Chapter Text
He loves me.
For some reason, those were the words that kept Sam awake that night.
Not all the horrible, horrible things he had said to Bucky but those three little words.
Sam was not a stranger to being in love, of course. In fact, all of this mess had stemmed from the very fact that he was stupidly and madly in love and that had made him… well, mad and stupid.
He had just never associated the feeling of desperation with being in love.
Even when he was in middle school and Chrissie Owens had laughed at his love poem, Sam had not been desperate enough to plead. He had just moved on from that experience with the realisation that he wrote darn good poems.
No, he had never felt desperate in love.
But he wasn’t talking about himself at all.
He loves me.
Those words had not been spit out in anger. Those words had been desperate. A pathetic attempt to cling to that belief. It’s like Bucky was trying to convince, not Sam, but himself of that fact.
And that’s what Sam did not get. At all.
Had Bucky… met himself?
He was literally America’s sweetheart.
Wait, no… not like that.
What Sam meant is- everyone liked Bucky. Everyone.
If Sam had a dollar for every time he spied on one of his high school classmates drawing a heart around a super-grainy black and white photo of James Buchanan Barnes in their history books, Sam would be significantly richer.
And even after the whole Winter Soldier thing went down, Bucky still had his fans. Sam wasn’t blind after all. Plenty of SHIELD agents would have asked him out by now had they not been so intimated.
However, evidently, Bucky was blind.
He truly did believe that he was incapable of being loved.
And the worst part? Everything Sam had said had actually compounded to that already set belief.
Sam sank further back in his bed and pulled out the pillow from under his head to bury his face in it.
***
The next day was worse. So much worse.
It’s not like Bucky stopped speaking to Sam.
No. That would have actually been a relief. Sam would have coaxed Bucky to break his silence and then taken the chance to apologize.
Instead, Bucky seemed determined to pretend like the conversation that they’d had last night had never even happened.
But it had.
And even if it was not evident from Bucky’s words, it was evident from his behavior.
It seemed like someone (read: Sam) had sapped every bit of self-confidence out of him. And it was never more evident than it was on the missions that followed.
Whatever America thought, Sam did think of Bucky as his partner, not his sidekick. Of course, Bucky himself helped keep up that impression. He was basically the lead on the land whereas Sam was the lead in the sky. Bucky never had a problem in outright telling Sam that his plan was stupid.
One had to be an idiot to think that Bucky simply stood back and took directions.
He did take directions, yes. But only if he agreed with them. And he didn’t make it any easier for Sam even then.
“Yeah, Sam. You were right this time. But see how stupid this guy (the villain of the week) had to be to make that miracle happen.”
”Man, could you shut the hell up and just follow my instructions for once?”
Now that Bucky was doing exactly that, maintaining n eerie silence while following Sam’s instructions like a puppet, Sam felt like he was going crazy.
At times, it felt like Bucky was looking at him like he was a handler rather than a friend.
Oh. And the whole Walker situation didn’t help either.
It was… an uncomfortable situation. Apparently, Bucky had tried breaking up with him but that had not exactly worked out. Walker, quite justifiably, had insisted on a legit explanation and Bucky had resorted to distracting him with a kiss.
So, they were still together. But it was super-weird because it was clear that Bucky was no longer actively participating in the relationship.
Things were awkward. So, so very awkward that Sam realized that he had to fix whatever he had broken before Rhodey and Sharon’s meaningful glances turned into actual questions.
***
“Walker, I need to talk to you.”
Those were probably the hardest words Sam ever had to utter in his life.
Walker raised his eyes from the lunch he was disinterestedly poking at.
“Yeah, actually…” he cleared his throat. Sam wondered why Walker looked like he was gearing up for a super uncomfortable discussion as well. “I actually wanted to speak with you too.”
“Uh, about what?”
Walker cleared his throat again and started poking about his food once more.
“I know you’re Bucky’s best friend, so… I figured I should ask you about this first…”
Sam stilled. Was Walker planning to propose to Bucky or something?
“I’m going to break up with him.”
Well.
That definitely was not a proposal.
Sam’s heart wanted to soar but mini-Sam intervened.
“That’s not what you’re here for.”
Oh. Yes.
That’s the exact opposite actually.
Despite every other part of his brain screaming at him to shut his mouth, walk away and then wait for Bucky to be single again, Sam forced himself to speak.
“No, don’t.”
Walker spoke up quickly, “I know… I don’t want to hurt him either. But you’ve seen how things have been. He’s not…”
Sam sat down to face Walker properly.
“He’s scared,” Sam insisted, “He’s not… not interested or whatever you think he is. Bucky is… he’ll never say it but he doesn’t quite believe that he deserves to be loved.”
Walker nodded slowly. “I get that, Sam, but if he doesn’t want to…”
“He does.” Sam grit his teeth and went on, “He loves you. And one of the best things that has happened to him recently is that you decided to love him back.”
“So why is he…”
“He’s scared,” Sam sighed. He desperately wanted to stop speaking but he knew he had to go on. That’s why he had come here in the first place. He had to make some things right.
“What do I do then?” Walker asked, “I mean, things cannot go on like this.”
Sam took a deep breath.
This was it.
Time to be a real good friend.
“You just have to convince him this is real. Take him to the little Italian place by the gas station on the 67th Main. It looks really dingy but he loves that place. Order the special. It has to be on a Tuesday. Don’t forget that. Order the special and then give him all your olives. He has a theory that true love is founded on the Olive Theory. He loves olives so his soulmate must necessarily hate them. His mother loved olives. And his dad hated them. That’s where it comes from. It would have been cute unless he kept stealing away my olives. I really love olives as well, see?”
When Sam finished, he realised Walker was looking at him rather oddly. Sam went on speaking to sidestep the awkwardness.
“Anyway, you have no reason to know about the Olive Theory. So just make it seem really natural.”
Walker gave him a curt nod and Sam took that as his cue to leave.
“Really good advice, Wilson,” Walker called out from behind him, “You really do know him inside out.”
Not for the first time, Sam wondered why Walker’s words always rubbed him the wrong way.
But he ignored that for the moment.
His job here was done. He had given away one of the most essential pieces of Bucky-related-info that he had painstakingly collected over the many years of knowing and loving him.
He needed to leave.
“It’s nothing, Walker,” he said as tried not to run out of the room.
“Oh, Sam,” the Mini-Sarah in his head sighed.