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Steve and Bucky belong together, Sam thinks.
There's this sort of… Ease, between them. That familiarity that could only come from so much shared history, the camaraderie that is palpable even as all they are doing is chopping some onions. Bucky says something about "those goddamn newspapers Steve used to keep", and Steve laughs, eyes bright. Sometimes, they even slip into speaking like it's the 40s again. Sam doesn't think he'd ever heard anyone say the word "dame" before.
Everything is right where it's supposed to be. The two of them, bumping shoulders and teasing each other and chopping goddamn onions at speeds Sam can't even follow.
It's perfect.
And Sam is ruining the picture.
He knows that. There's no room for him in there. He's like an odd detail in the corner that someone forgot to crop out. Maybe they thought he'd have been necessary before the two of them got together, but now…
Now everything's clicked into place. Sam is a crutch for a healthy leg.
Maybe Steve and Bucky don't realize that yet, but it's only their first triple date. Surely they will, eventually. Maybe the only reason they haven't yet is because they're so busy making eyes at each other they forgot Sam was there.
He tries not to go there. Tries to remind himself that they are a bit in the lovebirds stage of dating still. Purposefully looks at the bowl of peppers and spices that they have gotten out, remembers the way Bucky said he refused to always make Sam cook for him because his own food was too bland for Sam's tastes (Sam didn't mind too much; he had resistance to bland food, he was in the military. But apparently "I can do this, I served in Afghanistan" was not the attitude Bucky wanted to see when he cooked for his boyfriend). Thinks of Bucky taking cooking classes with Sam's ma, smiling even as she beat him with a wooden spoon and told him to stop being afraid of spices. Thinks of the way Steve had heroically gagged through the whole meal when he came to visit Sam and Bucky for the first time after that resolution, refusing to back down or take a different plate. Thinks of all the times Bucky has told him "I love you" through the years.
And it really doesn't work.
Sure, he knows he's important to them. They're all friends. But that doesn't mean he has a place in that perfectly domestic picture they're painting right in front of him. It doesn't mean he will ever compare.
He runs his hand over his hair, trying not to sigh because he knows the both of them will hear it as if it's a fucking explosion no matter how quiet Sam is, and he really doesn't want to draw attention to himself right now, because he is shit at lying and they won't let this go until he tells them what the problem is.
He knows he actually has to talk to them about it, but that doesn't mean he wants to right now.
He should probably take a break. It's really not helping him to try not to spiral as he tries to pretend that everything is fine as he hopes that they will notice it isn't anyway as he tries not to hope for that because he doesn't actually want to be put on the spot like that as he tries to fight off his insecurities himself. He's setting himself up for more frustration, and he knows that.
So take a break he does. "Since the two of you seem to have everything covered, I think I'm gonna wait on the couch," he says.
Steve nods, still concentrated on his chopping, and Bucky hums. "Yeah, rest a bit, you've had a long day," he says, "it'll be ready in a minute."
Sam might be miserable right now, but that won't stop him from snorting at that one. It's not like it's a secret that he uses humor to deflect, anyway. "It's lasagna, it's not supposed to be ready in a minute. You can't just cheat your way through cooking," he says, even though they are already done with the sauce and most of the pasta. Jesus.
"That's what you think," Bucky smiles, and Steve laughs. "I'll let you know when it's ready," he says, giving Sam a quick kiss, and Sam feels better for the few seconds it takes for Bucky to turn back to his rolling pin, concentrated on his task again. Sam can hear a "Bucky, if you break one of those again I'm gonna kick you out of the kitchen," as he heads to the living room, and he allows himself that frustrated sigh, because he deserves it.
He sits on the couch, arms spread over the backrest and head thrown back, and just feels sorry for himself for a minute.
He really, really doesn't want to feel like this, and he tries not to feel like a fraud for doing so. He had been encouraging them to sort their tension out for years. He had watched how hard the two of them fought to be together. And he never felt left out. He doesn't want to be the kind of guy who gets upset as soon as people don't need him as a middle man anymore.
Then again, it's hard not to feel like that's all he was when he's alone on the couch and the two of them don't even seem to notice.
That's not fair, he immediately tells himself. He said he'd be going to the living room. They just trusted that he said what he meant. Pretending that he's fine only to resent them for believing him is just setting himself up to confirm his own fears.
Sam internally curses himself for being so self-aware. He doesn't want to be self-aware. He wants to lose the grip that he has on his own feelings and spiral just a little bit. Real quick. And after he's had his moment he's gonna put his big boy pants on and talk to Steve and Bucky like he knows he's supposed to, because god knows he's the only one doing the communication thing in these relationships. He can afford himself to be a little unfair, he reasons. Just in his head for a few seconds so he doesn't have to think all the time.
His attempts to negotiate his own spiralling with his head are fruitless. It's dead set on being a stubborn bitch today.
He sighs, throwing his head back on the couch again, then rubbing his face for a second for good measure. Sam knows this is all in his head. Probably. He knows he's just had a bad day, and he's upset, and his insecurities are acting up. But the knowledge (is it knowledge?) does very little to stop that sinking feeling in his stomach, that voice that tells him that sooner or later he'll be left behind.
He can't shut it up, and he can't lose himself in it, either. So he's left lost in this empty pain.
He's fully ready to have some great staring-at-the-ceiling action for the time being, but Bucky chooses this moment to come to the living room and check in on him, because Sam was wrong about them just not caring if he left the room, and that's why he loves them in the first place.
"Hey, Buck," he says, and that makes up the grand total of his attempts to pretend that everything is fine. Bucky is leaning against the wall, looking at him with that analytic look he gets sometimes. It's vaguely unsettling, the way you can see the gears turning in his head so calmly, like he has all the time in the world to figure it out. But Sam knows by now that Bucky is not assessing him, he's looking at him, carefully and thoughtfully as he does everything that matters, trying to find the right thing to do.
Bucky uncrosses his arms, leaning his head further against the doorframe, limbs as relaxed as they can be. He says, very softly, "what's wrong, Sam?"
"It's nothing," Sam answers, perfectly aware that he's not looking at him.
Bucky sounds unimpressed, but his voice is oddly soft as he says, "hm, yeah, that's a really bad lie right there. Not your greatest attempt, I'll have to rate it 2/10 stars."
Sam huffs out something like a laugh and rolls his eyes, not really finding it in himself to banter, but amused nevertheless.
"And one of them is just because you're too gorgeous," Bucky finishes, giving him a wink. In the past few years, it looks like Bucky has found his old flirting ways back, which to Sam was a new side he had been delighted to get to know. Especially because it is so fucking cheesy, it works more because it makes Sam laugh than anything else.
Sam knows that's exactly why Bucky does it. He's loosening him up on purpose, the bastard.
Sam can see the way Bucky's eyes soften again. "Talk to me, Sam," he says. He's still looking purposefully relaxed against the doorframe, but Sam can see the way his fingers twitch a little. If from the conscious effort to look unthreatening or the urge to do something, Sam doesn't know.
He says something on impulse. "Come here." Sam is really great at impulsive decisions. 10/10, would trust himself to say things again.
Bucky smiles as soon as he hears the words, which makes Sam smile, too. He flops down on the couch, the movement pleasantly ungraceful, but even though Bucky sits right next to Sam, he doesn't risk a touch. He just sits there, staring ahead.
"Hey, don't be an ass, I said come here," Sam says, as playfully as he can. Bucky seems to relax at that, throwing an arm around Sam's shoulders. Their heads find themselves touching, and Bucky starts to slowly draw patterns on Sam's arm with his fingers. It's nice.
A few moments pass by, just like this, and Sam's eyes flutter shut. Then Bucky says, "you want to talk now?"
It's not demanding, and the slow movements of his fingers on Sam's shoulder continue. Bucky is nothing if not patient, Sam knows. But Sam sucks at dragging things out, even if he doesn't really want to talk now.
"It's just… I don't know, man," Sam says, frustrated. He's used to being good at finding the right words, at providing comfort, even in delicate situations; when he needs to talk about himself and it's like every word leaves him, he feels disarmed. And an ex-soldier doesn't do well with being disarmed. "I was just… Looking at you and Steve, and I just… I feel like I'm stepping on your moment."
Bucky frowns at that, like he doesn't quite understand what that could mean, and Sam's heart swells a bit in his chest. Painful, but fulfilling. "The making pasta moment?" he asks, genuinely confused, and Sam can't help but snort.
"Not this exact moment, dumbass," he says. "Just… The two of you. You are so happy, and it feels so right, and I just… Don't know if I'm bringing anything to the table anymore."
Bucky's frown is almost a squint now, and Sam can tell that he's figuring out what Sam means. His confusion looks to be less at what Sam is saying and more why, and Sam feels weirdly sheepish, like he's just been caught doing a less-than-okay-ed-by-SHIELD mission.
"It's not that you've done anything," Sam completes after a beat of silence, feeling like he needs to escape from Bucky's completely attuned attention, "Just how things are. The two of you have been struggling for these past few years, but things have changed, so it's like I don't fit into the picture anymore," he says, shrugging, and he knows he's way too blasé about it, but he needs to detach himself a little bit to be able to explain this to him. "Look at you two. Decades of history, of devotion, of love, and… How am I supposed to compete with that? I mean, Steve's Captain America!"
"You're Captain America," Bucky points out.
"That's beside the point."
He can tell Bucky is glaring at him. "It's also not a competition."
Sam sighs, resting his face in his hands. He immediately misses the warmth of Bucky's head against his, and Bucky's arm around his shoulders. Bucky is not going to touch him again, Sam knows, unless he asks. But Sam can't ask, not right now.
So he continues talking. "I know it's not a competition. But I just… I don't want to feel in Steve's shadow," he says. "I've had enough of that. So many people think that I'm not good enough to take over Steve's place, anyway-"
"They can eat my fucking fist."
"-And I'm not exactly a supersoldier."
"No, just competent enough to be more valuable than that."
Sam sighs.
He feels Bucky's hand slowly, very slowly, reaching out to touch his back. Sam stays so still it's like he's barely breathing, still unsure of what exactly Bucky takes as his cue not to do that.
Bucky's hand is warm, and Sam feels himself relax. He can see the way Bucky smiles at that, too, going back to rubbing circles on his back.
"You know it's true, Sam. And we both know there's not a single real reason people believe you're not good enough to be Cap. Steve didn't choose you because you lived in his shadow, he chose you because you shine as bright as him." He pauses, then continues, more softly, "but this is not about Captain America."
He sighs, and he's sure been doing a lot of that today, but what is he supposed to say? Of course it's not. Sam's been Cap for years, and he's been enjoying watching every last racist who doesn't like it eat their heart out at every one of his successful missions. Hell, usually he wouldn't even care anymore.
Not out loud.
But Sam did just spend a day trying to be pleasant to condescending assholes who called everyone else in the team by their aliases, and Sam by "Wilson". And the idea that he's just a weak substitute for Steve stings. Steve is the real deal, Sam is a knockoff. If everyone seems to think that, why wouldn't Bucky, who already saw Steve as the star he was before anyone else?
Sam is brought back from his spiralling by a small squeeze on his shoulder, and when he looks up at Bucky, it's to see him giving him a tight little smile. Bucky is good at avoiding the line between sympathetic and condescending, especially when it comes to Sam. "I also didn't choose you because you lived in his shadow," Bucky says, softly. "And I didn't just mean Cap business when I said you shine as bright as him. You're not- you're not any less than Steve."
"Come on, man," Sam points out, "Look at you two. That whole star-crossed lovers thing you had going on, then managing to be together anyway, that shit's for the movies. You two belong together, and I'm just… me."
"There's not anything else I want you to be," Bucky says, fiercely, and Sam can't help but make a little wounded noise at that. Bucky can be so devastating sometimes, and Sam doesn't have a goddamn clue what to do with himself when he says stuff like this, with his voice sounding like that. Bucky's circles on his back become a little more frantic, "Sam. Sam. You know that, don't you? That's all I want you to be."
"I just-," Sam says, then pauses, angry at himself. For fuck's sake, he used to lead VA meetings. He is better at this than- whatever he's doing right now.
Bucky seems to understand that, and takes over the talking. It's one of the things Sam loves about him. He knows how to listen, but he also knows when to speak. "I love you because you're Sam. Sam, I need to know that you know that. I don't want you to be Steve. I want you to be you. For starters, it would probably be hell if I had two Steves."
Sam laughs, but it sounds really small. Like a rabbit trying to come out of hiding; too tentative, and half running away already.
But at least it encourages Bucky, because he smiles. He's completely turned towards Sam, Sam can't help but notice. Almost defeating the purpose of sitting on the couch. It's gotta be uncomfortable. But before Sam can mention that, Bucky continues, "I mean it. Steve - you know what he means to me. He was a part of me even when there were no others to put together. That was the problem. With Steve, I felt like I was always chasing Bucky. With you… I got to be me."
Sam knows this. It's why it's taken them so long to be together - they needed time. Away from each other, and the weight of the expectations of being people they couldn't be anymore.
Still… "You've already gotten over that."
"No, we are building something new." Bucky says, like the difference is the most important thing in the world; and Sam knows it is. "But that's not the point. You weren't- you aren't some sort of replacement while Steve and I got our shit together. You are- you are amazing." Bucky says, sounding a little lost for words, too, and it makes Sam feel a little better to know he's not the only one. "The first person who made me feel normal after everything was you. The first person to make me laugh was you. The first person who didn't act like they knew everything about me- that was you. And… And you are so loyal, and kind, and understanding, and you fly up in the sky like you were born to do it, with that dazzling smile on all the while, making jokes. You make everything better just because you are there. Being out in the goddamn mud and cold felt light with you, fighting aliens felt good with you, arguing over the steering wheel was fun with you. You just made everything feel right. That was you, not Steve. You are steady and reliable where Steve is an unpredictable fucking mess, you are lighthearted where he takes everything so goddamn seriously, you listen when he's always talking… You aren't Steve, and I'm glad for that."
Sam stares at him in silence, watching as Bucky runs his metal hand through his hair after that little outburst, and Sam realizes that Bucky usually doesn't lose his cool like that. He bites the inside of his lip, trying not to smile at the display, even as he feels a little guilty.
Then Bucky continues, "and you're a part of me, too. If I am who I am today, it's thanks to you- to what we built together. How is that any less special than what I have with Steve?"
Sam continues to bite the inside of his lip, although he's not sure if he's biting back a smile or… Something else.
And then the bastard goes in for the kill. "You aren't in his shadow."
Sam can't help but throw himself into Bucky's arms, and even as it's sudden, of course that goddamn wall of a supersoldier doesn't even flinch. He hides his face in Bucky's chest, feeling a little silly for letting the emotions hit him so strongly, but well, losing himself in it a little is what he's been wanting to do, isn't it?
"There you go," Bucky says, wrapping his metal arm around Sam and pulling him as close as possible, just the way Sam likes it. Bucky could fucking smother someone on accident when he hugs people with his metal arm, and it's exactly what Sam needs sometimes. His other hand starts petting Sam's head, the soft movements of his fingers particularly nice against Sam's buzzed hair.
Sam's pretty bad at crying. He supposes they all are, but for the first time in a while, he finds that the few tears that slip through get the job done. Bucky manages to purge whatever he has left with his silent, supportive petting. Sam's almost drifting away from his thoughts when Bucky hums a little bit, making Sam look up at him.
He's smiling, soft and self-satisfied at the same time. "You know, I thought I was done with my big speech, but it turns out that I'm on a roll right now. Can I just say that I also don't think you understand how goddamn easy everything was with you. Steve was like pulling nails at every turn - and don't get me wrong, I'd do it every time - but loving you was the easiest fucking thing I've ever done. You're so captivating, Sam. Everyone is immediately drawn to you, I don't think you realize that. You start talking and in a matter of minutes everyone is a goner for you- no, it's true. On a similar note, I love your smile so much. All of them, actually. Do you even realize how many different smiles you have? And every last one of them is beautiful. It's contagious. I keep wanting to see them again and again. How do you do that?"
"Stop going all sappy on me," Sam laughs, a little watery.
"Nope, it just got you to smile again. Also, I know you love it."
"Yeah, I do," Sam says, finally raising his head and kissing Bucky softly. It's nothing but a quick peck, but he knows they are both smiling even before he sees the way Bucky is looking at him. "I'm sorry for comparing myself to Steve. I know that's not how this is supposed to work."
Bucky hums. "Don't apologize. It's not like any of us knows what exactly we're doing here. And I don't want you to ever not tell me how you feel." He waits for a few seconds, while Sam hugs him, face hidden in his neck, before adding, "But you're right about that. You are you and Steve is Steve. Neither is better, just… Different." He pauses. "With that being said, please don't ever try to be more like Steve. That would be a nightmare."
"I resent that," Steve calls out from the kitchen.
"Go back to pretending you're not eavesdropping, old man," Bucky calls out, unnecessarily loudly, just for that extra dramatic effect.
"I'm not eavesdropping, I have superhearing and you're literally just a room away. Also, there's only so much I can do to distract myself while I wait for this thing to come out of the oven."
"Glad to know our drama helps fight off your boredom," Sam says.
That makes Steve show up at the door, eyes full of that caring and honesty of his. "That's not what I meant. It just kept grabbing my attention. I wouldn't treat you like that." He then pauses, looking particularly awkward as he stares at them. “I can leave, if you want,” he offers.
That makes Sam startle. “Hey, no, man, I’m not kicking you out of your own date night,” he says. Then, a little sheepish, “I’m sorry, it was kind of rude of me to just want to discuss your relationship with Bucky with you here.”
“You're not kicking me out, I'm offering to leave. Just because we're doing that three-way thing doesn't mean we can't have our own space. If you need it, you need it," he shrugs.
Sam just looks at him for a while, a little surprised. "I hate it when you old men go all wise on me," he finally grumbles.
Steve laughs, "hey, you deserve a break from being the only emotionally smart one here."
"Hell yeah I do," Sam agrees, just to see the way both Bucky and Steve himself immediately take offense. Then he softens, "but I don't want you to leave. Come here," he says.
Steve does, very slowly at first, but when Sam gives him a face that he's sure Bucky matches he just smiles and gets by Sam's side on the couch.
Just like Bucky, as soon as he sits on the couch, he is stiff and drawing his distance. Sam physically keeps himself from sighing and rubbing his eyes. Steve almost catapults Sam off the couch every time he sits his supersoldier ass down and then he wants to go all shy on him.
"I said come here, Steve," Sam says, gesturing towards himself.
Steve looks at him for a second before saying, "no. You come here," and gently pushing Sam so he's lying on Steve's lap. Steve also takes over petting Sam's head for Bucky, who only makes an offended noise for a second before he realizes that this means he can lie on top of Sam like the world's most obnoxious blanket.
It's really nice. Bucky even nuzzles his neck slightly, and Sam can't help the way he hums happily at that, making Bucky snort a little at the weird vibrations that causes. Like Sam could actually jostle his brick wall body.
"Yeah, that's better," Steve says, and when Sam opens his eyes (when did he close them?) to look up at him, he sees that Steve's smiling.
Sam almost feels ashamed. "You're dealing with this a lot better than I am, huh," he says. Bucky stops his nuzzling for a second, the way he does when he's considering whether or not he should jump into action. Ultimately, he seems to decide it's time for Steve and Sam to have their own conversation, so he goes back to his nuzzling. Sam would tease him for not even considering pretending that he's not going to listen to this conversation, but he doesn't actually want Bucky to move.
Steve laughs. "No, it's just that I had that particular crisis a lot earlier, it's old news now," he says, looking fond. "It's almost funny to me that you feel the same way."
That's news for Sam, and it must show on his face, because Steve laughs again. "Ever since the early years, Sam. When Bucky was with me, there was always that sadness in him, that tension, and no matter what I did, it only seemed to make it worse - then you would show up. And he was all smiles. Like a whole different person," he says. "It got to a point where I would see Bucky smile and I just knew he had been talking to you. And I thought, I've known him for so long, and it's worthless. You were so much better right off the bat. I used to think it was a matter of time before Bucky cut me off his life completely."
"That's some bullshit, man," Sam says, because he doesn't know what else he could possibly say to that. Sam's days of hero worship over Captain America were over, but the idea that Steve would feel like he fell short in comparison to Sam was still enough to start a turmoil inside of him. It didn't feel like it could be real, and at the same time, it made something inside of him settle. Maybe they were equals, after all.
Steve shrugs. "So's everything you said. I'm not even going to get into Captain America - you do a way better job than me. Don't, you know it's true. You're a leader, I was just a mess. All I knew was to tear everything apart, and you know how to build. Give people hope. I might have been the Cap people needed back then, but now, you are way better than I could be. People are so drawn to you," he smiles, almost teasing, "especially Buck. You have no idea how he talks about you. I don't know how I was supposed to not be insecure."
"The both of you are impossible," Bucky mumbles, eyes still closed. Apparently this was a conversation the two of them had had before.
Steve ignores him. "It was always something new you had shown him, some album you recommended, every detail about every conversation you've ever had, all big smiles, Sam would like this, I gotta show Sam that. And that's leaving out all the schoolgirl-with-a-crush stuff-"
"Don't embarrass me, Stevie."
"But Buck, that's my job," he says, throwing Bucky his most innocent eyes.
"I agree, let him speak," Sam chimes in. "I never knew about that crush stuff. Did he say my eyes were beautiful?"
"I mean, yeah," Bucky says.
Sam looks at him, a little surprised.
"Only because it's true," Bucky smiles, unashamed, and winks again. Steve's embarrassing tactics might need some work.
"Don't forget the smile," Steve says, looking like he's enjoying himself. "I was full-on expecting him to throw that quote from that awful fucking show at me-"
"Now that's just offensive," Sam says.
"I agree, and I'll let you know I would never."
"Point is, Bucky's as in love with you as they come," Steve says, never one to let them derail too much, especially not when he has something important to say - and Sam can tell this definitely qualifies in Steve's head, which makes him smile before Steve is even done, "and I'm sorry we made you feel otherwise. Maybe we should dial down the nostalgia when it's the three of us. Of course you're going to feel out of place when we talk about the 40s."
"I… Yeah," Sam says, suddenly fighting a lump in his throat. "I think that would help." He wasn't expecting it to be so easy, but- it does seem to be a good solution from where he's standing.
"I'm sorry, too," Bucky says, "should have started off with that."
Sam smiles at him, and he can see the way Bucky softens. "It's okay, Bucks. Thank you," he says, also taking Steve's hand and squeezing it a bit in a silent acknowledgement.
Steve smiles down at him, and they stay like this for a while. Sitting in the couch, Sam resting his head on Steve's lap, Bucky on top of him, leaving some kisses then and there whenever Sam starts to get a bit too lost in the way Steve pets his head.
It's perfect, and Sam is right in the center of the picture.