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"Oh, this is sad," Sam said looking around the room. "You don't even have a couch."
"Why would I need one?" Bucky asked. "Not like I have many visitors."
"Well, where am I supposed to sit?"
"There's a chair," Bucky pointed to an armchair. He turned around and pointed at a dining room chair in the corner. "And another one over there."
The armchair was positioned across from the TV, but what caught Sam's eye was the tangle of blankets and a cushion on the ground beside it. Sam knew plenty of men who came back from war and weren't able to sleep in their own beds. The hard floor was more familiar than the softness of a mattress and the noise of a TV helped to drown out their thoughts. It sometimes took them months to break the habit, and it had to be even worse for Bucky after decades of nonstop fighting.
But Sam knew better than to draw attention to it. Bucky wouldn't welcome sympathy from him, sure to mistake it for pity. Instead, he fell back on the familiar sarcasm that defined their relationship.
Sam held his hands up. "My mistake. It's very welcoming."
"Feel free to wait outside."
Sam rolled his eyes and made a show of sitting down in the armchair. "I appreciate your hospitality."
For once Bucky didn't have a sharp comeback. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and stomped into the bedroom.
Sam looked around the room again, struck by how empty it was. There was nothing personal to indicate that someone actually lived here. In fact, the cushions were the only nod to comfort in the spartan space.
He stood and picked up the cushion from the floor, overwhelmed by the scent of stale, acrid sweat that clung to it. Sam had had his share of nightmares that left him drenched in sweat and recognized the signs. It was clear that Bucky hadn't had a restful night's sleep in a long time.
He closed his eyes. Bucky irritated the hell out of him, but he was Steve's best friend, Steve's brother. Giving up the shield had been bad enough. If Sam left Bucky here to wallow in his trauma alone when he could do something about it, Steve would never forgive him.
Mind made up, Sam called out, "New plan. Pack a bag, you're coming with me to New Orleans."