Chapter 4
Things go a bit downhill after that.
He needs to work a lot of extra hours at the shop since Clint got sick. Not that he minds per se, he didn't start a tattoo shop for nothing, but the days were long. Tony and Steve were no use at all, only having eyes for each other and their own appointments, leaving Bucky behind as fast as their day was done.
They're in love and he understands that but it would be nice if they helped him out a bit more.
On top of that his sleeping schedule decided to kick him in the back by keeping him up most of the night. Every time he got so much as an hour of sleep he'd wake up by nightmares. Luckily he didn't woke Sam up by screaming this time.
By the time the second week passes and he fights through Sunday, he's exhausted. He worked so many hours he can still hear the buzzing sound of his tattoo machine when he closes up the shop. Every muscle inside his body aches and begs for rest in any form.
Hell, he'd lay down on the street if he could.
He's so relieved when he finally comes home, almost falling face-first inside. Tomorrow is his free day after working almost non-stop. He tries not to think about it too much because he's sure he'll start crying is he does.
His brain is so fried he needs to blink a few times to progress what he's seeing.
Sam is standing in front of him with a small chocolate cake in his hands, decorated with beautiful fondant flowers and coloured curls down the side. At the top are standing a couple of black candles in a circle, their small flames casting a soft glow over Sam's face.
''What's the occasion?'' he asks confused, desperately raking through his brain for something important. Oh God, did he skip Steve's birthday? No, his birthday was two months ago. Is somebody pregnant? Natasha will flip if she-
''How about your own birthday?'' Sam asks. He laughs a bit strained as if something confuses him, which is quite funny. Because Bucky is the one that feels confused as fuck right now.
''My birthday.'' he repeats. It's not a question, more a statement. Is it his birthday? God, he's so tired, he can't think straight. He dares a look at their calendar hanging on the kitchen wall, looking for today and-
Oh.
Sam shuffles closer, his frown a bit more filled with worry this time. ''Is your hard-drive crashing? Which button do I press to reset you?'' He presses a finger against Bucky's shoulder, snapping him from his dazed state.
''Shut up.'' he grumbles. ''I forgot.''
''You forgot? About your own birthday?'' Sam's worried scowl is making Bucky uneasy, forcing a guilty feeling on him without meaning to.
The thing is, Bucky doesn't care that much about his own birthday. Never did. His close friends know not to put any effort into it after all these years. Even Steve doesn't try anymore. That's probably why he isn't here to celebrate with them.
He snaps his gaze to the cake in Sam's hands. ''Did you make this?'' he asks instead of answering the previous question.
Sam smiles proudly. ''I did. Peter helped, though. He's better in the kitchen than me.''
''It looks nice.'' he whispers.
Maybe it would be easier if Sam hadn't reminded him about his birthday. He would have hit the shower before turning in for the night, probably falling in a death sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
''How about you blow out the candles and make a wish so we can see if it tastes good, too?''
He doesn't understand why this whole situation makes him a bit emotional. Normally he would have a royal fit over the fact that Sam treats him like a kid with the whole cake and candles. But now he looks at it, thinks about the time it must have took, and the only thing he feels is gratitude.
Without thinking twice about it he blows out the candles.
Sam grins, the tiny gap between his front teeth showing, and carefully places the cake on the kitchen table. While he keeps himself busy with cutting two perfect sized pieces, Bucky drags the last piece of remaining energy he has left up before he drops down in a chair at the table.
''Rough day?'' Sam asks, pushing a plate towards Bucky.
He takes it and pulls it closer. ''Rough two weeks.''
Sam hums and takes a seat himself. ''Must be if you forgot about your own damn birthday. I mean, who even does that?'' he asks, snorting when he sees Bucky's face.
He shoves a piece of cake inside his mouth, chewing slowly before answering. ''I never celebrate my birthday.'' he states.
''What?'' Sam frowns, looking like he's personally offended. ''Why not?''
''I don't know, man.'' Bucky grumbles. ''S'not that important.''
A comfortable silence falls over them, both enjoying their piece of cake. He sees Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, tension prickling the back of his neck.
''Spit it out, Wilson.'' he comments without lifting his eyes from his plate.
Sam sighs deeply and pushes his plate to the side. Getting the feeling that this isn't exactly a light conversation brewing, he put his own fork down before shoving his plate out of the way. He's too tired for this. He prepares himself for the worst, shoulders already tensing, but Sam surprises him.
''I want to say I'm sorry.''
Bucky blinks owlishly. ''I could have sworn you just apologized. What did you say?''
''I did apologize, you thick-headed cyborg.'' Sam rolls his eyes but he doesn't seem annoyed. Simply amused. ''Go ahead, soak it up. You heard me.''
''Are you high? Did you put weed in this?'' he asks pointing to the cake, genuinely confused.
Sam flicks his head. ''Fine, sorry.'' Bucky apologizes, waving his human hand in a 'go on' gesture. This time the silence takes up a bit more room as Sam seems to consider his choice of words.
''I know we don't really talk.'' Sam begins slowly. ''I just feel like we got off of the wrong foot and like, I didn't know how to break our endless circle of fighting when that was anything we ever did together.'' he explains.
Bucky bites away at the inside of his cheek as he listens.
''But then you guys took me in so easily when-'' Sam's eyes flash with old pain, clearly thinking about Brian. He never really knew the reason of their break-up or what happened between them, but that's not important. Bucky noticed the sadness wafting around Sam when they just broke up, all the nights where he heard Sam crying during the night. It hurt and that's what matters.
''I just wanted to apologizes for everything that happened. I know I said some really nasty stuff in the past, I can't even remember what but I'm sure it wasn't pretty.'' A shy smile pulls at the corners of Sam's mouth. ''The only thing I can say is that I have been working on myself after the break-up. I realised that I wasn't a very good person then.''
''Wilson-''
Bucky presses his lips in a thin line when Sam shakes his head. He lets him continue.
''It's not an excuse and I'm not asking you to forgive me. But I hope we can work towards being friends.''
''I-''
Sam swallows thickly, interrupting Bucky once again. There's a nervous edge to him that he can't seem to shake. Like he opened his chest, laying out his heart for the whole world to see. Bucky knows how that feels. It's fucking scary.
''I understand if you can't move past our history. I know this is not something to sweep away as if it was nothing but I just thought-''
''Sam.''
The other man clicks his mouth shut, a huge breath leaving his chest. Shock is written all over his face before it turns into something entirely different, almost soft with an edge of relief. Over the years that they know each other he always called him Wilson because that was easier. Less personal.
They have long passed that border.
''Trying to be friends sounds like a pretty good idea to me.''
A soft smile crawls over Sam's face before he nudges his ankle against Bucky's beneath the table. He holds out his pinkie for Bucky to take, waiting patiently until Bucky hooks his vibranium one around Sam's.
''Deal?''
Bucky squeezes softly.
''Deal.''
**
Trying to be friends is surprisingly easy.
They didn't have a single fight since their conversation on his birthday. It's not like they're suddenly best friends or something but something between them shifted. Bucky doesn't find it so annoying anymore whenever Sam forgets to clear the table after dinner, and Sam doesn't snap at him every time Bucky keeps tapping his vibranium fingers against every available surface when he's reading.
Sometimes something happens that would once have them erupt into a really nasty fight. Now they seem to have found a new routine in where they try to talk about it instead of snapping at each other.
Bucky notices that it's difficult for him despite trying to his best abilities. Getting angry feels safer to him because anger keeps people at distance. He won't have to worry about people hurting him if he hurts them first.
It's a weird feeling to realise that not everyone is out to hurt him.
A few weeks pass and he must admit that Sam is the one who's mostly taking the lead. Steve noticed that something's different between them and he's visibly happy that they finally get along. He tells Bucky how proud he is of him for clearing the air but it doesn't feel like he's doing enough.
Sam is the one who stays calm when Bucky flips, trying to steer their argument into a conversation. Sam is the one who starts bringing him coffee whenever he works the evening shift, sometimes even bringing pastries. Sam is the one who chooses to walk away when he starts to feel pissed, promising to come back when he calms down enough to properly talk.
Bucky is trying but deep down he knows there's no even balance right now.
Maybe he shouldn't be so hard on himself. The accident turned him into something he isn't, anger and distress always buzzing beneath his skin. There's so much going on inside his head he often forgets there's a whole world turning around him. He wants to make friends but he doesn't really know how.
He figures it's a good idea for him to go to Sam for a start.
For a Wednesday afternoon it's quite busy in Sam's coffee place. Every table is filled with people enjoying their drinks, easy chatter filling the space and the smell of coffee wafting in his face when he walks inside.
He almost never came here because he never had a reason to but he knows how the place looks. The dark brown walls complimenting the wooden décor, giving it a homey-feeling. Bucky feels strangely out of place as he shuffles inside. What the fuck is he actually doing here?
Just when he's weighing the option of simply leaving and forgetting about it is when someone suddenly calls his name. Sam is smiling at him from behind the counter and the first thing Bucky notices is how happy he looks. Of course he only notices that now, seeing as this is the first time he comes here while actually wanting to be here.
He slowly makes his way to the empty counter, secretly relieved there is no line. People waiting for him will only make him more anxious.
''Hey,'' Sam says, seeming a bit confused. ''Pete's not in today.''
Bucky blinks, a little taken aback. It shouldn't surprise him that's the first thing that pops up when he sees Bucky in his café. Something heavy settles inside his stomach. These small things make him realise again how fucked up their relationship is. Was. He doesn't really know if he's being honest.
''I came for you.'' He swallows thickly. ''Just to, y'know. Coffee.''
Sam looks at him like he suddenly speaks another language.
His heart beats uncomfortable inside his ribcage. ''Sorry, was that stupid? You're working, obviously.'' He supresses the urge to smack his head against the counter.
Luckily Sam takes pity on him as he comes to life again. A smile decorated his mouth when he looks at Bucky. ''You do realise I'm the owner, right? Who's gonna fire me when I take a break?''
A nervous laugh rattles from Bucky's chest and Sam calls Wanda's name. She appears from the back, streaks of white flour covering her cheeks as if she wiped the hair from her face with her dirty hands. She smiles warmly at Bucky.
''Hello, Bucky.'' she greets. ''How are you?''
He nods, trying to ignore the way Sam's looking at him. ''I'm fine. And you?''
Wanda pushes a lock of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. ''Vision and I are still renovating the house so I'm a little tired. But I'm happy with the way things are coming together.''
Bucky feels the need to pinch her cheek because she's so sweet. He always adored Wanda with her open eyes and kind smile. She's a good friend to Steve, too.
''Do you mind covering me out here for a while? I won't be too long.'' Sam asks, thanking Wanda when she immediately agrees. ''Just yell for me when it gets too busy.'' he reminds her.
Sam makes them both a coffee before taking Bucky to the back. There's the huge kitchen and a small backroom with a table and some chairs, probably meant to spend their breaks. Sam gestures for him to take a seat so he does, clutching his coffee mug between his hands to keep them busy.
His palms are sweaty.
''So,'' Sam starts. ''What brings you to my humble coffee place?''
Bucky takes a sip from his coffee to think about his answer for a moment. How does he casually tell him he came because he feels like Sam is putting more effort into their friendship than he is? Without sounding like an emotional constipated idiot.
His first instinct is to crack a sarcastic joke. That would make the tension between them break very easily, Sam will probably answer without a hitch and that will be that. But the small voice in his head reminds him of something he read online.
True friendship can't properly work without honesty and trust.
Being friend with someone who is not Steve, Wade, Tony, Peter or Clint is totally out of his comfort zone. He doesn't know how to be somebody's friend. His friends are his friends, but he never comes first. There's always someone that comes before him. Rejecting is always lurking behind the corner, waiting to jump him when he lets his guards down.
Honesty and trust, his head reminds him.
''I just wanted to spend time with you.'' he settles for. ''You always bring me coffee when I'm working late so I thought it's only fair if I come to you for a change.''
There, he said it. Maybe not in so many words but the truth nevertheless.
Sam's quiet as his eyes flicker over Bucky's face, his fingers flexing around his mug. Bucky feels heat rise to his cheeks and he averts his eyes, nervously tapping his fingers against his own mug. Maybe it was a mistake to come here. Sam must think he's crazy. They're not even friends yet, why the hell would he come here in the middle of the day to have coffee with him?
Befriending someone is fucking difficult. A migraine is slowly brewing behind his eyes from all the stress. How do normal people do this every single day without having a mental breakdown?
He doesn't realise he's painfully wringing his fingers together when Sam's warm hand curls around his vibranium one. It snaps him from his tiny meltdown, quickly releasing the tension on his fingers.
''Was it wrong for me to come here unannounced?'' Bucky asks, inwardly cringing at the softness of his own voice. It sounds an awful lot like weakness.
Sam is quick to shake his head, softly squeezing his hand. ''No.'' he answers. ''You can always come here if that's what you want. I'm happy you came to visit me, it was a nice surprise.''
Bucky releases a big breath, easing his shoulders down to a normal level. ''Okay.'' he answers, a small smile pulling his mouth up.
''I don't really know how to do this.'' Bucky waves his free hand in a circle between them, ignoring the fact that the tips of Sam's fingers are still lingering against his vibranium hand. ''Being friends.'' he tries to explain.
''Well, I think you're doing a pretty good job so far.'' Sam smiles before retrieving his hand back to wrap it around his mug again.
The weird feeling behind his ribs returns and hooks onto the bottom of his belly.
He should probably see a doctor about that.
They exchange small talk as they drink their coffees. After a while the anxious feeling fades and he's left with a happy, fuzzy feeling. Sam makes him smile quite a lot and he also cracks a few jokes that make Sam snort as he laughs loudly.
''Oh, before I forget.'' Bucky lifts his backpack from the ground and rummages through it, retrieving his tablet when he finds it. He searches for what he's looking for, putting it on full-screen before pushing the tablet towards Sam on the small table.
Sam grows quiet as he looks at the screen, staring at the tattoo design in front of him.
''I know Steve was going to make your design but he asked me for help because I'm quite good with animals.'' Bucky waits for Sam to look up at him but his eyes keep glued to the tablet so he continues.
''I gave the falcon mainly a natural brownish colour with white details, as you can see here-'' He points to the body of the majestic bird. ''but I added the red as you requested in the wings to make it more powerful.''
Sam is still not saying anything so he starts to worry a bit, biting his lip as he tries to peek inside Sam's head.
''It's okay if you don't like it.'' Bucky continues. ''A tattoo is not something to think lightly off since it's on your body for the rest of your life and stuff. So .. just tell me if you hate it, we can change anything you want.''
He doesn't design a lot of birds, mostly animals like tigers, lions and elephants. Sometimes small animals like pandas or dogs but birds are very specific. A small part of him is still curious to why he wants a falcon but he figured it was something random.
Now he's not so sure anymore when a lone tear drips over Sam's cheek. Dread fills his stomach so fast he feels sick for a second.
''Sam ..'' he whispers, scooting his chair a bit closer so he can put a hesitant hand on his wrist. ''Are you okay?''
Instead of answering Sam pulls him into a hug, his arms wrapping around Bucky's waist and pulling him closer as he goes. He grows rigid before remembering this is something they can do now, physical affection. Or in this case offering comfort.
He awkwardly pats Sam's back, not knowing what to do to make Sam feel better. He doesn't even know why he is crying. Bucky wants to hug him back but there's something holding him back, that big part of him that's still adjusting to everything new between them.
Finally Sam speaks, squeezing Bucky closer before whispering in his ear. His voice sounds choked-up as if he's trying not to burst into real tears.
''Thank you, Buck.''
It's not much but somehow it speaks volumes. Bucky understands. He doesn't comment on the nickname this time, allowing Sam to have that one when he feels like this. Despite the situation it's a tiny bit funny that they keep thanking each other. It starts to feel like their thing.
His answer is the same as always, but this time he silently tells himself it's okay to give into what he feels. Sam asks for a hug and even though he knows it's perfectly alright to say 'no', everything inside him tells him 'yes'.
So he carefully wraps his arms around Sam's body, leaning his cheek against his temple.
''You're welcome.''