the plan to take down the helicarriers. Bucky listened intently as the conversation rolled on. Steve’s insistence at taking down the entire organization, along with his clear mistrust of Fury’s adamancy of not knowing of Bucky, indicated his time to jump in was soon.
As Fury looked around the room for confirmation, eyes settled on Bucky last. He swallowed the urge to spill everything on the table, instead nodding in agreement. The plan was set in motion, and the team reviewed the details together. At the mention of the chips again, Bucky interrupted.
“Wait.”
Heads turned, complying with his request.
Bucky had time this week, and the car ride over, to deconstruct and reconstruct how to approach the implications of shutting down SHIELD, along with ensuring the safe decommission of the helicarriers. Without further incidents starting with D.C, the Avengers may be able to avoid scrutiny under the government later on. Bucky just had to ensure minimal property damage until then - easier said than done.
“We can’t rely on these chips. There’s too much risk for civilians unless we approach it more discreetly or use an alternative route.”
Fury leaned back in his chair. “So what do you propose Barnes?”
Bucky cleared his throat, setting down his plate. “Me. We use me.”
Both Sam and Steve immediately started protesting.
“What!?”
“After everything you can’t just-”
“-Too dangerous-”
He held up his palm, quieting their disapproval. “I can do it. I’d have to go back tonight. There's…a way I can prevent them from using the command words on me, it’s not pretty but it works.” He sighed, taking another sip of his cola. “ They’ll give me orders to guard the helicarriers, I’ll insert the chips before they even take off. You five focus on bringing Peirce to justice.” Hopefully, it’ll be less messy than last time.
“How do you know they won’t punish you for running away?” Fury raised a fair point.
“Because they’ll know the Avengers are coming.” He nodded at Steve. “If you guys warn them in advance, they'll want less bodies in the way. They’ll request only specific personnel that day, and mandate me on sentry duty. It’s not the first time I’ve run before a critical mission.”
Steve finally relaxed his fists, looking as though he wanted to refute Bucky. “I have to admit, it’s safer than risking tonnes of metal drowning the surrounding area.”
Bucky glanced at Sam, hoping to see some kind of resigned acceptance like Steve.
His back was turned toward Bucky.
“Okay. We’ll make those adjustments to the original plan, but it’ll be more or less the same. Barnes, get some rest. We’ll see you off before you go.” Hill pointed in the direction of a makeshift barracks down the hall. He picked up his hot plate, drinking the remaining soda and throwing it in the garbage as he wandered down the hall. Selecting the first bed, he vacuumed the remaining food. Crossing his hands over his chest, Bucky lethargically closed his eyes, taking in the splintered wood of the bunk above him, hoping for at least an hour’s worth of rest.
His back was turned toward Bucky.
Sam couldn’t look at him, not after he stuck his metal arm through molten hot giant iron rotors to shut down overheating mining equipment.
They were sent on a emergency dispatch to a salt mine below Lake Erie. Miners were trapped between the third and fourth junction, with malfunctioning and abandoned hydraulic shovel risking a collapse. They took a shabby elevator down to the third burrow, before navigating to a wall behind the junction the twelve men were stuck in. Bucky punched a small hole to communicate, the men reporting they were stuck on the other end of a pocket that was slowly flooding with water, from the shovel loosening rocks and gravel that kept the lake water at bay.
Sam and Bucky worked to create a larger opening for the men to crawl through, Sam pointing them in the direction of the elevator. When the last man finally latently made it through, the shovel sounded as if it got stuck. The man’s eyes’ - Anthony - widened in fear, as he desperately shook Sam to run. If the shovel continued digging further, it would cause the entire thing to collapse. Sam reassured the man rushing him to the elevator where the other men were waiting.
Bucky made a half aborted movement to follow, but the moment the man panicked at the sound of the machinery, Bucky heard it. The sound of rock and gravel sliding out of place. He knew what he needed to do.
He turned toward the hole, diving feet first in the now thigh deep water. Wading as fast as he could, he appeared in front of the machine. The shovel component was halfway deep into the muddy wall, water steadily streaming from the cracks. He wasn’t just at risk of drowning, he was at risk of electrocution, and suffocation.
What else was new.
Over the screams of Sam, before his partner could place himself at risk, Bucky shoved his metal arm through the underside of the car belly, through steaming grinding rotors, to fit as many important seeming cables into his hand as he could, and yanked as hard as he could. Flying sparks burned his bare neck and face.
However it worked. The overheated whirring shut down, the shovel arm stopped putting preesure on the stone, he didn’t get electrocuted, but the water was still seeping into the mine. It was still at risk of collapse.
It became clear the difficulty of dislodging his arm from the rotors. While his arm was vibranium, Shuri warned Bucky that she used other metals, depleting the durability under extreme duress.
“No sticking my artwork in gears, molten lava or getting it crushed.”
Forcing his arm out with minimal destruction was impossible. The metal screeched as he tore it out, metal wires exposed as the mangled hand dangled by his side. Bucky winced at the damage, dreading the conversation with Shuri that he did exactly what she told him not to do. As he gathered the ruined metal into his other hand to exit the room, his eyes found Sam’s, a horrified expression as he waited by the opening.
No casualties, and the mine did not collapse. The company would have to re-evaluate and re-fortify, but it was looking likely they would continue operations if safety audits reported a green light.
Sam didn’t look at Bucky, similar to the Flag Smasher copy cat incident, except this time it wasn’t because of Bucky’s professional incompetence. He’d learned from that mistake, apologizing to Sam later, working on his own self-awareness for months. He wouldn’t apologize this time, he didn’t think he did anything wrong. And yet, every room they found themselves in all he saw was Sams back.
Between repairs for his arm and mission debriefings, neither one of them could go to their shared home in DeLacroix immediately.
When he finally was discharged, he wasn’t expecting his roommate. “Sam. You’re back early.”
Sam, his back to the front door, lounged on the couch with his legs stretched across the cushions, a coffee in hand, staring out of the window. He didn’t move as Bucky removed his shoes.
“Every time I think I’m starting to get why you did what you did, I keep seeing your arm, and the burns on your other hand.”
Bucky paused, setting down his boots before sliding on the floor next to him.
“Bucky, I get it, you did what you thought you had to, but we’re a team. You could have gotten electrocuted, your arm could have gotten stuck, the rocks could have crushed on you.” Sam whispered, his faint voice almost hid the shakiness behind it. He gripped his mug a little tighter.
Sam met his eyes, dark circles replacing healthy skin from before a week ago. “Bucky. Talk to me next time. Please.” He reached for where the metal hand that rested on the couch next to his thigh, tracing light circles on Bucky’s palm. “You’re not a tool.”
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, his heart racing, trying and failing to blink away the image of Sam.
He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was starting to think maybe Steve was right.
Maybe his feelings ran deeper than Bucky cared to admit.
Maybe his feelings for Sam weren't as platonic as Bucky liked to trick himself into believing.
Maybe it wasn’t a tiny, tiny crush.
“Not good.”
“What’s not good?”
Bucky startled out of his bed with a shout. Sam rounded the corner of the bedpost to check on him, as he struggled to find his footing with wobbly legs. Seeing his strife, Sam opted to join him on the floor instead of helping him up.
Bucky shook his head, unable to look at Sam. “B-bad dream.”
He nodded, easing himself to lean against the bed-frame. “Look. I get it. The plan makes sense. It’s a good one too.”
Bucky sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Sam-” An appeasing hand patted Bucky’s bent knee, cutting off his impromptu speech of doing what needed to be done.
“You’re not a tool. Just remember that, and come back in one piece.” Bucky inhaled sharply. Not your Sam, not your Sam.
Moot point, because even in the dark of the room and the shadows of the bed frames, Bucky couldn’t hold himself back from holding the hand that remained on his knee. He squeezed, meeting Sam’s gaze. “Thank you.”
The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up, and Bucky saw his Sam. Without the beautiful aged worry and laugh lines painting his face, adorning instead a youthful glow to his complexion. Without the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the burden of history plaguing him. Yet, the man before him was still his Sam, and Bucky couldn’t help it.
The bickering, the irritation, the late night exchange of nightmares, the competitiveness, the knowing glances, the teamwork, their history, their new history, blended in his mind.
He slowly removed his hand from Sam's, unfurling as he raised it. His cheek was warm, and Bucky lightly brushed his thumb across, like he did Bucky’s metal hand.
Bucky smiled when he felt Sam finally move, leaning into his palm, the barest inch.
“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll come back for you.”