Chapter Text
Sam blinked his eyes open, wetness from his eyelashes slowly beginning to subside. Above him, there was only sky. He shifted his body, surprised to feel sand beneath his fingers.
Seeing Riley fall out of the sky during the war made Sam’s faith disappear, though working with Steve had made him believe in something. Maybe it was all the praying he knew his Ma was still doing on his behalf. Either way, he was pretty sure this wasn’t the heaven he remembered from Bible study.
Sam sat up slowly, still not sure that his body wouldn’t begin to disappear in front of his eyes once again. He shut his eyes at the memory, which was fresh as ever. Somehow he’d always pictured going in a more heroic way - taking a bullet for another Avenger, standing up for something he believed in. Anything was better than fading into nothing and waking up to more nothingness. Sam sighed, anxiety running through his body in the same way he’d turned to ash.
Sam opened his eyes.
Had his body not still been sore from battle, he would’ve jumped back in shock from what he saw. “Barnes - Bucky?”
Bucky Barnes sat cross legged only a stone's throw away from him. He looked as though he’d been waiting on Sam to wake up for some time now, he’d shrugged off his armor, and wore just a white undershirt and his uniform black pants. His hair was pulled up, and his eyes were on Sam. “What’s up?” he asked.
Sam was at a loss for words. “How are you so calm?”
“This may be the first time it’s permanent, but I’ve been close to death too many times to count. Every single time they froze me… it felt like my life was being stomped out.” Bucky laughed, without humor. “So this isn’t anything new for me.”
For the second time since he’d been dead, Sam didn’t know what to say. Before he could come up with something, Bucky spoke again.
“But I can see that you’re nervous. Trust me, I didn’t expect to die today, and I didn’t expect it to be like this,” Bucky admitted.
“Do you believe in heaven?” Sam blurted before he could stop himself. “Sorry man, this is just not what I was expecting either.”
Bucky waved Sam’s concern off. “Steve and I grew up Catholic. I spent a lot of time in those pews, praying that the latest illness Steve came down with wouldn’t kill him. It felt like my prayers were answered when he got the serum. But I prayed and prayed that He would just let me die once they captured me, and nobody listened. I’m grateful for a second chance - I was - but I credit that to Steve, and not anybody else.”
Sam doesn’t think he’s ever heard Bucky say that much before. In the past they’ve mostly bickered when Steve brought him along to visit Bucky in Wakanda. “You deserved more time.”
Bucky looks away. “I don’t deserve shit. You deserve heaven, not being stuck with me on this stupid island.”
“Stop that. Since Steve’s not here, I guess I’ll be the one to correct the dumb stuff you say,” Sam said.
It may have been the wrong thing to say, because Bucky’s face fell in an instant, and Sam’s chest felt like it was going to cave in.
“Don’t apologize,” Bucky said, reading Sam perfectly. “Shuri keeps - kept - telling me that it’s better to get things off my chest than just internalizing them. I like to think I’m doing better.”
“You’ve been doing great since we’ve been sitting in the sand. Wanna help me up, by the way? My legs are getting a little sore,” Sam asked.
Bucky stood easily, and offered his flesh hand to Sam.
“I may need the other one, I’m not the lightest. You’d think dying and waking up would mean you’d be without pain,” Sam laughed.
Bucky joined in, and pulled Sam up. Sam nearly toppled into Bucky’s chest, as his legs had gone unused for a indeterminable amount of time. Bucky straightened him up, and Sam took a second to look at the landscape around him.
In one direction - sand, a body of water, and yellow gold sunset. In the other, more beach and to Sam’s surprise, a little beach house.
“Steve would’ve loved this,” Bucky said after a moment.
“It’s what y’all deserve in your old age,” Sam joked. He should’ve expected the shove from Bucky, but kicked sand back at him in retaliation.
“I hope he’s okay,” Bucky says quietly.
“I wish we knew what happened. One second I was fine, the next second, I was dying alone,” Sam said.
Bucky started walking toward the house, but he dragged his feet. “That isn’t fair. I wish you would’ve been with us,” he said. “Steve saw me go. He’s seemed so much better the last few times he visited Wakanda. But the last thing I saw was the well breaking open. If he’s not dead yet, he’ll let grief kill his dumb ass.”
“He has been better,” Sam said after a moment. “He loves you, and I think he knows by now that you wouldn’t want that for him.”
Bucky snorts. “He knows lots of things. Doesn’t mean he’ll listen.”
Sam can’t help but laugh. He knows that all too well. “Still wanna check out the house?”
“Hell yes. Race you!” Bucky takes off before Sam can even react. Bucky’s relaxing against a palm tree by the time Sam makes it over, and as such gets yelled at about being a cheater. It’s easier to fall back into their old ways of bickering and fighting, than to deal with the more immediate pain and confusion they were both feeling.
Sam and Bucky jogged up the steps of their new home. The wooden porch featured two rocking chairs and a porch swing. Beyond the door to the house lie a typical home on the smaller end, with a living room and kitchen.
Bucky opened the fridge, which to his surprise, was filled to the brim with food. “This is so weird.”
“I’ve seen some crazy shit with the Avengers, so I’m not surprised,” Sam replied, ducking into the bedroom. “Dude, the clothes are our sizes too.”
A few picture frames on the mantle caught Bucky’s eye, and he slowly walked into the living room. He picked up one of the photos, and wasn’t surprised when tears came to his eyes. It was the first and only family photo they’d taken, with both his parents and all his sisters.
“This was before my dad fucked off and left Ma and the rest of us,” Bucky explained to Sam, who held a picture of his own.
“My dad was killed when I was in high school,” Sam said, his voice thick. “But this is all of us.”
The third and last picture on the mantle was of Sam, Bucky and Steve. Shuri had snapped a picture of them mid-laugh with her phone, but neither of them had ever gotten chance to see it.
“We look so happy,” Sam said.
“I know I was,” Bucky said. “The three of you are my favorite people in the world.”
For some reason Sam felt like blushing, but he simply patted Bucky on the shoulder, and excused himself to change into some of the pajamas he found in the dresser. To his surprise, there was only one bed. He didn’t mind sharing, but he would’ve loved to have avoided the silly awkwardness he knew he’d be feeling for the next few days.
The dumb crush he’d had on Bucky, and Steve by association, had just begun to fade. He’d been talking to a few different people on Tinder to get his mind off of them, and it had just started to work. Now, he was stuck here with Bucky, maybe forever, in a place built for lovers. Maybe it would’ve been better being alone.
Sam put his head in in hands. Dying sucks.
***
Once Sam’s anxiety faded, he reappeared in the common space to find Bucky whipping up a Wakandan dish.
“Shuri?” Sam questioned.
Bucky grinned, and Sam’s heart did something weird. “She taught me everything. The fridge had all the ingredients too.”
“I want to figure out this place so bad,” Sam said.
Bucky shrugged, not bothered by the mystery. “We will. All we’ve got is time.”
“You adjust to new situations shockingly fast,” Sam shook his head in disbelief.
“Sam, I went from working and scrounging for food, to war, to the Soldier, to two years on the run, to Wakanda. All I’ve been doing my whole life is adapting,” Bucky said. “Spend some time with me, you’ll catch on.”
“All we’ve got is time, right?” Sam threw Bucky’s words right back at him. “I’m sure you’ll teach me.”
Bucky tosses Sam two mats to set the table. “I’m sure I will.”
Sam clears his throat, ignoring the tension he knows he is the only one to feel, and finishes setting the table.
Soon, Bucky is plating a fantastic dinner.
“Bucky, this is seriously so good,” Sam gushes.
“Thanks. Cooking has become what I do to channel my… whatever I’m feeling. I’m surprised that hunger is something we feel here, but I’m happy that I’ll still be able to cook.”
The conversation flowed from food to family, from being dead, to Steve. As bad as it sounded, Sam was having a great time, the ocean breeze flowing in, and the Wakandan spices overtaking his senses. And Bucky’s smile.
“Maybe being dead ain’t all bad,” Bucky said later, as they put the dishes in the washer.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m glad you’re here.”
Sam wants many things. He wants to hug his Ma, to know what happened with Thanos. But in that moment, all he wants is to pull Bucky towards him and -
He refrains. “I’m glad we’re not alone.”
After dinner, Bucky sits down to watch TV. He discovers that all the channels are the same. Sam takes it upon himself to go to bed early. He lies there for what feels like hours, his eyes focused on the dark waters outside the window. He can’t sleep.
Eventually, Bucky quietly shuffles into the room. Sam hears a drawer open and close, and feels the bed dip as Bucky crawls beneath the covers. Bucky assumes he is sleeping, and Sam does not correct his assumption. To his surprise, Bucky puts his flesh arm around Sam’s waist.
Sam is paralyzed. It feels so good, like everything he’s wanted for what seems like so long now. But on the other hand, it’s not right. Even if they are dead, it’s not fair to Steve.
Once Sam’s certain Bucky is asleep, he slips out of his hold, and heads to the porch. Sam ditches his shirt - he can never sleep with one - and sits on the porch swing. The sound of the waves hitting the sand is comforting to him, and Sam almost feels himself begin to drift off…
“Whoa, there.” All of a sudden, Bucky is beside him, and he is wrapped in his arms. “You were about to fall right off the seat,” Bucky explains.
“How long were you watching me?” Sam asks. He is nearly chest to chest with Bucky, and is praying the other man cannot detect his increasing heartbeat.
“I followed you when you got out of bed,” Bucky explained.
“Okay…”
“I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to creep you out with the whole cuddle thing. I like you, I always have, but it was shitty of me to do that without your permission.” Bucky ducks his head, and begins to pull away.
Sam holds him tighter, and his confession crawls out of his chest. “Stay. I - I like you too.”
A slow grin spreads across Bucky’s face, and this, this must be heaven. “I’ve dreamt about this moment. Steve and I gossip like dames over how we hoped it would go. This is different, but good.”
“Oh my god,” Sam paused. “Steve. We can’t do this, it’s not right, even if we are dead.”
Bucky laughs. “Sam, are you kidding me? I wish Steve was here. We made plans, baby,” Bucky cups Sam’s face, and Sam feels his entire body warm up. “We had so many plans for you, darlin’.”
Sam closes his eyes.