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Bucky sat down on the couch, his eyes wandering around his apartment.
For the first time in weeks, it was clean. His dirty clothes were in the washer across the hall, all his trash was condensed into two big garbage bags, and his furniture was no longer covered in dust. His floors were vacuumed, then mopped.
During his weeks of solitude, he tried to keep everything organized. Bucky didn’t want to live inside a mess again, but even the smallest task felt too big. His exhaustion always won out. He’d tell himself he’d do it tomorrow, then do the same thing the next day.
Eventually, he stopped lying to himself, and just left it alone.
Sam was the only reason why his space was beginning to look habitable again. When Bucky woke up, Sam had already been awake for a couple of hours. He’d spent his morning tidying things up for him, even though Bucky never asked.
Once Bucky was beside him, Sam could’ve forced a sponge or mop into his hand. He didn’t. Sam was cleaning up his apartment, but he was still giving Bucky a choice. All his partner did was smile at him, asking how he’d slept.
After making them a fresh pot of coffee, he asked Sam what he should do. Being given a task was a lot easier than figuring out one for himself. It wasn’t nearly as overwhelming.
With Sam’s guidance, it only took them a few more hours. The entire time, Sam was throwing around jokes to try and make Bucky laugh. It worked. He smiled through the whole thing.
Even though he could’ve, Sam never brought up how bad it was. They ripped at each other all the time, but he kept the state of Bucky’s apartment out of their conversation. Instead, the only thing Sam made fun of was his choice in socks (dark blue with small Captain America shields).
He would never understand what he did to deserve Sam Wilson’s kindness. As far as he was concerned, Sam was too good for everyone. After Bucky ignored him for so long, he had the right to be pissed. He never really was. Sam just told him not to do it again, and then he stayed.
Lifting his hand, Bucky brushed his fingers through his hair. Yesterday, Sam had washed it for him. It was another task that should’ve been simple, but wasn’t.
A lot of it was a blur, but he remembered Sam covering his eyes so the soap wouldn’t run into them. It was a sensible gesture, but it still threw him off. Bucky wasn’t used to having someone who didn’t want him to feel pain. The individuals working at HYDRA thrived on his suffering. When he got hurt, they never treated him. They waited for him to heal on his own, then stuck him back in cyro.
He also remembered Sam leaning over after, kissing his cheek just to make him feel a little better. If Bucky hadn’t pushed their conversation forward, he would’ve fallen apart.
Before the war, Bucky rarely cried. It took a lot to bring him to that point. When he finally got his freedom back, the bar changed. The smallest things set him off. He wasn’t allowed to react to anything for so long, so it was like his body was playing catch-up.
He was hoping to keep Sam from witnessing one of his breakdowns. When he walked out of the bathroom, he’d been on the right track. He would’ve gotten what he wanted if Sam hadn’t started talking about how proud he was.
At first, Bucky genuinely thought he was joking. In his eyes, he hadn’t done anything praiseworthy. All he did was sit alone in his apartment for weeks, ignoring everyone who tried to reach out to him. When things got too much, his first thought was to do something awful.
Just thinking about those nights on the roof made him feel sick. Every time he went up there, he was tucked into his mind, so far gone that he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. He never registered where he was until he was standing on the edge, a step away from destroying the life he worked so hard to get.
Sam knew about it. He still commended Bucky for continuing to try. He praised him for walking away because he could’ve easily gone through with it, but he didn’t.
After ‘waking up’ on the roof so many times, a part of him didn’t believe he was capable of being okay again. Even out of HYDRA’s grasp, he didn’t seem to have full control of himself. It terrifiedhim.
Sam didn’t see it the same way. Bucky told him everything, and he still believed he’d be alright. His best friend had so much faith in him, and that was the reason Bucky ended up breaking.
When it was all over, Bucky expected to feel worse. The last thing he wanted to do was cry all over Sam’s t-shirt. To his surprise, he felt… better. Stronger, even. Everything he was holding onto, finally got to be let go.
He waited for Sam to tell him to calm down or to get it together. He didn’t say any of those things— He didn’t say anything. He just held him. Rubbed his back. Wiped his tears away. Kissed his forehead. Every little thing he did made him feel safe and somehow, okay.
He decided comfort wasn’t as horrible as he thought it was. For so many years, he thought anything involving touch would be agonizingly painful. Turned out, he couldn’t have been more wrong. His revelation didn’t mean he’d actively seek it out, but knowing the option was there brought him some peace.
The cushion dipped beside him. Bucky twisted his head, his eyes catching Sam’s.
His partner gave him a sheepish grin. “I… might’ve dropped one of your dishes.”
“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Bucky countered. With confusion written all over his features, he glanced towards the kitchen. He didn’t see any broken pieces.
“You were distracted.” Lifting his index finger, Sam gently tapped Bucky’s head. “Something on your mind, space ranger?”
Bucky snorted, bringing his attention back to Sam. He was such an asshole sometimes, but in the right way. Never too far.
“Yeah,” he grumbled, smacking his best friend’s hand away. “The fact that I only have four— Three plates.”
Sam’s laugh shouldn’t have made him light up, but it did. He always had that kind of effect on him. Bucky refused to read into it.
“Well, maybe if you went shopping—” Sam argued, nudging Bucky’s shoulder with his own. “I have a few gift cards. We could go tomorrow.”
Bucky’s grin fell just a bit. Sam wasn’t wrong; he needed supplies. When he first got his apartment, he’d gone and grabbed some essentials. After an hour, he couldn’t take it anymore. Picking out towels shouldn’t have been difficult, but it was for someone who went seventy years without choosing anything.
Sam noticed his sudden dismay. “Hey,” he whispered, bringing his hand to Bucky’s knee. “We could go tomorrow. We don’t have to. It’s your call, Buck.”
Freedom felt like a double-edged sword. He didn’t have anyone controlling his actions anymore, but that meant he had to decide everything. What if he chose wrong?
He let his gaze wander, taking in his apartment once more. The place was spotless, but it was bland. He didn’t have any décor. Minus a couple of books and a few photographs, he didn’t own anything that made him happy.
With a short sigh, Bucky let his head fall. “This doesn’t feel like home.” He wasn’t sure if decorations would make a difference, but he was willing to try.
When he looked back at Sam, his partner squeezed his knee. Bucky managed a small smile. Maybe having someone with him would make shopping a little more bearable.
“Fine,” Bucky breathed out. “Let’s go tomorrow.”
Sam beamed. “Really?” When he realized how happy he looked, Sam cleared his throat and forced himself to settle down. “Sounds good.”
Bucky rolled his eyes as Sam stood back up. When his hand left his knee, Bucky couldn’t help but miss the contact. He decided he wasn’t going to read into that either.
Needing another moment, Bucky leaned back against the couch. Sam went over to the garbage bags, grabbing one with each hand.
“You’ve been here for a few days,” Bucky mindlessly stated. Speaking his thoughts out loud was a lot easier than silently sorting through them. “When do you plan on going back?
Sam moved towards the door. “Why? You sick of me already, Buck?”
No, no. That was definitely not what Bucky meant. He sat up straighter, shaking his head. “Sam— No. I’m just asking.” The idea of Sam thinking he wasn’t welcome made his chest tighten. “You know I want you here, but don’t you have… I don’t know, other obligations?”
Instead of walking into the hallway, Sam stopped. He set both bags down, then faced Bucky again.
“You’re not an obligation, Buck,” Sam quietly assured him. “You’re family. I’m not leaving until you’re okay again.”
“What if I’m never okay again?” It was supposed to be a joke, but Bucky’s words fell flat. Despite Sam’s optimism, it still felt like a real possibility to him.
Sam’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “Then I’ll never leave.” It might’ve gotten a laugh out of Bucky if he didn’t say it so seriously. After picking up the bags again, Sam walked out of sight, momentarily leaving Bucky on his own.
Selfishly, a piece of him never wanted to get better if it meant Sam would stay. He was able to recognize how ugly that kind of thought was, but his brain wouldn’t let him dismiss it.
When Sam came back, Bucky pretended he wasn’t in the middle of an inner crisis and turned on the TV.
The next morning, after Bucky finished his last bite of toast, Sam took both of their plates to the sink.
While Bucky was showering, his partner had made them breakfast. It was nothing crazy – just some eggs and toast, with fruit to go with it – but it was nice. Bucky appreciated it. When he was on his own, he rarely ate before noon.
Once the dishes were washed off, Sam grabbed a towel and dried his hands off. “You ready?”
Bucky took his gloves out of his jacket pockets, carefully slipping them on. “As ready as I can be.” He hated wearing them, but catching people staring at his metal hand was worse.
“Have you always been this dramatic?” Sam joked, a playful smile gracing his lips.
Bucky got to his feet, glaring as he walked towards the door. “Have you always been this annoying?”
Sam followed him. “No,” he answered, slipping on his shoes. “Just with you.”
Since Sam was definitely in his space, Bucky shoved him away. He didn’t use enough power to hurt him; it was just enough to move him. His best friend glanced up, scowling before kicking him in the shin.
Both of them were well aware of his super soldier status, but Sam barely used any force. Even if Bucky didn’t have the serum, the hit wouldn’t have hurt. Sam was always so careful with him. He couldn’t decide it was irritating or welcomed. Probably a little bit of both.
After the door swung open, Sam moved into the hallway. Bucky was still tying his shoes. Once he tightened the last bow, he stood back up, ready to walk out.
When his feet landed in-between his apartment and the rest of the building, something inside him made him pause. His breath hitched, and he discreetly rested his hand against the doorframe.
Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he went outside. He knew it would be different this time – he had Sam with him – but it was still daunting. Inside, he didn’t have to worry about other people. They couldn’t hurt him, and most importantly, he couldn’t hurt them.
Sam hadn’t moved. He was still situated next to his door, as if he was expecting some kind of resistance. How did he always manage to stay one step ahead?
“You okay?” Sam tried to hide his worry, but Bucky could see it in his eyes.
He nodded, but his legs didn’t move. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Instead of calling him out, Sam held out his hand. “Come on,” he whispered. “It’ll be fun.”
After staring at his best friend’s outreached hand for a few moments, Bucky forced himself to take it. With a sly grin, Sam immediately yanked him into the hall.
“I’m going to regret this,” Bucky muttered, using his free hand to lock the door.
“Possibly,” Sam conceded. He tugged Bucky along, casually intertwining their fingers once they reached the elevator. “But you won’t know unless you try.”
Bucky pretended to look annoyed, but he delicately squeezed Sam’s hand anyway. “You sound like one of those stupid motivational posters.”
“That’s cold, Buck.” Sam began to let go of his hand, but then he changed his mind and held on a little tighter. He led Bucky out of the elevator and brought them outside.
If he wanted to, Bucky could’ve run back in. Sam would’ve followed him, but he wouldn’t have stopped him. The temptation was undoubtedly there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it usually was.
In need of a distraction, he thought back to the few motivational posters he’d seen. After clearing his throat, he brought out his best mocking tone. “Teamwork makes the dream work.” He smirked to himself, completely satisfied with his own response. “That’s what you sound like.”
“I hate you,” Sam mumbled, finally dropping his hand.
Bucky tried not to think about how empty his hand suddenly felt. He stretched his fingers out, then let his arm fall to his side.
“I hate you,” Bucky returned, walking past him. “You broke my dish.”
After kicking each other’s feet in the back of an Uber for ten minutes, they arrived at an unfamiliar department store.
It was a lot bigger than the place Bucky went to on his own. From the looks of it, the only thing they didn’t have was a grocery section. Everything else was covered.
Despite the size, they were surrounded by a lot of other customers. Bucky did his best to keep his discomfort under wraps, but he knew Sam probably noticed. He seemed to notice everything. He couldn’t hide anything from him, no matter how hard he tried.
Bucky was just thankful he wasn’t saying anything about it. They collided several times because he was trying to stay out of everyone’s way, but Sam didn’t even react. He just let Bucky do what he needed to do.
Once they found a directory, Sam lifted his hand, letting his index finger run down the list. When he reached mattresses, he tapped the display. “Wanna start here?”
Bucky didn’t have to think about his answer. “No.” He knew he needed to stop sleeping on the floor, but it was what he was used to. Just the idea of moving to a bed made him feel uneasy.
He expected Sam to put up a fight, but he went back to reading the list. Confused, Bucky interrupted his process. “That’s it? You’re not going to try to persuade me?”
Looking away from the display, Sam glanced back at Bucky. “Why would I?”
It took Bucky a second to recognize where the expectation was coming from. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, then offered a short shrug. “Steve would’ve put up a fight.”
After taking a deep breath, Sam shook his head. “Well, I’m not Steve.”
A small wave of panic coursed through Bucky’s veins. “I know,” he breathed out. He wasn’t trying to compare them, and he didn’t want Sam thinking he was. He knew they were different.
“Buck,” Sam murmured. He moved his hand to Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Just— I’m not going to force you into something you’re not ready for. That’s not going to help you.”
After a few slow breaths, Bucky nodded. With an encouraging smile, Sam let go of his shoulder. It took Bucky a second to realize he’d been waiting for his best friend to yell, even though Sam rarely raised his voice with him. He didn’t know where that fear came from, and he didn’t want to find out. Every broken thing he found within himself always led to the same stack of faded memories.
Before he could get lost in his head, Sam pointed to the list again. Bedding. “What about new blankets?”
The blankets he currently had were on their way out. They were made with cheap materials, and probably not meant for someone who tossed and turned all night.
“Okay,” Bucky quietly agreed. “New blankets.”
He still felt a little anxious. As they walked towards the bedding area, Sam loosely wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. A silent way to say everything was okay. It let him release a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
They both saw the map, but it still took them a solid ten minutes to find the right section. Bucky didn’t mind. They bickered about which way they were supposed to go, and it led to them both laughing their asses off. The warm feeling that followed was worth getting lost for.
The number of blankets to choose from was almost ridiculous. They seemed to have every color and pattern. One of them eventually caught Sam’s attention. Pulling away from Bucky, he picked up a bag and shoved it in his face.
Bucky wasn’t surprised when he saw an image of the shield shining through the plastic. He rolled his eyes, ripping it out of Sam’s hands.
“To match your socks,” Sam mused, his lips curving into a bright smile. “And maybe it’ll remind you to pick up your damn phone.”
“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned. “Fine, but only because it’s on sale.” Bucky turned the packaging around, pointing to the big yellow sticker.
Sam looked offended. Bucky snickered. As they walked out of the aisle, he noticed all the superhero blankets were marked down. He didn’t bother pointing it out to Sam. Watching him stomp his way forward was just too good.
The next section they went to was dedicated to kitchen supplies. Bucky didn’t have anything besides a coffee maker, so Sam ended up grabbing a cart. He made more suggestions, but he didn’t throw anything in. He let Bucky have the final say on everything. It was a little annoying, but he still appreciated it.
Eventually, Sam brought him over to the décor section. Bucky had no idea what he was supposed to buy. None of it was necessary, and he was used to only making pivotal purchases.
Sam’s arm ended up around his shoulders again. “If you like something, buy it. It’s that easy.”
With his partner’s encouragement, Bucky picked out two wall clocks, a few fake plants, and some decorative pillows for his couch. Sam spent a little too much time staring at a vintage lamp, so Bucky put that in the cart too.
He liked the idea of Sam picking out some of his things. That way, when he looked at them, he’d think of him. They’d be little reminders of their relationship…
Just like Sam wanted. He’d been winning without Bucky even realizing it.
Bucky only owned a single towel, so Sam insisted he get more. The bathroom section wasn’t too intimidating. After picking out a new rug and a toothbrush holder, they moved to the wall of towels.
It was arranged to look like a rainbow, starting from light shades of red and ending with dark shades of purple. “Whoever designed this deserves a raise,” Sam commented, walking towards the reds.
Bucky smiled to himself, looking at the blues. He was about to grab one when someone behind him cleared their throat. Without hesitation, Bucky dropped his arm, turning his attention to the stranger.
It was an older-looking man, appearing to be in his mid-to-late sixties. “I know you,” he stated. Bucky figured he meant Sam, but when he raised his hand, he pointed at him.
Whenever he was recognized, Bucky always left the situation feeling worse. His face made a lot of people incredibly heated. They didn’t see him as a veteran or an honorary Avenger; they saw him as a threat. A villain— A killer. The Winter Soldier’s actions hadn’t been his own, but not even the country he grew up in and fought for fully acknowledged that, so how could anyone else?
“I’m so—”
Before he could finish his apology, the man cut in. “You’re Sergeant Barnes.”
Bucky froze in place. Outside of officials, nobody used his military ranking anymore. Sometimes, even he forgot he was in the army. It was a whole lifetime ago. Most of the adults who were alive then were long gone.
A gentle hand rested against his shoulder. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Sam didn’t add anything, but the touch let Bucky know he was there.
It took Bucky a moment to form actual words. “Yeah,” he mentioned, smiling just a little. “That’s me.”
The stranger took a slow step forward, then held his hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Cautiously, Bucky reached forward, shaking the guy’s hand. Normally, people actively tried to stay away from him. He couldn’t comprehend someone (other than Sam) encouraging contact.
He smiled warmly at Bucky, covering their combined hands with his free one. “Thank you for your service and thank you for saving those people in New York.”
Bucky didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, trying to get something sensible out, but he wasn’t used to praise.
The guy didn’t seem bothered by his silence. He just gently squeezed his hand. “Let me buy one of your items,” he offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
Finally, Bucky managed to talk. “That’s really nice, but uh— I can’t accept that.” He grinned again, but he was completely taken back by the offer. He wasn’t sure if a stranger had ever been that kind to him. “But thank you.”
The man nodded before letting go of his hand. He looked like he wanted to insist, but he didn’t. “Then I’ll let you get back to your shopping. You take care of yourself, Sergeant.” Looking past Bucky, the stranger glanced at Sam. “You too, Captain.”
By the time Bucky got his head together, the guy was already gone. He doubted he’d ever be able to wrap his head around what just happened. Maybe Sam was right; maybe some people didn’t see the Winter Soldier when they looked at him. Maybe some of them just saw Bucky.
It took a couple of blinks for him to realize Sam had moved in front of him. He had a soft smile on his face, but he was clearly concerned too. Both of his hands were on Bucky’s shoulders.
“You checked out for a second,” he murmured. “You with me?”
As Sam moved to rub his upper arms, Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
Sam squeezed his arms. It made Bucky feel a little more present. “You wanna get out of here?”
The conversation left him feeling somewhat… happy, but it still took a lot out of him. The moment he was pointed out, he’d prepared for the worst.
Bucky didn’t even have to say anything. Sam just let go, grabbing two blue towels from the shelf and throwing them into the cart. “We got enough. Let’s go checkout.”
By the time they got back to the apartment, Bucky was still in a bit of a trance. Sam didn’t seem to mind. He made sure they took everything from the Uber driver’s trunk, then got them upstairs.
After putting the bags down by the door, Bucky discarded his gloves and jacket. He took one of the new decorative pillows before sitting on the couch, shutting his eyes as he leaned back.
A few minutes passed before Sam joined him. He knocked their knees together. “I got fruit.”
When Bucky opened his eyes, he was met with a bowl of fruit being held out to him. It was almost too much kindness in one day. With a small smile, he put the pillow down, then took the bowl.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, popping a strawberry into his mouth.
They ate in silence. It was comfortable, though. Bucky didn’t feel like he had to say anything.
Once his bowl was empty, Bucky set it down, then twisted towards Sam. His best friend stuffed a couple of grapes into his mouth before turning, his bowl still in his lap.
Bucky cleared his throat. “He didn’t see me as…” As much as he wanted to finish his sentence, he couldn’t. Regardless of the context, talking about the Winter Soldier still wasn’t easy. The title always left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“That’s because that’s not you, Buck,” Sam countered, his voice soft. “I told you that.”
Bucky took a slow breath, then dropped his gaze. Sam had told him that. They’d just had a conversation about it, but his partner didn’t understand everything. How could he? He wasn’t there for every encounter he had with the public. He didn’t know how much hatred they carried.
“When I told Mr. Nakajima the truth,” he started, his hands fumbling in his lap. “He looked at me like I was a monster.”
Sam reached out, carefully taking both of his hands. Here they were, having another significant conversation on his shitty couch. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another one.
“Buck,” he quietly stated. “You know that’s different.”
A twisted smile ran across Bucky’s cheeks. Yeah, it was different. He vividly remembered killing Yori’s son. How could they ever have a relationship when that sat between them? He was ignorant for thinking they could, and he was ignorant for trying.
“It’s not just him,” Bucky forced out. “It’s everyone. When I don’t wear the gloves, people keep their distance.”
Saying it out loud made him realize just how much it bothered him. Their reactions were justified, but it still hurt. How was he supposed to make amends if no one was willing to give him a chance?
It was possible that one day, he could lose control again. His trigger words didn’t work anymore, but he was still tainted. He’d never be one-hundred percent clean. But it was also possible that he’d never fall apart like that again. Didn’t that count for something?
“I’m sorry, Buck.” Sam rubbed his hands with his thumbs. “There are too many people out there who would rather hang onto a lie than admit they fucked up. I know it affects you, but it’s not your problem to fix. It’s theirs.”
“What if they’re right?” he voiced. Yet again, his feelings were taking over. “What if we’re just denying the obvious?”
Sam shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Look at me.”
It was the last thing Bucky wanted to do, but after a slow breath, he forced himself to look up.
Moving one of his hands, Sam rested it against Bucky’s cheek. “I know you,” he whispered. “You aren’t theirs anymore. You are James Buchanan Barnes, and you have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. You’d never purposely hurt someone who didn’t have it coming.”
Bucky should’ve moved away, but he leaned into Sam’s touch. He didn’t like when people got close to him, but it was different with him. With Sam, he craved it.
“I hurt you before,” he reminded him. “I could hurt you again.”
Sam didn’t skip a beat. “You wouldn’t.”
Bucky opened his mouth to disagree, but he swiftly closed it. Sam was right. He could worry about it all he wanted, but that wouldn’t change the outcome. Bucky would never, ever hurt Sam again. Just the idea of causing him pain made his stomach churn.
“I wouldn’t,” Bucky echoed. “I couldn’t.”
Leaning forward, Sam pressed a short kiss to his other cheek. As Bucky shut his eyes, another kiss was delicately placed on his forehead.
If he was strong enough, he would’ve told Sam just how much those kisses meant to him. He would’ve told him he not only welcomed them, but wanted them.
Instead, when Sam pulled back, all Bucky did was smile.
After another round of fruit, they began unpacking the bags. Everything Bucky bought found a home somewhere in his apartment. His favorite items – the Captain America blanket and the vintage lamp Sam liked – ended up in his sleeping corner. They looked like they belonged there.
He was glad he took Sam’s advice. The space did feel a little more like his.
When Bucky reached for the last bag, Sam stopped him. “Nuh-uh. This one’s a surprise.” Now that he got a good look at it, he didn’t recognize the name sprawled across it.
At the sight of his confusion, Sam laughed. “It was a special section of the store. Right near the bathroom.”
As soon as they walked out of the store, Sam had claimed he needed to use the restroom. At the time, Bucky had no reason to believe he was lying. He hadn’t noticed the new bag when he finally came back.
“Sneaky,” Bucky mused. “Am I allowed to see it, or are you planning on keeping it a secret?” He couldn’t help but be a little curious, so he was hoping it wasn’t the latter.
Sam leaned down, picking up the bag. “Oh, you can see it, but only if you close your eyes first.”
With a dramatic sigh, Bucky shut his eyes. After holding out his hands, a thin rectangular item was laid on top of them.
“Okay, you can look.”
When he opened his eyes, he was met with a metallic photo frame. Beneath the glass was a picture of him and Sam, looking at each other and laughing. Boats were settled behind them, which meant it had to be taken during the cookout Sam kindly invited him to.
He ran his fingers over the frame. The Captain America blanket and the vintage lamp were no longer his favorite items. Unlike them, the picture was a gift. It meant a thousand times more.
“You gonna say something?” Sam probed, tapping Bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky glanced up, practically beaming. “Yeah— Thank you. I know just where to put it.”
Stepping aside, he moved to his makeshift bed. He set the frame on top of the table situated next to it. It wasn’t in the center of the room, but it was in a place where Bucky would get to see it every morning.
Sam didn’t say anything about his choice. He just grinned, walking back to the couch and sitting down.
About halfway through their second movie, Bucky started yawning.
Lifting his hand, he slowly rubbed his eyes. Considering the day’s events, he was honestly surprised he was still awake. He was feeling burnt out when they first got back.
Sam paused the movie, glancing towards him. They were sitting on opposite sides of the couch again. “You wanna lay down?”
Bucky turned his head, looking at his bed on the floor. His new blanket did look inviting, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to move. It was only a few steps away, but he was exhausted.
Plus, Sam wasn’t on the floor. He was on the couch, and Bucky liked being near him. He was tired enough to freely admit that to himself.
Bucky brought his attention back to Sam. “No.”
Instead of responding, his best friend stood up. Bucky watched him with confused eyes as he went to his corner, picking up the Captain America blanket. When he was back by the couch, he dropped it on the armrest, then sat back down.
“Okay, come here,” Sam encouraged, his hand patting the spot next to him.
Bucky didn’t give himself time to think about it. After he scooted closer, Sam laid down. He opened his arms, allowing Bucky to rest against his chest.
Was it normal behavior for two friends? Probably not. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t care, and he doubted Sam did either.
Neither of them said another word. After throwing the blanket over them, Sam began brushing through Bucky’s hair.
Bucky’s eyes flickered shut. He was so scared all the time, but not with him. Sam was the one person that made him feel safe. The one person that gave him hope. The one person that made him feel alive again.
When he finally drifted to sleep, the Captain America blanket was snuggly wrapped around them, and Sam’s fingers were still entangled in his hair.