Work Text:
When Bucky shows up in Delacroix, Sam doesn't know what to make of it. Coming out of nowhere with some fancy briefcase and pretending like they didn’t argue throughout a whole five day mission. Then on top of that, offering and staying to help Sam fix the boat he’d barely mentioned.
“This it?” Bucky asks, looking the vessel up and down.
Sam nods. “Yeah.”
“Want some help?” Bucky offers, eyes in front of him like he won't dare to glance in Sam’s direction. His face is guarded from emotion almost as if he’s afraid of rejection.
“Sure.”
They fix it. Working separately for the most part. Once in a while Bucky will silently pry at something Sam is having trouble with. He doesn’t know what to make of having him here yet. They don’t banter or knock heads like they did for the last few days. Bucky is uncharacteristically compliant; following Sam’s lead and even giving some helpful input.
At the end of the night, Sam allows Bucky to stay on the condition of not flirting with his sister. It’s an easy way to push Bucky away, to pretend there’s nothing rousing between the two men. It would almost be a relief for Bucky to be off his back entirely. Sam is good at amplitude. The empty space between him and Bucky has yet to be filled, and he’d prefer to keep it that way.
They watch the sunset together. Sam knows Bucky is watching him. He feels the other man’s eyes drilling holes into the side of his skull. Sam holds himself off from telling Bucky to keep his ogling to himself. The water reflects the orange and pink of the sky creating a rippling temple. Sam has seen a lot of beauty in the world but the setting of the sun in Delacroix has an irreplaceable charm to it.
It isn’t until the next morning when Bucky finally ties to pry Sam open using nothing but words. He’s leaning against the stairs while Sam is training with the shield. Says nothing, just observes with sharp eyes.
“Are you mad at me or something?”
Sam grunts. “Or something.”
“Do you wanna… talk about it?” Bucky asks carefully.
“Nope.”
By the time Sam is done with his morning workout, Bucky is on him again. There’s concern and confusion alike etched across his features.
“Wilson.”
“Barnes.”
“I think I’m going to head out soon.”
Sam nods, hopes Bucky doesn’t see the clench of his jaw. “Did you tell Sarah?”
Bucky shakes his head. “Wanted to run it by you first.”
“You don’t need to get my permission to go.”
“I was hoping you’d ask me to stay.” Bucky replies shyly.
Sam sighs. “I can’t do that, Bucky.”
A hurt look flashes over Bucky’s face before he gains control again. He opens his mouth a few times like he’s trying to figure out how to respond. Eventually he settles for a simple, “Why?”
Without meaning to, Sam’s eyes flicker down to Bucky’s lips then back up to his eyes. Why can’t he? It’s not like he couldn’t use the company. Sam likes being with Bucky when they aren’t yelling at each other. Sam likes when Bucky joins him for his morning runs, even when he complains about it the whole time. He likes when Bucky smiles at him as a goodnight from the couch in their living room. He likes when Bucky’s metal fingers run calmingly down his spine in times of duress.
They don’t know how to fit together. Sam doesn’t think their pieces of the puzzle fit neatly at all. It doesn’t feel like they do. Bucky is short-tempered and impatient. He’s impulsive in a way that makes Sam’s heart pound a little harder in his chest. Bucky is quiet and solemn. He lashes out at anyone he can get his hands on, he’s mad at the world. Sam can’t blame him for that part. What person comes out of life untouched by calamity? Though Sam doesn’t need another tragedy that Bucky may bring him. He can’t endure much more. Bucky is rough around the edges and whenever Sam gets too close his hands come back bloodied and bruised.
Bucky saunters down the stairs and into the patch of grass in front of the back porch where Sam is standing, still sweating from the grueling exercise. Sam thinks he can feel his heartbeat in his throat as Bucky stares. It’s like the man is picking him apart piece by piece, pulling everything apart that Sam tries desperately to hide from the world. Logically he knows that Bucky can’t see right through him, but in this moment he feels oddly transparent.
“Why?” Bucky prods with bewilderment.
“I’m not a replacement for Steve.” Sam tells him, quietly but forceful.
A look of offense is plaster on the other man’s face.“Is that why you think I came? Because I miss Steve?”
“Why else would you?”
“I’m here for you!” Bucky yells back at him. “You know, for someone as smart as you, I thought you’d get it by now.”
Sam is beginning to lose his temper too, but he refuses to give Bucky the satisfaction of knowing he's ticking Sam off. “Get what exactly? You showing up uninvited after months of ignoring my texts and calls-”
Bucky interrupts quickly to defend himself. “That’s not fair! I was grieving!”
“So was I.” Sam says, keeping his voice steady. “Where the hell were you when I needed someone? You got this apartment and therapy session provided by the government- I’m really happy for you, those bastards owe you that much- but I came back to all my friends dead and my family business failing. And you left. So excuse me if I’m not gonna let you walk back in just to leave. You are the only one that didn’t realize we lost the same person!"
Before Bucky can get another word in, Sam takes a deep breath to get some sense of control over his emotions. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You’re welcome to crash here as long as you want, Sarah and the kids love you, for whatever reason.” Sam tries to joke to lighten the mood. “But you said it yourself, we aren’t partners.”
The next morning when Sam wakes up, the pillows and blankets Bucky had used were neatly folded on the cushions and he knows the man won’t be back. He's leaning against the kitchen island when his sister comes up behind him.
“Caught him on the way out last night.” Sarah says, setting a comforting hand on the small of his back.
Sam unconsciously shuffles closer to her, letting her sincerity wash over him. “What’d he say?”
“For an assassin it’s pretty easy to sneak up on him.” Sarah chuckles. “Surprised you didn’t hear him, you would’ve thought he saw a ghost or something from the way he screamed.”
Sam almost smiles at the imagery of it. “Bucky can act as tough as he wants, have you seen that man in the cat adoption center of a pet store? Goes nuts over 'em.”
Sarah smiles softly at him, leans to rest his head against his shoulder. “You know you got that same look you used to get when Riley was around.”
A gasp catches in his throat. Sam’s bleeding heart oozes at the implication. When the thought comes up he pushes it to the depths of his mind. That wound has barely healed yet. Every time Sam begins to care for someone it picks against the scab of the scar Riley gave him. The term partner died when he did. Everyone that Sam’s come to adore has left him with a heavier heart.
“Bucky isn’t him, Sam.”
Sam’s hands begin to tremble at the sudden onslaught of emotion so he tucks them safely into his pockets. “I know.”
“He loves you.” Sarah says so quietly he barely hears her.
“What, he tell you that?”
Sarah shakes her head. “He didn’t have to.”
There’s a lump in Sam’s throat. Everything he said to Bucky was true. He doesn’t regret his words, after all Bucky is the one who pries. He lays so much pressure on Sam, pushing so hard Sam is wondering how he hasn’t snapped in two yet.
“I think I love him too.” Sam tells her, knows she won’t hold it over his head to taunt him. She’s always been the headstrong one of the two of them.
Sarah’s always been a constant for him. Her presence is never unwavering. She supports but isn’t afraid to hold him accountable or call him out. Sam has always admired her ability to remain a marble column when the people around her are scythes.
“You think?” Sarah laughs, not unkindly. “Sam, you look at that dude like you’re about to go on your honeymoon together. If I didn't known any better, I would have thought you were just coming back from one when I saw you on the boat.”
Sam contemplates her words for a moment. Thinking about Bucky has always made him feel warm. The man’s eyes always seemed to soften around him. He thinks about Zemo, who had commented about it on the plane. Bucky is a whole different kind of soft when Sam is near, relaxed in the way he doesn’t have to worry about someone having his back. He thinks of the way Bucky never shrugs off Sam’s brushes of touch or moves away when he’s standing too close for what other people would call comfortable. Sam knows it’s a big deal for someone with Bucky’s background. Being stripped of bodily autonomy while simultaneously being starved of the gentleness of physicality.
The thought of loving someone after losing who Sam thought he’d be with until the end wasn’t all that sickening anymore. It didn’t bring him the same kind of despair he is always tortured with late at night when he thinks of anyone else. Maybe he’s mad at Bucky for leaving because he’s been mad at Riley for doing so permanently. Maybe he doesn’t want Bucky to take over his heart the way Riley did. Is Sam protecting himself from the hurt or is he blaming himself for experiencing the pain of it’s result?
“I think you may be right.” Sam grumbles, looking down to give her a small smile.
"I'm always right." She takes a deep breath. “You deserve to be happy, Sam.”
“When did you get all wise?”
Sarah laughs louder this time. “For starters, being around you was no help.”
Sam mocks offense and pulls away from her. “I have feelings, you know.”
“Speaking of that, you better go call that white boy before I do. That man was fine -”
“Sarah!”
Sarah looks at him with her eyebrows. “What? Anyone with eyes could tell you that.” She pushes him towards his phone laying against the table. “Now, Sam.”
“Alright, damn.” He mutters, throwing her a dirty look before picking it up and dialing.
After two calls and one text message, there’s a knock on the front door. Sam stares at his phone blankly, a feeling of rejection creeping up his back.
Before he has time to ponder it too harshly, Sarah is calling his name. He drags his feet through the house and almost trips over himself at the man in front of him.
“I’ll give you two a minute.” Sarah says to the both of them before disappearing out of sight.
To relieve the tension, Sam attempts at a joke. “Did you run all the way here from New York?”
To his surprise, the corners of Bucky’s lips twitch upward. “How else would I have gotten here? You know how much a damn plane ticket costs these days?”
Sam mutters an agreement before he can’t help himself. “What are you doing here, man?”
“I never left.” Bucky admits. “I was going to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Couldn’t leave knowing that you think you’re a replacement.” Bucky says. Sam can tell he isn’t lying. His watery eyes never leave Sam’s as he explains. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you were.”
“Thank you.” Sam says like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done.
Bucky smiles so wide his eyes crinkle with the excitement. “Can I come in?” He asks tentatively.
“Yeah, you can come in.”