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Sam finally catches his breath from laughing. When his breath settles into something manageable, he shares a winded smile with Bucky on the other side of the jacuzzi.
Sam reigns in the smile after a minute. Or, he tries to. The guy looks ridiculous. His skin is all damp and pinked from the heat, and in the yellow ochre light, he looks so damn at ease it’s giving Sam vertigo.
Probably been too long since he’s gotten out of this tub. He doesn't feel pruney or dehydrated, though. And it’s not like there’s a clock around. There’s not anything around.
But when Sam waits for panic or fear, there’s only contentment. Gratitude. Being able to sink into complete comfort and not feel an ounce of guilt.
Sam has no idea when the last time his head was so empty, the muscles in his neck and shoulders so loose. Probably a depressingly long time ago.
One thing he does know? The pleasant feelings will evaporate with the steam if he picks at the why too hard. If he looks this gift horse in the mouth, it’ll take a piece of Sam between its teeth.
He can’t do anything about the way his mind wanders, though.
They might be in a time loop, or a Groundhog Day situation. Maybe a pocket dimension. Possibly, he’s so stoned he doesn’t remember what he even took to get here.
It would be crazy if he was stuck in a time loop or something, though. With Bucky.
Sam would have some serious questions for the people in charge of the universe. If that were the case.
He barely even knows the guy, honestly, doesn’t feel particularly connected to him.
Wait, is Groundhog Day just a famous time loop?
Sam would ask his jacuzzi partner, but Bucky would just take it all serious, say something like 'the technical name is a temporal anomaly’ with that secret-nerd ex-asset accuracy that puts the little frown on his lips and a furrow between his eyebrows.
Sam snorts at the image it conjures; Bucky’s so easy to get a reaction out of.
He refocuses – or reopens his eyes? he has no idea what his gaze has been focused on – and smiles across the steaming water at Bucky.
His heart thrills with the sweet reminder that he doesn't have to be here alone, at least.
“Hey you,” Sam says when their eyes meet again.
“You’re drunk,” Bucky replies. It sounds like he’s trying to be accusing, but he’s slumped down until his shoulders are beneath the water, his eyelids low. It doesn't work. He's blanched all the menace right out of his bones.
Sam’s not drunk. Being drunk does not feel this good, and Bucky can’t get drunk, supposedly.
The two of them getting drunk together is literally laughable, maybe impossible.
It would explain why Sam feels so mushy when they look at each other though.
Bucky’s hair is long, tied up in a loose bun. Sam keeps fixating on stray bits clinging to the sides of his face and the back of his neck.
He kind of wants to take it all down and put his fingers through, see if Bucky sighs the same way Sam thinks he did when first stepping into the hot water.
“You’re drunk,” Sam retorts.
Bucky giggles .
And that’s – Sam’s not sure if he’s ever seen the guy laugh , let alone make a noise so adorably amused.
Sam always figured getting anything beyond an exasperated eye roll was going to take years. But it's only been – they've only been sitting here for a few – it can’t have been more than an hour?
“What?”
Bucky’s smile has dropped into something uncomfortable, still soft but wobbly at the edges. Sam suddenly feels the weight of just how long he’s been looking. It feels like hours when it can’t have been more than half a minute.
“Nothing,” Sam answers immediately, daring to slide closer to him. “You just look –”
“You look like you’re trying to have fun without me.”
Sam hadn’t even seen her approach. He still can’t really sense anything past a foot or so outside of the tub, but none of that matters because now Natasha’s here too.
He can’t even remember the last time any of them got to just hang out. There was always some shit waiting for them just around the corner.
But it’s easy enough to let those memories go because Natasha’s wearing a black bikini and stepping down into the water with him.
“Hey beautiful,” Sam says, wrapping her up in a full-bodied hug.
She hugs him back with a closely held enthusiasm and it takes all of him not to linger too long. Eventually, he sits back into his spot, shifting slightly until the jets line up along his spine. He watches with interest as Bucky and Nat hold quiet eye contact.
She leans in to kiss him on the cheek, and Sam’s smile blooms of its own accord. She settles into a space between the two of them, closes her eyes, and tilts her head back on the edge.
The blonde at the ends of her hair and the gauzy white cover-up beneath the water reflecting in the water around her makes her look ethereal. There’s a catch in Sam's throat when he tries to swallow, but Sam lets it dissolves with the bubbles around him.
For a while, there’s only the quiet hum of the motor and the burble of the warm water. He can’t stop looking at the two of them. Bucky’s jaw is missing the taught line of stress Sam’s gotten used to. Natasha’s eyebrows are so delicate when there’s nothing to think or worry about.
Sam knows his job is to fill silences with some kind of banter, some joke or question that’ll get everyone out of their head. They’ve never shared a comfortable silence before, though. Suddenly, Steve’s absence looms large. It’s extremely on brand that he would miss the first chill moment Sam’s had in what feels like a decade.
“Sorry,” Natasha says quietly. There’s an edge of conspiracy to her voice as she cracks open one eye. “Was I interrupting something?”
“No,” Bucky says immediately.
“He wishes,” Sam says.
Natasha laughs, and Bucky splutters for a minute before deciding a scowl is his best response. It only makes her laugh harder, Sam following right behind.
“Aw,” she coos after catching her breath. “Tell me the big bad Winter Soldier isn’t still –”
“Red,” Bucky interrupts with a growl. To Sam’s surprise, she stops her sentence without a fuss.
“Wait.” Sam sits up. “What does that mean? Bucky isn’t still what-?”
“You’ll figure it out,” she says, smirking that familiar know-it-all grin.
Sam pouts, but Bucky actually groans.
“Relax,” Nat says softly. “I won’t be here to blow up your spot much longer.”
They’ve been friends for almost half a decade, fugitives together for a year and Sam still needs a compass to navigate his way through her cryptic advice and conversation, sometimes. He knows his day is coming, though. Somewhere just over the horizon, he and Nat get entire days to shit-talk and flirt without the government hunting them down.
Looking at her softly smiling face, Sam feels seconds away from dissolving right into the water.
The smile Bucky gives him is small, but sweet and full of promise.
Bucky’s eyes go wide, watching something over Sam's shoulder. The moment Sam turns, he knows the time in the tub is gone.
The heat dissipates and he's magicked into his gunmetal armor and sleek tactical wings. Bucky stands in front of him and god, up close he’s – damn.
He reaches out and touches Sam’s chest, but before either of them can react, Bucky is gone.
In his place is a sparkling gold circle. And Dr. Strange.
Sam’s wings deploy, but before he lets himself join the battle below he remembers.
“Wait!”
“What is it?” The Wizard says, “We don’t exactly have time to chat right now.”
Sam scowls and hates that his first thought is to ask where Bucky disappeared to.
“I’m ready, it’s fine.” Sam stands straighter as the familiar weight of his gear settles onto his back and shoulders. “Just make sure my portal is on Steve’s left.”