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Chapter Text

Bucky was on alert. There was a kid smiling at him. In fact, the kid had been smiling at him for twelve full seconds now.

There was no reason for strange kids to smile at him, least of all in a grocery store. At first, he had wondered if he was doing something wrong, something that made him stand out in the 21^st century as a 107 year old man, a cause for amusement. But there wasn’t much you could do wrong about choosing tomatoes, was there?

When the smiling didn’t stop, Bucky stared back. The kid’s cheeks turned faintly pink.

“Sorry,” the kid (teenager, really) said but did not stop smiling. “I know it’s rude to stare. It’s just – what you have done – it changed my whole life.”

Bucky had changed people’s whole lives before but never before had it led to people smiling at him. He frowned back.

“I was so scared, and – my Dad’s a huge fan of Captain America, so that gave me the courage to finally come out to my family.”

Bucky could not exactly follow the logic of that, especially how it led to him getting smiled at, but he had learned to just go along with some things in the 21^st century.

“Great. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you. You have no idea how much this means. I…” The kid’s eyes filled with tears but he (she? Bucky wasn’t sure about their gender) was still smiling. “There were times when I was so scared that I wanted to just give up. And now I’m out and my family accepts it and – and-” Their lips wobbled. “Can I hug you?”

Bucky was out of his depth. On the one hand, the kid looked like they could use a hug. On the other, Bucky still expected some ploy and for the kid to pull out a knife and stab him during the hug.

“Sorry.” The kid gave an awkward laugh. “That was inappropriate. I still feel kind of, like, high from the euphoria of it all. Anyway, I just wanted you to know – haters are gonna hate but please know that you’re an inspiration and your coming out has saved people’s lives, and I mean that literally, literally saved lives.”

“That’s… what we do.” Bucky dropped the tomato he had accidentally squashed, clapped the kid on the shoulder and attempted a smile in return.

“Right. I’m going to leave you to do your groceries now.” With another smile, the kid hurried off.

What the hell? Bucky stared at the tomatoes. What had just happened? He was genuinely happy for the kid and he liked saving people’s lives, but he had no idea what he had done to deserve such praise.

Time to ask the Internet. Sam had told him never to google himself, but Bucky needed to know what was going on. It did not take him long to find the answer. On the Daily Bugle’s website, there was a photo of him and Sam, both of them smiling and Sam’s arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. It was a nice photo, and the headline was even nicer:

CAPTAIN AMERICA ABOUT THE WINTER SOLDIER: “HE IS MY PARTNER, DEAL WITH IT.”

It made warmth spread in Bucky’s chest. Sam would never say something like that to his face, and although Bucky knew they were friends, it was something else to see this declaration in bold letters, like a proof for the whole world to see.

Bucky saved a screenshot on his phone.

He was starting to understand what kind of idea the kid had gotten from that headline. Well, if it had helped them, all the better.

When Bucky read the article, he realised that the kid had not misunderstood anything – the Daily Bugle had (certainly on purpose). The number of comments on their article proved them successful.

“As a matter of principle, I don’t trust anything the Daily Bugle writes,” the cashier said when Bucky payed for his four tomatoes. “So. Can you confirm or deny? Is it true?”

People nowadays… No sense of privacy. Bucky was about to tell her what exactly he thought of the Daily Bugle and all the shit they had written about Sam from the moment he had stepped up as Captain America, but then he noticed that the kid from earlier was just behind him in the queue. He saw their hopeful expression, remembered the teary eyes, their words about saving lives… he could not do it.

“Sure. That a problem?”

Someone gasped. Someone took out their phone. The cashier was quick to explain that, no, she was completely fine with it, and then Bucky could leave the supermarket at last.

He needed to talk to Sam.

Chapter Text

“So I just did a stupid thing, maybe,” Bucky said as a way of greeting while Sam said, “I should’ve called you sooner.” There was a moment where they talked over each other on the phone until both of them said “sorry” at the exact same time and the conversation came to a halt.

“Okay. What exactly are you sorry for?” Sam asked.

“Have you seen the news?”

“Hard to miss.”

Bucky hummed. He had managed to miss those headlines for two whole days. “Yeah. So, uh. Today while I was grocery shopping, people approached me and, uh, addressed the issue.”

“Man, I really am sorry about that.” Sam sounded genuinely upset.

“Not your fault.” Nowadays, with the Internet, rumours spread much more easily but the press had been just as bad in the 40s. Bucky knew how to take such articles. He certainly wouldn’t stop spending time with Sam, sharing jokes and putting an arm around his shoulders, just because some journalist wanted to create a sensationalist story from it. And he hoped Sam saw it the same way. But maybe, being Captain America, it was different. Because that job was hard enough without hateful comments because of his sexual proclivities on top of all the other hateful comments.

“It kind of is,” Sam said.

“Huh?”

“I mean, I didn’t tell them we were a couple, as in, a couple of guys dating. But I said what I said and I knew what they were gonna do with it. They set me up, I walked right into that trap and I was being unprofessional.”

“You, unprofessional?”

“They knew how to provoke me, they said shitty things, I snapped. And then I walked out of the interview.”

“Oh.” Bucky had seen Sam become impatient with ignorant people before, had seen him lecture politicians and journalists but never outright walk out on them.

“Sorry I dragged you into this mess. I didn’t think, at the time, what it’d be like for you.”

“I’ve had worse things written about me than being Captain America’s sweetheart, so.”

“Thanks, man.” Sam sounded extremely relieved. What had he been worried about? That Bucky threw a tantrum because Sam had ruined his chances at dating? Not a big deal, especially seeing as Bucky had not tried dating in a while after his first failed attempts at online dating.

“You’re welcome,” he said anyway.

“Asshole.” But Bucky could hear Sam chuckle softly. “So, what are you sorry for?”

Just like that, Bucky was uneasy again. He still needed to confess what he had done. Sam may have accidentally started the rumours but Bucky had confirmed them, that is, had told lies about Sam in public. “Let’s say, if it were true.”

“If what were true?”

“You and I, a couple. Real couple, I mean. Sweethearts.”

“Bucky?” Sam’s voice was suddenly unusually high. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“Would it be so bad?”

“I – no?”

“I mean, same-sex marriage is legal nowadays, right? And there are laws against discrimination of all kinds. From a legal standpoint, you shouldn’t get into trouble for it.”

“I have no idea what’s going on here. A part of me is wondering if you’re proposing right now.”

Bucky laughed, glad that Sam could joke about it. “As I said, people asked me about it today. And I, uh, said it’s true.”

Bucky heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath. Then there was a long pause, utter silence. Had Sam ended the call?

“Sam?”

At last, an answer, just one word: “Why?”

“Look, there was this kid, said the news had given them the courage to come out to their parents and it meant so much to so many people… It would’ve been cruel to tell them it’s all a lie, right?” Sam had to understand, he would’ve done the same…right? “Anyway. There were other people listening.”

“Oh.”

Another long silence.

“Sorry,” Bucky said lamely.

“Hm. I didn’t know you were such a softie.”

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard he almost gave himself a headache. As Sam couldn’t see that comment, he said, “Got anything else to say on the matter?”

Sam sighed. “Yes, I do. How exactly do we go on from here?”

“You could always say I’d lost my mind, was hopelessly in love with you, delusional. But you should be aware that you’d break people’s hearts. You know, young queer kids who look up to Captain America.” Let’s see who was a softie now!

“What are you suggesting – this – this sounds like a terrible idea, this is breaking Zemo out of jail all over again, no.”

“It worked, didn’t it? And I didn’t even suggest anything.”

“Yet. What are you suggesting?”

“Let’s be realistic about it. The people who are going to give you shit about being with a man will give you shit anyway. It won’t change a thing if you say it’s not true, the rumours are already out there. So why not give the other ones something? If it changes people’s lives for the better, I’d say let’s do it.”

“You want to make this a political statement?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I guess I’ve spent too much time with idealistic guys fighting injustice.” Bucky waited for Sam’s amused snort before he continued, “And we can always break up. Amicably, preferably, so we can still be co-workers.”

“It frightens me how logical you’re making this sound. It means I probably shouldn’t do this.”

“Think about it.”

“You know what? I will. I’ll get back to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Great. See you. Sweetheart.”

“This is a bad idea.”

Chapter Text

“This is a bad idea,” Sam said instead of a greeting when Bucky entered the backstage area.

Bucky could not help but grin widely. It was fun to see Sam squirm like this.

“In fact, of all the bad ideas that you’ve had, this is the worst,” Sam declared before he checked himself in the mirror and adjusted his already perfectly knotted tie.

Bucky stepped next to Sam and looked at the both of them in the mirror. They looked good in their suits, ironed dress shirts, freshly shaved. “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Doesn’t it bother you that your whole private life is going to be broadcast to millions of Americans?”

“My fake private life.”

“Right. And it doesn’t bother you at all that…people are going to assume you’re gay?”

“Why, because I’m from the 40s?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, also that.”

“Come on, I was in the army.”

“Exactly.”

“Back then, there were hardly any women in the army. Peggy Carter was the exception. So, most guys, at one point or another, experimented, helped each other out, whatever you want to call it.”

Sam turned to stare at him. “Wait. Are you saying you-”

He was interrupted by the make-up artist who just entered the room. “Mr. Barnes, there you are. Please, sit down. What can I do for you?”

“No.”

“Just some powder then.” She took a brush and, before he could protest further, she covered his face in powder. Now it was Sam’s turn to grin widely. Bucky just glared at him because he did not want to swear in the presence of a lady.

“I could use some subtle eyeliner to accentuate your eyes,” the make-up artist said. “You really have beautiful eyes.”

Bucky was just about to return the compliment, when Sam spoke up, “Hey, don’t flirt with my boyfriend.”

“Sorry.” The make-up artist raised her hands in defense and gave Sam a cheeky grin. “I’m happily married, no worries.” She indicated the ring on her finger.

Bucky threw Sam a glance that hopefully communicated that there was going to be some payback later once they were on their own. Sam just smiled serenely back.

“Ten minutes.” A young man came to fit them with microphones.

Then they were finally alone for a few seconds in the hall right before they went on to the stage. Sam suddenly grabbed Bucky’s lapels and fumbled with the microphone.

“What are you doing?”

“Deactivating the mic. We should talk boundaries.”

“What?”

“I’m serious, we need to talk about this before we go out there. Shit, we should have done this earlier.” They could hear the talk show host announce them. “Quick now. Anything that makes you uncomfortable?”

“Talk show hosts, cameramen, audiences?”

“I mean between us. What if they want us to kiss? How do you feel about touching?”

“You’re touching me right now.”

Sam hastily took his hands off Bucky’s lapels. “That’s different. I mean, touching in a romantic way. Holding hands, something like that.”

Bucky stared at him. Really, holding hands had him worried? “Think I’ll survive,” he deadpanned.

“…please welcome Captain America himself Sam Wilson and World War II veteran Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes!”

“I’m serious!” Sam hissed.

“It’s fine, Sam. I’m fine with everything.”

They hurried on to the stage. The spotlights were blinding, the audience clapped, the host (Bucky had forgotten her name, Mary or Michelle or something) shook their hands and made them sit down on a hard couch.

“Well.” She smiled at them. “Thank you for coming here. You’ve caused quite a stir the last few days. I imagine you must have gotten lots of invitations to interviews or shows. How did we end up being the lucky one?”

“We drew lots,” Bucky said.

No one laughed. Okay, it had not been a good joke, to be honest. But no one reacted at all.

Mary-Michelle smiled politely. “I think your microphone isn’t working.”

“Here, let me help.” Sam leant closer to fumble with his microphone again. There were faint “aw”s from the audience. Well, if they were going to play like that…

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Bucky said. More “aw”s, even one from Mary-Michelle.

“Okay, all set now?” Mary-Michelle grabbed her index cards and smiled again. “First of all, how are you? I’m sure the last few days have been tumultuous.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged a look.

“I guess when you fight aliens, androids and wizards on a weekly basis, you have a different conception of tumultuous,” Sam said. The audience laughed and clapped. Well done. It was a relief to have them on their side.

“We’re good,” Bucky contributed his part to the conversation.

“That’s great to hear. Now, I want to ask about your coming out, your public coming out last week. Mr. Wilson, was that a deliberate decision or did it happen on the spur of the moment, because you were frustrated when people questioned – not for the first time – your decision to work together with the former Winter Soldier?”

Bucky could not help but smile a little. No matter what Sam said directly to his face, it was nice to think that Sam defended him in front of other people. Also, it was nice that Mary-Michelle called him the former Winter Soldier.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t go into that interview with the plan to have a public coming out,” Sam said. “If it had been planned, we would have done it together. We’ve talked about it, of course, because, I think, everyone wants to be able to love whoever they choose to love and not have to hide it. So no, it wasn’t planned like this but looking back on it, I’m glad it happened. You won’t believe how many people came up to us and told us what it meant to them, how it had impacted their lives. Mostly young people from the LGBTQ community but also older people. Just yesterday I talked to a 70 year old man who told me he had finally decided to tell his sisters that he’s gay.” Sam turned to the audience. “So what I want to tell you is, firstly, don’t ever feel bad for not coming out. Do whatever feels right to you. Secondly, it’s never too late to come out. I mean, look at him.” He grinned at Bucky. “107 years and just out of the closet.”

Again, laughter and applause.

“Mr. Barnes, what was it like for you?” Mary-Michelle addressed him. “Was it a shock for you to be outed just like that?”

“No.” Bucky stared hard at the camera that was closing in on him.

“So no hard feelings because you weren’t involved in the decision?”

Bucky hesitated. Was it a trap? He did not trust journalists or talk show hosts. Did they want him to say something mean about Captain America? Did they want to cause drama in their relationship? He looked at Sam. He looked at Sam’s hand. He took Sam’s hand in his. “No, we’re good.” He smiled at Sam. Sam stared back, for several long seconds.

Alright, this was probably not the time for a staring contest. Bucky squeezed his hand a little tighter until Sam finally blinked.

“I didn’t expect him to be so cool about it,” Sam said with a little smirk.

“Yes,” Mary-Michelle agreed eagerly, “for a guy from the 40s you seem pretty fine with PDA.”

Bucky just shrugged and hoped that counted as neither confirmation nor denial. Internally he was screaming because what the hell was PDA? It sounded like something dirty. What was he confirming or denying? He did not want to provoke another scandal!

“Public displays of affection,” Sam said in a singsong voice, again with the smirk. “It’s okay not to know everything, babe.”

What even was his life? He sometimes had brief flashes of what twenty-year-old Bucky would have to say about first becoming a brainwashed assassin and then, at the age of 107, playing Captain America’s boyfriend on national TV. He tried not to think too much about it because that way lay madness and his life was mad enough already, better not reflect too much on it.

“I’m not an exhibitionist.” Why was the audience laughing?

“But he’s a cuddler,” Sam said.

Way to ruin his reputation. How was any villain going to take him seriously now? “I’m breaking up with you after this.” More laughter.

“It’s true,” Sam said with the most shit-eating grin ever.

“And he sleeps in stars-and-stripes underpants,” Bucky shot back.

Sam doubled over with laughter. “You like them!” he said between wheezes of laughter.

Bucky would not allow himself to be one-upped. “He does look sexy in stars and stripes,” he said but he wasn’t sure anyone heard him over the laughter and everyone talking at once.

When everyone had calmed down, Mary-Michelle said, “I didn’t expect the interview to go like this, but no complaining here, for sure.” She took a sip of water from her glass, chuckled again and arranged her index cards. “Anyway, back to the question, Mr. Barnes. What was it like, coming from the 40s to a time like this with same-sex marriage, Pride parades, the Internet… Must be quite a culture shock.”

Bucky did not understand why people always made such a big deal about it. He had been brainwashed by Hydra to kill dozens of people, for heaven’s sake – why would gay porn alarm him?

“There were queer people in the 40s, you know? Just no… PDA.”

Sam snorted very softly, almost inaudibly, so probably only Bucky could hear it.

“So you had to keep your relationships hidden, I guess?”

“Some of them.”

“Really? You were out in the open back then? That’s amazing.”

“I mostly dated girls before the War.”

Mary-Michelle opened her eyes wide in surprise. “Oh, wow, is this another coming out?”

What was happening now? Should he not have mentioned the girls? Some of his confusion must have shown on his face because Mary-Michelle continued, “Does that mean you identify as bisexual?”

He scowled. Was bisexuality not okay? Was the word problematic? You never knew. “I like men and women. And I’m currently dating Sam.” Just facts, no complicated discourse.

“Right.” Mary-Michelle was still smiling. “How about you, Mr. Wilson?”

“I won’t talk about my past relationships here because I like to keep my private life, well, private. But if you’re asking about my sexual orientation – I’m gay.”

There were murmurs from the audience.

“And he’s currently dating me,” said Bucky and squeezed Sam’s knee.

“Please don’t ask me why,” Sam said.

Mary-Michelle giggled. “I was just about to ask that. But I understand, of course, if you want to keep it private.”

“No, go ahead,” said Bucky, “ask him how he fell in love with me.”

“His beautiful eyes, obviously.”

Bucky almost choked. How was he going to beat that?

“What about you, Mr. Barnes? What made you fall in love with him?”

“For me, it was love at first sight.” Their first encounter had not exactly been romance material but people did not need to know that.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. When I first saw him flying, I had this kind of religious experience. Thought an angel was coming for me.” In truth, the Winter Soldier had catalogued Sam as an adamant annoyance standing in his way, between him and his mission. But as far as Bucky was concerned, that did not really count as their first meeting. Neither did ripping off Sam’s wing, pushing him off buildings or trying to choke him. No, the first time he had laid his eyes on Sam not as the Winter Soldier but as Bucky… had not exactly been fabulous either, in a cold and dark basement, with him having a hell of a headache and Sam staring at him with distrustful eyes. But it could have been worse. “And the rest is history, as they say,” he concluded.

“You conveniently forgot your dramatic love declaration in the middle of a fight.”

“What was I supposed to do, I thought we were both going to die!”

*

They stumbled back to the backstage room, both giggling like schoolboys.

Sam turned around to make sure no one was overhearing them. “I can’t believe the shit you come up with,” he said.

“Me? You started it all.”

“What?”

“With the PDA.”

“Oho, that your new favourite word?”

“Helping me with my microphone as an excuse to get your hands on me…”

“From now on I’m taking you to every interview I have to do.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. I’ve never had so much fun during an interview before.”

“You’re going to regret that.”

“Why? Are you going to kiss me?”

“You wish. I’m a good kisser.”

Chapter Text

PATRIOTIC UNDERPANTS AND SUPERSOLDIER CUDDLES – CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER GET INTIMATE ON THE MARTHA SHOW

from the comment section:

by johnnyboy:

Unpopular opinion but I thought that interview was completely unnecessary. I don’t understand today’s obsession with sexuality. Why can’t people just keep their love life private? I don’t want to know what Captain America and the Winter Soldier are up to in the sheets.

by antlers:

that moment when cap lost himself in bucky’s eyes? reblog if you agree

by dressed-to-kill:

i want someone to look at me the way cap looks at bucky IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK???

by woe_is_me:

wait, so did barnes just confirm he’s bi?

by fuckthepatriarchy123:

@woe_is_me: Did you even listen to the video?! He very clearly made a statement against *any* labels!

Bucky was just about to read on to find out about the specifics of the statement he had made, when his phone rang. It was Sam.

“Are you free next Saturday?”

“No.”

“Come on, you never have plans for the weekend.”

“It’s another interview, isn’t it?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“A photoshoot?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m free. What is it, Sarah’s birthday?”

“I told you that’s in four weeks. No, I was asked if I’d give a speech at the New Orleans Pride.”

“Yeah? You’ll do great. Good luck, have fun.”

“You know how weird it’d look if I went to Pride without my alleged boyfriend?”

*

Bucky warily eyed the heap of rainbow accessories Sam pulled from his bag one after the other.

“We can’t put all of that on,” Bucky said. “It would ruin my reputation.”

“True, everything at once would look unprofessional. I just wanted us to have options.” Sam tried on a thin wristband. “Although… have you seen the memes?”

Bucky threw him a confused glance.

“Alright, you know what? Don’t google yourself. You might find out your reputation as a dangerous assassin has already been ruined.”

“That’s not exactly the worst that could happen,” Bucky said, for the first time in this conversation completely honest.

Sam looked up from some kind of sticker he was unwrapping and gave him a half smile, somehow acknowledging with just this little gesture what Bucky had said.

Bucky smiled awkwardly back, shrugged and took one of the rainbow pins to attach to his leather jacket.

Sam grabbed something that looked like a lipstick, just broader and, of course, in rainbow colours. “Should I ruin you some more?”

Bucky snorted. “Whoa. You’re moving fast.”

Sam came forward with that thing raised like a weapon. “I think it’d look good on you. Let me.”

Bucky sighed loudly but let Sam apply the paint first to his left cheek, then to his right cheek. Sam was grinning the whole time.

“Glad you’re having fun,” Bucky complained. One look in the mirror and he knew this wasn’t going to happen. “I’m sticking with the pin.”

“Fine, you want to look boring. But you know boring people stand out at Pride.”

Sam talked big but in the end, he chose only the wristband, and the rest of the accessories was left behind.

*

They did not stay this subtle and professional for long. After one walk through the crowd, Bucky had three more pins with various colour combinations on his jacket and someone had wrapped a huge rainbow flag around Sam.

It was definitely one of the oddest days of Bucky’s life, but odd in a good way. People asked for his autograph – his, not only Sam’s – and wanted to take pictures with the two of them. During Sam’s speech, Bucky absent-mindedly agreed to two girls putting a nonpermanent tattoo on his cheek. More pictures were taken. When he spotted a couple dressed up like Sam and him, like a couple’s costume, he actually ran into someone and spilled their drink. He meant to apologise and offer to buy the woman a drink but she and her friends insisted on inviting him instead. There were several more people in Captain America costumes, usually accompanied by someone in dark leather. It was absolutely mindboggling.

“There you are.” Sam squeezed through the crowd. He was still wrapped in the rainbow flag and glowing with excitement. Immediately Bucky’s drinking companions gathered around him, asked for autographs and selfies.

“Nice speech,” Bucky said.

“You didn’t listen to a word of it, like always. What have you been up to?” Sam gestured to the rainbow tattoo on Bucky’s face.

“Just…embracing this whole thing, you know?”

“You’re doing great, babe.” And then Sam actually – he actually leant forward and placed a smack of a kiss on Bucky’s nonpermanent tattoo.

Bucky blinked. Holy shit. Way to up the ante. Was Sam drunk? But he had hardly had any time yet for alcohol.

“Why is there glitter in your hair?” Sam asked.

“I have no idea whatsoever.”

“Hey, can we take another picture?” someone shouted, and someone else plastered several colourful stickers to the shield.

*

WHY SAM WILSON IS THE QUEER ICON WE NEED

from the comment section:

by johnnyboy:

That was an absolute disgrace. Steve Rogers would never have acted like this. I bet those SJWs would love to see the Stars and Stripes replaced with their childish rainbow. How is any supervillain going to take America serious after this?

by antlers:

aw, that picture where cap smooches bucky? sooo cuuute uwu

by deep’n’dark:

This is so unprofessional and, I’m going to say it although I know you Internet superheroes are going to come for me: stupid. Wilson has exposed his weak spot. He should’ve kept his private life private. If I were a supervillain I’d take Barnes hostage now and just like that, I have Captain America under control. It’s too easy. No wonder China and Russia are just laughing about us nowadays.

Bucky was about to put his fist through the screen when his phone rang. It was Sam.

“I hope you didn’t google yourself,” was the first thing Bucky said.

“Sounds like you already did.”

There was a heavy pause that made it obvious that Sam had, too. Nevertheless, Bucky said, “Well, don’t do it.”

“Mm. I knew, from the moment I took the shield, that there were going to be people who’d hate me for it, for being Black and daring to represent America and speaking up on things. And now I’ve given them another reason to hate me, for being gay. So maybe I could be a respectable gay and not mention it in public, not make speeches in a rainbow flag at Pride. But you know what, people have already decided that they’re going to hate me anyway, so why should I be quiet? There are also many people to whom it means something, so I’d rather make them happy because they are more important than trying to make everyone happy because that’s definitely doomed to fail, and I don’t want to make bigots happy anyway.”

Wow. Sam must have read a lot of online articles and comments. Bucky got some hate, too, but it was not nearly as bad as for Sam. So he totally understood Sam’s anger. It was the most inspiring anger ever and Bucky honestly admired Sam for how he handled the situation. (He would never say so out loud, of course.)

“So why are you calling me?” Bucky said. “Do you want us to have sex in public to make bigots angry?”

Sam chuckled. “Close, but not as radical. It’s a photoshoot.”

“Oh no.”

“I promise it’s the last time I’m asking you to do something like this.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“This time, I mean it. I’ve made my statements, and the public doesn’t have a right to our private life. Hypothetical private life. So we’ll step back from the public after this. Or, well, as much as you can step back from the public as Captain America. But this is a charity photoshoot, they want to make a calendar with LGBTQ celebrities and the profits go to NGOs supporting homeless LGBTQ teenagers.”

“Can you please stop speaking in abbreviations all the time? And do we have to get naked?”

Sam snorted. “No, it’s a tasteful, professional photoshoot, I’m afraid.”

*

“Really?” Bucky doubtfully examined the blue sweater with the penguin on it. “He gets to be a superhero and I’m put in an ugly Christmas sweater?” A few meters to the right, Sam was photographed in his suit and with the shield, striking all the superhero poses.

“Don’t worry, he’s going to wear one of these, too,” the stylist told Bucky. She held up two sweaters, a green one with a Christmas tree and a red one with a reindeer. “Which one do you think suits him better?”

“The red one, definitely.”

By now, Bucky had grown used to people fussing with brushes, paint and powder over him, accentuating his eyes or cheekbones, hiding his wrinkles or covering up his bruises from a fight. He had given up complaining. He was not done complaining about the Christmas sweaters though.

“Why can’t we be a spring couple?”

“Why, you want to dress up as an Easter bunny?” Sam had finished his photoshoot, and now jabbed Bucky’s shoulder in passing. “Looking good, babe. The sweater really brings out the colour of your eyes.”

“I’m breaking up with you,” Bucky said. He turned away to give Sam some privacy when he changed from his Captain America suit into the ridiculous reindeer sweater.

“Nah, you love me.”

Sam was really bringing it on today. So Bucky said the only thing he could think of to provoke a reaction from Sam. “Wanna get married?”

The stylist gasped.

“You need to put more effort into the proposal if you want to convince me,” Sam said.

“Is that a no?”

“Yup.”

“It’s going to be a sad photoshoot then. Can we be the November couple?”

The stylist looked a little confused. “I’m afraid we already have photos for November, so…”

So they stayed in their Christmas sweaters. They were put in front of a green screen where undoubtedly later corny Christmas decoration would be added digitally. 

“Now cosy up a little,” the photographer told them.

Sam slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“No, not like that, you look like two dudes forced to take a picture for a Christmas card.”

It was a pretty accurate description of the situation.

“You want more romance?” Sam asked.

“I’ll give you romance,” Bucky said and stepped behind Sam to hug him tightly. He placed his chin on Sam’s shoulder and smirked at the photographer. “Better?”

“Uh, yeah. Um…”

“You’re only doing this so the penguin on your sweater isn’t on the picture,” Sam said.

“I’m doing it for the romance.”

“Uh, Mr. Barnes, could you try to look more, uh, festive and not so, uh…”

“Is he doing the Winter Soldier stare?” Sam asked and turned to look Bucky in the eye. They were awfully close like this. The stylist must have done something with Sam’s lashes because they hadn’t been so long before, had they? And so curly.

“Jesus, Buck, no one wants to get the Winter Soldier stare for Christmas. Give us your festive look, come on.”

“Maybe, uh, gloves would help?” the photographer suggested. “With the whole winter look, you know.”

Not very subtle. Bucky gave him another glare. Maybe that was the reason why they had been chosen for December.

“No,” Sam said, “I’m sweating enough in this sweater and his death grip, please spare me the gloves.” He took Bucky’s hands and placed them over his own.

Bucky stared down at their hands, at his own hands over Sam’s over the red sweater, and something constricted in his chest at that picture, at what it meant. It spelled trust, yes, because Sam had never given a fuck about the metal arm like some people did, had never been scared of Bucky after he had got his mind back (and maybe not even before either). But what was more was the acceptance, acceptance of Bucky as a whole person. Sam knew the worst parts of him and yet here he was, letting Bucky hug him from behind and cover his hands and –

The camera flashed.

Bucky needed to get back control over the situation. Get back into the game, make it a competition again.

He leant closer to Sam’s ear and tried to make his voice deeper when he said, “You’re sweating? Am I making you hot and bothered?”

It wasn’t even that funny but Sam cracked up nevertheless. The camera flashed again.

*

WHAT DOES ‘CAPTAIN AMERICA’ MEAN?

by Jeremy Hughes

From the moment Steve Rogers first took up the famous shield, Captain America has always been more than just a supersoldier who punches his way through enemy lines. He is a role model, someone who inspires others and, as the title says, someone who represents America and their values. Which values? We all know the famous lyrics: “Who's strong and brave, here to save the American Way?” There is no doubt about Steve Rogers’ strength and bravery, and also Sam Wilson, although not enhanced with supersoldier serum, has proven his bravery in several battles as a reliable member of the Avengers. But since he has taken up the mantle of Captain America, Wilson has made some controversial decisions. There is more and more criticism that he does not represent the whole of America but caters to a loud minority. Captain America’s job should not be to divide but to unite. In this regard, Wilson is not the right man and one can only wonder how Steve Rogers would react if he were still around to see how Wilson continues his legacy. Compare Steve Rogers, who held out for his one true love even though she was 90 years old and amnesiac, to Wilson’s TV tour full of sexual innuendos and sometimes outright obscenities. This is just one of the many points that set the two men apart. The question is, if so many people feel that Captain America does not represent America anymore, what does that make him? How do you become Captain America? For a country that is founded on democracy, is it not ironic that the man who is meant to represent it is not chosen by the people but by one single person behind closed doors?

*

“Did you write this?” Bucky held the newspaper under the man’s very nose.

“I work for the Daily Bugle, yes. Why?”

“Are you Jeremy Hughes?”

“Why are you asking?”

It was as good as a confirmation. That and his nervous look around as if to make sure there were witnesses in case he was murdered by the Winter Soldier.

“Okay.” Bucky stepped closer and stared him down. “Then you need to get one thing straight. Steve was our friend, mine and Sam’s. You don’t know shit about him, so stop writing about him as if you knew him. You know what he’d do if he were here today? He’d tell you to leave his personal life out of it, and he’d punch every fucking bigot in the face. That’s what he’d do.”

Hughes made a step back and looked around again. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky stared harder. “Just saying what Steve would do, is all.”

*

WINTER SOLDIER THREATENS JOURNALIST

Last night, James B. Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, cornered a journalist of the Daily Bugle and threatened him with physical violence. It happened likely in response to an article the Daily Bugle published earlier that week that questioned some of Sam Wilson’s more recent choices in the role of Captain America. This incident once more raises the question if Barnes is in fact as harmless as he claims. He is clearly instable at best. With the revelation that he is in a romantic relationship with Wilson, people also question if Wilson is the right person to make an unbiased decision to include Barnes in the Avengers team.

from the comment section:

by johnnyboy:

I’ve been telling people that the Winter Soldier is not to be trusted, and here we are. I knew this was going to happen. Great work, Captain America, really great work promoting an assassin who threatens the American value of freedom of speech.

by AMERICAFIRST:

we all know there’s only one reason why barnes is a member of the avengers. cap must be really gagging for that supersoldier dick

Bucky’s fingers were trembling when he took the call from Sam.

“Hey, so I wanted-”

“Don’t read the news,” Bucky blurted out. “Don’t ever read comments.”

Sam sighed. Then there was silence.

“I think I made it worse,” Bucky said. “I have no idea how to deal with this. Everything just blows up. I’m sorry.”

“Did you really threaten that journalist?”

“Just told him Steve would’ve punched him in the face.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, he would have.”

“Good thing they don’t know about his thing with Sharon. Wouldn’t fit their story.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t want to know,” Sam said and he sounded so bitter. “Just like they conveniently forget that he didn’t want to sign the Sokovia Accords.”

Bucky could not think of anything else to say but, “It’s not fair.” It sounded terribly childish and inconsequential in face of everything that was going on.

“No shit.” Sam sighed again. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I wanted to ask you if you’re free next Friday.”

Bucky hesitated. He would accompany Sam, of course, if he asked him to come along. But… “Do you really think another interview is a good idea? It only ever gets worse.”

“No, God, I’ve had enough of interviews.”

“I swear, if it’s another cooking show-”

“No.” Sam actually chuckled a little. “It’s Sarah’s birthday, remember? You’re coming, right?”

“Oh, thank God, that’s finally going to be a nice day.”

“Sarah asks if you want to stay the whole weekend.”

“Sure.” Bucky had been ready to move there for months; he was grateful for every day he was invited to stay in Delacroix. “It’ll be nice to get out of here for a bit.”

“Yeah. Just, you should know, Sarah doesn’t know that we’re – well, she thinks we’re really a couple.”

“You didn’t tell her?” That seemed unusual. Bucky had always assumed Sam and Sarah were really close and talked about everything.

“Never got around to telling her. Too many things to do, you know. And if I break up with you now, I can’t bring you to her birthday, which means Sarah is going to be disappointed and AJ and Cass even more. So, not an option.”

“Why don’t you tell her the truth?”

“Look, I will, at some point. But she’s not going to be happy about it, that I lied to her. And I really don’t want to spoil her birthday.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“She deserves a nice birthday.”

“She really does. But maybe don’t flirt with her this time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep all my flirting to you, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

The moment when they stepped out of the car in Delacroix, it felt like a huge weight was lifted from Bucky’s shoulders. The warmth, the smells and sounds of this place so different from the city but most of all the people, friendly faces everywhere, starting with AJ and Cass waving excitedly at them.

“Mr. Barnes, Cass and me are building a tree house,” AJ said, “but there’s this big branch in the way, and Mom says we can’t saw it off ourselves. Can you help us? With your metal arm?” He grinned excitedly up at Bucky.

“A tree house? That sounds fun!”

“Come on.” AJ grabbed Bucky’s arm but Sam stopped him.

“Hey, is it your Mom’s birthday or yours?” Sam, too, carried himself lighter, had a spring in his step when he greeted his nephews.

“Mom’s. So?”

“So we’re here for her first. Your tree house has to wait.”

“Tomorrow’s not your Mom’s birthday, right?” Bucky said.

AJ shrugged. “Yeah, okay, tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” Bucky said. “Oomph.” AJ had jumped onto his back and was now clinging to his neck. “What are you, a cat?”

“A sloth.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Bucky carried him around while Cass told them all about the elaborate plans for the tree house.

They met Sarah in front of the house where she was putting up some benches for the party.

“Oh, there you are, thank God. I have a whole van full of tables and benches that need to be carried here.” She wiped her sweaty brow.

“Sounds like my job,” Bucky said, glad that there wasn’t any awkwardness about him being Sam’s (fake) boyfriend.

“Wow, not even a hello?” Sam went to hug Sarah. “Happy birthday.” He handed her the presents that he and Bucky had bought for her: a huge bouquets of lilies, tickets for her favourite band (including the promise to babysit the boys) and, for some reason, a snow globe with an ugly pelican. Sam had insisted it was a tradition to gift each other useless and tacky knick-knack.

“Oh my God, what is this?” She laughed at the ugly snow globe. “Thank you, this is everything I ever wanted. And hello, Sam.” Her grin turned softer. “It’s good to have you here, both of you.” She turned to Bucky. “AJ, would you let Mr. Barnes go? I hope they didn’t pester you with their tree house plans yet?”

“No, not at all.” Bucky exaggeratingly winked at Cass, who grinned back at him. “Happy birthday, Sarah.” He hugged her, too, and tried to squash his bad conscience about lying to her.

“Good thing Sam chose a supersoldier as his boyfriend,” she said.

Come to think of it, the idea of marrying into this family, who saw his superpowers as useful for building tree houses, boat repairs and carrying tables – something helpful instead of something to be feared of – was actually promising. Now he just needed to get Sam on board to pull this through.

Sam elbowed him. “I told you, no more flirting with Sarah.”

“I’m not-”

“Yeah? Then why are you grinning like a lovesick fool?”

“Just for you. Sweetheart.”

AJ made puking noises. Cass averted his gaze in embarrassment.

“Okay, boys, make yourselves useful. I could use some help in the kitchen.” With lots of complaining, AJ and Cass followed Sarah inside.

It did not take Sam and Bucky long to put up all the tables and benches. Nevertheless, Sam was drenched in sweat from head to toe when they were finished. So they decided to go swimming to cool off. The boys and Sarah came as well and they spent more than an hour in the water with the most competitive game of water polo ever. It ended up with Bucky against the whole Wilson family trying to duck him. Then they spent another hour resting in the shades. Sam brought them cold lemonade from the kitchen and everything was just perfect. Why was he living in the city again? Staying here forever like this was the dream. Maybe occasionally going on a mission because the world needed saving, but drinking homemade lemonade after romping around in the water was definitely better.

“Alright, we need to get back to work,” Sam said at last. “Or there won’t be any party tonight.”

Sam drove into town to pick up fresh seafood and meat for the barbecue, AJ and Cass put up torches in the garden and Sarah and Bucky went into the kitchen to prepare salads and side dishes.

“How are you?” Sarah asked. “I mean, you’ve been all over the news during the last weeks, acting all lovey-dovey but…”

Oh no, was she suspecting something? Of course she would, she was Sam’s sister, for heaven’s sake, but Sam had insisted on keeping up this charade. And where was he now? Great, just great. This was going to be a disaster, and Bucky did not want to ruin Sarah’s birthday, under no circumstances.

“…I guess being a celebrity isn’t always fun,” Sarah continued. “That’s – that’s enough.” She took the chopping board from Bucky where he had almost crushed the sweet potatoes to mash, which he had been meant to cut into slices.

Bucky nodded in relief at her words. So she was just worried, not sceptical. “Sorry. Yeah. I mean, it’s fine, we’re fine.” Sarah gave him a doubtful look, so he elaborated. “It’s frustrating, what they write, of course it is. Everything gets twisted, and if you try to do something about it, it only gets worse. I think Sam gets the most of it, even though I’m the ex-assassin. But if I do something wrong, they blame that on Sam, too.”

“Surprise.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No shit.” She sounded so much like Sam. Bucky looked helplessly on as she was chopping the tomatoes just as brutally as Bucky had demolished the sweet potatoes. What was he supposed to say or do in face of such injustice? ‘It’s not fair’ was insufficient.

“I’m sorry. Should we talk about something else?” he helplessly offered to change the subject. “It’s your birthday and you shouldn’t have to put up with such depressing things today.”

Sarah sighed and stared down at the tomato pulp. “Maybe we can still make guacamole from this.”

“Guacawhat?” Bucky knew what guacamole was but he played it up so Sarah could make fun of him.

But she wouldn’t have any of his bullshit. “Nope, don’t play dumb with me. I know you know what guacamole is because we already had it and you liked it.”

It had worked anyway. Bucky grabbed two avocadoes and crushed each of them in one hand.

“Oh my God, this is not how you make it.” Nevertheless, she handed him a bowl.

“It’s faster.” He removed the skin and pits from the pulp. “How are your plans for the restaurant coming along?”

“In my head? Really well, I can see it all. I just don’t have any time to make actual, realistic plans, you know.”

“Sam and I could come over more often, look after the boys, manage the seafood business.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I know how these kinds of situations turn out with Sam. Suddenly he needs to be somewhere else, like saving the world again, and I’m sitting here with more work than before. I can’t blame him, saving the world is a pretty good excuse for anything. I just don’t want to rely on supervillains to remain peaceful for a longer amount of time.”

Bucky passed the bowl with the avocado pulp to Sarah. “We’ll find a way.”

Sarah mumbled something about “superheroes and helper syndrome” but she was smiling while she seasoned the guacamole. “The fact that I learned about your relationship in the media instead of hearing it from my brother really says it all.”

Ouch. “Sorry about that. We didn’t really plan to do a public coming-out. It just sort of happened.”

“I’m not the public, Bucky.” She pushed two glasses of black beans towards him. “Can you open these?”

He removed the lids for her. “It was still very new then and we weren’t sure if it’d work out, that’s why we didn’t want to tell anyone yet.” It felt horrible lying to her, to the woman who had welcomed him into her home without any questions, trusting him with her kids, making him feel at home – and all of it unconditionally.

“So, when did you start dating?” Sarah asked.

Good thing they had discussed all the specifics on their way here so their made-up stories would not contradict each other. “April 28^th.”

“That’s all you’re gonna give me? Come on, Bucky, what did you have to do to win him over?”

“Maybe he won me over?”

Sarah laughed. “No, I know my brother. He isn’t the one to make the first move.”

Huh, curious. Normally, Sam was the one to reach out, approach people, establish a connection. Sam should have mentioned that. He was lucky Bucky had won that round of rock-paper-scissors on who had initiated the first kiss. “We were on a mission, just the two of us. During a fight I fell down a cliff and he saved me. I was so relieved that I kissed him. What can I say, he kissed me back and then asked me out.”

“Did he? Wow.” Sarah chuckled. “I guess you can pride yourself that he must really love you.”

“Lucky me, I guess.” This wasn’t a lie. He was so lucky to be here, preparing guacamole, crab dip and coleslaw while chatting with Sarah over his (fake) love life, being invited to a party with the nicest people in the world, having Sam as a friend.

*

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Sarah said, with the biggest smile on her face, to all the people gathered round. “It’s so good to have all of you here again after… after the last five years. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me. So much has changed and…” She choked up a little but laughed it off. “The craziest thing is definitely that this year we won’t have to try and set my brother up with someone.” She toasted to Sam and Bucky. People chuckled and Sam rolled his eyes at her.

“So this is why you wanted me to come with you?” Bucky asked in a low voice during all the teasing comments thrown Sam’s way. “So people wouldn’t try to set you up?”

“I admit it is a nice side effect.”

“Thanks, I feel really validated now,” Bucky said. For the first time, he wondered about Sam’s love life. Sarah’s comment had started a chain of questions in his mind: Who had Sam (really) dated before? Who had Sarah tried to set him up with? Why had it not worked out? Had he dated a man before? Was he a romantic or did he do casual relationships? What would dating Sam Wilson – really dating him – be like?

Bucky could not help but wonder over everyone Sam hugged or laughed with tonight: Had they been his past dates or even past lovers?

“You don’t have to worry about Lia,” Raphaela said, following Bucky’s glance at Sam joking around with one of the guests. Raphaela, Sarah’s favourite neighbour, was helping Bucky with the drinks. Sam had insisted that Bucky stay away from the barbecue grill because he would only burn the fish again, to which Bucky had retorted that he did not want to be responsible for giving all the guests fish poisoning, which had led to Sam shouting in mock outrage how Bucky dare question his barbecuing skills – anyway, Lia. Who was currently leaning her head against Sam’s shoulder, laughing, while he wrapped an arm around her.

“They’ve been friends since pre-school,” Raphaela explained. “And yes, they’ve been going on a few dates but nothing ever came of it. That’s enough rum.” She put a hand on Bucky’s arm to stop him from pouring more alcohol into the cocktail glass. “Now add some grenadine. Stop, not that much! Anyway, I guess they only agreed to those dates to stop us from pestering them and trying to set them up with someone else.”

Going on fake dates with a friend? Sounded familiar. Was that something Sam did regularly? What was he hiding, even from his sister?

“Seriously, don’t worry, Bucky. You two have a good thing going on, don’t let jealousy get in the way. And don’t you ever listen to what people say about you on the Internet. You got Sam’s back, right?”

“Always.”

“Good.” Raphaela eyed Bucky’s cocktail creation sceptically. “Leave some room for ice next time. You know,” she said thoughtfully, “maybe we should start looking for a nice woman for Lia. To be honest I’ve always wondered about Aisha. She’s been single forever.”

Gossiping about other people’s love lives made for a nice change. And after a few more messed up cocktails, Bucky thought he had got the hang of it. Not everyone agreed. But apart from people complaining about his either too strong or too sweet cocktails, everyone was unusually nice again. At least five different people (three of them he had never met before) approached him to tell him how happy they were for him and Sam, and even more told him to treat Sam right and to not break his heart. Breaking up was getting more and more complicated – because it looked like they were going to break not their own but several other people’s hearts. Well, Bucky did not mind being in a fake relationship with Sam anyway, so they might as well continue for months or even years if it made people happy.

“Hey.” Sam came up to him and lowered his voice. “We have a problem. Don’t worry, not Avengers scale problem, more like relationship problem. Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

Sam took Bucky’s hand, smiled a big smile at another neighbour who had just given Bucky the shovel-talk, and led him away from the festivities out to the docks.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Bucky asked. Doing it on Sarah’s birthday was definitely not a good idea.

“No, quite the contrary.”

“You want to propose?” Probably not a good idea either, to make Sarah’s birthday all about their relationship and take the attention away from her.

“No, not that big.” Sam stepped a little closer so their noses were almost touching. He kept looking back towards the garden and veranda.

“What’s going on here?”

“Just checking if Sarah is watching me kissing you senseless.”

“You are not exactly kissing me senseless right now.”

“But I need her to think that. I think she may be suspicious about us. Anyway, she said we shouldn’t hold back, we’re not in public here and she’s fine with everything as long as we’re not having sex in front of her or the boys. In short, she expects us to be all over each other.”

“I see.” Bucky put an arm around Sam’s back and pulled him still closer. He rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder and squinted until he could make out Sarah among the party guests. “She’s looking our way.” Sarah’s sight was definitely not as good as Bucky’s enhanced sight and she was staring out into the dark at the docks whereas Bucky was staring back at the garden that was lit with lanterns and torches. Nevertheless… Bucky moved his hand over Sam’s back to maintain the illusion, and moved his head until their foreheads were touching and he could feel Sam’s breath in his face. He smelled faintly of alcohol.

“Maybe…” Sam said, his voice very low.

“Just for the record, how drunk are you?”

“Not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You didn’t even ask a question.”

Bucky hummed. “Scared?”

“Why would I be?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine, it’s a yes.”

They were already so close that Bucky only had to angle his head a little and put a hand on the back of Sam’s neck to direct the kiss. At first, Sam tensed under his hands but then he relaxed bit by bit and actually started to kiss back and…well, it had been decades since Bucky’s last kiss, so maybe that was why it felt so good. Or Sam was simply a very good kisser. And had such silky and plump lips. And smelled nice. Tasted even nice (must have been one of Bucky’s too strong cocktails). And yes, Bucky liked how the skin at the back of Sam’s neck felt under his fingers, warm and firm, and how he could feel Sam breathing heavily through the nose, and the fact that Sam touched Bucky’s cheeks with his fingers, at first almost tenderly, then grabbed his face in his hands when the kiss progressed and became more passionate. Their breathing had grown so heavy that it almost drowned out the sound of the waves crashing against the dock and the side of the boat. But then Sam separated them resolutely.

“Jesus, Bucky, I’m not a supersoldier, I need to actually breathe once in a while to survive.”

Bucky could not contain his grin. Getting Sam this breathless felt oddly satisfying, even better than winning one of their staring contests. “Didn’t you say something about you kissing me senseless?”

Sam giggled. He actually giggled. He must be really low on oxygen – or very drunk (or both). “You know, I meant to just ask you to dance with me. Wasn’t expecting you to be up for a whole make out session. But this was…surprisingly not that bad.”

‘Not that bad’ was not what Bucky would have used to describe their kissing, but ‘surprisingly’ was accurate. “Told you I’m a good kisser.”

“Don’t act so smug, it doesn’t suit you.”

“You weren’t half bad yourself.”

“Great, thanks, man.”

“I’m also a good dancer.”

Sam snorted. “Maybe to 40s music.”

“Wanna see?”

“Fine. But this is important. Don’t embarrass me in front of all my friends and family with awkward old man dance moves.”

It was like a sudden crack in Bucky’s bravado, the bickering and easy flirtation dimmed with doubt. He wasn’t exactly the perfect son-in-law. From the beginning, the public had questioned if it was safe to have him be a part of the Avengers team. But this was different, here were actually people who were important to Sam and they must have opinions on Sam and his choice of partner. What if they thought something like those assholes on the Internet – Sam being only interested in supersoldier dick?

Bucky grimaced. “Never really liked the meet-the-parents part.”

Sam paused and looked at him. “They would have liked you,” he said earnestly.

Bucky could only stare back. Why was Sam saying this, they weren’t really in a relationship – but then, he also pretended to be so in front of Sarah, and Sarah liked him, and all Bucky wanted to say was, ‘I would have liked to meet them’ because he really did –

“Oh God.” Sam groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I’m so drunk. I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s all your fault, by the way, because – because you treated that rum like it was lemonade.”

“Too drunk to dance?”

“Nah. Come on.” Sam took his hand and led him back towards the party.

Most people did not even take notice of them but a few looked their way and the nervousness was back. They shouldn’t have done this. Lying to so many people who were important to Sam was going to get him into trouble. Sam relied on his community to get him through all the hardships that came with the job of being Captain America and here they were, putting it all at risk.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bucky said under his breath.

“Are you backing out?”

“Of course not but-”

“Then come on.” Sam put an arm around Bucky’s waist –

“Why are you leading?”

“Because this isn’t 40s music and I don’t want you stomping on my feet all the time. We can put on some 40s tunes later and then you can lead. Now it’s my turn.”

“Fine.” Bucky put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Also, I’m Captain America, so of course I’m leading.”

“Very funny.”

Despite what Sam had said earlier about being drunk, he moved surely to the music and never once stumbled or misstepped. It was easy to pick up the dance steps by following Sam’s lead. Sam was clearly enjoying himself, he hummed along to the lyrics and had some anecdote to tell about every song that was playing. So Bucky ended up getting not only a dance lesson but also a lecture on music history of the last eighty years.

“You’re actually a good dancer,” Sam said when they did a perfectly synchronised stop to a break in the music and fell into step on the first beat of the drum fill.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“Well. I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“You’re surprisingly not that bad either.”

“Yeah?” Sam gave him a little shove to the rhythm of the song but pulled him back just in time so he didn’t stumble backwards. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.

“Asshole. If you wanna do wild dance moves, we should put on 40s music.”

“Fine, let’s see what you got, old man.”

Bucky chose an upbeat swing tune. He really enjoyed being the one to lead now and teach Sam the dance steps. He enjoyed even more how quickly Sam picked them up. It had been so long since he had danced like this, the feeling when you were in perfect synchrony with your partner and the music. Everything had been so easy back then… He quelled the wave of nostalgia that hit him when Sing, Sing, Sing began to play. It was fine. He was at a lovely birthday party among the nicest people imaginable, he had a (fake) partner who was not only good at kissing but also a really talented dancer. Really, Sam kept up with the fast tempo of the song and let Bucky twirl him around easily.

“That was good,” Bucky said afterwards when, for the second time tonight, they were both a little breathless.

“Who would have thought, both of us good dancers and good kissers. We’re almost crazily compatible.”

“Thank God we’re dating.”

Sam chuckled and pulled Bucky closer for the next song, something cheesy about “the shelter of someone’s arms” and “sweet love and devotion”. It was, of course, only a fake relationship but it was sweet. The physical contact, having someone you trusted hold you close, having someone pretty in your arms, the happy chatter of familiar, friendly people around them, the soft light of the lanterns… They only stopped dancing for a drink or two but apart from that, there was no reason to do anything else tonight – or dance with anyone else. Not when they were so in sync, no matter who was leading, no matter the song. Sam had opinions on every piece of music as it turned out and Bucky let him happily ramble on, just occasionally interjecting with an attempt at a joke. Even if it wasn’t that funny, Sam always laughed, showing his tooth gap and throwing his head back. He was clearly happy and so was Bucky and there really was no reason to stop dancing. Sometime in the early morning hours, they slowly swayed to “Moonlight Serenade” and they were even breathing in the same rhythm. Everyone else had left by now and, regrettably, Sarah turned the music down to tell them that she was going to bed.

“We probably should, too,” Sam said. “God, I’m so drunk.” That did not stop him from grabbing a half-full bottle of beer and chugging it down. Bucky would have liked to continue dancing to “Moonlight Serenade”, even if it was just the two of them left, but he followed Sam inside, putting a hand on his waist to stabilize him when he swayed every once in a while.

In the living room, Sam stopped and stared at the couch.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“You can’t sleep on the couch.”

“I always sleep on the couch.”

“We’re a couple.” Sam gestured vaguely. “You know. Need to share a bed.”

It made sense, if they didn’t want to raise any suspicion. “Okay, fine.” Bucky followed Sam upstairs to his room. His childhood room. The bed was relatively narrow – at least for two adult men.

“You okay with sharing?” Sam asked. He was already pulling his clothes off in a carefree, uncoordinated manner.

“I don’t mind.” After all, they had held hands, kissed and danced. Sharing a bed would be okay too, right? “How about you?”

“As long as you don’t snore…” Sam crawled under the blanket and scooted over towards the wall.

Did he snore? Bucky honestly had no idea. There had never been any complaints earlier but much could change in eighty years. “Not sure. It’s been a while since I’ve shared a bed with anyone.”

“Guess we’ll find out. Ha! I bet you’re a cuddler.” Sam grinned goofily up at him and patted the mattress.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Bucky pulled on a thin t-shirt, turned off the lights and joined Sam in bed. It really was narrow. Their knees bumped and Bucky could smell the alcohol on Sam’s breath.

“I should warn you, I’m a morning person,” Sam said.

“Me too.”

“That’s cool. And just so you know, sometimes I have nightmares.”

“Me too. Obviously. Crazily compatible, huh?”

Sam chuckled at the silly comment. Their knees bumped together again.

“Did you mean it?” Sam asked.

“What, that we’re compatible?” Tough question. They came from very different backgrounds, even different times, had different personalities but also, somehow, they clicked. They were good co-workers, things were easy between them. Pretending to date Sam was no hardship at all. It was actually surprisingly nice.

“Nooo, what you said when we were on the Martha Show.”

So much about compatibility. Bucky could not follow Sam’s drunken logic at all. “What do you mean?”

“You said you – you know?”

Bucky shook his head in confusion, then he remembered Sam could not see the gesture in the dark, and said, “I have honestly no idea what you’re talking about.”

“In the army? Come on, man. You said you’d fooled around. With guys.”

“Ah. That.” Could be a potentially awkward discussion between two men sharing a narrow bed. But Sam neither tried to put distance between them nor push Bucky out of the bed, so they seemed to be fine. “Does it bother you?”

“It’s true then?”

“Yeah.” The word hung between them in the dark but they were still breathing the same air and Bucky’s flight reflex had not kicked in yet.

“Huh. Thought you were just making things up.”

It was easy between them, being able to switch between silly jokes and honest conversations like this. “Why’re you asking?”

“Just curious.”

Bucky decided now was his turn to be curious. “So, during the last years, Sarah used to try to set you up with somebody?” He had never heard about any former partners of Sam. Sam had neither mentioned any lover from the past nor had he shown interest in anyone. There must have been someone, right?

“You have no idea.” Sam groaned dramatically. “She and everyone else in the community. Always made sure to bring women my age to parties and introduce us. Too many fucking awkward moments. From now on, I’m going to always bring you with me.”

It was a nice sentiment, even if it was just to fend off other potential partners – which was the part that had Bucky really interested. “Women?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘women’. But no one seemed surprised that you brought me. I’m not a woman.”

Sam snorted and nudged Bucky’s shoulder. “I noticed.”

“Does that mean you only like women? Or guys, too?” When Sam stayed silent, Bucky quickly added, “Which is fine, of course. Everything’s fine.” He wished he could see Sam’s facial expression but it was too dark. “Or is it that you just don’t want to date at all?”

He could hear Sam swallow sharply in the darkness.

“I’m too drunk for this. You better stop asking me such questions or this is gonna get real awkward real fast.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Sam exhaled audibly.

“But you started it,” Bucky said.

“Because I’m drunk.”

“So you keep saying.”

“You know what? I’m not nearly drunk enough for this. I – this is hard, okay?”

Bucky did not really get what was so hard about it, so he tried to provoke Sam a little. Maybe make him laugh, throw back some insults, make him feel at ease. “Must be something really embarrassing then. You have a boner for John Walker?”

“Dude, that’s – just no. Why would you even think that? No. You’re such an idiot.” Sam made a little pause, then continued in a much softer voice. “It’s just that I… like guys. And that probably means I’m… gay.” He exhaled noisily. “There, I said it.”

“That’s it? That’s all?”

“That’s all?” Sam’s voice went up an octave and he sat up in bed. “Man, I just came out to you and that’s all you got to say? It’s the fucking first time I’ve ever said it out loud, so how about you don’t be an asshole about it?”

“It’s not.”

“What?”

“It’s not the first time you’ve said it out loud.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Sam’s voice was still high-pitched but he did not seem genuinely angry, more a mixture of drunk, outraged and giddy. “I should know myself if I’m out or not! Just because you’re 107 doesn’t mean you know shit about me!”

“Sam, I was literally there when you told the whole world.”

“Maybe in your bionic mind palace!”

“No, on the Martha Show. It’s on Youtube. You wanna see?” Bucky fumbled for his mobile phone

“But…” Sam’s voice had turned down in pitch and volume. “That wasn’t real.”

There was no way to win a discussion with someone drunk. That did not stop Bucky, however. “You said it and it’s the truth, so how is it not real?”

“It’s because…” Sam was fumbling for words but he was determined to make sense of it. “We were pretending. You know? Pretending to be in a relationship and gay. We wanted to fool people. It was just a show. You know?”

“U-huh.”

“But now. This is real.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent.

This is real.

It was. It was everything the last few weeks had not been, with all the interviews, photoshoots, the Pride parade, annoying journalists, supporters, and, worst of all, comments on the Internet.

It was real, just the two of them here in the darkness and silence in a small bed, sweating from the humid air of a Louisiana summer night, the alcohol and the cramped space. No microphones, no speeches, no exaggerated flirting. They started to talk in hushed voices. Sam asked Bucky if he had ever dated a man, and Bucky told him what it had been like in the 40s, how it had been curiosity at first and then something to keep him sane during the war, but never real dating like with the ladies. Sam talked about how he had worried he would disappoint his parents, that there had been someone in the army but that the military had not changed much since the 40s.

They talked and talked until the first birds started to sing at predawn.

“Shut up, you fuckers,” Sam said, half laughing, half yawning.

 “Thought they’re your friends.” In Bucky’s overtired mind, it was funny.

Sam, too, cackled softly. “I don’t want to sleep because I know tomorrow I’m going to have the worst hangover ever.”

“Just stay awake until tomorrow is over? Sounds like a plan.”

Bucky could not explain why but it was hilarious. They agreed that they should sleep but then cracked up again when another bird joined the birdsong. But then the pauses between their words grew longer and longer and Bucky’s mind turned more and more woozy.

He woke up without a nightmare but he was sweating like crazy.

“I knew it.”

“Wha’?” Bucky blinked his eyes open to stare into Sam’s face, which was surprisingly close. Sam wore the smuggest grin ever.

“I knew you were a cuddler.”

Bucky entangled his leg from between Sam’s. “You’re lying on my arm is what’s going on here.”

“Cuddler,” Sam mouthed, still with that shit-eating grin.

“Ugh, you should brush your teeth.”

“What, no morning kiss for me?” Sam exaggeratedly batted his lashes. He had nice lashes, actually, and his eyes were nice, too, even when they were puffy and small from tiredness.

Bucky realised that he was grinning widely, too, so much that the corners of his mouth almost ached. “Are you still drunk?”

“Dude, it’s only been an hour since you’ve fallen asleep on me. Hangover hasn’t kicked in yet.”

An hour was enough to have Bucky revived. “I’m getting a shower,” he said and got up.

“Cuddler,” Sam slurred.

When Bucky came back from the bathroom, Sam had fallen asleep and was snoring softly. So much for ‘morning person’.

Bucky went downstairs to the kitchen. Sarah and the boys were already awake. Although, ‘awake’ was not the right word to describe the state Sarah was in. She slowly staggered through the kitchen with tired, squinted eyes, and half-heartedly tried to convince AJ and Cass to have fruit with their cereal.

“I can look after them,” Bucky offered when Sarah put orange juice into her coffee. “You can go back to bed if you want to.”

“I wish… But I need to wash the dishes and get them back to Raphaela because she needs them tonight for-”

“We can do that,” Bucky said.

“We?” AJ threw him an indignant look.

“Yup.”

“But the tree house…?”

“Afterwards.”

It meant a long and dramatic discussion about broken promises and child labour but Sarah could go back to bed, and anyway, once Bucky was drowned from head to toe with dishwater, the boys were somewhat placated.

They even got to build their tree house before Sarah woke up by noon. She looked more alive now when she came out onto the veranda, and her eyes were not as bloodshot as earlier. Laughing, she let AJ and Cass tug her along to admire their tree house. In the meantime, Bucky went into the kitchen to prepare a late (or second) breakfast. He liked doing this: building, cleaning, cooking – being useful not by destroying but by providing something, being of help to the people he cared for. Just slicing oranges could be the most calming and fulfilling thing ever.

He left one bowl with granola, fruit and nuts in the fridge for Sam, and placed the other bowls and drinks on a tray to carry them outside. AJ and Cass insisted on eating in their tree house, so that left Sarah and Bucky sitting next to each other on the veranda, enjoying a quiet moment.

The air was pleasantly hot again (it had hardly cooled down at night), making everything feel a little slow and drowsy.

“Hey.” Sarah nudged his foot with hers. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” It was not just a polite return but the absolute truth. It still amazed him how everyone here had welcomed him with open arms, especially Sarah who even trusted him with her kids and let him help.

“I don’t know when I’ve had such a bad hangover for the last time. And I didn’t even drink that much. I’m getting too old for this kind of parties.”

“You’re not even half as old as me,” Bucky said.

She chuckled. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because the fact that you don’t seem to be tired at all is not exactly helping.”

It was one of the few perks of having the serum. He would gladly have given them up and endured a few hangovers from time to time. But then again, without the serum he would have been dead by now and would never have met Sam and Sarah and the boys, so there definitely were some advantages.

Shortly after, Sam joined them on the veranda.

“Hi morning person.” Bucky flashed him a grin. “Slept well?”

“Some people need more than one hour of sleep.” Sam sat down on Bucky’s other side. “I brushed my teeth, by the way.”

“Okay. Breakfast is in the fridge.”

“I don’t think I can stomach anything yet. But I might get a coffee down.”

“I’ll get you one-” Only then did Bucky realise why Sam had informed him about his teeth brushing situation. He bent down to give Sam a quick peck on the mouth and then went to the kitchen with a little spring in his step, whistling softly to himself. He made sure to make the coffee strong.

Of course Sam couldn’t let the chance pass. When Bucky handed him the coffee, he said, “Thanks, babe,” and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He must have taken a shower because he smelled nice and clean.

Bucky sat down between Sarah and Sam again. “You smell nice,” he told Sam.

Sarah scoffed. “Yeah, like he bathed in cologne.”

Bucky frowned. With his experiences as a soldier and an Avenger, he was used to men smelling sweaty. That did not mean he didn’t appreciate it when a guy took some time for personal hygiene – quite the contrary. And nowadays there were so many fancy products, not just soap.

“It’s not your birthday anymore, you can’t be mean,” Sam said to her. “And I have the worst hangover ever, so be nice.”

Bucky put an arm around Sam’s waist. See? He was being nice. A nice and supportive boyfriend.

“Not possible,” Sarah said, “the worst hangover’s already been reserved for me.”

Bucky grinned to himself and listened to the siblings bickering and swearing they were never going to touch alcohol again. He was a lucky bastard that he did not get hangovers, but mostly he was a lucky bastard because he was alive and in his own mind, sitting between his favourite people, Sam’s weight a pleasant warmth against his side. He could stay like this forever. Sitting here in the sun, eating granola and drinking coffee that was so much richer in flavour than all of the stuff they had had in the 40s, was just the nicest thing. Never leaving Delacroix, never leaving Sam’s side again. It should always be like this. His heart was full to bursting. It was too much, too much happiness, too much –

“I love you.”

Sam stopped his conversation with Sarah and blinked at Bucky. “Yeah. Okay. Right back at you.” He cleared his throat. “Babe.”

Oh, sure, they were just acting. But Bucky meant it, the words were true. The fact that they were only in a fake relationship made it easier to say them so openly to Sam. Almost giddily he realised that he could say everything, pour his heart out, make grand gestures – kiss Sam. Or, no, that somehow didn’t feel right anymore, like he was taking advantage. But he could do – say other things.

“Meeting you was the best thing that happened to me.”

“Well, good thing you didn’t succeed in killing me then.”

Ouch. Way to kill the mood.

“Don’t look like that, it was a joke, man.” Sam turned to him and reached up to touch Bucky’s cheek with his fingers, as if in apology. Then he gently directed Bucky’s head forwards to – wait was this taking advantage? It was not just a quick peck but not like the makeout session last night either. It was soft but deliberate and bursting with feelings and – this was taking advantage.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“You…” Bucky cleared his throat. “Did you know you have the most gorgeous eyes?”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Sarah said suddenly and stood up. “Looks like you found a cure for the worst hangover ever.”

“Why did she have to remind me?” Sam groaned and slumped against Bucky’s side again. He stayed there, even when Sarah had long gone inside. Bucky did not move either.

Chapter Text

Sharing a bed this night was not as uncomplicated as last night. There was no way not to touch in the narrow bed but Bucky wanted to be even closer and at the same time it felt wrong to intrude himself upon Sam like this. He tried to make it less weird by cracking stupid jokes. The crazy thing was, it worked. Sam laughed about everything Bucky said, no matter how silly. Again they talked for hours, but this night, they fell asleep before dawn.

They put him in the chair. The clasps tightened around his arms.

Wipe him.

He could not move his head. He could not move at all. Whirring sounds, then the pain. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt –

Then a new purpose. A new mission.

It was dark.

He followed the woman onto a bridge.

She was on her own.

She did not stand a chance against the fist of Hydra.

Easy to make it look like an accident, or suicide. He threw the lifeless body over the railing and waited until the dark water crashed over it.

Bucky woke up, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. His left hand clawed the pillow. He made a conscious effort to loosen it. Next to him, Sam was still fast asleep. What if Bucky had not grabbed the pillow but Sam in his sleep? He shuddered, got out of bed and tiptoed to the window where he tore open the curtains to get some fresh air. His breathing would not calm down. Why had it happened? Why the nightmare tonight? Nothing had triggered it, the last two days had been fine, why did it have to happen now? He wasn’t a good person to share a bed with. He wasn’t a good person, period.

“Whassup?” Sam’s tired voice came from the bed.

“Nothing.” Bucky kept staring outside at the dark water. The dark waves, just like in his nightmare. No, not a nightmare, a memory. What was he doing here, he had murdered dozens of people, how could he pretend–

“Man, I can’t sleep like this, you’re creeping me out, looming in front of the window like some kind of dramatic vampire.”

Despite himself, Bucky chuckled softly. “Aren’t vampires always dramatic?”

“Yes, they are. Just like you. Oh, and they’re old and pale and always wear dark clothes – sounds familiar?”

Bucky turned around to look at Sam. He was tangled up in the bedsheets and had propped his head up on one hand.

“Come back to bed. Really, I’m too tired for this.”

Finally, Bucky could move again. He slowly walked back to the bed and laid down on the edge of the mattress, his back turned to Sam, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. One millimetre more and he would fall off the bed.

“Nightmare?”

“Yes.”

Sam squeezed his shoulder briefly, then his hand wandered around Bucky’s chest and rested there, almost like a hug. As if on instinct, Bucky put his own hand over Sam’s, pressing it closer to his heart.

“What’s with your heart trying to jump out of your chest?” Sam mumbled against the back of his neck.

“It does that.”

“It was just a dream.”

“It’s what happened.”

Sam was silent for a moment, then he said, “You know it’s over, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah,” he croaked.

Sam’s hand was still pressed to Bucky’s heart and the arm around his chest was warm and solid, anchoring him in the here and now. It reminded Bucky of that silly photo shoot, with Sam’s hand under his own. The memory of it – them joking and teasing and trying to provoke each other – overrode the memories of the Winter Soldier.

This is real. Not the ugly Christmas sweaters and their posing for the cameras but this night in Louisiana in Sam’s childhood bedroom. Bucky wanted this to stay forever, this closeness and warmth of them pressed chest to back in a sort of embrace in the narrow bed.

Sam made no move to pull away, even when Bucky started to absent-mindedly draw circles with his thumb on the back of Sam’s hand.

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled, meaning absolutely everything.

Sam did not reply, only acknowledged it with a barely audible hum. It was fine. Bucky’s heart had slowed down, he was back in his own mind and body, he was warm and he felt… loved. He had not felt love in decades, had never expected to be able to fall in love again, even less that someone would love him. The fact that Sam still did not make any move to pull away gave Bucky hope. It was blooming warmly inside his chest, together with that love swelling inside him, almost too good to be true.

He wanted to bring Sam’s hand to his lips and kiss it instead of just caressing it with his thumb. He wanted to turn around and kiss Sam on the lips like they had done on the dock, making Sam breathless, getting even closer than this. What if Sam felt the same way? What if he was full of longing and hope, too? What if he was waiting for Bucky to turn around and kiss him on the mouth?

Sarah had said that Sam wasn’t the one to make the first move. Bucky was someone who did, or he used to be. But he would not risk it now, he would not risk what they had for anything. This closeness between them was enough, more than enough. He was happy as they were, friends with the hope of more.

“You said you get nightmares, too. What about?”

Sam stiffened imperceptibly behind Bucky.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Bucky said quickly. “I just thought, if you wanted to…”

“I was so close to falling asleep and then you have to mention my nightmares?” Sam said. “That was rude.”

“I was trying to be polite, you know, returning the favour, giving you a chance to talk openly and offering to listen actively.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t exactly hear you talking about your nightmares.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to hear it. And I definitely don’t want to talk about them.”

“See? How about we talk about something nice for a change?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re doing nothing to disprove the cuddler allegations.”

“Getting the feeling here that you’re one yourself.”

“Oh yeah?”

“M-hm.”

Sam still did not move away.

*

When Bucky woke up, fully rested after no more nightmares, he was alone, Sam had already left the bed. Bucky went down to the kitchen where Sam had already prepared a simple breakfast. Without a word, he handed Bucky a bowl of cereal.

“What, no good morning kiss for me?” Bucky said.

“Yeah, no good morning kisses, please,” AJ whispered but loud enough to make sure everyone could hear him and his disgust at morning kisses.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just you wait until someday you want to kiss someone, young man.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Sam kept joking with his nephews, but he did not try to include Bucky in the conversation like he normally did. In fact, he hardly looked at Bucky and always quickly turned to his food or coffee whenever their eyes met. Something was off. Had something happened last night? Aside from the obvious, Bucky’s nightmare and them ‘cuddling’ afterwards, had something else happened afterwards? Had Bucky had another nightmare and done something horrible during his dream? Or had he gotten too close to Sam and made things awkward? Or something entirely else, like another asshole putting their hurtful comment on the Internet?

“I’m going for a run,” Sam announced when they had finished breakfast.

“I’m coming with you,” Bucky said before Sam could disappear or come up with an excuse to keep him away.

“You only do this to see me humiliated,” Sam complained, and for a moment things seemed to be back to normal, with them trying to rile the other up and joking around – if only Sam would look at Bucky. Although they were jogging side by side, there was a certain distance between them that Bucky did not seem to be able to cross.

“You alright?” Bucky eventually addressed the issue.

“Sure,” Sam gasped, “it doesn’t bother me at all that you haven’t even broken a sweat and I’m here close to collapsing.”

Bucky slowed his running a little. He had no idea what to make of Sam’s cheerful voice. It did not sound right. “You seem… tense,” he tried, and because nothing else seemed to get a reaction out of Sam, “Need a massage?”

“We should break up.”

Bucky stopped dead.

Shit, shit, shit.

“It was a joke,” Bucky called after Sam, who now stopped as well and turned around to face Bucky.

“What?”

“It was just a joke, I didn’t mean that we should really have… something… inappropriate. I’m sorry.” Bucky made a step towards Sam but then stopped again because he wasn’t sure if him getting close to Sam was welcome. This was a mess. He had never before wondered if touching Sam and being close was inappropriate or not. Maybe he should have. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. And last night was…” Something that Bucky wanted to have forever. But too good to be true. And obviously something Sam did not want, and that made all the magic of that moment disappear in an instant. “…too much.”

“This is not about last night.” It came out sharply. Maybe it was just because Sam was out of breath from jogging. But the way his brows were drawn together indicated anger or distress. “And I’m not uncomfortable,” he added more softly. The fact that he kept staring at a point behind Bucky’s face proved his words wrong.

“I don’t get it. Then what’s the problem?”

“There is no problem.” Finally, Sam turned to fully look at Bucky. “Why are you making this a problem?”

“You’re the one who wants to break up with me.”

“Stop being so overdramatic. I’m not expelling you from the Avengers. I just meant that we should plan the fake breakup of our fake relationship.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what we agreed on when we started this whole thing.”

Okay, fair point, but Bucky still didn’t like it. Mostly he didn’t like how it came out of the blue after kissing and dancing and sharing a bed – and enjoying all of it. He had thought Sam had enjoyed it, too. “It doesn’t make sense,” he complained.

“Why not?”

“Why now? Everyone who’s seen us knows that we’re happy together. I told you that I love you just yesterday!” Bucky had no idea how this fight in a fake relationship had suddenly turned into his most dramatic breakup since 1932, but here he was, being “overdramatic” and shouting at Sam. “Why should we suddenly break up now? It doesn’t make sense.”

“A lot of couples look happy together, put on a happy façade in public but in reality hate each other’s faces.”

“Well, I’m not like that.”

“Well, you also aren’t in love with me, so there’s that.” Sam’s voice had risen, too.

‘Maybe I am,’ was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue but he kept it in. This was bad enough as it was.

“And also, we said that we’d split up on friendly terms,” Sam added, also reigning his agitated voice in. “So I really don’t see your problem.”

Bucky just shook his head in frustration. “We kissed and danced and shared a bed and I told you that I loved you. So explain to me why we would break up now.”

“That’s exactly why I’m talking to you right now. So we can plan it, come up with a reason.”

“I can’t think of a single one.”

“I can think of a hundred.”

It was like a kick in the stomach, effectively destroying all that fragile hope that had dared to bloom there. How stupid he had been to hope when the hundreds of reason why they should not be a couple were staring back at him from every news article and every comment section every single day.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” Sam said.

“Since when do you listen to what people say on the Internet?”

“I’m not – you’re twisting my words-” Sam protested but Bucky did not let him finish.

“It could have been a beautiful love story, Sam! And now you’re just throwing it all away because -?” Bucky tried to breathe evenly in an attempt to control his emotions. It did not work. “What happened last night?” he demanded to know.

“I told you this has nothing to do with last night.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky knew him well enough by now and would not let Sam get away with it. “You’ve been acting weird ever since.” Then, suddenly, he had a flash of inspiration. Last night, Sam had not answered him truthfully either. “What are your nightmares about?”

Sam rubbed his face in obvious frustration. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know, for all your counselling work, that’s pretty hypocritical of you, refusing to talk about things that are obviously bothering you.”

“Funny, if I remember correctly, you said, in your ideal world, I would talk less.”

Oh, and now he was being petty and resentful on top of everything?! “I didn’t mean it. And since when do you listen to what I say anyway? You refuse to talk about your nightmares, you can’t name a single reason why we should split up and you haven’t even told your own sister what’s going on between us. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Fine.” Sam set his jaw and made a step towards Bucky but once more he refused to look Bucky in the eyes. “You wanna know what my nightmares are about? My wings getting ripped off and me falling down hundreds of feet without a parachute. Me driving at top speed on the highway and losing control of my car – another kind of free fall. That enough of a reason for you?”

All the fight left Bucky’s body at once. He had always assumed they were good. But in truth, they had never talked about what Bucky as the Winter Soldier had done to Sam – aside from Sam’s quips about the steering wheel incident. So far, Bucky had always taken those comments as jokes, just another way of Sam teasing him. But it made perfect sense that he was scared and Bucky couldn’t fault him for it. He could, however, fault him for not speaking up about it.

“You should have said something,” Bucky said miserably. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have shared a bed with you.”

“It’s not like that. I don’t mind sharing a bed with you.”

The fact that Sam still wouldn’t look him in the eyes while saying it rekindled Bucky’s anger. He had enough of it. “Cut the bullshit and be honest with me for once in your life!”

“You know what, I’m not doing this anymore,” Sam shot back, just as angrily. “I was just trying to come up with a plan for our breakup, so we could do it together, but if that’s how you’re gonna be, then figure it out yourself, tell the media whatever you want, that I’m dishonest, hypocritical, I don’t care.”

That was just rich. It was Sam who wanted to break up, not Bucky, and now Bucky should do the dirty work? “Tell them yourself.”

“I think they can come up with enough reasons on their own.”

“Didn’t think you were such a coward, that you’d bow to the media’s pressure and let them win.”

Sam gasped. “Fuck you. Really, fuck you, Barnes, you absolute asshole.” He turned on his heels and jogged off. Bucky could have easily caught up with him but he ran in the opposite direction, at supersoldier speed, back to the house. He only grabbed his backpack, didn’t say goodbye to Sarah or the boys, just kept running until he arrived at a bus stop.

When, at last, he was seated alone in the back of the bus to the airport, he sent a short message to Sarah:

Sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Sam and I broke up.

Let Sam figure out how to finally tell his sister the truth.

Chapter Text

After three days of silence, Sam sent him a message:

You forgot your toothbrush.

The nerve of that man! After everything that had happened he thought he could simply say something inconsequential about a toothbrush? And just like that we’re supposed to be cool?

Bucky ignored him. He was very good at ignoring Sam, that is: ignoring his texts. That did not mean that Sam wasn’t constantly in his thoughts. Bucky could not help but wonder what Sam had told Sarah. She had read Bucky’s message but never replied. He could not fault her for being angry at him, but he blamed it on Sam. It had not been Bucky’s idea to lie to Sarah. He was not her brother. He would have let her in on it. So now Bucky had lost another friend and it was all Sam’s fault.

Two days later, Sam texted him again:

We should talk.

What was there to talk about? Bucky was not willing to get his heart broken again, thank you very much. So he kept to his plan of ignoring Sam, even if it was hard. After just two nights of sharing a bed with Sam, his own bed felt strange, cold and empty. He tried sleeping on the floor again, watching TV all night, and just when he had almost dozed off to some sporting event he did not care about, the ping of his phone alerted him to another message from Sam:

Ok, you want to sulk instead of acting like an adult, got it. Just give me a heads-up when you decide to sulk in public.

Bucky furiously typed back, misspelling every other word in his agitation:

YOU werethe onth who wanted to breakup, nowyou deal with the cosequences and don’t bput it all on me! go and tell the public what anasholle I am! and all the hundreds of  reason s why we shouldnt be together!

Before he could remember that he was ignoring Sam, he had already hit ‘send’. Damn it. That had not been the plan. He made to delete the message right away but too late: Sam had already read it. What was he doing texting Bucky in the middle of the night?

The phone rang. Bucky threw it into the corner of the room and went outside for a long ride on his motorbike.

It had never crossed his mind to simply put Sam on mute or block his number. During the last weeks, they had called each other all the time and texted each other daily whenever they weren’t together anyway, coordinating Avengers business and their public appearances as a same-sex celebrity couple, exchanging silly flirtations or just plain nonsense. Whenever Bucky discovered something funny, he would send a picture or screenshot to Sam. Sam’s messages had always put a smile on his face in return. They had had a good thing going on, even Sarah’s neighbours who hardly knew Bucky had seen it and commented on it, and now all of that was just gone. It hurt like hell. And yet Bucky could not bring himself to fully part ways with Sam, block his number and really ignore him because a small part of him still had hope. Not for Sam to return his misplaced feelings, he was not that delusional, but for some magical solution for all of this so they could at least go back to where they had been before that stupid idea to fake a relationship.

When he came back to his apartment in the early morning hours, a new message was waiting for him:

I think it would be better if you stayed away from Avengers business for a while, at least until we’ve handled the worst of the fallout of our ‘breakup’.

It felt like the floor opened up under Bucky and he was crashing down without anything to hold him. Everything that had given his life a purpose was being taken away from him. First Sam, then Sam’s family and now his spot on the Avengers team as well.

Forget ignoring Sam.

This time, it was Bucky who called –

and it was Sam who didn’t answer the phone.

*

It did not take long for the rumours to start. Captain America had been to a charity event without Bucky as his plus one. That same night, someone had spotted the Winter Soldier, hiding under a cap, buying an instant meal for dinner. People were quick to come to a conclusion, even quicker to condemn them and the whole LGBTQ community’s ‘loose lifestyle’ or whatever ridiculous thing they called it. And of course Captain America was not allowed to be anything but perfect, so there were the usual assholes questioning Sam’s adequacy in that position.

On top of it, there were rumours about Torres: that Sam had already replaced Bucky with the new Falcon. (Bucky spent a whole miserable afternoon on Twitter, clicking through all the pictures of Sam and Torres, wondering what their smiles and easy camaraderie meant.)

The most ridiculous thing was when the stylist from their charity photoshoot came forward for her short moment of fame and told the story of how Sam had turned down Bucky’s proposal and thus shattered his heart.

Then there was an Avengers mission and Bucky was not invited. He only learned about it afterwards, when he discovered the videos on the Internet. Shaky video footage from camera phones of Sam, Torres, Rhodes and presumably Ant-Man and the Wasp flying over Chicago, battling unmanned aerial vehicles. Later, the official videos: a press conference where Sam gave a report on the mission, explained that they had captured the brains behind the operation and that the two men would be put in prison, that he, Torres and Rhodes would stay in Chicago for another night to make sure they had not missed any of the aerial vehicles, and that Ant-Man and the Wasp would help with search and rescue in a demolished skyscraper. Eventually, someone asked about Bucky.

“Is it true that the Winter Soldier is benched because he threatened a journalist?”

Sam flinched imperceptibly.

With baited breath, Bucky waited for his answer, for Sam to denounce him in public: to tell the whole world the hundreds of reasons why a relationship with Bucky Barnes did not work, and why he could no longer be an Avenger.

Sam hesitated before he eventually said, “First of all, let me say that I wasn’t there and there are no recordings of that incident. But as far as I know, Bucky did not threaten that journalist with violence but they had a discussion regarding the media coverage of Steve Rogers, who was Bucky’s best friend, so emotions were running high. Let’s call it a heated disagreement.”

“Then why wasn’t he on this mission?” the reporter pressed on.

“It was an aerial battle, so we took the Avengers who are equipped to fly, and Bucky isn’t much of a flyer.”

“So the rumour that the two of you have split up because of the pressure from the media is not true?”

Sam took a deep breath and raised his chin. “Look, I’m not gonna lie. It doesn’t leave you unaffected, some of the things written about you. But I’m not a coward. I won’t let the media or anonymous Internet users destroy my relationship.”

“But you turned down Barnes’ proposal.”

“It wasn’t a sincere proposal. Bucky and I joke around all the time.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “When we’re in private.”

The reporter didn’t take the hint. “Would you have said yes if it had been a real proposal?”

“That’s between Bucky and me. If you have any Avengers related questions I’m happy to answer them. If you want to know more about my private life I’ll have to disappoint you, I’ve shared more than enough during the last weeks. I don’t think the public has a right to my private life.”

The reporter did not have any Avengers related questions.

Bucky watched the video a second and a third time. With each time, his bad conscience grew. It could have been so easy for Sam to do what he had planned to do: end their relationship publicly, on his terms. But Sam had never been someone who took the easy path. Of all the things Bucky had said to Sam, calling him a coward who bowed to the pressure of the media had been the worst. Bucky scrolled through the pictures on his phone until he arrived at the screenshot he had taken of that news article from the Daily Bugle:

CAPTAIN AMERICA ABOUT THE WINTER SOLDIER: “HE IS MY PARTNER, DEAL WITH IT.”

Sam doing exactly that: standing up against the media’s pressure, standing up for Bucky, was what had started it all. A big lump in his throat, Bucky looked at the picture of the two of them smiling and Sam’s arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. It had been so easy back then. It was not Sam’s fault Bucky had fallen in love with him.

*

Of course they did not leave Bucky alone either. No matter how deep he pulled his cap and hoodie over his face, someone recognised him. And everyone always had a phone.

“Is it true that Sam turned down your proposal?”

“No.”

“So he said yes? Oh my God!” The woman used the hand that wasn’t currently holding the phone camera in Bucky’s face to fan herself as if she was about to faint.

“No.” Bucky turned around and walked off but the woman followed him persistently. He had just wanted to buy headphones for his mobile phone. Was it too much to ask to just buy headphones in peace without random strangers interrogating him about his disastrous love life?

“So he did turn you down,” the woman said smugly, as if she had just done some great detective work. “How’d that make you feel?”

“Normal. I mean – no. There was no real proposal, so he couldn’t turn me down.” Would it be completely humiliating if he sprinted off at supersoldier speed?

“Are you sure?”

What the hell? “I think I’d know it if I was proposing.” Why was he even answering such a stupid question? Why was he still talking to that nosy person? The answer was obvious: Because they’d find a way to turn it against him and Sam if he did not give them what they wanted. “Turn the camera off.” And before anyone could blame him for threatening someone again, he added, “Please.”

“Just one more question. Are there any wedding plans?”

Bucky wanted to tell her to fuck off but he knew that wouldn’t end well. So he used Sam’s words: “That’s between Sam and me.”

“Oh my God, wow, you can’t leave us hanging like this.”

“The public doesn’t have a right to our private lives.”

“I can’t help but notice that you used the plural here, ‘lives’ instead of ‘life’, does that mean-”

“What happened to ‘just one more question’? This is like the third.” He pulled his phone from his jacket and pretended to read a message. “I have to go, somewhere to be… urgent Avengers business, world to save, sorry…” With that, he dashed off, grabbed his motorbike and did a few risky overtaking manoeuvres until he was sure no one was following him. He took the next exit, slowed down and just went wherever the unknown road was taking him. He had nothing to do. No Avengers business, no world to save, no wedding to plan.

He had never given it much thought, marriage. Sure, as a boy he had assumed he would eventually marry a nice girl and have children – because that’s how you did it, just a fact of life, like growing armpit hair when puberty hit, or finishing school, or moving into your own apartment when you got a job. But there had never been a phase in his life when he had really considered it. Before the War, he had been too young for marriage. He had just enjoyed life without giving a thought to settling down. During the War, marriage was not something on your mind. Well, maybe it was for those who had a sweetheart back home. For Bucky, his only dreams of the future had been surviving and living in a world without a war. And ever since he had been in Hydra’s clasp, well, marriage had never been on the Winter Soldier’s programme. It had not crossed his mind either when he had got his freedom back. There were a dozen other things that kept him preoccupied. Eventually he had tried to get the old Bucky back, had tried dating and it hadn’t been entirely horrible but marriage had never been an option. Not even with Sam, not even in his wildest daydreams – which, to be honest, weren’t wild at all but mostly included Sam asking him to move to Louisiana with him, them decorating their new home, making Sam coffee in the morning, visiting Sarah and the boys on the weekends and going on boat trips, kisses at sunset on the dock, dancing in the moonlight…

He had blown his chances of such a life, even the part without the kisses, by throwing all kinds of unfair insults in Sam’s face. He could not make Sam love him but he could have responded to Sam’s attempts at talking instead of acting like an immature teenager and ignoring him.

*

By this point, ignoring Sam was almost impossible with reporters lurking everywhere just waiting to pester Bucky with questions about Sam and their relationship.

“Why weren’t you part of the latest Avengers mission? Are there any cracks in the Captain-America-Winter-Soldier romance?”

It would have been so easy to tell them that Bucky had not been invited, thus exposing Sam as dishonest and hypocritical and putting him in a situation where he was hard-pressed to find excuses. It was even easier to say, “No, we’re good.”

“Then why weren’t you on the mission?”

“I believe my partner already answered that question. I can’t fly.”

*

There was no way around it: Bucky was completely hopeless at ignoring Sam. There was no other explanation for him watching Youtube videos of Sam’s latest interview where he was commenting “still going strong, still very much in love” when questioned about their relationship.

Bucky mumbled an apology when he bumped into an elderly lady on the sidewalk because he had been so distracted by the video on his phone, lost in another world thanks to his new headphones. He hit replay. When Sam was looking at the camera, it was only too easy to imagine that he was looking directly at Bucky, telling him those words: “still going strong, still very much in love.”

Why had Sam not gone through with his plan?

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a man, who was balancing his groceries in his arms, barked at Bucky.

Bucky mumbled another apology but did not put his phone away. Sam probably wouldn’t mention his nightmares about Bucky because he wasn’t mean like that but he could say that Bucky was old-fashioned, that he did not show sympathy for Sam’s struggles, that he came with too much baggage, that he acted immaturely... But he had not said any of it.

Maybe it was up to Bucky to reach out, try to talk things through, listen to what Sam had to say and what he wanted and then come up with a plan that worked for both of them. Even if it hurt to get his heart broken but the least he could do was try to save their friendship. His mind made up, Bucky quickened his pace. He would call Sam, every day if he must. Let’s see how long Sam could ignore him! But from the privacy of his apartment. He did not want their talk to be recorded.

His phone in one hand, he fumbled for his keys. There was an odd noise behind him. Before he could turn around, something hit him on the head, some kind of blunt object. He dropped his phone and his keys but too late: two people grabbed his hands each, someone else kicked him in the legs so he stumbled to his knees, a fourth (or fifth?) person pressed a rag against his nose and mouth. The second hit against the back of his head already felt weirdly muffled, and then his world turned dark.

Chapter Text

How could this happen? After decades as a master assassin, and he was called White Wolf for a reason, even Sam had called him stealthy once – how? How could these morons have sneaked up on him without him noticing anything? Something about love makes you blind. More like stupid. But the really stupid thing was that he had not called Sam earlier. Just a few seconds earlier and Sam would have listened in on the assault, could have tracked him (because the attackers had taken his phone with them) and swooped in to save Bucky like the superhero he was. It was all very dramatic and romantic in Bucky’s mind.

The harsh reality was a cold basement (it looked like an abandoned parking garage) where he was secured to a concrete pillar. They had removed his vibranium arm and used four manacles on his other arm and four on each leg plus bonds around his middle and neck, so he had no way of moving. At least two of his captors were standing guard over him at all times, never letting him out of their sight.

After the first panic had died down (he was sane and in his own mind, no one could make him do anything against his will, it was not HYDRA), he had tried to come up with a plan. He could not feel the comforting weight of his knives against his thighs or in his boots, so his captors must have thoroughly disarmed him. Well, he could not move his hand anyway. All that was possible were miniscule movements of the fingers of his right hand. He had tried, many, many times, but there was nothing there to grab but thin air.

There was no way around it: he could not get out of here on his own. He needed a partner. Or just some kind of birdie to bring him a key or knife so he could free himself. Bucky blinked his burning eyes. Fuck, he even missed Redwing. No one was coming for him because no one knew where he was. No one knew he was even missing. No one would start to worry when he did not answer his phone or respond to text messages because that was just what James Bucky Barnes did, ignore people for weeks.

He probably deserved this.

“Hey.” One of the guards, a sturdy guy with thinning hair, approached him. He was holding Bucky’s phone. “I want you to make a call.”

“What?” Bucky croaked. Just seconds before, he had given up any hope of escape and now they would let him make a call?

“I want you to call your boyfriend, Captain America,” Thin Hair clarified.

Even better. “Okay.” Probably too good to be true. So it looked like Bucky was the hostage in this situation and they wanted something from Sam, maybe the vibranium from his shield and suit, or some Avengers technology. Anyway, this was Bucky’s chance. If he could somehow use that call to pass information on to Sam about his captors and his whereabouts…

When Thin Hair demanded the code to unlock the phone, Bucky played for time by giving him two faulty codes. It earned him a slap in the face but it was enough to come up with the barest idea of a plan, that is gathering as much information as possible that could be useful for Sam. Five captors, four of them white US Americans, one with a Spanish accent, as far as Bucky could tell non-enhanced, aged 30 to 40, all of them armed with handguns, second- or third-generation Glocks, so all in all not extremely dangerous but they obviously knew what they were doing, they had a plan or else they wouldn’t have succeeded in overpowering Bucky so easily.

“No funny things,” Thin Hair warned Bucky. “All you tell your boyfriend is that you’ve been captured and you need his help.”

Bucky nodded – or tried to. He could hardly move his head. “Got it.” He swallowed. His tongue still felt thick in his mouth from whatever they had used to sedate him.

When Thin Hair called Sam’s number and held the phone close to Bucky’s face, Bucky caught a brief glimpse of the date and time on his phone. Not even a whole day had passed since he had been attacked, so he could not have been unconscious for long, meaning he was very likely still in the USA. How to pass this information on to Sam without getting any form of punishment? Should he hum ‘The Star Spangled Man With a Plan’? Did Sam even know that stupid song?

As it turned out, it did not matter anyway.

Sam did not answer the phone.

Bucky and his captors seemed equally disappointed.

“I could leave a message,” Bucky suggested. If he rattled his manacles loudly enough, maybe he could send a message in Morse code.

“Don’t take me for stupid,” Thin Hair snapped.

They tried calling Sam again a few minutes later. Then a few hours later. The next day again.

Sam only picked up on the third day.

“Yes?”

His voice, on speaker, sounded reserved, wary.

“Five but none of the big three,” Bucky blurted out, “US-” He did not get to say more because his guard punched him in the mouth. The second guard hurried towards them and put a hand over Bucky’s mouth. He held a knife – one of Bucky’s knives – against the skin of Bucky’s neck.

“One more word from you,” he hissed, “and… and… and I’ll cut off your fingers one by one.”

Through the blood rushing in his ears, his burning eyes and the taste of blood in his mouth, Bucky heard Sam’s voice like from a distance.

“Bucky? What the hell is going on? Are you alright?”

The guy holding the phone took over the conversation.

“No, he’s not. We have your boyfriend. He’s our hostage.”

There was silence from Sam’s side.

“Not sure if you heard it,” the guy continued, “but my partner here just threatened to cut off your boyfriend’s fingers one by one if you don’t cooperate.”

“What exactly does that cooperation entail?” Sam asked slowly.

“An exchange of prisoners.”

“Who do you want?”

“Pierson and Blinow – the two men you captured last week.”

“In Chicago, yes, I remember. But it seems a little unfair. You get two and I only get one, what kind of a deal is that?”

“The kind of deal where you get your boyfriend back, unharmed.”

The guy holding the knife to Bucky’s neck elbowed him. “Beg him for help,” he whispered and took his hand away from Bucky’s mouth so he could speak.

“Sam.” He swallowed down the blood in his mouth. “I love you.” He might as well say it now in case he did not get another chance. “And I want you to know that-”

“Stop it,” Sam said. “No need for playing games anymore. The situation is too serious. We have other things to worry about than pretending we’re in a relationship. Why can’t you get your priorities straight for once in your life? This is exactly why I don’t want you on the Avengers team anymore. And why I turned down your proposal. Yes, I admit, the sex was good, you have a nice dick, but did you honestly think I would ever marry someone like you?”

What the hell? For about three seconds Bucky was in a shock until he processed what he had just heard. Oh, that was clever.

“Fuck you,” Bucky rasped. “Some hero you are, Sam Wilson. They’re threatening me with my knives, Sam, my own knives, that’s all they got, plus some old handguns, and you’re afraid of facing them? Should’ve given the shield to John Walker, he at least has the serum and the guts to deal with a few simple humans! They don’t even have the nerve to really cut me…” He trailed off when there was a sharp sting at his neck followed by liquid warmth trickling down.

“Careful, we still need him,” the guy with the phone said. Then he addressed Sam. “As you can see, we mean business. If you don’t want his blood on your hands, you better agree to our deal. Barnes in exchange for Pierson and Blinow. What do you say?”

There was another long silence.

“You better decide now.”

Silence.

“Wilson? Hey, do you hear me? Captain America? Fuck.” The guy glared at the display of Bucky’s phone. “He hung up.”

Baffled, the two guards turned to face each other.

“Now what?”

It was kind of satisfying to see them so perplexed because of their shattered plans, but then Bucky started to wonder what that meant for him. If they had no use for him as a hostage anymore, what would they do with him? If he was lucky, they would just dump him in the middle of nowhere. And risk him running free to give Sam or someone else a description of them?

He may have just dug his own grave.

They tried calling Sam again, and when he did not take the call, they took pictures of Bucky in his increasingly sorry state, and presumably added threats of what they were going to do to him if Sam did not agree to the exchange of prisoners.

Bucky lost track of time. It was hard to count the days when he was in a basement with no windows but just artificial light. The guards changed roughly every four or five hours. Bucky had fallen asleep four times, so that could mean it was the fifth day in captivity now. Rationally he knew his body had endured much worse, but that did not make the situation now any better. Being chained to a concrete pillar for days without any chance to move made everything hurt, every muscle strained, yearning to move to get some kind of relief.

“Looks like your boyfriend’s not coming for you,” one of the guards said. Gloating was the only thing they had left to entertain themselves. They were as frustrated as Bucky with the situation. Yes, although, rationally, Bucky knew that Sam did not pick up the phone and did not react to the pictures to not give them any more leverage, he could not help but feel abandoned.

“Is there anyone else who’d ransom you?”

“No.”

“That’s just sad.”

Bucky didn’t have anything to say to contradict him. There were the other Avengers, sure, but he wouldn’t consider them friends, just acquaintances who tolerated his presence in the team because with his super strength he was a useful asset and he was Sam’s friend/boyfriend. Then of course Sarah but she – like the Avengers, to be honest – were only his acquaintances through Sam. His therapist had always stressed how important it was to have human connections. Having just one person who had to fill the role of friend, family and lover probably wasn’t healthy either. (Still better than clinging to a shield or a notebook, right?)

“Hey!”

Bucky almost wept in joy at hearing the familiar voice. There was Sam, his suit and shield bringing a spark of colour to the grey basement and hope to Bucky’s heart. Whatever bullshit Bucky had come up with during their first TV interview as a couple, there was something about Sam coming flying in here that reminded him of an angel. An angel with guns and a deadly shield.

The two guards whirled around. Before they could draw their weapons, Sam knocked one of them out with a precise toss of the shield, and shot the other one in the knee. Both stumbled to the ground. Sam landed, picked up his shield and ran towards Bucky.

“Doorway on two o’clock,” Bucky shouted, “three attackers.” The warning was all he could contribute to the fight.

Sam lurched forward, right at the three remaining hostage-takers, strategically placing himself between them and Bucky. If they got through, they would have what they had wanted from the beginning: holding a gun to Bucky’s head, thus blackmailing Sam.

Sam did not have the element of surprise on his side anymore. He had managed to shoot one in the shoulder, effectively taking him out, but the other two were shooting at him from behind concrete pillars. Bucky could only helplessly watch on.

Suddenly he registered a whirring behind him, a faint but familiar sound.

“Good boy,” he whispered when the first shackle fell to the ground. The noise of gunshots drowned out Redwing’s little buzz saw. With every second, Bucky regained a little freedom of movement. His arm was already free and, although still numb from being forced to hold one position for so long, he tried to loosen the bonds around his neck and middle while Redwing worked on his legs.

Then a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion and yet Bucky could do nothing to stop it. The man Sam had shot in the knee had dragged himself up, reached his gun and was slowly raising it with an unsteady hand to aim at Sam.

“DOWN!” Bucky yelled.

The shot echoed, seemingly louder than all the others, in the basement, Sam’s head flew back, he staggered, still holding his shield up on instinct, there was blood –

“NO, SAM!”

Bucky had no idea where the sudden burst of strength came from. Before Redwing could finish his job, Bucky had torn himself free from his restraints, stumbled forward, feeling neither the pain nor the numbness in his unsteady legs, and threw himself (or rather: collapsed) on top of the man who had been about to aim a second shot at Sam.

“Redwing, help Sam!” he bellowed because the stupid bird was still hovering around him, seemingly confused with the course of events. Bucky smashed the man’s head on the hard floor until he stopped moving.

When Bucky turned around, Sam was already back on his feet, holding his ground against the two attackers. A sob of relief tore from Bucky’s throat. He grabbed the unconscious (or dead) man’s gun and staggered to Sam’s side.

“Look who’s finally decided to join the fight!” Sam shouted, grinning wildly.

There was blood on the left side of Sam’s face but otherwise he looked fine. Bucky wanted to kiss him. Instead he shoved Sam behind another pillar so they were momentarily sheltered from the gunshots.

“We need a distraction,” Bucky gasped, “to lure them out of their shelter.”

“Redwing’s on to it.” Sam programmed something on his arm’s display. “Seven seconds.”

“Then what?”

“You turn left, I go right, and we knock those assholes out.”

“Good plan.”

“-three, two, one-”

There was a little explosion.

“-go!”

Bucky fired the last shot from his gun and hit his opponent, who had moved out from his shelter thanks to whatever Redwing had done behind him, in the shoulder. With a pained groan, the man sank to the ground. Just to be on the safe side, Bucky delivered a kick to his chest. Sam took the other one out with his shield.

Suddenly it was very quiet, their harsh gasps and Redwing’s whirring the only sounds echoing through the basement.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked. He found himself suddenly shaking. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m good.” Sam knelt down to pick up the discarded bonds and handcuff the hostage-takers in case they regained consciousness.

“You’re bleeding,” Bucky repeated. In his head, the scene of the man raising his gun kept playing in a cruel loop, how we was taking aim at Sam, the shot ringing in Bucky’s ears as he could do nothing but watch on helplessly as Sam’s head jerked back and he tumbled down with blood on his face…

“It was just a graze.”

“Let me check that.”

“What do you think I am, a zombie? If that shot had hit me in the head, I’d be dead by now.”

“Please.”

Something in Bucky’s voice must have made Sam relent. He stopped what he was doing, shrugged and mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky knelt down next to him. “Do you have, uh…” His voice was shaking, too.

Sam nodded, unclipped the first-aid kit from his utility belt and handed it to Bucky.

Without another word, Bucky set to work. It was tricky with just one hand but looking for his vibranium arm wasn’t a priority right now. Very carefully, he wiped the blood away to have a closer look at the actual wound. Fortunately it wasn’t deep, Sam was right, it was just a graze. So Bucky made to clean the wound with disinfectant and then taped it carefully. All the while, Sam was unusually silent, did not utter a single word but just watched Bucky with steady, inquisitive eyes.

Bucky could not bring himself to move away. He needed to make sure that Sam was okay.

At last, Sam put his hand over Bucky’s still shaking fingers to stop him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone sooner,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse.

“It wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

“Two days less in captivity for you.”

“How long’s it been?”

“Six days.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Bucky!” Sam said indignantly.

Slowly, Bucky regained control of his body. He could breathe freely again, his heart was back to a normal rate and his fingers were still clammy but not shaking anymore. Talking with Sam always helped. Why was he always such an idiot and thought ignoring Sam would achieve anything?

“I’m sorry, too,” Bucky said. “For a hundred things. What I said to you-”

“Let’s not do this right now.”

What? “You started it,” Bucky said incredulously.

“Well, yes, but I wanted you to know-”

“And I want you to know, too! That you aren’t a coward, you are the bravest man I know.”

And of course Sam had to be confrontational even now: “I’m really not-” he started, so Bucky kissed him.

Immediately, Sam’s hands flew up to grab Bucky’s hair and pull him closer – he was kissing Bucky back. Sam was kissing him back and he was alive and unharmed… almost unharmed. Bucky had to remind himself to be careful not to put too much pressure on Sam’s wound but he just wanted to hold Sam and never let him go again.

Much too soon Sam gently pushed him back.

“Uh. How about we revisit this once you’ve brushed your teeth and taken a shower?”

Sam’s voice was teasing and his eyes were warm, and anyway, he had just said that he wanted to kiss Bucky again, so Bucky took it in stride.

“Good plan.”

Sam laughed. “I always make the best of plans.”

“What about them?” Bucky indicated the bound hostage-takers. Two of them had woken up by now, one was groaning in pain, the other staring angrily at them.

“Rhodey and Joaquín should be here with the Quinjet any moment.”

“What are they doing here?”

“Helping? Did you think I came all over from Chicago with just my wings?”

“I don’t know, where are we?”

“Wyoming.”

“That’s not that far.”

Sam punched him in the side. Bucky wanted to kiss him again.

Just then, Rhodes and Torres arrived. One look at Bucky, and Rhodes said, “You look like shit.”

Bucky tried to scowl at him, he really tried, but his facial muscles betrayed him. He was too grateful: for the rescue and for the words that sounded much like the kind of insults he and Steve used to trade.

“You’re late,” Bucky said, “left all the work to us. Even Redwing was more useful than you.”

“Oh, he’s good,” Torres said, rolling his eyes. He made to inspect the hostage-takers and exchanged some of Sam’s makeshift bonds for manacles. “Is this all of them?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“Good,” Torres said, checking the pulse and breathing of the one who still had not moved. “This one’s dead.”

It was the one who had grazed Sam with a shot. Bucky was not particularly sorry.

They waited for the local authorities to take the four living hostage-takers into custody, retrieve the body of the fifth one and collect evidence (to Bucky’s dismay, they took his phone). After he and Sam had given their statements, they could finally leave.

Like Sam had instructed, the first thing Bucky did in the Quinjet was clean himself as well as possible in the tiny toilet cubicle. A glance in the mirror confirmed Rhodey’s assessment: he did look like shit, with a black eye, dried blood under his nose and on the side of his neck, unwashed hair, tired eyes and all kinds of stains on his clothes. Sam had handed him a bag of spare clothes. Once he had changed into them and reattached his vibranium arm, he felt more like a person again – still bone-achingly tired, though.

“Looking better,” Torres said with a grin. No matter how monosyllabic and gruff Bucky was to him, Torres always tried to engage him in small talk with admirable persistence. Bucky gave him a curt nod.

“Got anything to eat?”

“Let me see…” Torres emerged with a bottle of water and some protein bars. “Not much on the menu, I’m afraid.” He grinned apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’ve lived on less. Thanks, Joaquín.” Bucky took the offered things and clapped him on the shoulder.

Torres smiled proudly as if he had been waiting for that kind of praise from Bucky, which was a decidedly weird thought.

“Hey, Rhodey,” Torres called to Rhodey, who was navigating the Quinjet. “We’re close to St Louis, right?”

“Very broadly speaking yes, why?”

“There’s this amazing Peruvian restaurant. I thought we could make a stop there.”

“Is that how we’re doing Avengers business now?” Sam said amused.

“Well, there was the infamous Shawarma incident,” Torres said, “so I’d argue it’s an Avengers tradition.”

“You really need to stop taking your information about the Avengers from Rogers! The Musical,” Sam said.

“Joaquín could have a point there,” Rhodes said, “knowing Tony, that would’ve been exactly what he’d do. Looks like they got one thing right after all.”

“Is it true that you ate rats as the Winter Soldier?” Torres asked curiously.

Sam groaned. “Yeah, okay, that one’s on me. You know what, let’s go to that restaurant. We don’t have anything else to do for the moment.”

“Great.” Torres pulled up the menu on his phone and told everyone what they absolutely should try.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to deal with the whole situation. On the one hand, it was nice being included on the team, and he was hungry and the food pictures Torres showed him looked delicious. On the other hand, he still wasn’t sure where he and Sam were standing. They hadn’t had a moment to really talk in private, just exchanged a few furtive glances and awkward smiles from time to time during the flight. All Bucky knew was that Sam was planning to kiss him again, but what did that mean? Did Sam want a real relationship or did he want to continue pretending to be in a relationship because he had decided that a public breakup was too much trouble? Or would they have some kind of casual thing going on, like Bucky had had with his fellow soldiers back in the army? A kind of friends with benefits situation? Friends with kissing? Or was it going to be a hidden relationship, a secret love affair, like Sam had had with his partner in the Falcon programme? That wouldn’t make much sense seeing as they had already made their relationship public, but then again Sam had this weird idea that things he said in public didn’t always count as real.

Bucky still wasn’t any the wiser when it was time to say goodbye. They had finished their meal, which had been really good, and were now standing outside the restaurant, discussing when they’d meet up the next time in order to train together.

“Thanks for helping me,” Bucky told Torres and then he gave him a quick hug because why the hell not? For some reason the kid seemed to want to be his friend and he was so persistent about it that Bucky could not help but start to grow a soft spot for him.

“Oh, a hug, okay,” Torres said in surprise. “Are we doing hugs now?”

“Sorry.” Bucky took a step back. Normally he didn’t just touch other people. Sam had always been an exception because from early on he had been in Bucky’s personal space and made it clear that he did not mind physical contact.

“No, it’s totally fine,” Torres said quickly. “Just wasn’t expecting it. So. Call me if you ever need a good restaurant recommendation again.”

“Right.” Bucky didn’t really know how to interact with Torres but the good thing was that Torres took everything in stride and was not easily discouraged. Rhodes, however, was another matter. He wasn’t someone you just hugged. Rhodes did not go out of his way to make an effort to get to know Bucky like Sam or Torres did but mostly left him alone, just sometimes he would make a quip as if they had known each other forever. But Bucky had only met him a few times, and one of the few times had been them fighting on opposite sides with Rhodes getting seriously injured. Also, Stark had been Rhodes’ best friend, so that definitely had the potential to make everything complicated. Bucky never knew how to deal with anything Stark related.

So he said a little stiffly, “I have to thank you as well,” and offered his hand to shake.

“You’re welcome.” Rhodes shook the offered hand. “I mean, I didn’t really do much. It was mostly Sam.”

Speaking of… Bucky turned to Sam. Neither a hug nor a handshake felt right, and kissing was definitely not an option right now and since when had interacting with Sam become the most complicated of all when before things had always been so easy between them?

Before it could get more awkward, Sam said, “It was mostly Redwing.”

“Yeah. Tell him I said thank you.”

It was insufficient. He had to express his gratitude to Sam. There had been moments when he had feared he had been abandoned by everyone. His relief at seeing Sam come for him after all was hard to put into words.

“Actually,” Sam said, licked his lips and paused.

“Yeah?” Bucky watched him expectantly.

“I wanted to ask you… Well. I’m heading down to Delacroix for a few days. Sarah says it’s okay if you come as well.”

Oh. Something was tingling in Bucky’s stomach. Hope. “Where is the question, Sam?” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Really?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Would you like to come to Delacroix with me, Bucky Barnes?”

“I’d love to,” Bucky said, smile threatening to split his face. His whole body felt light and warm when he saw the relieved smile on Sam’s face mirroring his own.

“What is going on here?” he heard Rhodes whisper behind him. “I thought they were dating?”

“It’s complicated,” Torres explained sagely.

“I can hear you,” Bucky said without turning his eyes away from Sam.

“What, like – my heartbeat?!” Sam said.

Huh, interesting. There was too much background noise to focus on just Sam’s heartbeat but Bucky filed away that information for later.

“No, those two whispering behind our backs.”

“Really?” Sam gave them an exasperated look.

“We just didn’t want to interrupt you,” Torres said.

“Have fun in Delacroix,” Rhodes added.

Chapter Text

They reached Delacroix in the middle of the night. Sarah took one look at them – both of them with bruises on their faces, Bucky in Sam’s spare clothes –, sighed and let them in.

“Hey.” She halted Bucky with a hand on his arm so he could not just slip sheepishly past her. “Don’t you ever lie to me again.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promised. Just before they had arrived, Sam had informed him that he had told Sarah the truth. To Bucky, it was a huge relief that he did not have to lie to Sarah anymore. But he still did not fully know what ‘the truth’ was, that is the truth from Sam’s perspective.

“And if he tries to rope you into something,” Sarah nodded in Sam’s direction, “you stop him.”

“I’ll try.”

Sarah hummed. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? There’s still leftover dinner in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“We’re good, thanks,” Sam said. “Had a big meal with the guys.”

“Good. I’m heading back to bed. And you… I’ve put bedding on the couch. If you don’t share.” Sarah frowned and rubbed a hand over her tired face. “I seriously don’t know, I’m too tired for this, you figure this out.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam echoed his words.

They were staring after her as she went up the staircase to her bedroom.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Bucky said into the awkward silence.

“Okay. Night.”

“Night.”

And that was that. Sam followed Sarah upstairs and Bucky stayed in the living room. It was fine. Sam was tired and needed the rest after today’s events. Bucky, however, had spent most of the ride to Delacroix fast asleep and by now was fully awake. Nevertheless, he made himself comfortable on the couch. The smell of the old couch and the soft rustling of the magnolias’ leaves from outside felt like coming home, the sounds from upstairs – Sam taking a quick shower – were familiar. It was fine. Sam shouldn’t have to worry about Bucky and his nightmares and whatever else it was that bothered him. They could talk, really talk tomorrow. It could wait.

The sounds from upstairs died down. So Sam must have gone to bed now. Bucky’s breathing slowed further down. After spending days tied up to a concrete pillar, the lumpy couch felt like heaven. The whole house felt like a comforting blanket. He just hoped that Sam, too, felt this comfort. It was a nice thought that all of them found rest in this house at this very moment.

Roughly an hour later, there were soft creaks from upstairs, then Sam’s footsteps coming slowly down the stairs. He obviously tried to be quiet but did not stand a chance against the old wooden staircase and Bucky’s enhanced hearing. Bucky did not say a word, just watched curiously as Sam tiptoed around the house, put on some sneakers and went outside.

What was he doing? It was in the middle of the night and he should be resting after the mission. Bucky waited for about fifteen minutes. When Sam did not return, he decided to follow him.

He found Sam sitting on the dock, staring at the water, his silhouette standing out dark against the water, which reflected the almost full moon.

Bucky made a conscious effort to make his steps heard so he wouldn’t startle Sam by sneaking up on him from behind. It did not work. As soon as Sam heard him, he jumped up and adopted a fighting stance.

“It’s just me,” Bucky called softly.

Sam visibly relaxed. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky stepped onto the dock and approached Sam. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Sam shrugged. “Needed some time to think.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgment. He sat down on the dock just like Sam had earlier, signalling that he was here if Sam wanted to share his thoughts.

Sam slowly sat down next to him, close but not close enough for their thighs to touch. It was very quiet, with just the water lapping gently against the wooden stakes of the dock. Bucky waited for Sam to come to a conclusion of whatever it was he had come outside to think about. He was staring at the water again. With his thin cotton shirt and sweatpants, everything about him looked soft in the pale silver glow of the moonlight, and Bucky longed to touch him but that, too, had to wait.

Eventually, Sam drew a heavy breath. “What I said about my nightmares, I mean the ones involving… the Winter Soldier. It’s not like I get them every night. Maybe once or twice a year. They just come out of nowhere from time to time.”

Bucky swallowed and briefly closed his eyes, but the images would not go away: the satisfaction when one wing finally came off, and then kicking that annoying guy down a huge building to finish him off for good. What did it look like from Sam’s perspective? How did you deal with such ruthlessness thrown your way?

“I never apologised for what I did to you,” Bucky said quietly.

“I wasn’t waiting for an apology. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I did it. And you still get nightmares from it.” And that was that. There was no magical solution. You could not change the past and you could not control what you dreamed of. But Bucky was not willing to simply accept that. It did not sit right with him that Sam was reassuring him when he clearly had enough on his own plate right now, things he was grappling with... Bucky had tried to make amends, be of service to the people he had wronged as the Winter Soldier. Sam had never been on his list. “Is there something I can do to help?” he asked now.

“I get all sorts of nightmares – like you do, like all soldiers and all Avengers do. It’s nothing we can control. It usually helps to talk about the traumatic events we lived through so our subconscious doesn’t have to do all the work at night.”

Sam was deflecting with that generalisation. And yet… Bucky remembered how he and Sam had connected after Thanos had been defeated. While those who had survived Thanos’ Snap were in a weird mix of celebrating the return of the lost ones and grieving those who had died in the fight, for Sam and Bucky it had just been a few moments ago that they had been turned to dust. So when the others were busy calling their loved ones or preparing for a funeral, he and Sam had talked about their shared experience, had put into words the seemingly unspeakable horror of seeing themselves disintegrating, thus taking a bit of its horror away.

“I can do that,” Bucky said. “So. Do you want to talk about that nightmare you had when…?”

“I didn’t have a nightmare that night.”

“Oh. Good. Anyway, whenever you want to talk, you call me. I mean, I don’t have a phone right now, the police took it…”

“We’ll have to get you a new one. How else can you ignore my texts?”

Okay, he had had that coming. Bucky didn’t have any clever comeback to that.

Sam sighed, clearly impatient with Bucky. “What I’m trying to say here is, you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Bucky blinked. Apparently they had had two very different conversations.

“Unless you want to,” Sam added, “but I don’t want you to think that I’m scared of sharing a bed with you.”

So this was on the table. This was what Sam wanted to talk about. Bucky wouldn’t let the other thing go but maybe it could all work out perfectly, giving them both what they wanted, and then some.

“Sharing a bed would definitely make the logistics easier, talking about nightmares,” he said. “So as long as I don’t have a phone, that seems the logical solution.”

Sam chuckled and then turned his head sideways to face Bucky. They were silent for a while, just looking at each other. Sam’s eyes were gleaming in the moonlight.

Slowly, Bucky moved his hand to touch Sam’s. Sam did not pull away, so he stroked a finger over Sam’s hand up to his wrist – yes, his pulse was definitely elevated, Bucky could feel it fluttering under his fingertip.

“I still haven’t thanked you for coming to my rescue,” Bucky said.

“You would’ve done the same for me.”

Bucky nodded, relieved that Sam knew this with such certainty, that, no matter how stupid their fights, they would always come through for each other.

They were still looking at each other, the water was lapping gently against the dock, the moon was shining brightly and Bucky was still touching Sam’s wrist.

“I’d really like to get back to that kiss you promised,” Bucky said, leaving all pretence behind.

Sam angled his upper body towards Bucky and leaned in. Bucky met him halfway. It was not their first kiss but it still felt like it. Not in the sense of a fumbling first kiss between teenagers – no, they were already familiar with each other. Their lips moved softly, surely, and Sam easily moved along when Bucky put a hand under his chin to angle their faces just right.

But when they separated for air, it felt much like the elation after a first kiss. Like a beginning. And now Bucky could actually hear Sam’s heart hammering wildly in his chest.

“I love you too,” Sam said, his voice soft and a little hoarse.

Bucky stopped breathing. His heart stopped beating. The world stopped turning.

Sam cleared his throat. “It was brought to my attention that you meant it when you said it to me. If that’s not the case, then we’ll just ignore this and pretend it never happened,” he tried to quip.

A giddy laugh burst from Bucky’s throat. “Not a chance. I’ll never forget this.” He pulled Sam in for another kiss, and while their first kiss had been rather chaste, this time neither of them held back. The clashing of lips and teeth was messy, feverish, perfect. Sam opened his mouth, let Bucky lick into him (Bucky made an embarrassing groan – but so did Sam), tilted his head back, and when he took Bucky’s head in both hands, they almost toppled over.

“Whoa.” Laughing, Sam let go of Bucky to steady himself on one hand. His laugh was a little breathless. Bucky’s hand was still scrunching the fabric of Sam’s t-shirt.

“By the way, I can hear your heartbeat now,” Bucky informed him.

“That’s just humiliating,” Sam complained half-heartedly. “Another one of your supersoldier advantages over me.”

“Come here.” Bucky manoeuvred them so Sam’s ear was against Bucky’s chest. “Bet you can hear mine as well.”

Sam hummed and pressed his face against Bucky’s chest, making Bucky shudder a little. “Sounds normal to me.”

“Nothing normal about my feelings for you.”

Sam chuckled. “You sure know how to sweet-talk.”

“I held back.”

“Oh?”

“I could’ve said something about how my heart is beating only for you.”

Sam snorted. “Guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

It was much like their first interviews as a fake couple: just as fun and exciting but with the added bonus of knowing they were a real couple now.

Sam wriggled a little until he was half lying down with his head resting in Bucky’s lap. Bucky traced his fingers through Sam’s short hair. This was nice. He could have stayed like this all night. Or forever. The birds better not begin their morning song too soon.

“So, I gotta ask,” Sam said, “when you suggested that we pretend to be a couple, were you already in love with me then and that was your plan to make me fall in love with you? Because that’d be crazy, even for you.”

“I’m not that crazy.” Smiling, Bucky caressed the side of Sam’s face and gently trailed his fingers over the wound from the grazing shot. He could have lost him, and here they were, safe and together and in love. “Took me a while to figure out I was head over heels.”

“When?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Come on.” Sam lightly swatted his chest. Bucky caught his hand in his and grinned down at him.

“Sarah’s birthday. No, the morning after.”

“Oh.” Sam sounded faintly disappointed.

“What ‘oh’? You been crushing on me for a while, Sam?”

“Don’t be such an asshole about it,” Sam said grumpily but he stayed where he was, his head in Bucky’s lap.

“Really?”

“That so hard to believe?”

It was a little, to be honest, one of those things that were just too good to be true.

“Wait,” Bucky said, “when you agreed to the idea that we pretend to be a couple – were you already… was it your plan to make me fall in love with you? Was that why you didn’t tell Sarah?”

“No, it wasn’t like that. I was annoyed with her because she just believed what the Daily Bugle and all the other media outlets wrote about us. Can you believe she just sent me a text, ‘Hey, congrats, do you want to bring your boyfriend over next weekend?’ instead of maybe asking me, ‘Hey bro, so I read this crazy news article, is it true that you’re dating that weird co-worker of yours?’ That would have been the normal thing to do, right?”

“So you wanted to teach her a lesson?”

“I mean – yes. I wanted to see how long it’d take her to work out it was just fake news.”

“I gotta say, you really committed to the bit.”

“In retrospect, pretending to date you and then falling in love with you was counterproductive to my plan.”

Bucky smiled. He would never get tired of hearing Sam say it, even if it was in a joking and self-deprecating tone.

“Anyway, slight change of plan when I realised I had feelings for you,” Sam continued. “Then I couldn’t tell her the truth either because I knew she’d never let me do that to myself: pretend to be in a relationship with someone I had an unrequited crush on. She can be protective like that. Ever since the Snap she’s been acting like she’s my older sister now. It’s annoying. Also sweet. But annoying.”

“Wow. I will never let you get away with calling my plans crazy again.”

“I never said it was a good plan.”

“You still haven’t told me when you fell in love with me.”

“You’re really making me do this?”

“You made me do it first.”

“Alright, fine. It was pretty early on.”

“Really?”

“This is embarrassing.” Sam groaned. “Remember when we were on the Martha Show? When you took my hand – it wasn’t like I suddenly realised, Wow, I’m in love with Bucky, it was more like, Wow, he’s really doing this with me, he’s holding my hand on national TV, he’s so brave. And the rest is history, as they say.”

Bucky chuckled at that throwback line. “You sure are one complicated man, Samuel Wilson. Now explain to me why’d you break up with me if you were in love with me? Was that another crazy plan of yours? Because it still doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t?” Sam said quietly, suddenly serious.

“Not really, no. Things were good between us and you were – it seemed like you were enjoying what we were doing, the dancing, kissing…”

“I was. That was the problem: it got too much. You see, I haven’t dated in a while.”

“Neither have I.”

“Haven’t dated in years.”

“Decades in my case.”

“Seriously, Buck? Do you have to make everything a competition?”

“Sorry. But I still don’t get it.”

Sam sighed. “Things were good at first, I really liked what we were doing, the flirting, the attention, a bit like the excitement of a high school crush. But that weekend in Delacroix, things escalated. A part of me enjoyed it but another part… It’s hard when the person you love kisses you and tells you he loves you but doesn’t mean it.”

“You mean when you think he doesn’t mean it.”

“Well, yes. Also felt like I was taking advantage of you. I was already lying to Sarah and now I was lying to you too by pretending that I was still just pretending. I made you play my boyfriend all the time and made you kiss me while I was in love with you and you weren’t…yet.”

Bucky was silent for a while, contemplating it. It was nice to think that Sam was so considerate of his feelings – but absolutely unnecessary. “Dating you – or pretending to – was never a hardship,” Bucky reassured him. He traced his fingers over Sam’s brow, the side of his face, his jawline. “I enjoyed every minute of it, of spending time with you. It just took me longer to figure out that what I was feeling was love.”

“You can be surprisingly sweet.”

“Better get used to it.”

Sam chuckled. “I never believed Steve when he said you were such a charmer with the ladies back in the 40s. But I can definitely see it now.”

“If the police hadn’t confiscated my phone, I’d put on some music now and ask you for a dance.”

“You know what, I have my phone right here.” With a bit of wriggling, Sam pulled it from the pocket of his pants and opened the Spotify app. “So, what song would you use to woo me?”

That felt like a trick question because Sam had opinions on every kind of music. “We never got to finish Moonlight Serenade on Sarah’s birthday party. So that’s what I would pick.” It seemed the perfect choice: slow and romantic, with the moonlight’s reflection glimmering and rippling in the gentle waves…

But Sam did not press play. His thumb hovered indecisively over the display.

“What, you don’t like it?”

Sam's chest heaved with a silent sigh and he briefly closed his eyes. He still wouldn’t press play.

At last he said, without looking Bucky in the eyes, “Given the choice, would you go back to the 40s?”

He did not have to add ‘too’.

Bucky let his fingers linger against the side of Sam’s face. “I’m not Steve,” he said softly. “I have a life here.” It was true. He thought of building a treehouse with AJ and Cass, of making guacamole together with Sarah, of having dinner and joking around with Torres and Rhodes, and of course of Sam.

“So did Steve,” Sam said, and there was the faintest trace of bitterness and accusation in his voice. Bucky got it, there had been enough times when he had grappled with Steve’s decision but he understood why Steve had done what he had done.

“I think he was lonely during the five years we missed. In the end, he was just tired of all the fighting, and he missed-”

Sam sat up abruptly. “This is not about Steve,” he said heatedly. “I asked you what you would do.” He stood up and started to pace the dock. “Why can’t you just give me a straight answer? Is it too much to ask that I want to know if one day you’re going to disappear without a word?”

“Sam.” Bucky stood up, approached him cautiously and put a hand on his arm. All the muscles in Sam’s arm were tense, as if waiting to take flight.

“Just answer the goddamn question, Bucky!”

Steve had offered him to come along, and it had been tempting: to go back to simpler times, back to his family, stay at Steve’s side, live among people who did not know that he had been a brainwashed assassin but just thought he was a war veteran with a fancy prosthesis. Sometimes, when something reminded him of the past – a song, a picture, the smell of a certain meal or the sight of an old road sign – the feeling of melancholy in his chest was outright painful. But simpler times did not necessarily mean better times. He liked the 21^st century – and not just the food and the Internet. So many things were better now than 80 years ago.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said. “Sam. Hey.” He pulled a still reluctant Sam into a tight hug. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated more softly against the side of Sam’s neck. “I like it here. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss some things – people. But I’m staying here. I’m staying with you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Some of the tension left Sam’s body. He swallowed audibly. “You better mean it. Because, I swear to God, if you disappear on me, I’m gonna challenge Doctor Strange to a duel for the Time Stone so I can personally travel to the 40s and haul your ass back here.”

“I’m counting on it. And if by any witchy time-space-chaos I accidentally get catapulted to the past, I’m gonna hunt down Albert Einstein or Stephen Hawking or any other genius to build me a time machine so I can come back to you.”

Sam chuckled but it sounded a little watery. “I can live with that.” His arms came up to lightly wrap around Bucky. “So. If I put on your old love song now, will you get all mushy on me?”

“Depends on your definition. It is a very romantic song, so it could happen that I want to kiss you.”

“Sounds fine to me.” Sam detached himself from the hug so he could retrieve his phone.

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice, a little tinny from the speaker of Sam’s phone, drifted through the night air, like an echo from the past. There was the familiar squeeze of pain in his chest but Bucky only had to look at Sam to know that his decision had been the right one.

He waited for the right line – “I stand, and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night…” – to offer his hand to Sam.

“May I have this dance?”

Sam laughed. “You are really laying it on thick.” But he took the offered hand, let Bucky pull him close, seemingly too tired to argue over who was going to lead. He simply let his head sag against Bucky’s shoulder and followed his movements.

“It’s our first date, so of course I’m trying my best,” Bucky said, a little proud of himself that he had made Sam laugh and that Sam was dancing with him. Not the kind of elegant dance like on Sarah’s birthday party but more of a slow shuffling and swaying with Sam’s warm body leaning against him.

“First date, huh?” Sam said, back to his usual teasing tone that Bucky loved so much.

“It’s way past midnight, so would you say yesterday counts as our first date or today?”

“Why’s that important? Already planning our anniversary?”

“You better don’t forget it. But I’m still not sure on the date. Yesterday was our first real kiss and you asked me out but today is our first date. What counts?”

“I didn’t ask you out.”

“You absolutely did. I have two witnesses. Should we call Torres or Rhodes and ask for their input?”

“Okay, fine, I asked you out. But only so we’d follow the script of our story on how we got together. Makes it easier, so we don’t have to explain to everyone that we just made things up before.”

“We’re geniuses.”

“Visionaries.”

“But we still don’t know when to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Does it matter?”

Bucky hesitated. “I want to do things right now. I mean, so much of our…” What was it? Their love story? Dating history? Relationship progress? “… so much was pretending and bullshitting and joking around, and we did it all in the wrong order. We should have a date, an important moment we can remember so we know how it began and that it wasn’t all fake.”

Sam stopped dancing altogether. Moonlight Serenade was over anyway, and some modern song Bucky did not know was on autoplay. He had not really paid attention to the music after the first verse. Sam moved back a little so he could look at Bucky. His hands were still on Bucky’s upper arms and he was smiling warmly at Bucky.

“For me it was when you suggested we should pretend to be a couple because you didn’t want to break some stranger’s heart. It was when you took my hand on the Martha Show. It was every photoshoot you joined me even though it made you uncomfortable. It was when you called me to make sure I was okay when people wrote stupid things about us. When you confronted that asshole journalist. When you pretended to be overpowered by AJ and Cass at water polo – are you crying? I told you not to get all mushy on me!”

Bucky blinked rapidly to make the sudden burning in his eyes go away. “It’s your fault,” he protested weakly. “And I love you too. You asshole.” He reached for Sam’s hands and entangled their fingers. “I just wanted to know when to get you flowers and you had to make it all sentimental.”

“What I was trying to say is, you can get me flowers any day.”

“So this is what it was all about. I’m seeing right through you.” And just for that, Bucky would buy him flowers tomorrow. Today. Whatever. He was so looking forward to seeing Sam’s face when Bucky presented him with the biggest bouquet he could find in all of Louisiana.

“Come on.” Sam lightly tugged on Bucky’s hand. “Let’s get back. I’m so tired, I could fall asleep standing up.”

They walked back side by side. For all Sam’s talk of how tired he was, he kept chatting on the whole way back, wondering which pet names they should use, when the next supervillains would attack, what colour to repaint the veranda and how to get back on a regular sleeping schedule after the chaos of the last days.

They sneaked back inside the house, feeling a little like teenagers who had stayed out too long. In the living room, Bucky hesitated in front of the couch. He was pretty sure that earlier Sam had implied that he wanted to share a bed again, but he did not want to presume. But then Sam impatiently waved him upstairs and Bucky followed him.

Just when they had settled down to sleep, Sam suddenly sat up.

“I got it,” he said triumphantly.

“Hm?”

“We do it like Christmas.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our anniversary. We make it a two-day anniversary, like the Christmas holidays. That was good planning on our part: first kiss and first date on two consecutive days. Next year we can take the two days off and go somewhere for a short trip.”

“If we do more first things tomorrow, we can make it a three-day holiday.”

“That’s brilliant, let’s do it. No, let’s wait one more day, then we can make it a bank holiday and a four-day trip.”

“Where do you wanna go for our four-day anniversary?”

Sam came up with a number of ideas, from a romantic getaway in the mountains to sightseeing in Wakanda to revisiting the place of their first kiss to space explorations with Thor…

Bucky made a mental list of all the things Sam mentioned because he planned to celebrate many more anniversaries with Sam.

As for himself, there was no place or time he would rather be than right here and now.