Chapter Text
Sam cleared his throat. He looked out at the crowd of young people and elderly volunteers. Some of their heads hung. Cass wiped away tears, and Marcus' fists were balled at his sides. The campaign was brutal, but they fought. Sam smiled. "I'm proud of the race we ran and of every one of you. We came up short, yes, and our candidate was not elected, but that doesn't mean we didn't win. We pushed Jenkins to the left, jammed the amendment through, and it did pass."
"Jenkins is a dinosaur and a sellout," Marcus said.
"And you just forced that sellout to fund the community garden, park, and upgrades to the schools in this district."
"But, Ms. Tamara," Cass said.
"Tamara is going to be fine. I've already recommended her to Run for the Future. I got the text she's in the program because of how close we came to upsetting Jenkins tonight. That means training, resources, and funding to come back in four years and kick Jenkins' ass." They were nodding now. The tears turned to sparkles in their eyes. "Now, let's go back our candidate one last time this election season, and then get drunk."
"Fuck yeah," Felice said.
Sam watched everyone file out. He looked around the room and took a deep breath. His eyes stung; he dug his thumbs into the corners of his socket and then turned out the lights.
-o0o-
There was a knock on the door. "Come," Bucky said. He was trying to squeeze a meeting with the hotel housekeeper's labor union president into an already tight schedule for Steve next week, but it was necessary. They needed to be on the right side of this.
A uniform officer stood at the door as Darcy placed the classified envelopes on his desk. The woman rolled her eyes. Bucky smirked and then nodded at the guard. He turned and went down the corridor. "Geez, you would think he trusted me by now. I've known him for three years," Darcy said.
"He's doing his job, and Fury would probably eat him for breakfast if he didn't guarantee the documents followed the proper chain of command. Have the budgets been delivered?"
"Yeah," Darcy said. She walked out of the office and returned with a rollie cart.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"You did say thorough inventory."
"Barton is an asshole. Tell him I said so. No, I'll tell him."
Darcy's phone rang at her desk. She jogged out of Bucky's office. She came back in with another wagon. Bucky pursed his lips. "The president wants to see you in ten minutes."
"What?" Bucky pulled up Steve's schedule. "He's supposed to be meeting with Angelou right now. Do me a favor and cancel with Fredrika."
"Again?"
Bucky looked up at his executive assistant, grabbing his notepad and a few files from his desk. "You got something to say."
"She's smart and beautiful and talented, and probably isn't going to like being blown off again."
"We're adults. We're busy."
"Sir, you're letting all your hotness go to waste."
"Bye, Darcy. Call Fredrika." He huffed. "Hey, send her some flowers-"
"'And order the sandwich I like from that place.' Is there something I need to pull together on Louisiana?"
"What?"
"Louisiana. Your phone." Darcy glanced down at Bucky's cell on his desk. "You were looking up-"
"No. I'm good for the night." Bucky stood, throwing an expanded folder under his arm, and headed for the Oval Office.
Cary ran up to him. "Can I get five minutes?"
"This better not be about the State of the Union. Talk to Dugan about that."
"He said and I quote, 'Nobody gives a fuck about Bruysia.'” Bucky grimaced. Cary's mouth hung open. "It's just my life's work."
"And you do it so well. We appreciate you, Cary."
"We need them in NATO, and a few sentences in the speech will go a long way to speeding up the process or do you want World War III?"
"Talk to Dugan," Bucky said, passing the guards, Natasha's office, and Betty's desk. He went to knock, but Natasha walked out the door.
Bucky lowered his voice. "What's this about? What happened to the meeting with Angelou?"
"He told me to cancel it," Natasha said.
"He told you? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it just happened. Don't you have a date tonight?"
"Yeah, with the president." Bucky nodded to the guard and grabbed the handle on the door.
"So Fredrika is over?"
"No. Shut up, and your boyfriend is an asshole."
No matter how often Bucky walked into this office over the years, he still couldn't believe two knuckleheads from Brooklyn made it here. It was Steve. He was good, noble, forthright, and fucking stubborn. Bucky would still be in the army if Steve hadn't talked him into applying to college to become an officer. Bucky looked up at the paintings of John F. Kennedy and Fannie Lou Hamer and then turned to the president.
Steve had his feet up on the couch, his nose stuck in the intelligent reports Bucky would be reading if Steve hadn't called this meeting. "Mr. President."
"Don't start. I changed my mind about Angelou."
"Steve, your approval ratings are looking good, but it's time to scale up the campaign. Juniper is killing it, but he said himself, he's not ready for primetime. He wants to focus on our digital push, and Natchios is a looker."
Steve chuckled. "She is also a Rhodes Scholar, the former governor of California, the heir to a fortune 100 company. A smart, moderate, skilled politician."
"And more importantly, she's a looker. Beauty Bias is real. I don't know that your mug would win against hers."
"Which is why I need the best running my campaign."
"I got you a meeting with the best, and now he's probably going over to Natchios camp."
"Angelou wasn't the best."
"Who's better?" Bucky took off his suit jacket and plopped on the couch. It dawned on him. He sighed. "He's retired."
"He ran the campaign for a local councilman in the 15th ward. They lost."
Bucky organized his notes and pulled out his phone, swiping up on the screen. "So, let's hire him to run your campaign, now?"
"You know he did the impossible last cycle, Buck. No one knew who I was. For fuck’s sake, he came within a half a point against a thirty-year veteran in Louisiana last night with a pediatric nurse with no experience and no name ID. You know what the old boy’s network down there is like. A half a point."
"He's retired, remember?" Bucky punched a pillow and leaned back on the couch getting comfortable. "He wanted to walk into the sunset with Leila."
"I heard they got a divorce."
"No one saw that coming."
"Don't be an asshole."
"What? I think we should respect his wishes."
"Buck, I know how you two can get. What's the issue?"
"For the thousandth time, I don't have a problem with Sam."
"Great, so, I'm going to call him, better yet-"
Bucky's eyes closed. The schedule he had meticulously planned last month was about to get blown up. "No. President Allard is coming for a state visit. State visit means White House."
"Not necessarily. I'm going to host him at the White House, and maybe, I'll show him Air Force One." Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Go for a beignet."
Bucky rolled his eyes, typing rapidly into his phone. Somewhere in a bar in DC, ten staffers' nights were being ruined. Bucky put down his phone and picked up his copy of the intelligence reports. "When he turns you down, and I have to beg Angelou to meet with you again, you're going to do the thing."
"I am not golfing with Stark. I hate golf, and he knows it."
"He wants to spend his money; why not on you?"
-o0o-
Sam could hear his phone ringing, but he ignored it in favor of snuggling deeper into his blankets. He had already told Sarah he was fine. He told her he was going fishing, and he was, he just wanted a few more moments of sleep.
It's not like he had anywhere to go. He turned in the final draft of his latest novel two months ago. He usually took a month's break before he jumped back into the writing process; it was taking longer than usual. He guessed it was writer's block.
The house was quiet when he woke up again. He picked up his phone. It was dead. The sun was high in the sky, but it didn't matter. Fishing wasn't about the fish. It was about the calm it brought him- the peace.
He went to wash up. He pulled on an old t-shirt and cargo pants before slipping into his slides. While brushing his hair and beard, he noticed the picture of him and Leila from his cousin's wedding. That was a good night. Francine had sprung for a photo booth, and Sam and his ex-wife made faces at the camera and in the third picture, kissed. Damn. Was that the last time he kissed her? It couldn't be. Sam racked his brain. It didn't matter. She would be kissing someone new in photos soon. He got the invitation yesterday. It was a courtesy. He hoped she didn't expect him to attend because, nah. He was an adult though, so he would send her and her new husband a Dollar Store gift card or something. Sam put the picture in a box in his closet and headed to the kitchen.
Sam got out the bread for sandwiches. He tasted a tortilla chip. It was stale, but he put the bag in his lunch pail anyway. The beer was fresh and cool. He would pick kumquats off the tree. He pulled a bag of blueberries and boiled peanuts out of the freezer before opening a can of food for Figaro.
"Hi, Baby. Daddy's going fishing. You leave Mrs. Ziegler's cat alone. I am not going half on no more vet bills or kitty litter." Figaro meowed. "You can curse me out all you want. I'm going to make that appointment you keep it up. Don't walk away." He really should call the vet. He could do it later.
Sam grabbed the keys to his truck and the boat and opened the front door. His eyes went wide. Two men in black suits were on his front porch. The sheriff's truck, two cruisers, and four black range rovers were in his yard.
Sam took a deep breath. His hand flexed. One man reached up to the earpiece attached to his head. "We've got eyes on him, Sir."
The President of the United States got out of his car, and Sam shook his head. He put his cooler and pail of bait down. Sam smiled. "Mr. President, what brings you to the swamp?" He shook his old friend's hand.
"My asshole best friend won't pick up his phone."
An hour later, Sam and Steve were on his back porch eating fried fish sandwiches, slaw, and fries. They drank beer to wash it all down. The Secret Service turned down the beer, but they and Steve's aids had killed Sam's sweet tea and ate up all his crawfish, shrimp, and year's supply of boiled peanuts. He would have to steal some from Sarah until they were in season at the farmer's market or order from Amazon. Sam put down his beer. "All right, enough beating around the bush. I know you got better things to do by the way that phone keeps blowing up." Sam eyed the offending box on his picnic table.
Steve laughed. "Nat would have come and got me if it was too important."
Sam looked through his screen door. Nat was in his living room typing into a laptop with a bushel of kumquats beside her. She stopped every few minutes to type into her phone. Sam's lips quirked at that.
"So, why are you here?"
"Come on, pal. You know why I'm here."
"I'm retired."
"And I have left you alone, but then Tamara Watkins almost pulled off an upset last week."
Sam folded his arms. "Cass is her son's best friend. He asked me to help. I'm retired."
"I heard about you and Leila."
"Don't start, Steve."
"I heard about it from Stark of all people."
"You know him and Rhodey go way back."
"So Rhodey is your best friend?"
"My best friend is the President of the United States. He's very busy."
Steve nodded. "When you didn't pick up your phone-"
"I already told you; I was asleep."
"The Sam I know got up at five a.m."
Sam took a deep breath. "I'm retired."
"I called Sarah when I couldn't get you. She said she hadn't heard from you this week."
"Sarah is a single mom with a thriving business. She's busy."
"Is that an invitation to Leila's wedding under the empty Hennessy bottle?"
"Thank you for your concern, Mr. President. I am not interested in being your campaign manager, communications director, or charity case right now."
"Sam."
Steve's phone buzzed again. "If you don't answer your phone the Winter Soldier is going to go apeshit on you, me, and Natasha. I don't want to go to jail. I want to go fishing," Sam said.
"Elektra Natchios announced her bid for the republican nomination."
Sam looked up at his friend. Shit. She was a problem. Steve was good, but Natchios was just as good. "I can recommend some people."
"Bucky wants me to talk to Angelou."
"Angelou is a decent choice."
"Decent isn't the right choice. What do you think?"
"I think Bucky is smart, and I'm retired."
"Sam."
Steve's phone buzzed again. Sam shook his head. "I can send you some names."
"They're not you."
"No, but give them a chance, and they can be better than me."
"Call, Sarah."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"I was your best friend before I was president," Steve said, getting up and putting his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You should come with Me, Peg, Kennedy, and Abe to Camp David this May."
"Cause I'm an idiot and don't remember that's campaign retreat month."
"Sam, you don't have to go through this alone."
"I don't know what you mean. I'm enjoying my retirement."
-o0o-
Bucky's eyes narrowed when the president's caravan pulled into the airport. Bucky wanted to slap the smart-ass look off Steve's face. He blew up an entire day of events to drink beers with Sam and still did not have a campaign manager. Bucky had a plan though. Angelou had met with Natchios, but Bucky's spies said it wasn't love at first sight. Steve still had a chance if Bucky could stop Steve's hope from getting in the way.
Steve laughed as he climbed the stairs to Air Force One. "You flew to New Orleans."
"I thought I was going to have to drag your ass out of the swamp."
"I took a day."
"You don't have days to take with the media on your ass. There's already a small post in Politico about your schedule change today. It takes one wack job from the Daily to say you were visiting your secret meth-head mistress."
"I don't need a babysitter, Buck."
"Whatever you say, pal. We got the Gala in three hours."
Four hours later, Bucky was staring down at his phone while a diplomat was giving a boring speech. Most staffers were talking to their partners, but Bucky's date for the gala had declined his invitation. Fredrika was an attorney. She had clerked for the Supreme Court. She was on track to become a federal judge; she could make it to the high chamber herself. He thought she would get it. He loved his job. The sex was good. She never said she wanted more but maybe-
Nat and Barton sat down beside him. Their clothes were askew. Bucky smirked.
"Shut up," Nat said, straightening Clint's bowtie.
"I'm not talking to either one of you, right now."
Clint drank from his champagne glass. "What did I do?"
"A fucking wagon?"
"You said 'thorough', dude."
"And you. Four hours, Nat? In a swamp. Come the fuck on."
"You weren't there. It looked like Wilson needed it. You better be glad Wilson kicked us out. Steve was prepared to stay the night."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I called him from 8 last night to 10 this morning to set up lunch with the president. He wouldn't answer, so I called his sister. She sounded concerned. She couldn't reach him either but was in the middle of something and couldn't drive out. We got there at noon. He said he was just getting out of bed. He looked like it."
"Sam gets up at 5."
"The place was a mess- pictures, empty beer bottles, mugs, piles of clothes everywhere. Half the furniture was gone."
"Guess he's taking the divorce hard."
"He was distracted. Half listening. You know how Sam is. Charming, cracking jokes. I didn't see him smile once. So yeah, I pushed your bullshit PR stunts for an old friend."
"And he didn't want to come back?"
"The only glimpse of the old Sam I saw was when he was talking about Watkins and Natchios, but he was out of it a moment later."
-o0o-
Sam woke up with a start. He listened. Figaro padded into the room and jumped on the bed a moment later. The cat bumped Sam with his head and meowed. Sam scratched behind his ears. "Did you eat all of your food? I just filled your bowl last night, Figgie Marley." The cat protested. "Okay." Sam flipped back his covers and slid into his bedroom slippers. He scratched his balls as he went down the stairs. The third one from the top was squeaking; he should take a look or call somebody. Maybe. It didn't matter. He was the only one here. It gave the house character. Damn, the sun was low. Figaro got him up early. His yawn was cut short as he made it to the bottom landing.
Bucky Barnes was sitting at his dining table, a laptop in front of him, and several stacks of files surrounding him. Sam blinked. Bucky looked great. Emotion flared inside of him, and then Sam took in his surroundings. Sam's living room was spotless. "Did you break in and clean my house?" Sam peered into his kitchen; it appeared just as clean. Figaro's food and water bowl was full. That little traitor. "What kind of guard cat are you? Barnes this is the scariest shit you've ever done, man, and I've seen your military file. I'm retired. Get the fuck out."
Bucky took a sip from a travel coffee cup. "No."
Sam smirked. "You don't scare me, homeboy. I'm not one of your minions or your bitchmade political opponents. The answer is no."
Bucky's phone rang. "This is Barnes. I told you not to let that idiot near the Prime Minister. You're the deputy Chief of Staff, Gabe. Make them listen."
"Did he just ignore me in my own home?" Sam said to Figaro. Sam pursed his lips when his cat went and jumped into Bucky's lap. Sam shook his head and went into the kitchen. He grabbed his basket and went out the back door to collect eggs from his chickens. At least his floofy ladies respected him. Sam stopped Sofia from trying to fight Betty again. He went to grab cheese for an egg sandwich and cursed. That motherfucker had filled his fridge with his frou-frou crap.
There were three different kinds of sprouts and oat milk blocking Sam's bacon. Sam turned and opened his cupboard. Oatmeal, quinoa, and dried beans stared back at him. They were blocking his flaming hot Doritos and Oreos. Sam went over to the chest freezer. A giant bag of organic chicken breast was covering his deer sausage, Boston butt, and catfish. Sam grumbled, routing around his fridge for the butter. Of course, there was kale and cabbage. Cabbage, lima beans, tomatoes and rice, and biscuits with fresh smoked sausage sounded good.
Sam realized some of his beer had been taken out of the fridge and replaced with Olipop. Sam stormed into the living room. "Barnes, what the fuck?" Bucky raised his pointer finger. Sam scoffed, nodded, and then he walked over to the table. He snatched the cell phone out of Bucky's hand, pressed end, and threw it on the couch. "Get the fuck out of my house, bro."
"I'm not leaving without you."
"I don't know what Steve told you-" Sam's eyes narrowed at Bucky's smug face, his crossed arms, "or Nat, but I am retired."
"Steve needs you. I'm prepared to sit here for however long it takes."
"Okay. Let's not act like you don't want Angelou to run Steve's campaign, and you're too much of a control freak to be away from 1500 Penn for too long. I bet someone is misplacing a comma in your daily briefing right now."
"No, they are not," Bucky gritted his teeth, "because I am managing everything from here and can continue to do so for the foreseeable future."
"Liar. I don't even have Wi-Fi."
"Sam, I am the White House Chief of Staff. I have pristine cell reception in Antarctica."
"You're trespassing, and you broke in. I'm calling the Sheriff. Better yet, I should put a cap in your ass."
"And create a scandal for Steve in an election year? You know Natchios is a real threat. It's going to take everything we have to defeat her."
"You're a fucking asshole."
Bucky got up and retrieved his phone. "So, I've been told. Nice PJs. Go take a shower, so I can put them in the wash."
"Go fuck yourself."
Later, the sun was setting, and Sam was forced to dock. The swamp at night was not a great idea. He would usually head home to read or watch some old-school sitcoms or cartoons, but Barnes had probably turned his living room into the situation room. The guy was such a workaholic. Who the fuck breaks in and cleans people's houses? He wanted Barnes gone, but the fucker was just stubborn enough to sit there for weeks to spite him. Sam sighed.
Barnes was needed in DC. He was right, Elektra Natchios was trouble for Steve. Trouble that Bucky should be heading off in his office back in DC, but he was here…to head it off. Sam popped his lips, climbed into his truck, and drove five miles through the woods.
The screen door slammed shut after him as he entered the house. Bucky was curled in a chair asleep with Figaro in his lap. His glasses were catawampus on his face. It was not cute. Sam huffed, took them off, pulled the throw blanket over Bucky's shoulders, and went into the kitchen to clean his catch of the day. He was going to fry them as usual but remembered the stupid sprouts. He baked the filets in garlic and lemon juice and used Bucky's kale to make a salad. Bucky walked into the kitchen when the buttered Quinoa and herbs were tender. "Smells good."
"Mm-hmm. You really aren't going to leave are you."
"Nope. Not without you."
"Fine. I'll consult and help you set up your team. Brainstorm ideas. Get you started. Give me a week or two. I'll try to find a reasonable hotel and come up in a-"
"Nice try. I leave when you leave."
"I just can't pick up and go to DC for a few weeks. Am I supposed to stay on the street? Legally, my consultant fee can't be paid until-"
"You can stay with me. Next."
"What?"
"You know I am hardly home."
"Even so, Me and you…and Figaro in your tiny ass apartment."
"I bought a house, five bedrooms, and I have a cat too, Alpine. He's with Nat. I miss him very much."
"So, you should go take care of him."
"I have a job to do. The faster you give in, the faster we can leave. You're just being stubborn to spite me. I know you are not going to leave Steve twisting in the wind. You know Natchios can beat him and probably will if we keep wasting precious time."
"You manipulative motherfucker."
"You know who I am, Sam. You know I will use every tool at my disposal to complete my mission. You're my mission."
"And you're a pain in my ass. Fine. I'll consult for a month. Help you pick a campaign manager, and then you can leave me the fuck alone."
"Fine."
"I'll eat, and then start packing."
"I packed your bag while you were fishing. Our flight leaves at 5 am."
"You- what? 5 am?"
"What?" Barnes shrugged. "We're wasting precious time." He rubbed his hands together and then went into the cabinets to grab plates.
"You don't know me, bro."
"I know exactly how to get under your skin. I just have to exist in the same space as you. People and their motivations have been my job for thirty years, Sam. Remember? It's why you told Steve to make me the White House Chief of Staff."
"Shut up and fix your plate."
-o0o-
Bucky's jaw had finally unclenched; his stomach had untied itself. He could think straight. Sam was in the cocoon across the aisle snoring. Nat was right. It took him six hours to get Sam's place in shape. He was there seven hours before it even registered to the man upstairs. Sam used to be a light sleeper. Bucky half expected a Sig Sauer in his face as soon as he stepped on the porch. Sam barely gave him shit for being there.
The former airman cleaned up a bit for the flight, but it was nowhere near the neat, dapper, and handsome man Bucky used to know. Sam was still attractive. The afro and beard made him look rugged which was appropriate for his lifestyle. Bucky was just used to Sam's business persona.
When Sam worked in DC, even his street clothes had to be perfect. They got into a fight once over Bucky accidentally stepping on his sneakers. He had to listen to days of yapping about limited edition this and that. Bucky looked down at Sam's shoes now and they were clean but not pristine, and the small crease in them made his chest tight again.
Three hours later, Darcy was going over his schedule while Gabe was talking to the press secretary. Bucky glanced over at Sam. He was looking out the window, petting Figaro. Bucky took the schedule from Darcy, changing his face-to-face with the White House Counsel this afternoon to a video call. Walters was going to love that.
"I understand that, Dr. Chen but-" Gabe said.
Bucky could hear the woman's rant through the phone. He grabbed it. "Jesse, this is Barnes. You're brilliant, but the plant is a no-go. It was a good idea to raise awareness and clean the fountains and National Mall Pool, but the Park Service said the upkeep of the plants would be pricey, and there's also the potential danger to the pigeons."
Bucky grabbed the file from Darcy, read the amendment, and signed it. "I did read the reports. Your research didn't go far enough to test the question, and McCoy's research said we should err on the side of caution. I can't have the National Mall covered with dead pigeons on Roxx News. The President loves the out of the box thinking, and we're always open to suggestions. You're a peach. Talk to you later."
Bucky handed the phone back to his deputy and glanced at the White House operating budget for the month. He signed off on the pending POs and closed his laptop. They were pulling into his driveway.
Sam frowned. "Barnes, you better not pull me into a strategy meeting already. You know I want to dig into the data first. Whose house is this?"
"Mine," Bucky said as Darcy handed him the expandable folder and laptop from Juniper. Bucky put it in Sam's lap. Montgomery and Belova opened the doors of the Range Rover, and everyone got out. Pinkerton came out of the house and started loading up their bags to take them inside.
"When you said you had a house, I thought you meant a townhouse in the city," Sam said, trying to grab his duffle, but the young man took it before he could.
Bucky put a stopper in the swell of emotion trying to bubble up inside of him as he watched Sam take in his secluded home. He couldn't help the pull of his lips when Sam spotted the pond. "It was on sale. I still have my apartment in the city and stay there most of the time." He took one last look at Sam in his space and then headed for the house. He had a remote office to set up and a ton of shit to do. "Make sure Mr. Wilson has everything he needs." Bucky looked back, and Sam was down on the bank, climbing into his rowboat. He shook his head. "When he comes in."
Bucky let everyone go at four. He had to force Darcy and Gabe out the door. "Pinky, you can take off too after dinner. Tell Belova and Montgomery soup is on." The young man's eyes got wide. "What?"
"Is it okay if I cut out now? You see there's this girl-"
"Have a good night, Pinky. I need my coffee at 6 am sharp. Shit, no make that seven. Did you find that thing?"
"I sent it to your email."
"Good. Go have fun; wrap it up."
Sam walked in just then. He nodded at Pinky and chuckled. Pinky's cheeks reddened. Sam looked at the spread on the table. "My boarding comes with food, or do I have to forage in these woods for mushrooms and berries?"
"What do you think?"
Sam smiled grabbed a paper plate and filled it with Ethiopian takeout. Bucky poured another glass of Shiraz and handed it to Sam. Bucky was reading emails when his security detail came in for their dinner. "All secure, Sir," Belova said.
"Good." Bucky returned to his emails when he saw the new one from Pinky. He glanced up at Sam. The man was staring off into space chewing slowly. Bucky watched him with an ache in his belly. "Have you had time to look at some of the data?" Sam didn't answer. "Sam?"
"What?" Sam said.
"Have you gone over the poll numbers from last month?"
Sam looked out the window. "Oh shit."
Bucky swallowed his sigh. "The files and laptop Juniper sent are in your room." Sam blinked at him. "Up the stairs, third door on your right."
"My bad, man. I've been enjoying the pond. If I had known you had one, I would have brought a rod."
Bucky nodded. "There's a few in the foyer closet."
Sam smiled. Bucky glared at him. Sam put up his hands. "I promise I will dig into the data first thing tomorrow. I can have some ideas and names by Thursday. I'm telling you now, I don't work weekends."
"I'll set up a meeting with the campaign team for Friday."
"Friday? I thought you were in a rush."
"Yeah, but I've been asked to run in this 5k thing for charity. Disabled Veterans of America or something. They say it will raise their profile if I'm there. I thought you might want to run too since you're here. It's more your thing than mine."
Sam looked down at his plate, dipping his injera into the lamb stew. "It's been a while, man, and I hadn't planned on being here that long."
"If you change your mind, I've been training at 6 am. There's a nice trail in the woods. It's really beautiful in the morning. Birdsong."
Sam scooped vegetables in his mouth. "How long is the trail?"
"Two miles. A lot of hikers come up."
Sam sighed. "6 am?"
"I can wait, but no later than 6:30."
"Alright. I guess it will help to get me focused. Since I'm being manipulated into working. I can't make any promises about the marathon though. Maybe, I'll donate."
"Sure thing, pal," Bucky said, reaching for more flatbread.
-o0o-
Bucky was a fucking liar. Sam didn't call him on it last night because he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Sam knew he smelled a setup. This morning Barnes was breathing like an asthmatic pig that smoked five packs a day beside him. Sam rolled his eyes. It's not like he was in the best shape, but he was used to chasing chickens, hiking, balling with his nephews, helping his cousin, spoonbread, bring in the crop, and pitching in on the boat when Sarah needed it.
Bucky did have a point. This was Sam's thing. He loved it back then like the way he loves it now. The pink-purple sky peeking through budding branches, and the birds saying good morning to one another had Sam feeling better than he had felt in a long time. He guessed he had the stubborn lying asshole beside him to thank for that.
"Whoa. Slow down, sweetheart. Give me a minute," Bucky said, slowing, bending over to catch his breath. Sam shook his head and took a swig of water. Bucky looked up at him, dark strands plastered on his face. "Go ahead and say it."
"I don't have to," Sam said, "The cramps you're going to get tonight are going to say it for me. My mama said, 'God don't like, ugly.'"
"Oh yeah? He must hate you."
Sam slung water at him. Bucky sighed as the liquid hit his face. Sam splashed more on him. Sam bumped his shoulder and handed Bucky his water bottle. "Come on, Mr. 5k. We got work to do."
When they got back to the house, Sam shook his head. Bucky's dining room was full of staff. Bucky's bodyman handed them both coffees. Sam headed for the bathroom.
"Hey," Bucky said, "We can make space-"
Sam looked at Gabe, pacing, the phone to his ear; a printer, spitting out pages; Darcy, typing into a laptop; and the house phone, that hadn't stopped buzzing on the table. "Yeah, no. I'll find someplace else to work." Bucky's mouth flattened into a line. "I'm going to work, warden. I may have some ideas for you at lunch."
"Okay."
"Okay." Sam smiled. "Pinky, get him an inhaler and some Advil. He's going to need some old newspaper and pickle juice for later."
Bucky shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask."
"When your legs seize up, you will. 5k my ass."
"That reminds me, sir, I sent in your paperwork and paid the fee," Pinky said, "The organizer is excited."
Bucky's head snapped to his assistant, "What?"
Sam laughed. "That's what you get."
Sam yelped when chilly water hit his face, the spout was an antique, and the whole house was probably built a century- maybe two- ago. It had been maintained and was beautiful. Sam discovered the house was larger than he originally thought. Figaro and Alpine shot by him as he came out of his bedroom and disappeared into what he thought was a closet. He went to break them up and found stairs. "This better not be where your dead bodies are hidden, Barnes."
Sam climbed the narrow stairs and ended up in a massive attic. It was dust-free, spotless, and organized, everything an attic wasn't supposed to be. Directly in front of the stairs, two large black metal cabinets shone like mirrors in the sunlight. Sam moved past the arsenal he knew was inside to pet his baby and the cat's new friend.
Bucky had a colossal cat gym up here with all the bells and whistles nestled against a window. No wonder he had hardly seen Figaro. The beds on the gym looked comfortable and the window outside was blocked by an ancient oak full of chirping birds. Squirrels skittered up and down the trunk. Bucky had hung feeders high in the branches.
The rest of the room was storage for old furniture that probably came with the house and books- boxes, crates, and stacks of books. The living room built-ins were already stuffed, and this looked like three times the books. This could be a nice little reading cove-library. Trees surrounded the house. At this level, it looked like Sam was in a treehouse out of the large windows. Sam wondered if Bucky still got to read like he used to. The man used to devour old paperbacks. Now, all Sam saw him reading was reports and his laptop.
Speaking of, he supposed he needed to get this over with. He pulled out an old mahogany chair. It looked sturdy. He found a side table, pulled over a few crates, and made himself a makeshift office.
The more Sam dug into the numbers, the more he was afraid for his friend. This was going to be a tight race. In reality, there were very few social policy positions separating Steve from Elektra. They were both nice to look at and gifted politicians. The difference, the one they would have to focus on, is Steve was a democratic socialist, and Elektra was a stone-cold capitalist. She wanted to cut government spending and lower taxes for businesses, corporations, and the wealthy, and Steve wanted to tax the rich and create more social programs to help the average American. Dark money was going to funnel money at Elektra. The spin on Steve proudly identifying as a socialist was going to be a tornado.
They needed to own the message and own it now. They needed to inspire and inform, yesterday. He made some calls and quickly produced a list of the best available spin doctors in the country. Next, he got to work on a rough framework for the campaign. He looked at the maps and polls and pinpointed the best places to open campaign offices first. He typed up a to-do list for Juniper who was in charge of the digital media push. He said a prayer because Steve was going to need one.
Five hours later, Sam came down from the attic to search for food. He passed the living and dining room; Bucky was talking to his TV. Nat was on the screen. Sam dashed into the kitchen. As far as he was concerned, he was done working for the day. He would debrief with Bucky and then test out Bucky's fishing poles. He also needed to call Cass to make sure his nephews fed his chickens. Dorothy would start eating her eggs if she weren’t getting enough nutrients.
Sam wondered if Redwing dropped by. The falcon hung out in Sam's yard to hunt around the garden. Sam liked to think they were friends.
Sam did his own hunting in the fridge and found shrimp. They were fresh. To Sam's surprise, Bucky had grits. When he found muenster, gouda, and smoked cheddar, Sam smiled. He opened the crisper and a cabbage mix lay in the drawer. He finished cooking around noon and peeked into the dining room. Bucky was working on his laptop. "Hey, lunch is ready. I'm ready for that debrief."
"Great. Go ahead and start. I should be ready to meet in ten minutes."
"You're not going to eat? I'm starving, and you were up before me preparing for your jogging cosplay."
Pinky snickered. Bucky pinned him with a look and turned back to Sam. "You're a riot. I had a protein bar earlier."
"A protein- you know what, you're grown, but you can't expect these kids to work through lunch break. They're not you."
"Pinky? Darcy, you hungry?" Bucky said.
"I'm fine," Darcy said. Sam shrugged, preparing to go back to the kitchen, but then Darcy's stomach rumbled. Sam eyed the woman, one brow quirked. "Maybe, I'm a little hungry."
Bucky's eyes widened. "All right we'll knock off for thirty-"
"An hour. I want to go over a few things," Sam said.
"Fine."
Sam went back into the kitchen and fixed his plate. Bucky joined him and whistled. "This looks great." Sam grabbed a water bottle and headed out the back door. Bucky dropped the fork he was holding. "Whoa, I thought we were meeting?"
"We are. At the gazebo."
"Gazebo?"
"The gazebo on the bank."
"That old rickety thing?"
"It's old, but sturdy and could be rehabbed if you wanted."
"Why don't we meet in the dining room? It's bug free."
"Bug free? You used to lay in dirt for a living-"
"I didn't like it."
"I want to get away from the buzzing phones and pinging laptops. You need a break anyway. You're not going to get one if you keep answering texts."
Sam smirked as Bucky wiped at the picnic bench with a napkin. He shouldn't be an asshole. Bucky was wearing nice slacks and a dress shirt to work from home. Why was he working from home? He probably thought Sam was going to escape with good reason. Sam didn't want to think about what Steve, and more importantly, Nat told him. He didn't want to think about what they saw that made Bucky show up when they hadn't spoken more than ten words to one another in three years.
Bucky groaned. "Fuck, this is good."
"If you wanted me to make shrimp and grits, you could have asked."
"I was being accommodating."
"You were trying to get what you want with the least amount of strain."
Bucky smiled. "Like I said, it's delicious."
"Of course. I made it."
"Have you made anything else today, say plans."
Sam pursed his lips but wiped his hand on a napkin. He reached into his jogger’s pockets pulled out folded papers and plopped it in front of Bucky. The man eyed it with disapproval. "I gave you a laptop."
"My ideas work better when I write them down."
Bucky unfolded the pages. "Is this graphing paper?"
"It's all I could find in the attic. You can have one of your trusted assistants or interns type it for you."
"This is good."
"Duh."
"At least that hasn't changed."
"Fuck you."
"I can't believe you wrote this on graphing paper. Dirty graphing paper." Bucky wiped his hands with a napkin. "And why isn't Angelou on this list?"
"I was brought here against my will. I'm doing you a favor by agreeing to consult, and I haven't heard anything about payment or seen a contract."
"You know I'm going to pay you."
"You might try to pay me in shrimp. Shit, I might be inclined to take a barrel of blue crab, 5 lb. of striped bass too."
Bucky scraped his plate trying to get one last bite. "You're fucking ridiculous."
"Call me what you want, but you know I'm right."
"You're not right because Angelou is not on this list. Did you leave him off to spite me?"
"You certainly are up Angelou's ass? He's good, he's not Steve good."
"What does that mean?"
"You have a hard on for the guy. I know Steve-"
"I know Steve too, and the politician he has become-"
"Okay, Buck." Sam got up. "I gave you my recommendations. I don't think Angelou and Steve are a fit, but you're right, I left, and you've been here, so maybe you have some insider knowledge that I don't."
"I didn't- I wasn't even-"
"I'm going fishing."
-o0o-
Bucky stormed back into the house. His face was hot, his heart pounding in his chest. He flexed his hands before he walked into the dining room, so his staff wouldn't see his fist. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, then got mad again, thinking about who taught him to do that, in a supply closet, heads bowed together, at Steve's alderman campaign headquarters. Bucky swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment.
He went into his makeshift office. "Darcy, call Karli. Tell her to be on the lookout for an email from me. I want her to start pulling together a presentation. After that, I need you to head back to the office and help Juniper to hammer out a consultant contract for Sam. Give him Angelou's quote."
"You want me to leave now, boss?" Darcy said. "It's only 2. We haven't gone over the facility inspections or the-"
Bucky looked at her. She started gathering her things. He hired her because she was smart. Pinky too. "What do you need from me?"
Bucky huffed. "Plastic wrap and a shovel."
"Lye would leave no trace."
"Except the ATM or debit card receipts, witnesses, and cameras at the store. Shovels are for gardening. Plastic wrap for moving. You'd need a lot of lye. Suspicious amounts."
Darcy shook her head. "Goodnight boss. Don't go to jail. This is the best job I have ever had. Talk through your emotions."
Bucky pursed his lips. "Goodnight, Darcy. Pinky, I need you to get refreshments for the meetings this week. Call the maid service and ask them to clean the apartment. See if you can find a barrel of blue crab, ten lbs. of striped bass, halibut, and speckled trout too. Add a meat lovers and lobster pie to our order from Sal's this week. Pick up my dry cleaning."
"The tailor called. Your order is ready."
"Good, pick that up too. You can head back to the city."
"Belova would make a good alibi. I'm not sure about Dernier."
"He'd rat me out in seconds. Don't worry; I won't kill Wilson today."
"Or ever." Pinky shrugged into his coat.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Get the fuck out."
Bucky took a deep breath and sat down at his laptop. He answered a few emails, approved leave requests, and called Natasha.
"You know," Natasha said, "Steve and I are capable of doing our jobs without you around telling us what to do."
"That's because Gabe is relaying my messages and handling business."
"He is you know. You could actually take a break. Isn't that one of the reasons you bought the house?"
"I got a fancy white laced envelope from you in the mail. You're seriously marrying that asshole?"
"He's not an asshole, and yeah, I love him. It's what you do when you love someone. You tell them, and they say they're not interested, and you move on, or they say they are interested, and then you build a life together."
"I got work to do. Congrats. Make sure to save-"
"Save Steve from Von Doom in thirty minutes. I know how to do my job."
Bucky stuck out his tongue at the phone before hitting end. Bucky texted Steve.
Bucky: Ask about the Latverian Trade Agreement.
Little Shit: Fuck off. Wait, how's Sam?
Bucky: Annoying. Fishing.
Little Shit: God, I wish. Maybe he has it figured out.
Bucky: Hardly. LTA.
Little Shit: Stop texting me. I'm terribly busy.
He had been putting off picking up Sam's notes long enough. He grabbed the crumpled sheets and dropped them immediately. He found a napkin and wiped off as much dust as he could. He was annoyed that Sam was this good and had this much juice after three years of living in the boonies. The names on this list were ridiculous, political rock stars. Mercedes Knight, Jim Morita, fucking Erik Lensherr. They were legends. How the hell did Sam know Layla El-Faouly? She was the new kid on the block, but after her upset in Texas, she deserved to be amongst these giants. Sam deserved to be on this list too, but he decided to move to a swamp and do what all day? Play with birds and fish. It sounded boring to Bucky.
Free time would be nice. He hadn't read a good book in a while. He had been wanting to fix this place up since he bought it, but he never had the time. The place could use a good cleaning, and now, Sam had put fixing up the gazebo in his head. He was so annoying with his stupid beard. He was also a dickhead because he knew Bucky was pushing for Angelou, and he left him off the list.
Bucky could lie to himself and say that meant Sam wanted the job. He didn't. This chicken scratch on scrap proved that. Bucky wouldn't even entertain the other thought that tried to wiggle its way into his consciousness. He would not allow it. It was dangerous, desperate, and a step back.
Bucky typed up the recommendation list and added Angelou, but made it clear that that was his addition. He typed up the recommended first wave of campaign headquarters. He made a note to Karli to pull possible properties, staff in the state, and estimated costs.
Finally, he got to the four-page framework. Bucky's ire gave way to awe. Sam was brilliant. An ache bloomed in Bucky's middle. It was familiar. Bucky shut it down and continued to type until he couldn't anymore. His eyes strained to understand the writing. He held the paper up to the light and blinked rapidly when dust flew into his eye. He cursed, trying to understand the scrawl.
His grandfather clock chimed. It was already three o'clock. He sent the email to Karli with a note to watch for part two. He gathered his things and stormed back out to the pond. Sam was in the middle of the water, lying back in the boat, his feet on the bow.
"Sam!" Bucky shouted. The man didn't stir. "Sam!" When his posture didn't change. Bucky got scared. They were getting up there in age, and Sam ate what he wanted. Bucky put down the laptop and kicked off his loafers. "Sam!" His feet hit the water and Sam rose, looking around groggily. Bucky's five-hundred-dollar headphones were on his ears. Bucky felt like his head and heart were going to explode. Then he realized he was barefoot and standing in mud. Slimy algae-filled water lapped at his new trousers.
"What?" Sam said once he had rowed closer to the shore. "Why are you messing up those nice pants like that?"
"Are those my earphones?"
"I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"They were in the closet with the fishing poles. You weren't using them."
"I use them when I am cleaning."
"You came out here for earphones? You about to clean? It's not even 4:00. Isn't there still something you can micromanage today?"
"There is in fact. I don't understand the last two pages of your notes."
"You don't?"
"I'm trying to type them."
"You are? Where's Darcy? Pinky?"
"I sent them back to DC."
"Why?"
"Can you translate for me, please?"
"Since you asked so nicely. Jump in."
"Jump in? No, you jump out."
"I'm off the clock. If you want me to translate, jump in."
"I am not dressed-"
"Your pants are ruined anyway. Why are you standing in mud barefoot? That's nasty."
"I should have asked Pinky to bring me the shovel and plastic."
"A shovel, huh? I don't have those problems in Nawlins. I could put a bullet in your head and feed you to the gators."
Bucky looked out at the pond. "That's a good idea."
"Duh. Get in the boat." Sam took the white towel off his shoulder. "Wipe your feet man."
Within an hour, Bucky had typed up the rest of the notes and sent them to Karli. "You could have taken a picture or scanned it," Sam said, his eyes closed. The sun was dancing across his face.
"No, I couldn't," Bucky said, "I didn't need dirt in my printer for it to shut down because it thinks there's a jam."
"Pictures?" Sam asked. Bucky didn't say anything. Sam opened one eye and looked at him. He shook his head, laying back again. "It's graphing paper. You act like I wrote it on human skin."
"Might as well have."
"Shut up. Your so fucking stupid. When did you get this uptight?"
"Since my life, my record, my work has been put under a magnifying glass."
"That's a lot of pressure, man. It's why most White House Chief of Staffs don't last two years. You're seriously trying to do two full terms? You'd go down in history."
"I don't care about that. I care about completing the mission."
"You're not in the military anymore, sergeant."
"Don't I know it. These pencil pushers don't know anything about military precision."
"I don't think a lot of people in the military know anything about military precision, but of course, the Winter Soldier does."
"The Falcon too, Captain of EXO Squadron. Well, he used to."
"I'm retired. You ever thought about it?"
"I got too much shit to do."
"Picture it, lazing away on this pond."
"I don't have time for this. Row back to the shore."
"Hang out with me for an hour; I'll make shrimp po boys for dinner."
"You were going to make those anyway. I saw the slaw this afternoon."
Sam blinked up at him. Bucky huffed. "Fine."
"Close your eyes," Sam said. Bucky acquiesced. "Lay back." Bucky's eyes popped open. Sam snorted. "Oh homeboy, you're filthy anyway." Bucky shook his head but lay back in the boat beside Sam. The next thing he knew a soft voice floated in the air. It was an audiobook. One he had been meaning to listen to for a while. He lost himself in the words and the sway of the boat. Sam's warm body was crammed in beside him. Bucky watched Sam's chest rise and fall as he napped the rest of the afternoon. It was twilight before they made it back to the shore.