Archive of Our Own

“Hey, Bucky, grab the eggs.” 

Bucky moved from where he was standing, to the shelf with the eggs. He should be used to all the varieties but sometimes, it just made him blink and stare. 

“They’re not going to be intimidated by your death glare, you know.” 

He turned to see Sam, by his side, grinning. 

“Never know,” Bucky said nonchalantly. “You want organic?” 

“Whatever’s cheapest,” Sam replied, wandering off to go get milk. 

Nodding, he glanced at the prices, before picking up the store brand, opening it to make sure that none of them were cracked, before closing the carton and setting it in the shopping cart that was by his side. 

Sam returned with milk; they had compromised on 2%, because Bucky insisted that anything less was like drinking water anyway, and Sam didn’t really care one way or the other, though he had argued with Bucky at the time for fun. 

“No almond milk today?” Bucky teased. 

“Nah, dates aren’t great,” Sam answered. “And don’t act like you didn’t like the smoothies I made last week.” 

“They were all right,” Bucky replied, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Just all right? Then I guess you won’t need me to make you any later …” 

“Please, like you won’t do it anyway,” Bucky scoffed. 

“Am I going soft?” Sam asked, squinting his eyes. 

“You already were,” Bucky pointed out.

“Jerk.”

“Asshole.” 

“Your asshole.” 

Sam let out a deep sigh. “Why did I marry you again?” 

Bucky made a noise, but he couldn’t help but smile, eyes drifting to Sam’s ring, before looking back at the matching band on his own. “Because you have excellent taste in men.” 

“Doubt it,” Sam said, taking the cart, and pushing it toward the front of the store to checkout. 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, walking by his side, moving out of the way with ease as when he saw another customer coming the opposite way. “Sarah did say you had awful taste. Lucky I came around.” 

“Are you and my sister gossiping about my former love life?” Sam asked, glancing over. 

“I am her favorite brother-in-law,” he boasted. 

“You’re her only brother-in-law,” Sam said, snorting. 

“Still the favorite,” Bucky insisted. “I’m a pro at winning over the Wilson family.” 

“Is that so?” Sam said, the two of them getting in line. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, Samuel, you’re still my second favorite Wilson,” Bucky assured him, patting his arm, as Sam sputtered, causing him to laugh. 

“Second favorite,” Sam muttered, as they placed their items out on the conveyor belt. “Hope the first favorite has a spot for you on the couch. Alpine about to get your place on our bed.” 

“Like she doesn’t take up all the space anyway,” Bucky reminded him. 

“Your cat,” Sam said, shaking his head. 

“Our cat,” Bucky corrected automatically, shooting a small smile at the cashier who had started ringing up their items. 

Sam was better at small talk than he was, so he stood back and let him charm the guy. Turning around, Bucky glanced at the candy selection (man, he would’ve gone nuts for all of this when he was a kid, not that they could afford it even then). He picked up a Snickers bar and placed it down, fortunately before all the food was finished being scanned. 

“It’s your favorite,” Bucky said, when Sam looked over with questions in his eyes. 

“Trying to work your way off the couch?” Sam joked. “My standards are higher than a $1 candy bar, just so you know.” 

“Gotta start somewhere,” Bucky replied. “Unless you don’t want it …”

“Please, you put it down, it’s mine now,” Sam told him, before turning back to pay. Bucky just grinned, feeling an unbearable fondness toward his husband (a word he still couldn’t quite believe he got to use). 

Once their groceries were paid for and bagged, they headed to the car and made their way home; home being their now shared home in Washington DC. The two story townhouse was not the same as Sam’s original home there, but when they had found their way back to the States, and moved in together, Sam had suggested they find some place new. Something different. 

Something for both of them. 

Weeks of searching, both of them feeling the urge to quit at various moments, had led them to the place that wasn’t perfect but felt like home. 

Which was perfect all in its own right. 

When they walked in, Alpine looked up from her spot on the couch, tail swishing, but otherwise, not seeming that inclined to actually move.

“We’re going to have to go over the couch with a lint brush again, aren’t we?” Bucky said, setting one of the grocery bags on the counter. 

“I don’t think there is a point anymore,” Sam responded, eyes darting over to Alpine who yawned and stretched, before settling down once more. “I think we should just put a warning sign and call it a day.” 

“Sit here at your own risk,” Bucky quoted, unpacking their groceries and putting them away. 

“Why did we get a cat again?” Sam wondered, doing the same thing. 

“Because you’re a sucker for a pair of big blue eyes?” Bucky offered. It was Bucky who had been volunteering at the local animal shelter, but it was Sam who suggested they get the cat, despite the jokes he made now. 

“Ah, so that’s why I married you,” Sam stated, nudging him lightly. 

“Lucky me that you like dark haired guys or I would’ve lost to Steve,” Bucky said dryly. 

Sam snorted. “Oh yeah, it was a big competition.” 

“Please, don’t act like you don’t have men and women falling at your feet, Wilson,” Bucky said. “I see that charm at work.” 

“Landed me a 100 year old super soldier so I guess it’s definitely there in spades,” Sam replied, with an easy grin. 

“You’re damn right you did,” Bucky replied, moving to wrap his arms around Sam’s waist. “I would like to say I did some charming too, but I didn’t exactly make the best first impression.” 

“You mean ripping people’s steering wheels out of their cars is not one the way you woo them?” Sam said, pretending to be shocked. “I’m stunned, I tell you. Stunned.” 

“Still got you though,” Bucky said, unable to be anything but visibly pleased and definitely grateful. 

“Again, terrible taste on my part,” Sam said, smirking, but he did only pull Bucky closer, the two of them meeting in the middle to share a long, lingering kiss. 

“Lucky me then,” Bucky said softly, when they parted, foreheads resting against one another. 

“Lucky us.” 

And Bucky did feel lucky, even when Alpine decided she was clearly being left out and needed more attention, bringing her favorite cat toy toward them. Maybe especially then. 

It was kind of a unique family that he had, but it was a family nonetheless. 

Bucky wouldn’t change a thing. 

*****

“I never thought I would see you like this,” Steve commented. Sam was at the VA, and Steve clearly decided that he would bother Bucky instead, since they both had a rare day off.    

“What? Married? Domesticated?” Bucky asked, leaning back against the couch.  

Alpine was in Steve’s lap, purring contently as she was getting what was clearly an appropriate amount of adoration. 

“Nah,” Steve said lazily. “I could see you married.” 

“Makes one of us,” Bucky said, thoughtfully. Not that he hadn’t wanted it; once he got drafted, it just seemed like a pipe dream. He was well aware of the odds that he would come back. To say it hadn't looked good was an understatement.

“You could always charm the hell out of anyone,” Steve remembered. 

“One of us had to,” Bucky shot back. “You were more obsessed with other things.”

“Fair,” Steve conceded. “Sam’s a little more male than I would’ve pictured …”

“It's not new- you were just oblivious,” Bucky remarked. 

“Yeah, guess so,” Steve replied, not arguing. “You and Sam are good together; he’s a great guy.” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Bucky agreed. “We’re lucky he took pity on two sad 100 year olds.” 

“Understatement,” Steve acknowledged. “I was pretty sad and lonely.” He looked over at the picture of Bucky and Sam on their wedding day. “It’s almost a year now, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said confidently. “On …” And then he faltered. On when? 

Today’s day was … and then he blanked out again. 

Was this the Winter Soldier memories affecting him? No, that had been taken care of, right? Sure, there were days when he struggled to recall a certain incident from his childhood or Steve would reference something that he didn’t immediately recognize, but overall, his present day memories were fine. 

“Buck?” 

Now Steve sounded worried; Bucky wasn’t sure of the expression he was making, but it was clearly concerning. 

“You okay?” Steve asked cautiously. 

“Yeah, fine,” Bucky said hurriedly. “Just … thinking whether my gift will get here in time.” 

Steve didn’t look like he completely believed him, but he relaxed anyway. “Always a last minute shopper.” 

“That’s me.” But for the first time all day, he felt uncertain. 

As much as he liked being around Steve, he wasn’t sorry to see him leave shortly around. It was nice, with Steve mostly accepting who he was now, and not feeling guilty over things neither of them could have controlled. 

There was plenty that Bucky felt guilty about, but he realized that there wasn’t any point in regretting what had already happened; all he could do now was try to make amends and move forward. 

Knowing that he could find love and have someone love him back was definitely a big step. With that thought, he glanced at the picture of their wedding day again; right in the inscription on the frame, it said ‘May 16, 2016’. 

Made sense. Sounded right. Of course that was their wedding day. Their one year anniversary was two weeks from now. 

The picture was taken outdoors, just as their wedding had been; a lovely spring day, with perfect weather, surrounded by a very small group of people; most were on Sam’s side, but they had been more welcoming toward him than Bucky could’ve ever dreamed. 

And Sam had shoved a slice of cake in his face … it had been delicious … vanilla? No chocolate? Both? His eyebrows furrowed, and then shook his head. 

It didn’t matter. 

What did matter was that he had found the best thing he didn’t even know he had been looking for, with Sam.

To distract himself, and also pass the time, he chose to start an early dinner, making a dish he saw on Food Network (cooking shows were addictive; he didn’t care how many jokes Steve made at his expense). Sam loved lasagna and thanks to their recent shopping trip, they certainly had what it took to make it. 

As he cooked, he hummed to himself, feeling more at ease as he immersed himself in his new task. And it helped for a good amount of time; his mood brightening further when he received Sam’s text that he was on his way home. 

He was early. Which meant that they could have a nice night in. 

Maybe he would make some garlic bread too. 

Bucky was waiting for the sauce to cook and that was when he heard it.

“It’s almost time.” 

It caused him to freeze him in tracks, and then spin around. But there was no one there; not in the kitchen, or even in the rest of the house, and Bucky made sure to check, lingering the living room, just in case.

What was that?  

The voice sounded like it was right in front of him, muffled, but the words were clear as day. Familiar but at the same time, unrecognizable. 

Just as his heart rate calmed down to a normal level, he heard it again. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” 

Now that voice he definitely recognized. 

“Steve?” he said out loud. But no, that was ridiculous. Steve wasn’t here … Steve left hours ago and was back in his apartment. 

Bucky shook his head firmly; he didn’t like his gnawing feeling inside that was slowly growing. He liked to think that he had fairly good instincts, and while he wanted to dismiss this, wanted to go back and just make dinner, there was clearly something wrong.

He could feel it in the air. Yet everything seemed normal. Hearing voices in your head isn’t normal. 

Up till that point, it had been normal, right? 

Right? 

“Bucky?” 

Bucky jumped and spun around, suddenly face to face with Sam. 

“Sam! You’re here!” 

“Yes,” Sam was staring at him, puzzled. “I thought you would’ve heard me come in. What happened to those super soldier instincts?” 

“Taking a day off apparently,” he replied, taking a few short breaths to calm himself down. “Speaking of which, how was your's?"

“Fine,” Sam replied, his voice holding a note of uncertainty. “You okay? You look seriously spooked.” 

“Yeah, it’s just,” Bucky ran his non-metal hand through his hair, “just been a weird day, I guess.” 

“Thought Steve was stopping by?” Sam asked curiously.

“He came and left,” Bucky answered. Other than choosing to reappear in my head. He had not taken so much time and effort to recover only to start hearing voices, of all things. “I guess, I don’t know.” 

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” Sam asked, visibly concerned. 

Bucky swallowed and forced a smile. “Yeah, I know. You said so in your vows.” In sickness and in health. For better or for worse. Till death do you part. He remembered that part clearly.

“Damn right I did,” Sam replied. “And don’t you forget it.” 

“Never will,” Bucky promised, leaning forward for them to share a kiss. 

“Speaking of telling me things, what smells so good?” Sam asked.

“Smells so …” Bucky trailed off, his eyes widened. “The sauce!” 

He hurried back into the kitchen, Sam at his heels, and was very grateful to find that the sauce hadn’t burned after all. The water was boiling so he started placing the store bought lasagna sheets in. 

“Have to be careful with that,” Sam commented, from behind him.  

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky responded automatically. 

“What?” 

There was Sam again, but now he just sounded confused. Bucky turned around once he was finished, meeting his gaze. 

“What?” 

“You were saying that you knew,” Sam told him. “I was wondering what you were talking about.” 

“Didn’t you tell me to be careful?” Bucky asked. Oh no, not again. 

“I didn’t say anything, Buck,” Sam said, slowly. 

Bucky could feel his heart sink. “Are you sure?” 

“I wouldn’t mess with you if I had,” Sam replied, brown eyes now searching Bucky’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

He briefly thought about lying, but he couldn’t lie to Sam. “No, I’m not,” he admitted, wiping his hands against his jeans. 

“Maybe we can turn that off and order some pizza?” Sam suggested, glancing over at the stove. “And you can tell me what’s wrong?” 

“No,” Bucky replied firmly. “No, I’m almost done.” 

“Bucky …” 

“I’ll be fine for now,” he insisted, though he wasn’t sure how true that was. He wanted to believe it, but he wasn’t sure. “Can you … stick around though?” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sam said, and that did make him feel better. 

“Wait till you taste this lasagna,” Bucky said, trying to find some humor in the situation, trying to find the stability he had felt just that morning. 

“One of your Food Network chefs?” Sam teased, going along with it. It was one of the things Bucky loved about him; he was just willing to go with the flow. 

As good as Sam was at taking care of people, he never babied Bucky or treated him like someone who needed to be fixed. Because of that, when they went from reluctant friends to falling in love, it also gave Bucky a chance to do some care taking, a feeling that he preferred. And they both found that Sam did like receiving care and attention. 

He certainly deserved it, in Bucky’s humble opinion. 

“You won’t be complaining when you try it,” Bucky insisted. 

“Hey, I’ve never complained about your cooking before,” Sam pointed out, grinning. 

“Exactly,” Bucky said smugly. 

“Maybe we should wait.” 

And there was Steve again. Fear curled in Bucky’s belly, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. His hand shook, and he clenched his flesh hand into a fist, hoping Sam somehow hadn’t noticed the move. 

Taking a chance, he glanced over at Sam, whose eyes were on Bucky’s hand. Count on husband not to miss a thing, especially where he was concerned; noticing Bucky watching, Sam met his gaze once more and raised an eyebrow, the questions on his face clear as day. 

Bucky just smiled, as reassuring as he could, and Sam smiled back, closed lips, which wasn’t a good sign, but for now, Bucky wasn’t going to push it. 

It wasn’t like he was going to hide from Sam; he just didn’t want to talk about it right now. He never wanted to hide anything from Sam. And the last thing he wanted was for that to change. 

But how could he voice a predicament that he couldn’t even begin to explain. 

“It’s worth a shot … Shuri said that they figured it out.” 

“Not for certain …” 

Now that was Sam again, but even when Bucky was cooking, he could see Sam out of the corner of his eye and know for fact that the other man hadn’t spoken a word, much less said anything about Shuri. 

Shuri … the Wakandan scientist/princess who had been a big help in his recovery was someone he hadn’t seen since they had left Wakanda; she hadn’t been able to come to their wedding, despite her disappointment and wishes otherwise. 

The family had sent a more than generous gift, but hadn't been in touch otherwise. 

So why would Sam, even in his head, be bringing her up now? 

What were they even talking about? Who were they talking about? And even though he had no reason to believe it, why did he think it was him? 

Despite him doing his best to close himself off, as he cooked, the voices came in and out; he could identify only Sam, Steve, and Shuri, but there was one or two others that sounded vaguely familiar, but not strong enough to place. He couldn’t even hear everything clearly; the sentences that would come in and out of his head were sometimes half formed. 

At some point, they stopped completely and it was a relief. Sam assisted him in the kitchen, working on the garlic bread, and they acted as if everything was normal. 

Bantered, had delicious food, and even watched a baseball game while they ate. There was a moment, when out of the corner of his eye, he felt the kitchen fade in and out, but he blinked and it was all fine again. 

The voices were clearly messing with his head. But it couldn't mess with his vision though, could it?

“Hey, Sam,” he asked suddenly, thinking of a moment back, interrupting Sam’s yelling at the TV over some missed call, causing him to stop and look at Bucky. 

“I know, I know, they suck,” Sam sighed. “Not my fault.” 

“No,” he said, pausing to laugh. “I mean, they do, but that is not the problem. What-” He hesitated, thinking of a way to ask this. “Do you remember what flavor our wedding cake was?” 

“Our wedding cake?” Sam asked, eyebrows furrowing. “Black forest, blueberry lemon, and pineapple coconut. Why? I think we have a layer still in the freezer …” 

“For our first anniversary,” Bucky finished. “Waste of cake- no way is that going to taste good.” But none of the flavors mentioned sounded familiar at all. “Yeah … just trying to remember what flavor you shoved in my face.” 

“Now that would’ve been the blueberry,” Sam said triumphantly. "Why? Little late to get your revenge."

"Please, I have the rest of our lives," Bucky replied. "You just watch your back, Wilson."

"Barnes-Wilson," Sam corrected and Bucky couldn't help but grin.

"Kind of a mouthful," Bucky teased.

"You do a lot of talking, Bucky."

"Why don't you shut me up then?" Bucky challenged, leaning closer.

And Sam was very good at doing exactly that.

Bucky certainly wasn't complaining.

It was easy to lose himself in his husband, the game quickly forgotten. Eventually, they did find their way to the bed, where they were more than happy to keep going.

And the voices stayed silent, his head clear, allowing him to focus on the one person he wanted to give all his attention to.

Only much later, when they were spent but sated, did he hear it again. 

"We're going to do this slowly. Need to ... temperature ..." 

Another unfamiliar voice, and it caused Bucky to sit up straight.

"Bucky?"

He looked over at Sam, who was looking worried once more.

"Yeah?" he asked, swallowing hard, trying to get his heart rate to go down to a normal level.

"You're not okay."

It was a statement, not a question, and Bucky was already tired of pretending.

"No ... I'm not."

Sam took his ringed hand in his own. "Talk to me."

"I'm hearing voices," he admitted. "In my head."

He wondered if Sam would get freaked out, even when knowing that it would take more than to scare him. Sam was made of strong stuff, but he didn't want him to look at him differently. Bucky could handle a lot, but not the one person who had always treated him normally changing his behavior.

Sam just took in his words, expression concerned but not leaving. "What kind of voices?"

"A couple- you, Steve, some people I don't really know," Bucky answered.

"Which is what happened earlier," Sam realized.

"I was hearing Steve when you came in," Bucky revealed. "And that was the first time, so it was pretty weird."

"And you heard me in the kitchen," Sam said, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed. He repeated what he remembered of what he heard, and Sam asked questions at the right moments.

"Is there any pattern to what is going on?"

"Not that I can tell ... then again, I don't even hear everything. It is like I'm stuck in a ... fish bowl or something, and everyone is making noise away from me."

Sam hadn't released his hand and Bucky was grateful for that extra bit of comfort. It made it easier to talk, not that Sam wasn't always easy to talk to.

Bucky wiped his free hand across his face. "Fuck. Now I'm going nuts ... what timing."

"You'll be fine." Sam's voice was firm, unwavering. "We'll make sure of it."

"We?" Bucky questioned. "Bet you didn't sign up for this."

"Hey, I'm here for the good times and the bad," Sam argued. "Not like you haven't comforted me whenever I have had a nightmare or a bad day ... goes both ways, Bucky."

"Here I thought you married me for the great sex," Bucky tried to joke.

"It is pretty great, but I'm here for the whole package," Sam replied, and rolled his eyes when Bucky wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Yeah, you're fine. You will be fine."

Bucky believed him.

"We'll figure it out in the morning," Sam promised. "Maybe call Steve- reach out to Shuri again, see if anything lingered."

"Thanks, Sam," Bucky said quietly.

"Any time."

As they fell asleep that night, Sam in Bucky's arms, Bucky held him as close as he could without hurt him, watching him long after Sam fell asleep, listening to the steady sound of Sam's breathing, finding comfort in the noise.

And finally, Bucky let his eyes close, falling asleep once more, secure in the knowledge that whatever was to come, at least he wouldn't be alone in facing it.

It was the voices that woke him up, the murmuring feeling closer then ever.

"He's waking up."

"Okay, give him space ..."

"Hey Buck ... it's time ..."

He opened his eyes, and he wasn't in his bedroom. No, he was in a large room, on a long ... bed/table of sorts. What the hell? Where was his room? Where was ... Sam!

Was this a dream? A nightmare?

Bucky blinked multiple times, trying to get adjusted to the bright white lights, the panic setting in, as he turned his head. He saw faces - ones he recognized and others he didn't. It was almost as if they were in some sort of ... lab.

Lab?

His eyes fell on the large container that was very clearly the chamber he had gone into cryo in. Then they darted around the room, until he landed on Sam. Sam. Still beautiful but a careful distance away. He looked both right and wrong at the same time.

"Bucky?"

There was Steve, right next to him.

"Hey," Steve said softly, once he got his attention. "Are you okay?"

"Where am I?" Bucky asked, his head spinning. He wanted to close his eyes and wake up in his real bed, with his husband. Who was seeming to keep an intentional distance from him. No, come closer. I need you.

"You're in Wakanda," Steve answered, glancing over worriedly at the woman next to him, wearing a white doctor's coat. "Did it affect his memory?"

"It shouldn't," came a voice from the other side of him, and he turned to look over at Shuri."He is likely just getting adjusted."

Bucky took a few sharp, unsteady breaths. Cryo. He remembered going into cryo. That was years ago. Time travel?

"You've been out for a while," Steve said.

"Maybe he just needs some space," Sam suggested.

"No, I need you. What's going on?" Bucky wanted to demand, but he couldn't find the words. By chance, he glanced down and found himself gaping at his missing left arm.

Where was his metal arm?

"You lost the arm, when we fought Tony, remember?" Steve said, as if reading his mind. "And you said you didn't want a replacement ..."

"Because I would be less of a threat without one," Bucky finished, his stomach sinking. If he had been in cryo and there wasn't any time travel, then everything that happened ...

Was a dream.

But it had felt so real.

Steve's shoulder's slumped in relief. "Yeah ..."

"How long have I been out?" Bucky asked, numb.

"About 6 months," Steve answered. "They think, they think they might've found a way to erase the conditioning."

"Okay."

What else was he supposed to say?

Sure, he should be grateful. These people had worked hard to help him, to fix him. Steve (and Sam) has risked their lives, their reputations for him. Speaking of which ... he chanced another look at Sam, whose arms were crossed, leaning back against a wall casually. He looked calm, steady, but the look of love that Bucky had gotten used to was missing.

Then again, it had never been real in the first place, had it?

It was all just a dream.

Why his brain would do that, come up an imaginary world where he was happily married to the one guy who could barely stand him, was something that he couldn't even begin to process.

Yet it had felt real, right.

And now this, this reality ... where he was still at risk to fall back into the Winter Soldier should the wrong person get his words ...

Well that felt like a nightmare.

And there was no chance of waking up.

It was a long time before he was let go. There were tons of tests done, and by the end of it, he felt smothered. A part of him wanted to ask if they would just let him go back into the chamber. An escape. Maybe then he could at least find some solace and go back to the dream.

He wanted to pretend, just for a while longer.

Then again, he was tired of running. He had spent a lot of time hiding, from Steve, from ... everyone, holed up as he rediscovered his memories, and that hadn't let anywhere good.

So he had to force himself to stay present.

Eventually, once they realized he was stable, he was at least allowed to walk outside, staying close.

Steve had tried to come, but he had waved him off.

"I'm sure you're tired of babysitting me, pal," Bucky had said. "When was the last time you slept anyway?"

Steve had argued, but with some insistence from Sam and Shuri, he had reluctantly let go.

"You going to be all right, Barnes?" Sam asked him, before he had left.

"You worried about me, Wilson?" Bucky acted as if he wasn't touched.

"Nah, if you say that you're ready, you're ready," Sam said simply.

"Yeah." He appreciated the way Sam treated him, but at the same time, he couldn't stay close by for long, not without giving in the urge to do something ridiculous. 

Something that he thought he was allowed, only to find out it was all ... not true.

So he took a walk, finding himself sitting on the edge of a lake. The water was still and calm; it felt like the opposite of what Bucky was.

Unsteady, unsure.

How was it possible to miss something that was never real in the first place?

And when was he going to stop?

*****

"We are going to run the first test ..."

Bucky nodded along to what Shuri was saying, as she described the procedure in which they would remove the remaining triggers.

It seemed oddly familiar; he hadn't remembered what had occurred in his dream world; his brain had clearly moved past that part. The actual process would take time, work, and possibly some pain. Shuri was promising that it would be minimal but at this point, Bucky was resigned to whatever happened.

It couldn't possibly be worse than what he had already been through. Besides, Shuri was probably the smartest person he had ever met, and he trusted her.

He asked the right questions, and of course, Steve and Sam stayed close, both having questions on their own.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to break," Bucky made sure to tell them.

It was Sam who answered first. "Of course you're not."

Steve's mouth was pressed in a thin line, but he nodded jerkily too. "Right, of course not."

Bucky blew out a breath. "All right, let's get this show on the road."

Thankfully, it wasn't as bad; there wasn't any actual pain, but the process was slow. They dealt with two of the words that day, but the rest had to wait for another day.

"It is too much of a risk to process it all at once," Shuri had explained.

However, it was working. T'Challa, Steve, Sam and the Dora Milaje stood in waiting, when they ran the initial tests to make sure that the first two words had gone.

He wasn't sure who was the most relieved when they had no affect.

"We work again in two days," Shuri decided.

"You should be free to roam the grounds," T'Challa added. "Come, there is a room for you. Surely you must be constrained by this lab. Only Shuri is happy to stay down here forever." He shot a teasing smile at his sister, who promptly made a face at him.

He found the interaction ... heartwarming, and suddenly, was hit with a memory of his own sister. How long had it been since he had really considered Rebecca?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam amused, and realized that perhaps he was thinking of his own sister. Sarah.

Another relationship he had invented, possibly based off the file he had read of Sam. He had been curious about Steve's new ally, and since the other man was searching for him, he decided to do a little digging on his own, not just of Sam himself (who was fascinating in his own right) but also the people around him.

Maybe that was why his brain had created a relationship between him and this sister that he had never met, because it reminded him of the one he had growing up. Not that Sam was aware Bucky even knew he had a sister, much less her name, and he assumed that the other man wouldn't be too thrilled about it.

"We shall put you in the same wing as your friends," T'Challa announced.

Bucky thanked and he accepted his gratitude, which felt like far too little, with a graceful nod. Then again, after all that T'Challa had done for him, nothing really felt like it would be enough. But he appreciated it anyway.

The room that he was given was spacious but felt strange; that night, he had trouble sleeping. It wasn't his room, his home ... while they one that he had come up with and still believed in his heart was his didn't exist, he couldn't help but miss it. And even logically, he knew that he had been sleeping alone for longer than he could remember (literally), it still felt odd being in a bed without someone (Sam).

Eventually, he gave up, and left, wandering the hallways. Bucky figured that if there was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, one of the guards would stop him.

Yet as he made his way around, no one did, and eventually, he found his way to the kitchen. Deciding to make himself some tea, he searched through the options. He didn't mind coffee either, but while he had always had an appreciation for technology, which Wakanda had in spades, he didn't feel as up to dealing with their fancy machines tonight.

Last thing he wanted to do was break something by accident.

"What do you have there?"

Bucky spun around, almost dropping the tea pot in his hand. He was greeted with the image of Sam, who had clearly also gotten up not that long ago, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"I thought you heard me come in." Sam lifted his hands in a placating manner and that's when Bucky realized he was holding the teapot in a threatening manner.

Setting it down, he offered an apologetic smile. "Nope, clearly not."

"Couldn't sleep?" Sam questioned.

"No, I guess the bed was too comfortable," Bucky said, tone dry.

Sam let out a surprised noise, which sounded like a laugh turned into a cough. "Didn't think it would be that easy to sneak up on you."

"Seems you just did," Bucky said, keeping his voice even. "You're in the club."

"I hope there's membership cards," Sam replied. 

"If you're lucky, you might get a pin," Bucky said, with a hint of sarcasm.

 "Who knew you had a sense of humor?"

"Maybe I picked it up in the cry chamber," Bucky suggested. 

"Well, looks like it was useful after all."

A silence fell between them, which wasn't all that comfortable. It dawned on Bucky that they actually hadn't spent much time alone, outside of fighting side by side, and the one moment they had in the car, when Sam refused to move his seat up. He didn't know what to say to him.

And it felt like a cruel twist of fate; his brain had created a relationship with this man, had turned him into the one person that Bucky felt more comfortable around than anyone, only for him to wake up and not be able to hold a proper conversation. 

Hell, he couldn't even come up with a single sentence.

"So, are you planning to make tea or was that just your weapon of choice?"

"That was the plan," Bucky confirmed. "Did you want some?" In his dreams, Sam had liked to have a cup of tea now and then, mostly after a stressful day.

"Nah," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Not really my thing. Is there coffee?"

Of course, real Sam wouldn't like the same things- these were holes that Bucky had filled in from what he didn't know, which was, well, a lot. He vaguely remembered Sam's general coffee preference, from when he was counter stalking but couldn't say for sure.

"Sure, but you're going to have to figure out the espresso machine," Bucky informed him.

"I've been here enough that I've gotten the hang of it," Sam replied, moving toward the kitchen. "You going to stick with the tea or you want some coffee?"

"I'll take the coffee," Bucky agreed. "Not like I'm going back to sleep anytime soon."

"Does the caffeine actually affect you?" Sam wondered, eyeing him. "Steve says it doesn't work on him." 

"Not that I can tell," Bucky admitted. "But I haven't really tested it. I got the knockoff version of the serum though so you never know." 

"Dollar store vs name brand," Sam commented, chuckling to himself. "Hey, maybe you'll actually be able to get drunk."

"Maybe ... might take some effort."

"Not like there is much else to do around here," Sam said, examining the various options for the coffee beans before settling on one. Bucky made note of the type he chose. In the meantime, he busied himself with finding mugs and sugar. It was harder to operate with one arm, especially since his brain had convinced him that he had two, but he adjusted.

Fortunately, he was right handed, so the metal arm was more of an afterthought. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam checking in on him, but he gave Bucky his space and didn't offer his assistance.

Bucky appreciated that more than the other man would know.

As the machine was working its magic, Bucky was once again reminded of how bad he was at small talk.

"So ... couldn't sleep either?" he finally asked. Lame. Real charmer you are.

"Yeah, jet lag," Sam replied, hand lifting to rub his eyes. "We just got in two days ago and I guess I'm still getting over it. You would think I'd be used to jumping from one place to another by now."

Bucky made an assenting noise. He hadn't considered the fact that Sam and Steve weren't permanently residing in Wakanda, but it made sense; even if he couldn't imagine T'Challa not offering them a safe haven, from what he knew of Steve and what little he did know of Sam, they weren't the type of people who were able to sit still and do nothing.

"Missions?"

"That would be it," Sam confirmed. He stretched his arms over his head, shirt riding up and Bucky very pointedly didn't look at in that direction. "Gotta be stealth but there are things to be done- Hydra isn't gone because S.H.I.E.L.D is."

Right, stealth, since Steve and Sam were both wanted men, thanks to him.

"You guys have to head out again soon?"

Sam met his gaze once more and raised an eyebrow. "Trying to get rid of us?"

"Just figured that you would get antsy eventually."

Sam shook his head. "Nah, I think we're good for now. Even if we weren't, I don't think Steve would be willing to leave any time soon. Not when you're in the middle of a cure."

"True." Steve's overprotectivness knew no ends. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"How do you feel about ... getting stuck here?"

"I made the decision," Sam replied, shrugging. "I miss home- my job, my family- but it could be worse."

"Do they know you're here?" Sam made it easy to ask questions, prolong the conversation. That was one thing that he had gotten right.

"No, figured it would be safer that way ... plausible deniability and and all. Besides, Sarah- my sister- she knows the kind of chaos I can get myself into. She's probably not surprised and cursing my name somewhere." He grinned for the first time since Bucky had woken up, as if indulging in a fond memory, and Bucky could see the gap in his front teeth. It made his stupid heart skip a beat, despite himself.

There was no denying Sam had a great smile.

"Older sister?" he asked, grateful for his poker face.

"Younger. She's older than Shuri, but those two would get along like a house on fire and therefore should never meet."

Bucky pretended like he was hearing that for the first time. "I had a younger sister ... Rebecca. Becky." 

"Oh?" Sam looked genuinely curious.

"She had the biggest crush on Steve," Bucky continued, slowly smiling. It felt like the first time he had done that since he had woken up, and it almost felt weird.

Sam blinked at him and he wondered if he said the wrong thing. Then his face relaxed and Bucky did too. "I can see that. Let me guess: Steve didn't notice."

"Didn't have a clue," Bucky said. "He was good at a lot, but dating wasn't his thing. I would try to set us up with dates and most of the time, it wouldn't go well. There wasn't really anyone until Peggy."

"And now Sharon," Sam pointed out.

"Now Sharon," Bucky echoed. "The Carters are feisty. Is that still a thing?" He and Steve hadn't had a chance to have a real conversation, well, at any point in the present day. He should at least try. Maybe once his head was clear.

"He hasn't really mentioned her recently," Sam answered. "But I haven't had a chance to ask."

"And you? Left any broken hearts in your wake?" Bucky only realized after the words were out of his mouth that they didn't have that kind of relationship, where they could tease each other. And felt an unearned twinge of jealousy at the idea of Sam with someone else. He's not your Sam.

Thankfully, Sam didn't seem put off. "No, I took in some old guy and his friend when he came for help and I haven't had time to do much else since."

Bucky chuckled and Sam's grin widened.

"Look at that," Sam noted. "I didn't know you could make that sound."

"It's a Christmas miracle."

"You're a real asshole, aren't you, Barnes?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Sure, but who isn't? You know Steve. He only looks innocent."

"Not arguing there," Sam agreed. "I legit met him when he was running circles around me. I wonder if it is something I'm doing wrong ..."

"Opposites attract?" Bucky suggested. "I bet you have your own stories too."

"Reading me for fun?" Sam questioned. He paused to get the coffee, pouring it in two mugs, handing one to Bucky, who thanked him, and took a little bit of milk, but waved off the sugar.

"It's good practice," Bucky lied. "Besides, Steve would be happy if we're getting along."

"Oh, Steve would be happy," Sam drawled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Well, don't go breaking out those matching BFF bracelets just yet, Barnes."

"I have no idea what that means."

"It's just -" Sam caught Bucky's sly grin. "Oh, you are an asshole."

"No comment."

"Of course."

They finished their coffee in silence; it was more comfortable than it had been before. Or at least that was how Bucky felt. He couldn't quite get a read on Sam.

"All right," Sam said, letting out a small yawn, moving to clean out his now empty mug. "I'm going to try to head to bed. Night, Barnes."

"Night."

All of a sudden, he was alone once more, but somehow felt a little better than when he got there. Once he had washed out his mug too, he headed to bed too. There was no point in lingering.

When he closed his eyes at night, he still dreamed of Sam.

And the life that may not have been real, but one he still wanted desperately.

*****

The days went by slowly; the treatments were his only real form of activity. He would see both Steve and Sam now and then, the former radiating nervous energy, but clearly doing his best to stay calm for Bucky's sake. 

"If worse comes to worse, we can always refreeze me," Bucky joked at one point and Steve winced, while Sam tried to smile all of them.

"It won't come to that." Steve was firm, but Bucky wasn't as certain.

The second round was, after all, harder than the first, though successful at the end. Bucky was worried about the last one. He was close, he knew it, but he also felt so far.

"If it doesn't work though," Bucky warned. He had made it clear that he would be going back, should this fail.

"Yeah, I know." Steve had accepted Bucky's decision before, and would do so again. He didn't like hurting his oldest friend, but there was no other choice.

And selfishly, he wondered if he would go back to his dreamland. Slowly, he was accepting his reality, but he couldn't help but long for it and wonder what would happen if he returned.

Would he be aware it was a dream? After all, things were falling apart at the end.

He wondered if he would at least get to say goodbye this time.

One last smile, one last kiss. Something.

It felt like cheating though, now that he knew it was fake. A little dirty even, especially with Sam right there. He didn't ask to be part of Bucky's fairytale happily ever after. Wouldn't want to if he had the choice. 

Steve excused himself for a moment, having to check on something or the other, leaving Sam and Bucky alone.

"What was it like?"

"Hmm?"

Sam pointed at the cryo chamber and that's when Bucky realized he had been staring at it. He hoped his expression wasn't too ridiculous.

"Cryo?"

"Do you remember anything?"

"No," Bucky lied, with ease. "It was basically like going into a dreamless sleep."

Sam bought the lie, which to be fair, wasn't a total lie. Before this time, he hadn't remembered any of his past experiences in being frozen. Then again, considering how often his handlers had wiped it, it was possible that he just didn't remember. And that should probably be more terrifying than it was, but he wasn't sure recalling all the other imaginary worlds he had found himself in would be very healthy in the long term anyway.

"I wouldn't recommend it as a vacation though," he added and Sam snorted.

"Noted. I think that this is as close to a vacation that any of us are going to get it a while."

"It's pretty nice, all things considered."

"All things considered, it is."

Steve chose that moment to return, seeming unhappy.

"We have a situation," he said, grave, addressing Sam.

"Time to go?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, Vision is missing and he may be in trouble," Steve said. He glanced over at Bucky. "Buck ..."

"Don't worry, I'll get through the treatments," Bucky assured him. "You guys go take care of business. I'll be here when you get back."

Steve looked reluctant, Sam determined, but in the end, there was no other choice. 

It was harder to say goodbye than he thought.

"Stay safe," he said, exchanging a quick hug with Steve. He wanted to hug Sam, but it wasn't his place. "You too, Wilson."

"I'll have his back," Sam said, clearly wanting to assure Bucky. 

"Take care of yourself too," Bucky couldn't resist saying. Sam seemed surprised, but assented to Bucky's request anyway, not even adding a sarcastic comment along with the promise.

And then they were gone.

He hoped whatever they had to take care of wouldn't take long and they'd return soon, no worse off the wear, even if it was idealistic and he should and was beyond that.

Little did he know that they would return shortly.

Yet with them, they'd bring a war.

*****

The war was terrible and the worst part was they lost. These were monsters like Bucky had never seen before. He was well aware that they weren't alone in the universe, knew of the battle that the Avengers had fought in New York (he was frozen at the time), but to see it first hand was something else.

He got his arm back, but at what cost?

Because the truth was he didn't want to fight.

Was tired of fighting.

Yet he knew that there was little other choice. Wakanda had housed him, fixed him, and he owed it to them to help protect their people. To protect all their people.

It was looking bad and then Thor arrived, with new friends, including a talking raccoon (the world had gotten far too strange for Bucky's liking) who had a worrisome interest in his metal arm.

But at least they had hope.

Until there wasn't.

And all of a sudden, people were disappearing.

He was disappearing. Bits and pieces disappearing and turning into ash in front of his very eyes.

What the hell is going on?

Steve was right there, watching him, completely in shock.

"Steve ..."

The last thing he saw was his friend.

And the last thought he had of was Sam.

Please be okay.

Then nothing.

5 years later: 

It passed like a blink of an eye.

Bucky barely remembered disappearing, and then he was suddenly aware in the same spot. What the fuck?  He stumbled to his feet, looking at his hands - all body parts in tact - and glanced around. Steve was gone ... oh, God, did he disappear too? He was afraid, and took a careful step forward.

"Bucky?"

He turned and to his relief saw Sam. Sam, standing there, just as he remembered him. Whole, perfect.

"Sam!"

And then to his (pleasant) surprise, they were hugging. Sam fit right in his arms, and pulling away was hard but necessary, at least to find out the information he needed.

"What happened?"

"Man, I don't know," Sam said, glancing around. "Looks different than when ... whatever caused us to turn into ash."

"Less aliens and dead bodies around," Bucky remarked, ignoring Sam's pointed look. "What? I'm not wrong."

"Still pretty morbid." 

"Gentleman."

The third voice had them spinning in another direction, and he was greeted with a tall, pale, dark haired man in a ... cape? Who was floating?

"I believe," he said, in a deep voice. "I have the answers that you need. Quickly though, because you are needed elsewhere."

Bucky and Sam exchanged identical looks and then Bucky blew out a breath. "Let's hear it."

The truth was really stranger than fiction.

And in this case the truth came from someone named Strange, Dr Stephen Strange to be exact.

"So ... you're a wizard?" Sam asked, eyes wide.

"I prefer sorcerer," he said smoothly.

It had been five years and there was still a war. Or another war? Something that involved fixing what was broken.

Sam and Bucky had indeed disappeared along with half the population, including the aforementioned Dr Strange, thanks to Thanos, and now that they were all back.

"Captain America needs your help," Dr Strange had told them.

"Yeah, what else is new," Bucky muttered, but there was a sense of relief knowing that Steve was okay, doing what he was always doing- fighting.

When he said they didn't have a moment to spare, clearly he meant it, and they were transported into a place that definitely looked more like a war zone.

Sam went first, Strange realizing that the voice in Steve's ear was what he would need, looking perfect with his wings as he flew out. Steve was stumbling, one man against an army, but Strange hadn't only brought them.

"Avengers ..." Steve said, with gritted teeth, and Bucky prepared himself. "Assemble."

They weren't going to lose this fight.

And they didn't.

That didn't mean they didn't have losses, big losses- the Black Widow had died before they reappeared, and he watched as Tony Stark gave his life to protect everyone else, quietly mournful, along with many others. Tony may have (rightfully) hated and blamed Bucky for his parents' death, especially that of his mother, but Bucky felt a bit of sorrow that the other man was gone, before he could properly make amends.

Even more so when he found out he had left a wife and daughter behind.

"What a day," Sam had said, when they were preparing for the funeral.

"5 years," Bucky said, whistling. "Can you believe?"

"No ..." Said admitted, swallowing hard. "I can't even believe Nat is gone ... now Tony?"

"I'm sorry," Bucky murmured. He hadn't known the Black Widow very well, but she had meant a lot to Sam and Steve.

Sam didn't seem like he heard him at first, but then slowly nodded. 

Bucky made sure to stay by Sam's side during the funeral.

He waited till later to check on Steve, who apparently had much to say to him.

"I'm going to return the stones, Bucky," Steve said, making sure they were alone. "Tomorrow." The whole time travel situation, and the Infinity Stones was a lot to take in, and Bucky was still processing it all. 

"They're trusting you to time travel?" Bucky asked, trying to lighten the mood, but his friend's voice was heavy, and Bucky could read between the lines. "You're not coming back, are you?"

"No."

Steve had looked harrowed and haunted; clearly he had gone through plenty in the five years that they had been gone. Enough that going back to the 1940s seemed like a preferable option to staying.

"If you want ... you can come with me," Steve said and Bucky immediately turned it down.

"No," he said quickly and then smiled. "No ... some of these modern conveniences are pretty great." He thought an extra moment, and made sure to add, "And I don't want you going and saving me either. I've been through what I've been through, but I don't want my memories confused. Not anymore."

"Technically, I don't think I could," Steve confessed. "Whatever changes I make lead to a parallel timeline. This one will stay in tact regardless."

"Well," Bucky said, after a pause. "That's that then."

"If you want me to stay ..."

Bucky wasn't sure what he wanted for himself, much less Steve, but he still refused the offer. "Go find your happy ending, Steve."

"Thanks, Buck." He waited. "I'm thinking of giving Sam the shield ... asking him to take over as Captain America."

"He'd be perfect." And Bucky believed it; Sam represented all that was good and he couldn't imagine a better person to take over the role. Plus, it would give him an excuse to check in on him now and then. Maybe he would even need him to cover his back. He didn't want to fight, hadn't wanted to fight, but for Sam, well, he would consider it.

He may not be the husband from his dreams, but he was still pretty special. His dream hadn't really deferred much from reality in that sense.

Saying goodbye to Steve was bittersweet; to watch Steve disappear and then return an old man, having lived a whole life, was an experience, but he seemed at peace, in a way Bucky hadn't seen him since he had been around.

"You knew about that, didn't you?" Sam asked, shield in hand, once they were alone. It looked right in his hands.

"He told me," Bucky conceded. "Are you upset?"

"No," Sam said, glancing between Bucky and the shield. "He did what he had to. Are you? He's going to be around, but it's not exactly the same."

"It hasn't been the same since the 40s," Bucky pointed out. "I'll be fine." He nudged him lightly. "Shield looks good on you, Cap." 

"You think so?" Sam asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

"You don't?" Bucky didn't like the tone of Sam's voice.

"I think ... it'll take some getting used to."

"You'll get there." Bucky was more confident than he had been a while.

He should've taken note of the look on Sam's face, but he was more considering how he was going to make a life in this new future, five years after, and hoping Sam would have a place in it.

Little did he know.

Which is why two weeks later when Sam told him that he didn't intend to take up the shield and turn it over the government, Bucky had no idea what to do.

And that's when he stopped replying to Sam's text messages and phone calls.

*****

The sun set against the water, the night sky darkening.

Bucky smiled at Sam, who grinned back at him.

For the first time in a long time, Bucky felt at peace. Sam was Captain America, Bucky was ... someone who needed to make amends but had a future that was worth fighting for.

Seeing Sam's face, the light behind him giving him an almost ethereal glow, Bucky knew for certain that whatever dreams that he had of him couldn't compare to the reality.

Sam Wilson was stubborn, defiant, brave ... and absolutely perfect. If Bucky thought that the feelings he had for the dream version was deep, they were nothing in comparison to what he felt for the man standing by his side. The real thing. Maybe it was just as hopeless, but he appreciated what they had and what they were continuing to build.

"You going to head back to your sad apartment?" Sam asked, once the guests were gone, the two of them enjoying a beer on the porch.

"Eventually," Bucky agreed. "What about you?"

"Heading back to DC," Sam replied. "And I know you've been roping Sarah into your plans."

"Why, Samuel, whatever are you accusing me of?" The truth was that he had wanted them to move in together; for someone who had really liked living alone and thought he would stay that way, he was really liked the idea of seeing Sam on a daily basis.

Sarah Wilson was also more amazing than Bucky could've dreamed and he really enjoyed getting to know the family.

"You're an ass."

But it was said fondly.

Bucky just smirked and lifted his beer bottle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "What's wrong?"

Sam didn't respond right away, drinking his beer, staring out. "Sometimes, I don't get you."

"What's not to get?" Bucky asked, frowning. "I'm a simple man."

"The last thing you are is simple," Sam corrected. Bucky wasn't sure whether he should be flattered about that or not. "But man, sometimes, you make all these jokes and other times, the way you look at me ..."

Bucky's breath caught in his throat. Oh, so Sam had noticed. Sarah had called him out on his heart eyes toward her brother earlier, but the brother in question had seemed blissfully oblivious. Apparently, he was a bit more observant than Bucky or Sarah had given him credit for.

"Finish the sentence, Sam." Bucky should be afraid, but he felt confident. Sam wasn't going to kick him out of his life, even if his feelings were unrequited, which they probably were. If they had made it this far, he had no doubts they were going to be in each other's lives for a long time.

"Do you have a thing for me?"

"Yes."

"That easy?" Sam asked, squinting at him.

"Hardly," Bucky replied. "Been thinking about it for a long time."

"How long?" Sam asked curiously. Bucky would really appreciate if Sam got to the point, and just reject him already, but he was willing to go along with his questions for now.

"You asked me once," Bucky said, "of what I felt like when I went through cryo ..."

"Bucky ..."

"There's a point to this," Bucky said. "Do you remember?"

"Of course I do," Sam replied. "You said it was like falling into a dreamless sleep."

"It was, until that last time."

"You seemed shaken when you woke up," Sam said, eyebrows furrowing.

"You noticed?"

Sam just shrugged. "Couldn't help it."

"You like me," Bucky teased.

"Don't be getting a big head about it."

"Nope, too late, you've already admitted it," Bucky said gleefully.

"Bucky," Sam warned. It was easy to go off track, and fall into their usual banter, but it was clear that Sam didn't want to go in that direction. Not this time.

"Okay, okay." He took a deep breath and then told his truth, the marriage, everything, and Sam was quiet throughout, facial expressions changing while Bucky spoke, which was the only indication that he was reacting at all.

"Why me?" Sam asked when it was clear that Bucky was done.

"I don't know." Bucky swallowed hard. "Maybe there was a part of me ... that just knew."

"Knew?"

"That you could be good, for me. That maybe we could be good together."

"I'm not sure I'm that guy, Bucky," Sam admitted. "I can't compare to whatever dream image that you built up in your head."

"And I wouldn't want you to," Bucky insisted. "It's why I didn't say anything earlier ... because I knew you didn't and I wouldn't want to put that on you." He ran a hand through his short hair. "Then again, I ended up putting some unfair expectations on you anyway."

"It's fine, Bucky." And he knew that Sam wouldn't just say those things without meaning it so he felt oddly comforted. Sam let out a sudden chuckle. "Is it weird that I'm jealous of my dream self?"

Bucky's heart sped up. "Wait ... you ..."

"You had me hooked the first time you smiled," Sam said, wrinkling his nose. "I spent a long time fighting it."

"And now?" Bucky dared to ask.

"Now I think I want to figure out where this is going to go," Sam said, offering his hand. Bucky took it without hesitating, entwining their fingers. "Look, I am not promising marriage ..."

"How about a date?" Bucky asked, grinning. The last time he tried, it was pretty terrible, but with Sam, he knew it would be different.

"A date is good," Sam replied, matching his smile. They both stepped closer, Sam's hands dropping to Bucky's waist. "Out of curiosity, do I have to wait till after the first date to kiss you? I mean, I'm assuming my dream self got there first, which is I feel a little cheat-"

Bucky didn't let him finish the sentence, silencing him with a kiss.

And Sam didn't complain, kissing him back. As the sky continued to darken behind them, they didn't notice, only wrapped up in each other.

No, it wasn't as he had imagined.

It was better.

And the future looked suddenly looking very, very good.