Chapter Text
Sam was pissed.
He stood to the side, arms crossed, as Shuri clicked away at something that would apparently explain everything. Sam doubted anything she pulled up could explain away everything he was feeling though.
He’d mourned Bucky. He’d mourned his best friend. His partner . Shuri couldn’t just… wave her techno wand and make it like it never happened.
Even now, with all these emotions bubbling up inside of him, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Bucky. Bucky, who was standing on the other side of Shuri, hands in his pockets and head down. Bucky who was tanned, hair a bit grown out, looking healthier than he had since Sam had met him.
Bucky, who wouldn’t so much as look at him.
Sam pursed his lips, turning away.
Just because Bucky wasn’t dead, didn’t mean Sam fucking forgave him for the note-
“Bucky-”
Sam froze. Was that…?
“I’m sorry to do this over the phone, especially over voicemail, but I need to let you know I’m not coming next week. I made a mistake, and I don’t want to lead you on anymore than I have. I’m sorry. Bye.”
Sam frowned, “what the hell?”
“That’s the original audio, in Sam’s voice,” Shuri said, looking back at him.
“I didn’t- I never said that!”
“You didn’t?” Bucky asked, barely a whisper. Sam turned to find him hunched over, eyes by Sam’s feet.
“No, Bucky, I would never,” Sam shook his head. “Especially not over a voicemail .”
“It was more than just one voicemail,” Bucky said, but he didn’t sound very convinced himself.
“What else-”
“We’ll look at that later,” Shuri said, swiping her panel. “This is what the audio sounds like, with multiple layers of filter off.”
Shuri played the audio again, and this time it was distinctly feminine. Sam frowned, he didn’t recognize it at all.
Bucky, though, let out a sigh. “A widow.”
“Widow?” Sam said, “Natasha-”
“Natasha wasn’t the only widow. There are a lot of them. I know, I helped train them,” Bucky crossed his arms. “She would have the skills to pull this off. And you can hear her Russian accent.”
Shuri played the audio again, and yeah, now that he was listening for it, Sam could hear an accent around the carefully pronounced words.
“But why?” Sam asked. “Who wanted to split us up?”
“Widows work for the highest bidder, could be anyone.”
“But why?”
Bucky worked his jaw. “I don’t know. I… I’m going to take a walk.”
Bucky turned, making his way to the door. Sam tried to go after him, but Shuri put a hand on his arm.
“I know this is a lot for both of you, but give him space. He’s a lot easier to talk to after he’s had some space.”
Sam clenched his fists. He knew she was right. Bucky needed a minute. But Sam’s heart was pounding, not being in the same room as him. He’d just gotten him back, what if..?
He shook it off. They were in Wakanda, Bucky had friends here. He was safe. Sam would have to trust that.
He licked his lips.
“I might need a minute to sort this out myself,” he said, turning to the Princess with what he hoped was a charming smile. “Can I see Bucky’s phone? See what else I apparently sent him?”
“Of course,” Shuri smiled at him. “I hope, now that you both know the truth, that you will be able to be partners again.”
Sam looked down at the phone in his hand. He didn’t say anything.
--
Bucky felt like an idiot.
Worse than an idiot. He’s been a complete fool, thinking Sam had sent him those messages. He’d been blinded by his own hurt, so easily manipulated.
Why was he always so fucking easy to manipulate?
Outside, Bucky slumped onto the ground, staring at the lake. This had always helped him relax before, but today it did nothing.
Today it just reminded him how he’d run away, tail between his legs, back to Wakanda. Without even fucking checking to see if Sam had- if it had been-
God, Sheri had asked him first thing if she could decode them and he’d blown her off.
“I’m so fucking stupid.” Bucky moaned, face in his hands.
“While I do not disagree,” a voice behind him said. “I think this situation might be a bit more complicated than simple stupidity, wolf.”
Bucky sighed as Ayo sat down beside him. “Shuri called you?”
“Yes.”
“You here to make sure I don’t go off the rails?”
Ayo gave him a look, “no.”
“Oh.” Bucky looked away, his face warm. He was hurting everyone’s feelings today.
Ayo sat with him a long time before Bucky finally caved and spoke first.
“He thought I was dead.”
“I know.”
“He never said those things.”
“He did not.”
“Do you think he hates me?”
“Would you hate him?”
Bucky ran his tongue over his lips. “No.”
“Then why would he hate you?”
Because Bucky was a monster while Sam was a saint. Bucky didn’t deserve all of Sam’s forgiveness, he’d fucked up too many times.
“I think he’s probably been better off without me.”
Ayo gave him another look, this one distinctly unimpressed. “I disagree.”
Bucky thought about Sam’s look, full of hurt, confusion, grief. She might have a point.
“You know the best way to find out how Sam is feeling about this.”
“Talking to him.”
“Yes.”
Bucky looked out over the lake one more time, gathering his courage.
“Yeah, alright.”
—
Sam sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the phone. Two voicemails, a couple text messages. That was all it took.
They did sound like him though.
Sam sighed, putting the phone down on the nightstand. He brought his hand up to his chest, and shook his head when there was nothing there. Bucky had his dog tags back with him.
Fuck, this was all such a mess.
Sam wanted to blame Bucky. The bitter, hurt, part of him wanted to point out that Bucky had believed this so easily. Sam had been the one who had looked for him, Bucky hadn’t even tried to check.
But if this was a Widow, like Bucky had said, Sam couldn’t blame him. Natasha would have known where to strike. Would have known the weak points, and the best way to hit them.
Of course they had gone after Bucky’s fear, Sam’s grief. Those were the most vulnerable parts of themselves.
The only thing they could do now, was try to move past it.
And find a way to make sure it never happened again.
--
Sam gave Bucky time. He settled into one of the guest rooms, had lunch with Shuri in the dining hall, and went off to explore the gardens.
All he wanted to do was see Bucky though. Touch him. Feel him alive under his fingertips.
Sam sighed when he got back to the palace, having not found Bucky outside. He made his way back to his room, and stopped.
Bucky was standing outside his door.
“Hey,” Sam said, his shoulders slumping with relief.
Bucky looked at him, properly in the eyes this time, “hey.”
“Wanna come in?” Sam asked, walking to the door again. “Talk?”
Bucky didn’t say anything, but he followed Sam into the room. Sam bit back a smile, this was all so familiar it almost hurt.
Sam sat on the bed. Bucky sat on a chair in the corner.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, looking down at his knees.
Sam frowned, “Bucky, you don’t have to-”
“No, I do. I should have checked. I should have known you would never-” he shook his head. “I was hurt, and it made me stupid. So, I’m sorry.”
Sam sighed, “okay.”
“And, uh, sorry you thought I was dead.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t great.”
“Yeah.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Bucky staring at his knees, Sam staring at Bucky.
“What now?” Bucky asked.
“I don’t know. You got any ideas, old man? This is, what, the third time you’ve come back from the dead?”
Sam was going for levity, and he was glad when it earned him a smirk. Then Bucky was standing up, his hand going into his pocket.
“I, uh, got you something- before. When I thought you would be coming to New York to stay with me, and I uh… here.”
Bucky handed him a small crystal falcon. Sam stared at it. It was clear, and perched on a small rock. It was the cheesiest fucking thing Sam had ever recieved. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.
He ended up doing both.
“Um,” Sam looked up to find Bucky looking down at him with wide eyes, his hands hovering. “Are you- should I go?”
“No,” Sam reached for him, and he was so relieved when Bucky didn’t move away. When he allowed Sam to grab his arm and pull him down onto the bed beside him. “Stay. Please.”
“Okay.”
Tears were still streaming down Sam’s face, and Bucky’s arms were gentle as they wrapped around Sam’s body. Sam pressed his face into Bucky’s shoulder, breathing him in.
Fuck, he’d missed this man.
--
Epilogue
1 month later
Sam was quiet as he slipped out of bed. Bucky was a light sleeper, and Sam knew he’d been up late.
He grabbed his phone off the nightstand as he left, charging beside his crystal falcon.
Sarah and the boys wouldn’t be up for another hour, so Sam poured himself a cup of coffee before heading out, not wanting to do anything else to wake the house.
The sun was starting to rise as he made his way down to the docks. He could probably get a coat of paint in before he made his way back to the house to help with breakfast.
The boat was looking great. Even better, now that Bucky was back again to help. Sam pulled out the paint can and brushes, getting ready to start on the inner side wall. He dipped the brush into the blue, and-
“Sam Wilson.”
“Jesus fuck-!” Sam jerked, paint droplets flying everywhere.
There was a woman on the dock. Blonde hair pulled up in a bun, wearing jeans and a tank top. Her hands were in her pockets, like she was trying not to look intimidating.
There was something in her eyes though that had Sam straightening.
“Can I help you?”
The woman looked him up and down, then out over the ocean. “You were friends with my sister.”
Sam frowned, “excuse me?”
“My sister, Natasha Romanov, you were friends with her.”
Sam blinked. He kind of felt like he’d been gut punched.
He hadn’t even known Nat had a sister.
“Uh, yeah.”
The woman nodded, once.
“My boss… well, the woman who sometimes gives me contracts. She asked me to help Walker get the shield back. He apparently didn’t like working without it.”
Sam shifted on his feet, steadying himself.
“You’re here to try and take the shield?”
Her eyes moved back to him, and Sam could see it now. The same calculating look that Natasha used to have.
“No, I’m here to tell you what happened.”
“...okay?”
“I thought splitting you up would work, not forever, but long enough for Walker to take advantage when you were down. He messed up his part though - couldn’t even get past your flying friend.”
Sam frowned, taking it in, and then it clicked.
“It was you.”
“Yes.”
“You did the letter and the voice messages- you’re a widow too?”
“Of course.”
Sam swallowed. “Look, if you want to… get a drink, talk about Nat, that’s fine. But if you want the shield-”
“I don’t want the shield. Walker can go fuck himself, for all I care. I wanted to tell Natasha’s friend I’m sorry,” she looked him up and down again, and then smiled. “And maybe we can get that drink sometime.”
“Uh, okay.”
She nodded again, and then started to back away. “And tell the soldier he needs an upgrade. That move wouldn’t have worked on Natasha, it shouldn’t have worked so easily on him.”
“... right.”
She walked away, leaving Sam wondering if he should be going after her or not.
In the end, he decided to focus more on the paint he was covered in.
--
Sam slipped into the kitchen, smiling when he saw Sarah making coffee, Bucky frying up eggs.
He stepped up behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder.
“You good?” Bucky asked, glancing at him.
“Yeah,” Sam smiled, pressing it against Bucky’s neck. “I’m good.”