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“The hell are you doing out of bed, Sam?” Bucky growled at his husband. Sam was currently hunched over the kitchen counter. His right arm trembled slightly as he spread peanut butter onto a slice of bread while his left arm was wrapped painfully around his ribs.
“I’m making a sandwich, Bucky. What does it look like?” He had been aiming for nonchalant, but the pain of his broken ribs made his voice come out in a hiss.
“I could have made you the damn sandwich. You need to be in bed resting.”
“I think I can handle some peanut butter and bread. I know you don’t trust me on missions, but you could at least let me make a sandwich.”
Bucky said nothing, just stomped out of the kitchen with his face in muted fury. Sam sighed as he dropped his head onto the counter. He and Bucky had been at this argument for going on a week, and he didn’t know how much more of his surly husband he could take.
Last week they had been on an intel-gathering mission tailing one of Sharon’s contacts in Madripoor, when the situation had turned hostile. He, Bucky and Joaquin had been able to regain control of the situation without it turning into too much of a mess, but Sam had gotten pretty banged up in the process. He had only landed himself a weekend in the hospital, and a month and a half on medical leave, but Bucky had been insufferable ever since. Sam just didn’t understand what the big deal was. Injuries were the name of the game. Bucky knew that. Lord knows he had come home on many occasions with enough injuries to drive Sam crazy.
Sighing in defeat, he hobbled back to his room with a half-finished sandwich.
Emma-Jean looked blankly out of the truck window as Bex chattered to Papa about her day on their way home from school. Normally, she would be an enthusiastic participant in the conversation, but she had a lot on her mind lately.
About a week earlier, her best friend, Sasha, came to school with tear tracks and red puffy eyes.
“What’s wrong, Sasha?” she had asked as they walked to the fifth-grade hallway where their lockers were.
“Nothing,” she had responded. Emma-Jean was unconvinced.
“It doesn’t look like nothing. Your eyes are red like you’ve been crying. Did something happen?”
“I just don’t wanna talk about it right now,” she snapped.
“Okay,” Emma-Jean relented.
Later that day, during recess, Sasha blurted out what was wrong as their friend group sat drawing at the picnic tables.
“Mama and Daddy are getting a divorce.”
“I’m sorry Sasha,” David said after a few moments of awkward silence. “I was sad when my parents got a divorce.”
“What’s a divorce? Is it like an illness?” Emma-Jean asked. If it was enough to make Sasha cry, it had to be something bad. She knew how upsetting it could be when a loved one was sick or hurt. She always hated it when Daddy or Papa came home from a mission with an injury.
“It’s when parents decide not to be married anymore,” Lacie chimed in as she reached for a green crayon.
“Yeah, Daddy said they’re going to move into different houses and maybe even marry other people one day,” Sasha whispered. Emma-Jean noticed her paper was stained with tears as she scribbled blue lines all over it.
“But why would they do that? Isn’t marriage supposed to be forever? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Mama says it’s because Daddy doesn’t love her anymore,” Sasha sniffled. “She says when two people yell and argue a lot, that means that they don’t love each other anymore and they can’t be married anymore.”
“That’s what my dad told me to,” David said. “He said that sometimes love disappears and if you stay with someone you don’t love you get even more hurt. So, you gotta quit the marriage.”
“But Bex and I argue, and I still love her. And sometimes Daddy and Papa argue, but they always say they love each other after,” Emma-Jean felt lost. It didn’t make sense. Sasha started to sob in earnest. Despite her confusion and mounting fear, Emma-Jean placed a comforting hand on her distraught friend’s shoulder.
“I think its different with parents. Siblings are supposed to argue all the time. I argue with my big sister every day. Sometimes I wish we could get a divorce, but she’s like my parent so we’re stuck with each other,” Lacie said as she gently pushed a napkin from her lunch box into Sasha’s hand.
“My parents started out saying they loved each other after arguing, but then one day Dad left and slammed the door. Mom cried all night. After that, they argued even more, but they didn’t say they loved each other anymore,” David said. He seemed unbothered as he scrawled his name across the top of his sailboat drawing.
“I just don’t know what to do!” Sasha wailed.
“Hey, it won’t be so bad. It’s sad at first, but now I have two bedrooms, and my stepmom Jillian is really nice,” David comforted. “Maybe you’ll get that stuff too.”
Sasha’s tears seemed to slow as she thought about it. Emma-Jean wasn’t quite sure two bedrooms were worth it. This divorce business seemed horrible and if it could happen to Sasha’s parents, who were really nice and happy, then it could happen to anyone.
That day had been playing over and over in her mind ever since, and when her Daddy and Papa had returned from their mission, she became more fearful. Daddy had gotten hurt, which had scared her and Bex, but Papa’s reaction was even scarier. He had seemed mad at Daddy, and that rarely happened. Instead of their playful arguing, they both seemed irritated with each other.
“Emma-Bear?”
She turned away from the window. Papa had pulled the truck into their driveway, and he was staring at her in concern. She hadn’t known they’d made it home already.
“Hmm?”
“How was your day, Sweetheart?”
“It was fine.”
“You sure? You’ve been really quiet lately. Is everything alright?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Look Buck, how long are you going to sulk around here like a child?” Sam finally exploded. He’d had it. He was tired of giving space and waiting Bucky out. It was time to employ a direct and aggressive approach. It was late evening and they’d been sitting in the living room. In place of their usual easy companionship had been an undercurrent of tension, and Sam was over it.
“I’m not sulking, Sam.”
“You could have definitely fooled me. It’s been a week of non-stop sulking and grumpiness from you. So, spit it out.”
“If you cared, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation,” Bucky snapped, slamming the book he had been pretending to read on the coffee table.
“Oh, don’t do that! Am I supposed to be a mind reader or something?”
“No, but you’re damn well supposed to understand that doing reckless shit during missions is a sure way to piss me off.”
“We’re still hung up on that? Jesus, Bucky! I broke a few ribs. Big deal! I’ve had worse. You’ve had worse.”
“It is a goddamn big deal, Sam. This is the shit that pisses me off with you.”
“Oh, it pisses you off? Well since we’re on the subject, let’s talk about what pisses me off. The fact that I’m mission leader and you refuse to recognize that-that pisses me off.”
“Maybe if my mission leader wasn’t so goddamned reckless, I would recognize that!” Bucky bellowed.
“Reckless? I was doing my goddamn job. What in the hell else was I supposed to do? It’s not like any of us knew what was about to happen. You and Joaquin needed backup in the air, and that’s what I did.”
“You should have let me handle it. I told you I had it under control.”
“Yeah, because you taking on 50 well-funded, well-trained guards on your own was something I was definitely gonna let slide,” Sam snorted derisively.
“If you had, we wouldn’t be here,” Bucky reminded him petulantly.
“Whatever Bucky. I’m not going to keep going in circles with you about this.” Sam stood and hobbled towards the front door.
“And just where are you going?”
“To Sarah’s. If you’re going to be an ass, I’m not gonna be here to be your punching bag.” Sam stepped into his shoes, swiped the keys from the hook, and flung open the door. “I’ll be back in time for you to have the truck to take the girls to school tomorrow.” He slammed the door.
Bucky glared at the shut door for several moments before slinking up the stairs.
Both Sam and Bucky had figured that both girls were long gone to dream world by the time things had come to a head, but unbeknownst to the both of them, Emma-Jean lie awake in her bed, listening to their raised angry voices and choking down sobs as she heard her Daddy slam the front door.
Sam returned around 6:30 AM the next morning. The space and Sarah’s fussing had given him some clarity.
“Samuel Thomas Wilson, you are hardheaded,” Sarah had immediately said when she opened up her door at 11:00 PM to see her fuming brother hunched over on the doorstep.
“I didn’t even tell you what happened,” Sam had grumbled as he walked in.
“You didn’t have to. And you know you shouldn’t be driving with those broken ribs.”
“Please, Sarah. Not you too.” Sarah ignored him and pointed towards the couch.
“You gonna tell me what happened?”
“It depends. Can you avoid turning in to Mama and lecturing me?”
“All I can offer is to let you finish before I start my lecture,” Sarah said with a shrug as she sat next to him. Sam sighed, that was probably the best he was gonna get, and secretly he had come to Sarah to hear the unbiased truth.
After explaining everything, Sarah rolled her eyes.
“Like I said, hardheaded. For someone who counsels Vets in his spare time, you have some real bad communication tendencies going on.”
“What are you talking about, Sarah?” Sam huffed indignantly. “I let him have his feelings. I gave him every opportunity to tell me what his problem was.”
“No. You pulled a reckless stunt, probably to protect him, Bucky got scared, which manifested as anger, and neither of you deemed it fit to exchange more than heated words.” Sam had rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Well, he could have told me he was scared,” he’d huffed, but the fire had long been extinguished.
“Oh, I’m not saying he’s any better or any less at fault than you. Look bro, Bucky is protective of you to a fault. That man has a noble complex that’d put you to shame, and that’s saying something. Tomorrow, you go home, and you really hear him out. And you really talk about your feelings with him, you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam had grumbled. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Sarah probably had a point.
Walking into the house, it was already a buzz with activity. Bex was rifling through her backpack looking for God-knew-what and Bucky was in the kitchen getting breakfast together.
“Hi Daddy,” Bex chirped, racing over to hug him.
“Careful Bex, your Daddy’s still sore,” Bucky called from the kitchen. She halted so abruptly that she almost toppled over. Sam chuckled and bent down to hug her gently.
“Morning Bex. You about ready for school?”
“Yep. Just gotta find my reading folder.
“It’s on the kitchen table, Love,” Bucky said, exiting the kitchen. “And your pancakes are ready for you.”
“Yay. Thank you, Papa!” she cheered, speeding into the kitchen.
“Morning, Buck,” Sam said tentatively.
“Morning Sammy,” he responded. Things felt awkward, but there was no undercurrent of tension. Sam felt that once he took Sarah’s advice, things would be alright.
“Where’s Em?”
Bucky looked around the living room.
“I thought she was in here,” he said. “Bex, have you seen your sissy this morning?”
“Nope.”
The two men exchanged a look. Emma-Jean was an early riser. She wasn’t as energetic as Bex, but she enjoyed getting up early so she could start off her day unrushed.
“She must not be feeling well,” Sam said.
They both made their way to Emma-Jean’s room. The door was closed.
“I don’t hear anything,” Bucky whispered.
“Emma-Bear,” Sam called softly as he knocked. “Sweetheart are you awake?”
There was no response.
“Are you feeling okay, Love?” Bucky called.
There was still no answer. After a few moments of deliberation, Sam opened the door.
Emma-Jean was still in her pajamas and curled up tightly around her pillow. Immediately Sam and Bucky knew something was wrong.
“Emma-Bear, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, walking over to her and placing the back of his hand on her forehead. She didn’t feel warm to him, but he beckoned Bucky over for a second opinion.
Emma-Jean didn’t respond, and as Bucky placed his Vibranium hand against her cheek, he noted that it was wet.
“Sweetheart,” he said, gently tipping her face up to get a better look. “What’s the matter?” The tears began to fall in earnest as she sat up and looked at her dads.
“Baby girl, you’ve got to tell us what’s wrong so we can help,” Sam said.
“Daddy, do you love Papa?”
Sam was taken aback at the sniffled question.
“Of course I do, Emma-Bear. What makes you ask that?”
“You love him even if you were yelling at each other last night and you left?”
Bucky and Sam shared a wince. They hadn’t meant for either of the girls to hear that. They tried not to have too many serious arguments within earshot of them, but things had gotten more than a little out of hand last night.
“Honey, sometimes people argue and get mad at each other. It doesn’t mean they don’t love each other,” Bucky said softly.
“Your Papa’s right. I mean, you and Bex argue sometimes, and you still love her, right?” Sam asked.
“But it’s different with parents!” Emma-Jean cried. “I don’t want you to get a divorce. I don’t want you to live in different houses. I don’t want two different rooms.”
“Oh baby, no one’s getting a divorce,” Sam said. Both men settled on the bed on either side of Emma-Jean and wrapped her up in their arms.
“Where is all of this coming from?” Bucky asked after her sobs had calmed down.
“Sasha. Her Mama and Daddy are getting a divorce because they don’t love each other anymore, and David said his parents got a divorce because they argued too much, and one day his daddy got so mad he left and slammed the door, and you and Daddy have been arguing a lot, and then Daddy left and slammed the door.”
“Em, I’m so sorry about your friend. Divorces are really hard on families. Sometimes people get divorces because they don’t love each other anymore. Sometimes, they love each other, but they can’t make things work. But me and your Papa aren’t getting a divorce. We love each other a lot. Any argument we have is something we can always fix, alright?” Sam said. Emma-Jean nodded hesitantly but didn’t look fully convinced.
“Emma-Bear, we’re so sorry we scared you. We never want to argue like that, especially in front of you and Bex. Your Daddy is the love of my life. He’s my best friend. He’s my partner in all parts of my life. I’d never give that up over an argument. Sometimes we make mistakes, and we don’t talk about how we feel, and that creates hurt feelings. But we’ll always work it out,” Bucky added. Emma-Jean nodded in understanding as her dads tightened their embrace.
“Why’s Emma-Jean sad?” Bex asked. She was standing in the doorway, her backpack hanging haphazardly off one shoulder and one shoe untied.
“Just a little misunderstanding,” Sam said gently. “She’s okay though.”
Bucky beckoned Bex over and began straightening out her appearance. Emma-Jean sat up, wiped the remaining tears away with her pajama sleeve, and gave Bex, who was still looking at her with worry as Bucky tied her shoe, a reassuring smile.
“Bex, did you hear anything last night after you went to bed?” Sam asked. She concentrated for a long moment.
“Just Papa snoring,” she said finally. Sam snorted and Bucky huffed.
“I don’t snore.”
“You sound like a bear playing a trumpet, Papa,” Emma-Jean snickered. Bex giggled delightedly. Bucky pouted and shot Sam a playful glare as he tried and failed to smother his chuckles.
“Alright, if we’re done making fun of me,” Bucky groaned. “Bex, we’ve got to get you to school. Em, you look tired. I think you should stay home today and get some sleep.”
Emma-Jean nodded. Both her dads could tell that she had probably been up all night worrying about divorce, and they felt a swoop of guilt.
“Sam?”
Bucky’s voice was hesitant as he broke the silence. They’d both been sitting across from each other at the kitchen table waiting each other out. Sam looked up from his cup of coffee he had been pretending to be engrossed in.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been a real ass to you this whole week, and that wasn’t fair. I know injuries are part of the job, and I know you were only doing what you always do. It just scares me, you know? Because what if one day It’s not just broken ribs? What if one day you don’t come back? What would I tell the girls? What would I even do? I can’t do life without you Sammy.” Bucky’s voice shook, and Sam could feel a lump in his throat at Bucky’s admission.
“I didn’t realize that’s what you were feeling. That’s how I feel about you, Buck. I know you have serum running in your veins, but you’re not 100% indestructible either. Losing you scares me to death. Sometimes the fear is all-consuming, and all I can think about is keeping you away from harm by any means. And I know that impacts my decisions as mission leader. I’m sorry. You’re right; I was reckless. And I’m sorry for not listening to what you were trying to tell me.”
Bucky leaned forward and took Sam’s hand from across the table.
“We want the same things. We both want each other to come home and come home unharmed. We can’t always get what we want, but we have to find away to work together.” Sam smiled gently at Bucky.
“You’re right, baby. I think if we put our heads together, we can come up with something. And no matter what, we can always talk to each other about how we feel.” Bucky nodded in agreement before standing and walking over to pull his husband into a gentle kiss. When they broke apart Bucky’s sappy smile turned into a smirk.
“Sarah chew you out good, huh?”
“You know she did, but you’re not off the hook either, Wilson-Barnes. She’s coming over for dinner tonight to personally deliver your lecture.”
Bucky groaned good-naturedly before initiating another kiss.