Chapter Text
Spider-Man is gone . Bolted the second he physically could.
Bucky stands on his balcony, just staring at the place in the sky where Spider-Man disappeared. The wind is biting, howling between buildings and sending shivers down his spine.
Rationally, Bucky knows it’s not his fault.
Yet, he feels responsible for the kid, for some strange reason. Almost like instinct. Like something somewhere deep down knew that this kid was special. Bucky couldn’t place what the ache was before, but now he thinks it was that he had been missing something. Spider-Man slotted right into that hole in his heart.
He reminds me of Steve. Probably a little too much.
It’s not just Steve though. The kid reminds Bucky of someone else, that he just can’t place. It’s almost as if there’s a wall in his subconscious, preventing him from reaching the memory he’s searching for. It’s there though, in his brain. Tugging his thoughts in circles, desperately waiting to be released. But Bucky just. Can’t. Remember.
Goddamn it. Bucky thinks, wandering back inside, closing the door behind him, but not locking it. He contemplates everything he knows about the mysterious vigilante, and tries to come up with conclusions on anything. He’s really grasping at straws here, but even then, there’s not enough to paint more of a picture than an over eager vigilante who is ridiculously strong. He sinks back down onto the couch next to Sam, and rests his head against him. Letting the rhythmic rise and fall of the other man’s shoulders comfort him, Bucky drifts off.
What is up with you Spider-Man?
________
Bucky jolts awake to Sam frantically shaking him. He blinks, pouts, then bolts up.
“Spider-Man’s gone,” he states. “Sam, he just left. I was watching him, but then he wanted water and the next thing I know, he’s gone .”
Sam stops shaking his shoulders, and looks solemnly at him. He takes a breath, then slowly pieces his sentence together. “Oh. Okay. I mean at least you saw him leave. He didn’t just drop out of the sky. Right?” Fear laces Sam’s voice. He looks rattled. And disappointed. Strange emotions to be seen on his face, especially directed at Spider-Man. Sam hasn’t mentioned it recently, but Bucky knows he’s not too fond of the masked vigilante. He still has bitter feelings from the fight in Germany.
“No, but-” Bucky begins, but Sam cuts him off.
Sam’s face has settled on a grim frown. “There’s not much we can do now, Bucky. I don’t like it, especially with his injuries, but clearly he is doing fine enough to at least make it home. I’m sure he’s had injuries like this before,” Sam says firmly. “There must be a reason he ran, and I think we should respect that decision. Just like the no hospitals thing.” He backs up a little, turning away to the kitchen. “God I need some coffee.”
Bucky agrees. He really does. Especially about the coffee, but he still wishes there was something more he could have done for Spider-Man. Sam sure is an expert at this. Even with his lack of trust for the younger man, Sam still felt a duty to help, and seems to care. It’s nice to know that, even if he’s getting soft, Sam is right there with him. Sighing, he follows Sam into the kitchen, trying to put his worries aside for the moment.
They fall into their typical routine. After the whole Flag Smashers debacle, and their subsequent becoming a couple and moving in together, they naturally fell into a morning routine. It was clunky at first, both having their own ways of approaching the day ahead, but eventually as they got used to their relationship, their routines slotted together. It was just instinct now. They talk about the news, politics, the day ahead, and really anything.
This morning is a little slower, both men feeling slightly worn out from the excitement of their brief guest/patient. The conversation doesn’t come as naturally, as Sam is on edge and Bucky is actively steering the subject away from anything remotely to do with the events of last night. Once their coffee and breakfast are acquired, they sit down at the island. Bucky glances over at Sam, and silently locks eyes with him. Sam tries for a reassuring smile, but Bucky’s gaze shifts away back to his plate.
“I’ll go out today. Scout around Queens, see if I can spot the kid. I mean hopefully he’s taking it easy, but I just want to make sure. Maybe I can convince him to come check in with us every once in a while. I mean if he’s out.” Bucky explains. “Just some piece of mind, that y’know, he’s not dead in a dumpster halfway between Brooklyn and Queens.”
Sam fixes him with a meaningful look, but doesn’t argue. “I would offer to come, hell, I mean a nice long walk could do me some good. But there’s some things I need to take care of with Torres, and I also said I’d look into that group you mentioned.” He grimaces and continues, his voice becoming a bit softer, “Don’t stay out too long, okay Buck? I know you need to do this, and I get it, I’m worried too. Most likely though, the punk crashed safely in his probably shitty apartment in Queens, and is regretting ever leaving because stab wounds are ass. He’ll live. Trust me, I know.”
Bucky smirks, leaning his head against Sam’s shoulder. “I love you”
Sam just smiles back and slyly says, “I know you do, ya old softie.” And then quietly under his breath he mutters “I love you too man.”
They share a familiar, tender moment, before it’s back to the hustle and bustle of the morning. As if it’s just another day. Because, in the grand scheme of things, that’s all it is. Just another day, another week, another month. Like how they always do, they can get through it. Together.