“It’s selfish, Bucky,” Steve said, shaking his head as if he was disappointed in his friend. “I’d do a lot for you, man; you know that. But this is a line I’m not gonna cross.”
Bucky scoffed. “What happened to us being best friends huh? What happened to all that ‘til the end of the line bullshit you always spew?”
“This is it, Buck. This is that line.” He sighed, and tried to soften his expression. “Look, Sam’s my best friend too, and I’m not about to hurt one of you to help the other.”
“Steve—
“No, Bucky,” Steve interrupted, exasperation clear on his face. “This isn’t a game. This isn’t something you can just mess with.”
“Nothing about this is a game to me,” he snapped, then ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Stevie, Sam, my Sam , my guy is about to get married — is about to make the biggest mistake of both our lives — and you really think I’m gonna sit back and let him? Sit back and watch with a smile on my face?” Bucky asked, incredulously.
“Yes,” Steve snapped right back. “If you really love him, if you really care about him, you’ll respect his decision. For Christ sake, Buck, we’re standing here on the steps of his father’s church, twenty minutes before he’s set to take his vows. I don’t think he thinks he’s making a mistake,” he added, sarcastically, even though in his heart of hearts he wasn’t exactly sure that was true.
“Yeah, well, what do you think, Steve? You think what he and Riley have can even hold a candle to what he and I share?”
I think you shouldn’t have run scared eighteen months ago when he asked what you saw for your future. I think if you’d ever called him your guy, or if you’d ever spoken this passionately about him or to him, then you might not be in this predicament now, Steve thought uncharitably.
Steve knew he wasn’t cutting Bucky much slack, but he couldn’t help it. Best friends or not, he’d watched Bucky royally screw up the best relationship he’d ever had and one of his oldest friendships, and all because Bucky was so scared of commitment that he’d sabotaged the whole thing.
“Buck—
“Look, man,” Bucky interrupted, before giving a sigh of his own; he already knew what Steve was going to say. “I know I fucked up. I know that I’ve only got myself to blame for Riley being the one in there about to get hitched to Sam instead of me. That’s why I’m here though. I want to make things right. I want to tell Sam how I feel. I want - I want - I just want Sam back,” he said, sounding more desperate than he had during the rest of their conversation.
It was like all Bucky’s bravado had suddenly seeped out of him, and that more than anything had Steve working up a little sympathy.
It had Steve doing something he knew wasn’t smart, something that felt downright disloyal.
“I’m supposed to be bringing Sam a bottle of water right now, you know,” Steve said, giving the bottle that had sat forgotten in his right hand a little shake.
“Okay,” Bucky drawled, confused by this abrupt change in topic.
“I’m supposed to be bringing him some water, but… maybe you should do it.”
As soon as he said it, Steve instantly looked like he regretted the suggestion, but it was like the words were being pulled from his mouth against his own free will.
“He’s behind the altar right now,” Steve continued. “The ceremony is gonna start soon; everyone should already be in their seats. So, if you’re gonna do something, you better do it now.”
Bucky was in shock at his friend’s abrupt about-face. Moments earlier when he had sped into the parking lot and saw Steve sprinting from his car to the front doors, he’d immediately put his motorcycle in park and ran to catch up to him. And the first words out of his mouth had been: “I need to see Sam. Am I too late?”
Rather than answer, Steve had hemmed, hawed, and scolded. So, it was a little surprising that he suddenly decided to help.
Bucky wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth though. He grabbed the water, sent Steve a grateful smile, and took off to the rear entrance of a church he hadn’t dared enter in over a year.
******
Sam heard the door to his makeshift waiting room (aka his father’s office) open and close, turned around, saw his ex-whatever-the-hell-Bucky-was leaning against the door, looking finer than ever in his signature leather jacket and comically tight jeans, and almost laughed out loud.
Of course. Of course Bucky is here. Of course this is happening, he thought to himself, feeling more than a little hysterical.
All day. All damn day — from his sister, who could cook everybody he knew except his mama under the table, burning the special breakfast she’d come over to make him this morning, to his barber getting in a fender bender and not being able to drop by and line him up this afternoon, to his new dress shoes turning out to be a size too small when he’d finally kicked off his slides and went to put them on an hour ago — bad things had just kept happening.
He tried to shrug it all off. Hell, his parents had warned him that everybody’s wedding day was bound to have a few bumps.
But, seeing Bucky, a very unexpected guest — a very uninvited guest — felt like quite a bit more than a bump.
“Hey, Sammy,” Bucky said, softly, as he took in how gorgeous Sam looked in his tuxedo.
“Hey, Sammy?” He repeated, incredulously, Bucky’s words having immediately broken him out of his thoughts. “James, what the hell are you doing here?”
And, okay, ouch. It wasn’t like Bucky was expecting a warm welcome or anything, but in a matter of seconds Sam had gone from looking utterly shocked to looking like he might actually start breathing fire. And he only ever called him James when he was super pissed.
Bucky’s already weakened confidence took another plunge.
“No,” Sam said, when Bucky didn’t instantly respond. “You know what, don’t even answer that. Just leave,” he commanded, and then turned his back to Bucky.
Sam was so close, but he felt further away than ever.
Bucky could see it in the way he was holding his shoulders, in the obvious stiffness of his spine, in the way his fists were clenched at his sides — Sam wasn’t just saying that, he wasn’t just telling him to leave because of some knee jerk reaction to seeing him again after so much time apart. No, it was clear: Sam really did not want him there.
And a better man than Bucky might’ve mumbled an apology, dug deep inside for an ounce of shame, and slipped out the room. However, Bucky didn’t give a damn about shame — didn’t give a damn about his pride or dignity, or whether he appeared desperate.
He wanted Sam more than he wanted to save face.
“No,” Bucky said, voice sterner than he thought it’d be; stern enough that it had Sam turning back around to face him again.
“I’m not leaving,” he continued. “Not until we talk.”
“You want to talk?” Sam asked, mockingly. “Since when?”
“Sam—
“I wanted to talk damn near two years ago,” he continued, ignoring Bucky’s interruption. “Now it’s too late.”
“Is it?” Bucky countered, causing Sam’s eyebrows to shoot up. “You’re not married yet,” he said, more of his earlier boldness creeping back into his voice. “And unless you want to literally try to throw me out of here, I’m not leaving ‘til I say what I need to say.”
Sam scoffed, but what could he do? Well, sure, he could probably physically remove Bucky, but he might not be able to do it without causing a scene… or without Riley finding out. Riley, who already liked to play twenty questions about his… situationship with Bucky whenever he had one too many drinks or got in his feelings about something, and Sam really didn’t feel like dealing with that on what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of his life.
I could just leave myself, he thought, but quickly brushed it aside. If Bucky had the balls to show up at his wedding after not talking to him for over a year, then he’d have the balls to follow him right on up to the altar.
Fuck. “Fine,” he snapped, and folded his arms across his chest. “Talk.”
Okay, truthfully, Bucky’s plan hadn’t really developed past “oh shit Sam’s really gonna go through with it, the love of my life is really gonna marry someone else; I have to stop him!” And now that he was on the spot, he could feel his throat closing up just like it had all those months ago when Sam had sat him down to talk.
Only this time he didn’t roll his eyes and try to laugh things off. This time he wasn’t going to mumble some nonsense then drop off the face of the earth afterwards. Instead, he nutted up and said what he should’ve said that night.
“I’m in love with you, Sam. Hell, I think I’ve probably been a little in love with you since we first started hooking up way back when,” he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, yet very determined.
Now, Sam was expecting some sort of… declaration. Why else would Bucky have come here in the first place? But saying he was in love with him, after never once letting the word love come out his mouth during the entire time they were semi-together — after never once even calling him his boyfriend — was just a little bit wild to him.
“Really?” Sam said, skeptically, and Bucky grimaced.
“Looking back, I know I was an immature asshole when we were dating.”
Sam had to purse his lips to stop himself from interrupting after Bucky’s use of the word “dating”, but he managed to stay quiet.
“You kept trying to be open and communicate what you wanted, and I kept brushing you off and avoiding the subject. Back then, I thought things were perfect the way they were.”
“With you having all of the privileges of a boyfriend with none of the commitments?” Sam snapped. “With me wondering how you could treat my apartment like it was yours, hell, treat me like I was yours, but could never call me your boyfriend? Man, we weren’t dating, I was your glorified fuck buddy.”
“Sam—
He tried to speak, but Sam was on a roll now.
“You wouldn’t talk to me about anything that was happening between us, you wouldn’t share your feelings, and when I pushed for more, when I wanted to know exactly where we stood, when I told you how I felt, you all but disappeared.”
“I’m here now though,” Bucky said, and it sounded crazy to his own ears, but that didn’t stop him from continuing. “I may be almost two years late, and I know showing up here was completely out of line, but I don’t care. I love you now and I loved you then.”
“Then why didn’t you ever say it, huh? Why’d you pull a vanishing act when I said it? Even though I told you I didn’t expect you to say it back. Even though all I wanted was to know if you could see any type of a future with me.”
“‘Cause I was scared,” Bucky shouted back, and Sam scoffed.
“I was! You knew me long before we ever started messing around, Sam. You knew I didn’t do commitments or relationships. You were the first person I slept with for more than a couple of months, and we were already friends, so we were always hanging out together too.” He shrugged a little helplessly. “Things between us already felt more serious to me than they had with any other person I’d ever been with, so when you started talking about labels and the future, I panicked.”
“I could’ve dealt with you panicking, Bucky. We could’ve talked about how you were feeling. But you didn’t just panic, you dipped.”
He shook his head, and the hurt look on his face had Bucky’s heart clenching.
“I told you I loved you and you stopped answering my calls. You stopped coming over.”
“I called you—
“Once.”
Bucky had called on his next birthday and Sam ignored it, then immediately blocked his number like he should’ve done in the first place.
“But by then it was too little too late.” He paused. “Just like it is now.”
“Maybe,” Bucky conceded. “But maybe not. I knew I fucked up almost immediately, but I didn’t know how to fix it because I knew I wasn’t ready to say what needed to be said.”
Of course you weren’t, Sam thought, meanly. You were one of the biggest fuckboys I ever met, which is exactly why I should have my head examined for ever getting in bed with you in the first place.
“Then why’d you even call on my birthday?”
“‘Cause I was drunk and missing you,” he said, honestly.
Sam would never admit it, but he’d been in exactly the same state that day: drunk and missing Bucky. He couldn’t help it though. He’d spent at least part of every birthday, since his freshman year of college, hanging out with Bucky. So that first year they weren’t speaking on his birthday, Sam had pretty much gone through some sort of asshole withdrawal and spent the last few hours of the day crying into a bottle of Hennessy.
“I’m glad you didn’t answer though,” Bucky said, to Sam's surprise. “Like I said, I wasn’t ready then… but I am now.”
“And what brought on this change, Bucky?” Sam asked, and his tone was back to being derisive at best.
But… he’d also called him Bucky, not James, so Bucky was feeling about as good as could be expected when he answered.
“Therapy,” he replied, bluntly, and couldn’t help but be a little satisfied when Sam actually blinked and the annoyed and angry look on his face was replaced with genuine surprise.
“You’re in therapy?” Sam asked. He was sure he looked taken aback, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of Bucky, his Bucky, sitting in a room with a relative stranger for forty-five minutes, talking about his feelings, was simply unbelievable.
But, his Bucky showing up out of the blue and telling him he’d always been in love with him, was pretty unbelievable too, so…
“I knew I wanted you back. I mean, I knew I wanted to be worthy of wanting you back,” he corrected, sincerely. “But I knew I had some hang ups about relationships and all the work that it takes to maintain them, and I needed to work on that first. I needed to work on me before I could—
“Show up on my wedding day,” Sam finished for him, and Bucky had the good grace to blush.
“Well, yeah,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m still a work in progress, clearly, and I’m certainly not saying everything with me is perfect now, but I can say that I’m in love with you. I can promise you that if you give me another chance, I will always try to be open and honest about my feelings. I won’t ever run away again when things get hard or scary, and if for some reason I do, I’ll always come back and I’ll always try to make it better.”
Bucky in therapy, confessing his love, and making promises of forever was all Sam ever wanted… a year and a half ago. And if Bucky had shown up to his apartment a week or two, or even a month or two, after they’d stopped speaking and made the exact same speech, Sam would’ve gladly taken him back.
But to show up with a love confession on his wedding day… there wasn’t much Sam could do with that.
“Buck,” he sighed, “look, I’m happy for you,” he said, and he meant it. “I’m glad you’re working on your issues, and making progress. I may have wished for your misfortune a couple of times when I’d had a little too much to drink,” he said, laughing a little, “but I really do want you to be happy.”
“But,” Bucky prompted, nervously, when Sam paused. He could tell the other shoe was about to drop.
“But I am getting married today, Bucky,” he said, sternly, as his gaze hardened just a bit. “I’m not throwing away what Riley and I have because my old fuck buddy is ready to talk now.”
He felt bad about being so harsh, but he knew Bucky. Shoot, he knew how he was with Bucky. And the same pull that had caused him to fall into bed with Bucky back then when he knew it was a bad idea, might get him to do something even more foolish now, if he let it.
“I’m ready to do more than talk, Sam,” Bucky replied. “I’m ready to commit to you. I’m ready to say that during our time apart my feelings for you — my love for you — has only grown stronger. You’re who I see in my future. You’re who I want to be with forever.”
“Well, I want Riley,” Sam snapped, annoyed with Bucky and himself.
Whether or not Sam wanted them to, Bucky’s words were having an effect on him. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, and his stomach felt full of butterflies.
Crap.
“Are you sure?” Bucky replied, and his tone wasn’t sarcastic or taunting, just incredibly earnest.
And that — the pure sincerity of the question — threw Sam off even more.
Because, see, Bucky wasn’t the first person to ask him that. Well, maybe not the exact same question, but Sarah had heard about Riley’s proposal and the first thing she said was: “Is this really what you want?” And she asked in a tone that could only be categorized as deeply concerned.
Steve had taken one look at the ring and said, “As long as you’re happy,” but it had come off more like a question than a statement.
And then there was Natasha’s, “Congrats, Wilson. You definitely found the anti-Bucky,” followed by some laughter that almost sounded mean now that he thought about it.
So, yeah, maybe this wasn’t the first time someone had doubted whether he wanted to marry Riley, but this was certainly the first time someone had been so bold about it. And as much as he wanted to immediately answer in the affirmative, there was something about it being Bucky who had asked him — something about the way Bucky was staring into his eyes looking like his life depended on Sam’s response — that had Sam really thinking about his reply.
Riley was kind, probably the most genuinely sweet person Sam knew other than his mama and Steve. He was just such a good guy, and that’s what had drawn Sam to him in the first place, what got Sam accepting his bumbling request for a date.
And, in a lot of ways, he was the anti-Bucky. He wasn’t shy about his feelings and seemed to almost crave Sam’s time and attention. It was him who pushed for commitments from Sam, and him who proposed just after a year of dating.
Things were easy between them, and Sam thought they could have a simple drama-less life, so he accepted. He loved Riley, and he was positive that they’d be comfortable together.
But sometimes late at night, when Riley was asleep next to him, but he was wide awake with his mind moving a mile a minute, Sam had doubts. About their lack of passion, about their lack of heat. About his stomach never quite flipping in excitement when he saw Riley, like it used to whenever Bucky walked into a room.
About how when Riley had been gone on that two week business trip, he’d missed him, but he’d missed him the way he missed one of his friends when they hadn’t hung out in a while.
Hell, sometimes, when he was laying there, trying his damnedest to count sheep, Riley would snuggle up to him and Sam would wonder whether he was even truly happy and in love, or if he was just content and comfortable.
And, yeah, he hadn’t been happy or content towards the end of his thing with Bucky, but he’d never once had to question if he was in love.
“Sam,” Bucky practically whispered, but in the quiet of the room it was loud enough to break Sam out of his quickly spiraling thoughts.
And when he refocused his gaze and came back to the present, he noticed Bucky had closed the distance between them and was standing right in front of him.
“Baby.” He dared to reach out and palm the side of Sam’s face, and almost against his own will, Sam leaned into his touch. “Are you sure?”
“Buck—
“‘Cause I want you to be happy too, Sammy. And if you really want to marry Riley, then I’ll walk out of here and deal with it. But I have to be certain first. I have to know there’s absolutely no chance for us before I go, otherwise I’ll never leave you alone — married or not,” he admitted, not the least bit ashamed, even if he should’ve been.
“Jesus, Buck.”
“Sorry,” he shrugged, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m in love with you Sammy, and no piece of paper with you and Riley’s names on it is gonna change that. I’m gonna feel this way about you forever.”
“So,” he said, and brought his other hand up, so that he was now holding both sides of Sam’s face. “Are you sure he’s who you want? Are you sure you don’t have any feelings left over for me?”
Sam would always have feelings for Bucky, and he suspected Bucky knew that. But he also knew that’s not exactly what Bucky meant. Feelings was doing a lot of heavy lifting — throughout their entire conversation actually — so, yeah, Sam knew what he was really asking. He wanted to know if Sam was still in love with him, or at least had the potential to be.
The fucked up part was, Sam didn’t even have to think about it. The answer was staring him right in the face. On his sleepless nights next to Riley, in his stilted conversations with Nat and Steve when they all avoided the topic of him and Bucky like the plague. Hell, even in the way he’d secretly thought that all the bad stuff that had happened today were more of an omen, than funny stories he could tell his grandchildren one day.
He saw the missed haircut and too tight shoes as bad signs, because he wanted to. And the reason why was currently caressing his face.
“God help me, but I want you,” Sam whispered, and that’s all it took for Bucky to break out into the most magnificent grin.
It was Bucky. It was always going to be Bucky.
Oh no. “Christ,” Sam said aloud, almost mournfully. “This is gonna kill Riley.”
Bucky slid his hands from Sam’s face, down to his waist, and gave him a comforting hug.
“I know, baby, but isn’t it better you’re ending it before the marriage — even if it’s right before,” he said, but his tone was off, and Sam drew back from the embrace slightly to level him with a look.
“Hey, I feel bad for him. Seriously. But he’s no longer marrying the love of my life, so I can’t help it if I’m happy too,” he said, shrugging.
“Lord, that’s right, I gotta deal with a church full of people too,” he remembered, wincing.
“I’ll get rid of them,” Bucky said, readily.
“Our friends will be insufferable,” Sam added, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I’ll make them shut-up.”
“My sister is gonna talk so much shit.”
Bucky shrugged. “Sarah’s always liked me.”
“My parents are gonna freak the fuck out.”
This time Bucky actually paused before he responded, then: “Umm yeah, you might be on your own there.”
Bucky loved the Wilsons, truly, but Sam’s parents could be intimidating as hell when they wanted to. Whenever he spoke to Paul Wilson, Bucky always felt like he was twelve years old, back in confession with Father Tony at St. Andrew’s.
“On my own, huh?” Sam went to take a step back, but Bucky tightened his hold on him.
“Just kidding, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me now, and always,” he added, before leaning in and giving him a searing kiss.
Bucky would face the inquisitive gazes of the Wilsons, and bullshit from his not so funny friends, and a dressing down from Sarah and his own sister for not getting his shit together sooner. Shoot, he’d even face what was sure to be a (rightfully) pissed off ex-fiance.
He’d face it all, and he’d do it with a smile on his face, because now he’d get to hold Sam in his arms for the rest of his life just like this. And that was worth facing any obstacle the world would be foolish enough to send their way.
The end.