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They land in D.C. by noon. Sam is tired, hungry, and acutely aware of his patience slipping away as the seconds tick by, flowing through the molasses-slow river of time.
Nobody is doing anything wrong, really. Bucky is doing his intense thousand yard stare thing, and Torres is jabbering about something or other. Sam isn’t really paying attention to either of them. His phone rests on his thigh, and he checks it minutely for texts from Sarah in response to his earlier message confirming that their mission was over.
Bucky shifts a little, and Sam only notices because he had been so still before. He feels a tendril of annoyance unfold in his gut. He knows it’s irrational, knows he’s just exhausted and uncomfortable, but his hand clenches tighter around his phone. Bucky’s tension is palpable, and Sam feels like he’s absorbing it as through osmosis.
“-and then he just straight up walks out the door,” Torres is saying as he goes through some papers. The kid can’t seem to focus on a single task, he has to be humming or singing or fidgeting or talking as he does things like paperwork. “He just left, like, nope, I’m done here. It was the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever seen someone ranking that high in the military do. And like, me and a lot of the other guys in there were new, so it was like, really nerve-wracking for us,” he’s laughing under his breath now, “and we just look around at each other like what the- oh, Sam, did you get the name of the Colonel we talked with at the base in Toledo?”
Sam bites back a groan, caressing his throbbing head with deft fingers. He doesn’t have the mental energy to keep up with Joaquin’s mercurial ramblings. “Uh… Lopez, I think,” he manages. Bucky shifts and he almost jumps out of his skin. He presses the heel of his boot to the floor and clenches his jaw.
The door of the cargo jet opens, and Bucky is on his feet and is walking out without so much as a ‘goodbye,’ and that’s the final straw.
“ Really, Buck?” he snaps. His tone is harsh, and he knows it’s maybe a little uncalled for. In retrospect, he feels bad about the little spark of satisfaction he gains when Bucky freezes mid step and turns to face him, face blank and eyes dull.
The thing about Bucky is, he wears his heart on his sleeve in a way that is, quite honestly, a miracle considering what he’s been through. He usually is very upfront and even confrontational about his opinions in a tell me I’m wrong, I dare you, sort of way. But sometimes, when he’s weighed down by bad memories or stress, he shuts down and goes silent. His stare goes from piercing to a disturbingly juxtaposed distant hypervigilance, and his behavior goes from aggressively independent to passive and pliant. Sam has seen it before a few times, and had silently vowed to help him to avoid those incidents.
Now, though, he’s bone-tired and wound up and stressed out, and he can’t deal with one more thing, and they need to debrief. Bucky hates debriefing and avoids it whenever possible, which usually puts all of the work on Sam. Sam usually doesn’t mind, but today, the thought of Bucky going home to relax while Sam is stuck working grates on his nerves so insistently he can’t think.
“We need to debrief with Rhodey and Fury,” Sam says, intentionally keeping his tone even.
“Right,” Bucky says, voice flat.
***
Torres gives his report first, having already filled out his paperwork on the plane. His job is more technical than Sam and Bucky’s, which is basically to negotiate when possible and use force when it’s not.
This mission had been of the latter category. A group of extremists had taken a small factory hostage and demanded money and supplies in exchange for the workers’ lives. The kicker was, they’d gotten their hands on some Chitauri weapons somehow and had taken out the STRIKE force that had been sent in to neutralize the threat. Sam and Bucky had arrived and Sam tried to negotiate while Bucky took his sniper rifle to an adjacent building. Things had escalated, and they’d neutralized the extremists. Five of the thirty hostages had been killed.
Torres had been in charge of comms and liaising with the local law enforcements. His report sounded too dull to Sam’s ears, too mechanical. He zones out.
When it’s his turn to talk, he keeps his report as short as possible and then goes back to focusing on not falling asleep in his chair. Bucky gives his report, somehow more clipped than Sam’s had been.
“Alright, get some rest, you guys,” Rhodey says.
Sam drags himself from his chair and out the door.
***
He finally hears from Sarah later in the lobby. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and a picture of Sarah and AJ and Cass on the boat fills his lock screen. He smiles and brings the phone to his ear.
“Hey,” he says with a sigh.
“Hey yourself,” Sarah replies, a distinctly sisterly judging tone to her voice. “You sound tired.”
He laughs, slightly self-deprecating. “You have no idea.”
“Mhm. Well, get yourself some rest, then get your ass down here. The boys are excited to see you.”
He smiles at the thought. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Tell them I’m excited to see them too.”
“Sure thing. Is your shadow accompanying you this time?”
Sam scrunches his nose. “My what?”
“Your shadow. Y’know, shaggy hair, puppy eyes, metal arm? Ringing a bell?”
He snorts. “Oh, right, that shadow. I’ll ask him.”
Sarah hums. “You do that. By the way, when you get here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Uh oh. There’s something off about the way she says it, something familiar and foreboding. Sam frowns, wracks the memories of his dead-tired brain, and comes up with something that somehow worsens his mood.
“Who.”
Sarah has the audacity to giggle at the warning quality of his voice. “You’ll see. Get down here. I gotta go, the boys need their dinner.”
Sam lets it go for now. “Alright, love you, bye.”
“Love you.”
Sam hangs up and massages his temples. Sarah’s got a crush. God help him.
***
He goes to his designated bedroom in the compound and gets a solid four hours of sleep. When he wakes up, he feels a lot better, bar his dry mouth and growling stomach.
He showers, gets dressed, and walks into the communal kitchen. There are breakfast sandwiches in the fridge, and he heats up two and grabs a glass of water. When the sandwiches are done, he puts them on a plate and walks over to the table where Bucky is nursing a coffee.
“Does that even work on you?” Sam asks around a mouthful of croissant and egg and cheese.
“Placebo effect,” Bucky says with a sigh, taking a sip and grimacing at the taste. “Don’t ruin it for me.”
“You know you can add sugar and cream, right,” Sam deadpans.
Bucky glares and takes another long sip. Steam from the coffee billows up into his face, but he holds eye contact.
“Right,” Sam sighs. “So, I’m heading down to Delacroix today, and Sarah was wondering if you were coming.”
Bucky smirks, the asshole. “Oh she was, was she?”
“Drop the attitude, apparently she’s got a new boyfriend.”
Bucky actually snickers. “Oh, that explains your whole,” he gestures vaguely.
“Right, I have no idea what that means,” Sam says.
“You know exactly-”
“No, see, when you wave your arms around you look like you’re signaling traffic, it’s incomprehensible-”
“To you, maybe.”
“Shut up, you don’t know anything.”
“Oh, now I don’t know anything, I see how it is.”
Sam sighs and prays to any deity that may or may not exist to give him strength. “Are you coming or not,” he finally says.
Bucky squints at him, searching, sobering the mood a little. “Yeah,” he says finally, tone careful, and oh, that reminds Sam of their little confrontation yesterday.
“Thanks, man,” he says, serious.
Bucky nods, not meeting his eyes. “No problem,” he says softly.
***
When they arrive at Sarah’s, they’re greeted by AJ and Cass at the end of the driveway. Sam’s driving (he’s never making the mistake of letting Bucky drive again), and they’re yelling greetings whilst trying to keep up with the front of Sam’s truck. He teasingly accelerates a little, then slows to let them catch up.
“Hi, Uncle Sam!”
“AJ, move, let me-”
“-and I made the three pointer-”
“Hi Uncle Sam, hi Bucky!”
“Dylan was like, woah, dude, and-”
Sam feels better than he has in days, soaking in the joyful chaos of the obstacles in the way of the door of his truck. Bucky is shaking in silent laughter beside him.
“Okay, okay, boys,” he finally says, “How about you let me get out of the truck, huh?”
They both immediately scuttle backwards, still talking. Bucky gets out with his bag over his shoulder, and Cass is by his side in an instant, offering to carry it for him. Sam bites his cheek to hide a laugh. He’d told AJ and Cass how old Bucky was the first time he was there, and Cass had been surreptitiously helping him out whenever he could ever since.
“So,” Sam says, “You boys been good for your mom?”
“Sure,” AJ says, eyes shifting suspiciously. “Anyway. Do you know Alex?”
Sam frowns. “Who’s Alex?”
“He’s mom’s new boyfriend!” Cass offers, clinging to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “He’s cool, he plays Go Fish with us.”
Sam tries not to scowl at the dirt. He usually plays Go Fish with the boys. It’s his thing with them, something they do in the evenings when he’s there.
“That’s nice,” he manages, sounding unenthusiastic even to his own ears. He sees Bucky wince.
“He’s okay, I guess,” AJ mutters, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and typing on it so rapidly Sam can’t make out where his fingers are on the screen. “Dylan just texted, he wants to hang out. I gotta ask mom. See you later Uncle Sam, Uncle Bucky.” He lopes in ahead of them.
***
Sarah is stirring something in a large pot when they enter the kitchen. She greets Bucky with a hug, then punches Sam in the shoulder.
"So," she says, and Sam immediately prepares for the worst. "Uh, I'm seeing someone. His name is Alex, and we've gone on a few dates, and I like him, so we're dating now."
"Yes," Bucky says, "That's typically how that works."
Sarah swats at him and makes a sound of protest. She doesn't hit him nearly as hard as she does Sam, he notes with dismay.
"You, shush," she says, returning to her pot and pointing the spoon at him. "And you," she says, turning to face Sam, "Alex is staying in town for the week, and he's been using your room."
He's what, Sam thinks, annoyance boiling in his gut like a particularly excited can of soda trying its hand at riding a bronc.
"And," Sarah continues, oblivious to her brother's internal turmoil, "With Bucky on the couch, you can't sleep there. So, problem solving time."
"He could sleep on the boat," Bucky offers, sneaking a slice of carrot from the cutting board. Sam expects Sarah to smack his knuckles with her spoon, but she just levels him with a fond look. It really isn't fair.
"Yes, thank you, Buck, that's very helpful," Sam groans.
"Welcome."
Sam rolls his eyes.
Sarah's grinning. "Well, we got that air mattress. I figure we can either set you up in your room with Alex, or you can crash in the living room with Bucky."
Sam glares at the floor. It's clean, he notices, no dust in sight. "Isn't AJ going to Dylan's? I could take his room."
"Nope," Sarah says, "I told him he to be back by eight since we got company."
"How about Alex crashes with Bucky," he suggests, "And I get my room?"
"Nope," Sarah says. Bucky snickers and snatches another carrot slice. Without reprimand. Asshole.
Sam huffs. He's not being dramatic. It's his room, has been his whole life. He should have first dibs on it. Sarah should have asked before lending it out to some dude he doesn't even know. It's just common courtesy.
"Fine," he says, "I'll sleep in the living room."
Bucky sighs. "You snore, though."
Sam levels him with a look of utter indifference. "Deal with it," he says.
"Glad we've got that settled," Sarah says.
***
For dinner they have snapper chowder, and it is delicious. Sam has three helpings, and Bucky has six. Sam would have had more, expect Alex was there to join them for dinner, and his presence made Sam lose his appetite.
It's not that Alex seems like a bad sort of guy. If anything, he's overwhelmingly mediocre. But Sam just. Sam just-
Sam can't stand the guy.
First off, his clothing is terrible. He wears whitewashed jeans with rips in them, like the intentional kinds of rips for "style" that seem to be common among teenagers. This guy is not a teenager. He's 35, at least. And his shirt is almost worse. He's wearing one of those white tank tops with a short sleeve dark green button up shirt open over it. The shirt has tiny red and yellow and blue horizontal lines all over it.
It hurts Sam's eyes.
Second, his hair is too poofy. It’s distracting.
Third, he makes stupid jokes that aren’t even funny that make Sarah giggle. Giggle. Sarah never giggles.
By the time they’re done with dinner, Sam is resisting the urge to hit his head on the table repeatedly in order to escape Alex’s presence.
Sarah sends the boys outside to play until bedtime, and brings out a bottle of wine and pours four glasses, keeping one for herself and handing the rest to Sam, Alex, and Bucky.
“So,” she says, “Sam, tell Alex about yourself.”
They all stare at him expectantly. What the fuck, Sam thinks.
“Uh,” he says, “I was in the air force, and now I work with Bucky. I like long walks on the beach, good company, and good music.”
Sarah glares, unimpressed. Bucky applauds. He’s probably being sarcastic, but really, it’s hard to tell sometimes so Sam takes it as a win. Alex watches Bucky clapping for a second, seems to notice that one of his hands is not like the other, processes that (quite slowly, Sam thinks), then joins in on the applause.
A follower, Sam says in his head, internal voice sounding surprisingly sinister for some reason, how interesting.
The thing is, if Bucky is being serious, then Alex is applauding him without even knowing him well, which rubs Sam the wrong way. But if Bucky is being sarcastic (which he probably is) then Alex is also being sarcastic, which also rubs Sam the wrong way.
It’s not looking too good for Alex, in Sam’s book.
“Alright,” Sarah says. “Well, that’s how we know Bucky, if you were wondering who the random white dude is.”
Bucky snorts a laugh.
“That’s cool,” Alex says. “So, uh, I’m Alexander Carson, and I live a couple of hours up north. I work as a data analyst for a company up there, and I met Sarah through a mutual friend.”
Jeez, this guy sounds like a Wheel of Fortune contestant, Sam thinks. Then Bucky says, “Do you work for Hydra?” and Sam almost falls out of his seat.
They all sort of freeze.
“Because everyone else I’ve met who’s named Alexander worked for Hydra in some way,” Bucky continues, swirling the wine in his cup.
“Uh,” Alex says, clutching his glass, “No.”
Bucky stares into his eyes and gives a small, sharp grin. “Good.”
“Right!” Sarah says, clapping her hands together. “How about we play some cards?”
***
They play a few rounds of Euchre. Alex doesn’t know how to play Euchre, so Sarah spends the entire time fawning over his (possibly intentional) mistakes. Bucky is counting cards, and Sam doesn’t say anything about it if only to spite his sister.
At nine o’clock, Sarah gets up to call the boys inside. Bucky volunteers to put them to bed, which Sam grudgingly respects him a bit for. They can be difficult at bedtime sometimes.
“So,” Alex says when Sarah gets up to put the wine glasses in the sink. “Your sister is pretty great.”
“I know,” Sam says with meaning, doing his best to pull a page out of Bucky’s book and stare into his soul.
“I hope you’re okay with me taking your room and everything.”
“Oh, you’re fine,” Sam says idly while his brain finishes the sentence with, you fucking bastard.
It’s maybe a little harsh, but he could care less.
Sarah walks back in with a glass of water. She takes a sip. “I’m glad you guys could meet each other,” she says.
Alex grins. His teeth are stupidly straight. “Me too.”
He sits and listens to them flirt with each other for a few more minutes before Sarah dictates that it’s time to go say goodnight to AJ and Cass.
“I’ll come too,” Sam says.
“Me too,” Alex says. Sam dies a little inside.
***
“And Ivan’s horse is eaten by the wolf,” Bucky is saying.
“Oh no!” Cass whines, eyes wide and shiny.
Bucky hums. “Yup. Ivan was sad, too. Actually he was so sad that the wolf felt sorry for him, too.”
“Really?” Cass asks.
“Yup. He offers to help Ivan find the firebird, so Ivan gets to ride him.”
“Cool,” AJ mutters.
“The wolf helps Ivan find the firebird, ‘cause he’s good at hunting, like all wolves are.”
“Wow,” Cass says.
“Mmhm. And then Ivan finds a princess named Elena the Beautiful, and they fall in love. The wolf helps them run away together.”
“That’s a nice story, except for the part with the horse,” Cass says.
“That’s what I thought too, but Nikolay said that it was a necessary plot device.”
“That’s nice,” Cass says drowsily.
AJ gets up off the bed and starts heading toward the door.
“Night, AJ,” Sarah says softly as he walks past where she and Sam and Alex are huddled together behind the door in the hallway.
He looks at them like they’re weird. “Night,” he says.
Sarah walks into Cass’s room to say goodnight, and Bucky walks out.
“That was a nice story, Buck,” Sam says.
Bucky nods. “Yeah,” he says, it is.”
***
Sam doesn’t bother with the air mattress. He piles some blankets on the floor and grabs a pillow.
“You sure that’s enough?” Sarah asks dubiously.
“Yeah,” he says, fluffing a pillow.
“Give him another pillow,” Bucky grumbles from the couch. “He snores.”
Sarah tosses one at Sam’s face. “Don’t I know it,” she chortles. “He’s like a goddamn lawnmower.”
“He’s like his piece of shit truck that sounds like it’s screaming in agony every time he turns it on.”
Sarah laughs.
“Hey!” Sam protests.
He gets settled, and Sarah goes upstairs to bed, in a separate room than Alex, thank God.
He lies still, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to Bucky’s even breathing. Eventually it’s dark enough that he can’t see where anything is. He closes his eyes and begins to drift off. Then,
“Sam,” Bucky whispers, “You awake?”
Sam sighs. “Yep,” he whispers back.
“You think Alex is annoying too, right?”
“Hell yeah.” He’s honestly a little relieved that Bucky doesn’t like him either. It feels like a sort of validation.
“Okay,” Bucky whispers, then goes quiet.
Sam goes back to listening to his even breathing, and wonders if he’s actually falling asleep. Bucky doesn’t seem to sleep much these days, if his mood is anything to go by. Sam’s been meaning to say something about it, but it never seems like the right time.
Come to think of it, Bucky had been pretty jumpy on the last mission. And Sam’s mood hadn’t helped anything. He sighs.
“Bucky,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for snapping at you on the plane. It was uncalled for.”
There’s a pause. He hears Bucky inhale, exhale. Then, “Thanks. I’m sorry too.”
“You’re good.”
More silence.
“Do you think Alex uses product in his hair?” Bucky asks.
Sam stifles a laugh. “Oh, definitely. And is it just me, or does he walk weird?”
“He fucking sways.” Bucky’s laughing too, now.
“Like a hula dancer,” Sam says, cracking up. Bucky snorts, and then they’re both dissolving into fits of laughter.
There’s steps on the stairs, and Sarah turns on the light. Sam squints.
“Boys,” she hisses, “If you can’t behave, you’re sleeping in separate rooms. Understand?”
Sam wets his lips. “Yes, ma’am,” Bucky says solemnly.
She nods and turns off the light. “Good night.”
***
The next morning, Sarah cooks breakfast, because she is amazing. AJ runs off to hang out with Dylan, and Cass reads a book in the living room. Bucky’s still sleeping on the couch, much to Sam’s delight.
Sarah runs out to get the mail, and Alex sways his way over to Sam.
“So,” he says, “I gather you don’t like me much.”
Sam considers him. “I never said-”
Alex holds up a hand. “I get it,” he continues, “You’re her big brother. I just- I do really like her, and I want her to be happy. I just wanted you to know that.”
Sam studies him. He seems earnest. Sincere. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
“Alright,” Sam says, a little kinder, “I appreciate it, man.”
Alex smiles.
“But if you hurt her, you’re fish bait.”
Alex nods, eyes wide.
“That means dead, if you weren’t aware,” Bucky says, walking into the room and fixing Alex with his Winter Soldier Stare TM . “I’m very good at cutting things into small pieces.”
Alex nods, eyes wider.
Bucky grins, and claps him on the shoulder harder than necessary on his way outside. “Have a good day, pal.”
“Eat something, Buck!” Sam calls after him.
“Yes, mother!”
Sam makes a plate, gives Alex a look like, Can you believe this guy? and follows Bucky outside.
Alex stays inside and probably reassesses all of the choices he’s made in his life so far that led him to this moment.