Chapter 3
The first month after Sam moves in is pure hell.
They argue a lot. The air is always filled with tension whenever they are in the same room with each other, either ignoring each other or picking fights.
Bucky's sleeping schedule is off the charts. Some nights he gets a few hours of restless sleep where some nights he doesn't even sleep at all. His whole body is on edge during the day and leaves him bone-tired at night. Despite that he still can't sleep.
It's exhausting to have Sam around.
Some days they don't argue at all, simply avoiding each other or not seeing each other. Those are the good days. But most of their days they always find something to argue over. Small, stupid things like Sam forgetting to do the dishes. But also the big stuff like Bucky downright insulting Sam.
Steve is standing in the middle, never knowing what to do.
He doesn't pick a side but Bucky never misses the hurt flashing over his face when they start fighting again.
Bucky tries to live with the fact that Sam is around all the time but it's difficult. He constantly feels restless and emotional, not like him at all. Tony and Clint notice it too at work. Sometimes he catches them worriedly looking at each other but they never ask. Bucky never tells.
His days become routine.
Get up, go to work whenever he has to, focus on tattooing and designing, go back home, try to avoid Sam, go to bed, get two hours of sleep if he's lucky. Repeat.
It isn't healthy. Steve tried talking to him about going back to therapy but Bucky was quick to cut that conversation short. Therapy never worked for him and even made it worse after the accident, so he doesn't want to give it another shot.
Besides, he's sure everything will go back to normal when Sam finds his own place and leaves their apartment again.
He hopes it will.
**
Steve went over to Tony's for the weekend, claiming they needed some 'alone time' but Bucky knows better. He's tired of dealing with Sam and him clawing each other's eyes out.
He can't even blame Steve for having enough. Even Bucky is having enough of it.
Sam retrieved to his bedroom early in the evening, only mumbling a quiet 'good night' when he passed Bucky on the couch. He returned the words on auto-pilot.
Bucky must have fallen asleep watching Bridgerton because he's suddenly ripped awake from a too vivid nightmare. Images of endless streams of blood are still flashing across his eyes when he shoots awake.
He doesn't know where he is at first, his whole body going into survival mode. It feels like there's too little oxygen in the room, his chest heaving with every intake of breath. A pair of hands skim over his shoulders and his head automatically takes him back to the accident. When ambulance staff tried to push him down to the ground when he was conscious enough for his body to response to the pain.
Except there are no paramedics and no blood.
Only Sam.
He's seated at the edge of the couch, his upper body leaning over Bucky. They're his hands on Bucky's shoulders, gently pressing him back against the cushions so Bucky doesn't fall off the couch.
His breathing is still too fast when his eyes find Sam's. A worried scowl is decorating his face, an expression Bucky doesn't recognise on him. Especially not directed at him. What comes out of his mouth is even weirder.
''Fuck, Bucky. Are you okay?''
Bucky frowns, his brain still trying to catch up with everything going on. ''Sorry.'' he whispers, his throat feeling achy and raw. ''Did I wake you?''
Sam moves his torso back when Bucky pushes himself upright. His arms tremble under his weight, his whole body feeling squeezy during the aftermath.
''You were screaming.''
''Sorry.'' he repeats, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
Sam frowns. ''Don't apologize.''
His brown eyes search Bucky's face for a moment. The older man takes a minute to compose himself, suddenly feeling anxious. He always feels restless and tired after a nightmare, his brain too hyper with all the gruesome images replaying while his body is drained from the adrenaline leaving him.
Normally he doesn't like it when Steve gets too close after a nightmare, always keeping a safe distance and only coming closer for a hug when Bucky specifically asks for it. He doesn't understand why he doesn't mind it so much this time when Sam's thigh is almost pressed against his leg on the small couch.
Sam stands up to walk to the kitchen, leaving Bucky feeling a bit confused. Maybe it's just his brain still trying to put everything back into order.
He doesn't have to wonder long where Sam went because he returns rather quickly with a glass of water. Without saying anything he holds it out to Bucky, waiting until he takes it. He doesn't comment on Bucky's hand shaking.
Something ticks behind his ribs.
Sam stays silent as Bucky takes slow sips, letting the cool water sooth the ache in his throat. A small part of him still feels achy. Like a bruise you forget about but still hurts like a bitch when you accidently bump into it.
''Do you want to talk about it or something?''
Bucky almost chokes on his water at the unexpected question, a laugh bubbling up inside his chest before he can stop it. They're his words from the night Sam knocked on their door, not knowing what to do when he saw Sam in such a vulnerable state.
''Not with you.'' he fires back, basking in the way that Sam seems surprised but impressed by the comeback.
''You're such an asshole.''
Bucky shrugs. ''Takes one to know one.''
A small smile pulls Sam's mouth upwards. It makes his stomach squeeze a bit uncomfortable because normally Sam doesn't smile around him. Bucky focusses on drinking his water, vaguely taking notice of rain ticking against the windows. The soft patter sounds makes the anxiety settle somewhat.
Sam clears his throat. ''I get them, too.''
''Nightmares?'' Bucky asks, twisting his leg beneath his body so he can face Sam.
Sam nods. ''Not as often as they used to anymore.'' Maybe it's the fact that his head still feels heavy but it feels kind of okay-ish between them this time. A little unsettling, because he isn't used to this, but not unpleasant.
''What do you dream about?'' Bucky asks.
There's a beat of silence as Sam seems to pull a bit back into his shell. Bucky immediately feels guilty for ruining whatever it is that's going on, because it feels nice that it's something else beside their usual arguments. ''You don't have to answer that.'' he quickly continues.
''It's always the same one.'' Sam replies after a while but he doesn't explain any further. Bucky doesn't ask for an explanation. Instead he nods, gnawing at his lip in thought.
It feels like he said something wrong without knowing what. The awkward feeling between them returned somewhere during the stretching silence. Bucky tries not to feel guilty but he knows it's because he asked Sam about his nightmares. His post-nightmare brain forgot they aren't friends for a minute.
''I think I'm heading off to bed.'' Bucky murmurs, ripping the blanket off his legs and forcing Sam to stand up.
He seems doubtful when he speaks. ''Do you need anything to, I don't know. Help you sleep?''
Bucky shakes his head and stands up, too. ''I'll be fine.''
They avoid each other's eyes as they walk to their respective bedrooms, both pausing in the doorway. Bucky forces himself to act like any normal person would do in this situation. He turns his head to the left where Sam is waiting, already watching him.
''Thank you.''
Sam nods, his mouth ticking upwards again.
''You're welcome.''
**
They don't talk about it the day after Bucky's nightmare. He doesn't tell Steve about it when he returns on Monday because Steve will worry.
Over the days their routine returns without probably meaning to. At first they're calm around each other, even asking questions and answering without shouting. But after a few days the rubber band between them snaps again when they get into an argument about fucking toothpaste.
It's confusing.
Bucky is glad he's working the evening shift on Thursday to keep his mind off it. He feels at ease with a tattoo machine in his hand, the only thing on his mind the lines he needs to follow and colour in. It's even better when he remembers that his last two-hour appointment is Wade.
He looks up from his tablet when the bell above the door rings. Wade walks inside with a strange look on his face, quietly greeting Clint who's just on his way out.
''Hey.'' Bucky says, laughing a bit strained. ''Alright?''
Wade ducks his head to shield his face a bit but it does nothing to conceal the worry lines around his mouth. ''Yeah.'' he answers. ''Alright.''
Bucky hums as if he doesn't quite believe him, his eyes flickering over Wade's face while he hangs up his coat by the door. It's a bit worrisome to see Wade like this. His personality is always a tad controlled, as if he's constantly keeping himself in check. To see him downright sad and absent makes Bucky worried.
They move to Bucky's corner where Wade makes himself comfortable in the chair. Tony and Steve left early an hour ago to celebrate their anniversary. Tony told Bucky to not wait up for Steve, claiming he's going to make good use of the whole night ahead of them.
Bucky flipped him off on the way out.
That they're alone in the shop gives them enough freedom to talk freely, though. Something Bucky really needs right now, he could use some advice about everything going on with Sam.
At least, that was his first plan. Before Wade walked in looking like somebody kicked his puppy. He's curious by heart so naturally he plans on probing a bit. Besides, Wade is his friend. It wouldn't feel right to leave it like this.
Wade takes his shirt off and leans back against the backrest when Bucky starts to clean the area around his ribs. They agreed to split this tattoo into two appointments because it's quite large and Bucky didn't want to risk Wade almost fainting again.
Two hours tonight, two hours next week.
''So,'' Bucky begins, sticking the stencil against Wade's ribs when he's done cleaning the skin. ''How's life?''
Wade nods and glances at the design for a moment. It's a mandala that will eventually be coloured in with red, white and black ink.
''It's fine.'' he answers. Bucky senses there's more, so he simply hums and keeps himself busy with clicking the right size needle into his machine. The one thing he's particularly good at is listening, especially when people have troubles voicing what is on their mind.
Maybe that's because he also finds it difficult to speak up when something's bothering him.
Wade swallows audibly in the silence of the room. ''Peter asked me out yesterday.''
''I fucking knew it!'' Bucky points his tattoo gun at Wade. ''I'm such a good match maker, it's ridiculous.'' He laughs at Wade's face. ''Man, you've got it bad.''
''I don't-'' Wade averts his eyes but the colour is rising to his cheeks. ''Peter is nice.''
''Nice? That's all?''
Bucky warns Wade before he starts on the first line, speaking up again when Wade doesn't. ''So he asked you out. Where are you guys going?'' he asks, carefully following the first line upwards.
''I told him I needed to think about it.''
Suddenly Bucky understands why Wade is acting like this. He knows him for quite some time now and if there's one word that he would describe Wade with, it's insecure. The man is a total goofball and very funny once you get to know him, but there's also a lot of insecurity lurking beneath the surface.
He recognises it because he experiences it himself, too.
Always trying to mask his insecurity and pain with humour or, in most cases, anger. Those emotions are much easier to express instead of just speaking about how you really feel. They're not so different, Bucky and Wade, and it's also because of that reason they get along so well.
''I don't know why in the world you would say that to him, but I have a hunch.''
Wade huffs out a soft breath, wringing his hands in his lap. Bucky continues on a wavy design inside the mandala as Wade seems to gather his thoughts.
''What would Peter see in me, honestly?'' Wade murmurs.
Bucky stops tattooing for a second to look up at his friend. ''Do I need to remind you I have a really sharp needle in my hand? Don't make me stab you for talking stupid shit, Wilson.''
''Is that another type of stabbing than you're doing right now?''
Just for that Bucky roughly pinches his arm with his fingers, smirking when Wade yelps in pain and pulls his arm back. ''What the hell is wrong with you?'' he grumbles.
''No, what the hell is wrong with you?'' Bucky fires back. He stops tattooing, shutting off the machine so he can look Wade in the eyes.
''Peter asked you out. What about that makes you doubt anything about his intentions towards you?''
Wade frowns. ''It's me I'm having doubts about. Not Peter.''
Bucky softens somewhat at that. He won't pity Wade because that won't do any good. Taking a deep breath, Bucky reaches out to pat his knee.
''Listen to me for a second, okay?''
Wade nods and Bucky does, too.
''I have known Peter for a very long time now. And maybe we're not so close as I am with Steve, but we're close enough for me to know him through and through.'' Bucky continues tattooing, knowing Wade will listen anyway. Besides, talking will keep him busy instead of the pain.
''Peter is a kid by heart. He sees the world through pink glasses that show everything is sunshine and rainbows. His heart is too big for his chest and overall he's too pure for this godforsaken earth.'' Wade's eyes soften around the edges. ''Peter is very kind and he puts everyone before himself, but he will never lie to make anybody feel better.''
Wade smiles. ''So practically he's an angel.''
''Yeah.'' Bucky laughs as he completes the left top piece of the mandala. ''But he's no saint. What I'm trying to say is, that no matter how sweet Peter is, he'll never do anything his heart isn't in. So if he asked you out on a date, he wants to go out with you. Nobody forces him to ask you out.''
For someone so emotionally constipated, he's proud to admit that he can help other people with their feelings really well. Suck on that, Dr. Raynor.
Bucky looks up to Wade, smiling softly at him when he catches the last bit of insecurity in his eyes.
''Peter doesn't give a fuck about your skin, Wade.'' he states. The real issue laying out bare for them both to see. Painful but necessary if Wade wants to accept that his insecurity about his skin is totally unnecessary. The only thing it does is be a reminder that he survived.
The moment gets broken when the bell above the door rings again. Bucky looks up from his work and locks eyes with Peter, standing by the door with two coffees in his hand.
His smile falters a bit when he notices Wade in the chair, eyes flicking down to his bare torso. Twice. Bucky pushes down a smile of his own. Speaking of the Devil.
''Hi.'' Peter greets them, drawing Wade's attention now he hears his familiar voice. The tension between them prickles the air but not in a worrisome way. More in a way that makes Bucky feel like he should leave the room.
''Hey Pete.'' Bucky breaks the tension, visibly snapping Peter out of his staring.
''Hi.'' he repeats, walking closer and smiling at Wade. ''Hi.''
Bucky tries not to stab himself in the eye with his tattoo gun but it's a close call.
God, he forgot how much he hates people in love. They're always so happy and sappy all the damn time.
''Hey.'' Wade answers, a similar smile to Peter's on his own face. The way they look at each other is so sweet Bucky can feel his teeth fall out in his mouth. ''Are you on your break?'' he asks, nodding towards the two coffees in Peter's hands.
He looks down at them as if he only now remembers he's holding them before laughing. ''Oh, no. I just got off my shift.''
Peter holds out the foam cup in his left hand to Bucky. ''Sam told me to give you this. Said something about needing the caffeine while working so late.''
Bucky's brain stops working.
What?
Sam doesn't do that. Sam doesn't give him coffee. Why would Sam give him coffee?
''Bucky? Are you okay?'' Peter asks, worry taking over his face. He forces his body to move, slowly taking the cup from the younger man with a small 'thanks'. It's still hot enough for the warmth to seep through the material and warm his fingers.
Again, what?
While he tries to get his inner program to start working again, Peter turns to Wade. His now free hand comes up to rest on the chair, fingers close to Wade's shoulder. Bucky sees the way they twitch as if he wants to reach out to touch Wade's skin. He doesn't.
''I uhm, was wondering if you thought about what I asked you yesterday.'' Peter asks. Bucky turns towards his small table that holds his equipment to give them some form of privacy. Besides, he's still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Sam gave him coffee.
Just- what?
He catches Wade's eye and nods behind Peter's back, quietly telling him it's okay.
''Yeah.'' Wade breathes. ''I love to go out with you.''
Peter lets out a tiny squeal and bounces back on his heels. ''Really? That's awesome! Okay, so-'' he reaches out and brushes his fingers over Wade's scarred shoulder. He doesn't even bat his eyes while he does it and Bucky smiles when he sees Wade's face. ''Is this Saturday okay? I don't work on Saturday. Wait, are you working Saturdays? I don't know if you do. We can do Sunday! Or-''
Bucky rams his foot against his calf to stop him from rambling, cutting off his endless stream of word vomit. Luckily Wade doesn't seem to mind because he simply laughs while Peter smiles shyly.
''Saturday evening is perfect.''
They exchange numbers and promise to text about the details before Peter leaves, a pink flush high on his cheekbones when he walks out the door.
Bucky decides to be nice and not tease Wade too much about it but he does pat him on the shoulder before he continues tattooing. ''Good job, buddy.''
Wade smiles, seeming content despite a needle ramming against his ribs that causes immense pain. He's silent for a while before a grin takes over his face.
''Wilson's bringing you coffee now? That's something you wanna talk about?''
He answers by pinching his arm again.
**
The apartment is cosy and warm when he comes home.
His muscles ache after a long day at work so he's happy to be back. Tomorrow is his day off and he plans on catching up with some sleep (if his head allows him), eating a lot of junk food and watching Bridgerton all day.
Sam's on the couch when he walks past the living room, The Hobbit playing on the tv. Bucky slows down and bites his lip. It feels weird to see Sam after the coffee-thing and for a second he doesn't know what's the right thing to say.
''Hey.'' he settles for, pushing a small smile on his face when Sam looks up at him.
''Hi.'' Sam's mouth ticks upwards. ''How was work?''
The simple question makes Bucky's stomach squirm. It's so weird. Since when do they ask each other civil questions about life? Just a few days ago they almost bashed each other's head in over toothpaste.
He knows Sam is trying to be nice because he'll probably stay here for a while. He searches for a place of his own almost every day but everything is too expensive for a person alone. His coffee shop is always busy and Bucky knows it's enough to live a comfortable life but there's too little left for an apartment.
Bucky is still trying to accept the fact that Sam is always around. It got a bit easier to be around each other, mainly because of Steve, but there are still too many arguments and fights for his liking.
''It was fine.'' he murmurs, clearing his throat awkwardly. His vibranium fingers flex around the strap of his backpack, Sam's eyes flick to them momentarily. He nods and Bucky reminds himself to be polite back. Or at least try to.
''Thank you.'' Sam lifts one eyebrow in a silent question. ''For the coffee.''
Sam nods and smiles softly, the weird feeling behind Bucky's ribs returns.
''You're welcome, Buck.''
''You still can't call me that.''
Sam snorts and rolls his eyes but he's grinning nevertheless. ''Remind me to never bring you coffee again.'' he says.
''Oh no.'' Bucky says drily. ''How on earth will I survive without it?''
He can't help but poke at Sam a bit. The easy banter is nice, entirely different from what he's used to. Suddenly it doesn't seem so bad anymore that Steve isn't home tonight to act as a barrier between them.
Sam laughs this time, a genuine laugh that bubbles up from inside his core. ''Man, shut the hell up.'' He throws a pillow from the couch towards Bucky who catches it with ease, throwing it back with his human arm.
''Is that a proper way to talk to the guy who brings you food?'' Bucky asks just when the bell rings. Sam visibly perks up, looking a little bit like an excited puppy. ''You ordered food?''
''No.'' he replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Without waiting for an answer he walks back to the front door, opening it to reveal a blonde girl holding two pizza boxes. He pays and takes the boxes inside, kicking the front door close with his foot.
Just because he's an asshole he drops Sam's box on his lap before taking a seat next to him on the couch. ''It's salami.'' he clarifies.
''I don't like salami.''
Bucky opens his own box and takes a piece of pizza. ''I know.'' he answers, laughing when Sam opens his box to reveal a veggie pizza. The dry look Sam gives him is gold.
He nudges his knee against Bucky's. Something warm seeps through his belly at the gesture because it's so .. easy.
Physical touch isn't very common to him anymore since the accident. People touching him make him feel awkward and anxious, constantly waiting for something bad to happen afterwards. There was a long time where he felt extremely touch-deprived. He was so focussed on accepting his new arm and everything that came with it that he forgot how to be social, how to be human.
People still don't like to touch him, especially his vibranium arm. He can't blame them but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Steve touches him occasionally but it always feels distant, as if his heart isn't completely in it.
He scolds himself inwardly for having a small crisis over something small like Sam's knee touching his.
''Thank you.'' Sam pauses and waits until Bucky looks at him, a small smile crawling on his face.
Bucky swallows and nods, quickly averting his eyes before answering.
''You're welcome.''