Work Text:
It felt like a set up but, Sam knew, it was the tactical thing to do.
Bucky had already plopped his bag down on the floor and was checking the room for any unwanted bugs (among other things). Sam left him to his devices, opting to check in with Torres. “Any more info come in?”
“None yet, Cap,” Torres said. “I’ll keep you posted but it looks like it’ll be a peaceful night.”
Sam eyed Bucky, who glanced back at him before continuing his sweep. “Fair enough. I’ll leave you to it. Thanks.” And with that he hung up and pocketed his phone.
“Short call,” Bucky said as he stood up from checking underneath the bed. “No news yet?”
“Like you didn’t hear it with your super hearing,” Sam responded easily. He moved around Bucky, sitting on the single bed in the otherwise unremarkable room. “Was the one bed really necessary? I feel like the budget could have handled two doubles.”
Bucky shrugged with one shoulder. “Apparently not. Or it could be the fact that they just booked it for us and it’s a busy hotel. It is Vegas.”
“It’s no Atlantic City but close enough?”
Bucky’s lips curled into a wry grin. “I have seen more of the states now, Sam. But yes.”
Sam huffed out a laugh. “Any good at poker? You’ve got the ‘staring down your opponents’ thing down.”
“Not enough to beat the house, I’m sure,” Bucky said. “You going out on the town?”
“Probably not the best idea, but you could if you wanted to. Lower profile.”
Bucky pulled out a book from his bag in response. “Plenty of entertainment right here. No need to get into trouble on a recon mission.”
“Uh huh,” Sam hummed.
Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Are you ever going to let the Zemo thing go?”
“Maybe in a few more years,” Sam replied. “But not today.” It’s too fun riling you up, Sam thought to himself.
Bucky shook his head but was more amused than irritated. “Move over. You’re hogging the whole bed.” He flopped down on the bed hard enough to rock Sam, which Bucky then used to kick Sam lightly to the edge of the bed.
“Watch it,” Sam said without heat, mostly to keep up the banter. They’d definitely moved past the days of actual animosity and settled into something more like friendship.
Bucky smirked at him. “Got you moving though, right? Are you going to order room service or what?”
“Yeah, yeah.” But Sam got up to check out the menu.
After a quick glance and consultation with Bucky, Sam phoned in the order and shortly after heard a knock at the door.
“I think you’re the real reason for the one bed room,” Sam said as he delivered the steak and fries to Bucky. Bucky just shrugged but started in on his meal, still sitting up in the bed. Sam shook his head but enjoyed his much-less-fancy pasta dish at the desk.
And it was a nice, quiet night, all things considered. There was the slightest bit of background noise coming from below, where the casino was. Sam also turned on Marvin Gaye, which at the first notes made Bucky’s lips quirk up just a bit. And so they fell into a comfortable silence, Sam doom scrolling on his phone and Bucky reading his book.
It was… downright peaceful. Young Sam would have definitely been downstairs, beeing the life of the party. Present Sam liked what the night was turning into, enjoying the softness of the situation. He snuck glances over at Bucky, who was turning his intensity towards the book in his hands. And from an outsider’s perspective, it was, objectively of course, an attractive look. When Bucky would flip to the next page Sam would bring his attention back to his phone but did catch flashes of a knowing smirk.
Sam hadn't been this at ease in a while.
“You’re gonna break your neck like that.”
Sam straightened up from his slouch, blinking awake. Bucky was still at the bed, his book in hand (which he’d made some progress on, good for him), but his attention was locked on Sam. Sam flushed, swiped at his eyes. “I’m both too young to be falling asleep sitting up and too old for neck pain.”
“Probably should have picked a different line of work then, Cap,” Bucky responded drily. He got up, skirting around Sam to head to the bathroom. “Let’s call it a night. Torres will call when he calls. No point staying up waiting.” He grabbed his duffle bag from its place by the door and then closed the bathroom door behind him with a click.
Sam got up, groaning as he tried releasing the tension in his neck. And then sighed when the pain still lingered. “Worth a shot.” He looked towards the closed door. Could he somehow wrangle Bucky into a totally platonic neck massage? He could probably really dig into muscles, probably even knew pressure points or something–
Damn, he really needed to go on some dates. Or at least get some human contact in that wasn’t just Sarah and the boys. Which Bucky could do, technically.
Sam shook his head and started changing into his overnight clothes, unbuttoning his shirt. He had just stepped out of his pants and was pulling off his undershirt when Bucky opened the door. They’d seen each other in various states of undress, and injury, and in general, but in this damn near domestic setting Bucky’s once over was– interested.
He dared a second of direct eye contact before dropping the offending article of clothing and tugging on some work-sleepover-appropriate pajama pants. Bucky pivoted around him, not quite leaving that totally platonic space between them. Asshole.
After some travel nighttime routine, Sam emerged. Bucky was already tucked in on the right side of the bed, reading again. “I won’t fight you for the spot closest to the door,” Sam said. “Just don’t hog the sheets. It’s cold in here.”
Bucky shook his head but Sam could see him fighting a grateful expression. “Easy enough. And that won't be an issue; I run hot.”
Yeah, you do, Sam’s brain supplied helpfully. He resolutely ignored his brain in favor of plugging in his phone and crawling into the sheets. While Sam turned his bedside light out, Bucky left his on.
“Bucky, I need my beauty sleep,” Sam complained.
“You’re fine,” Bucky murmured, more to his book than to Sam. Which was oddly endearing in a way that had Sam flipping away from him. “Just let me finish this chapter.”
Sam huffed out an exaggerated sigh, which turned into a yawn, but burrowed into the sheets. “Night.”
There wasn’t a response other than the flipping of a page. Typical, Sam thought as he slipped off into sleep.
Sleep didn’t come easily to Sam, typically. The bed would be too soft, the ambient sounds around him too loud or too quiet. The light should have been an issue, but it wasn’t. Maybe because it wasn’t a strobing light, something that reminded him of the fights he’d been in.
Like flying, like watching someone fall. Riley, Rhodey, others in the line of duty. It was dark, he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe—
Something touched him, something real, and he came at it swinging, connecting.
“Shit,’ someone said quietly.
Sam snapped awake, his fist throbbing from the punch he’d apparently thrown. He was breathing too fast, he couldn’t see anything—
A light on the far side of the bed clicked on and he saw Bucky there, cupping his nose, little droplets of blood leaking out from between his fingers.
“Shit, I’m sorry, man. It’s been a while since I’ve slept next to someone.” Sam could hear himself say, but he felt removed from his body, like he was floating off into the ether.
Bucky tapped his shoulder with his free hand. “It’s fine,” he said, nose clearly stopped up, “my fault.” He grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table and did his best to mop up the mess of his nose and hand. “Breathe.”
Sam hated this. He’d been a counselor for long enough to know the right words, what he should do, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe–
“Deep breath in, and then out.” And Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Bucky demonstrated, taking the lead. His partner was exaggerating the action, moving his hand (the left, not the one pinching his nose) in time with the breathing.
He laughed at that, the sound thin in the quiet of the night. But he turned more fully towards Bucky and followed the motions. Breath in, and then out. They kept at it until Sam came back to his body. He could feel the scratchy sheets, feel the breeze from the ceiling fan, cooling his sweat. He could see Bucky watching him, paying little attention to his injury. Bucky was watching him, not like he was alarmed or even nervous. That intensity that Bucky so often displayed was locked in on Sam, which was equal parts unnerving and oddly comforting.
Bucky saw Sam, and to be seen is a rare thing.
Sam’s throat was dry, from the receding panic and something else.
The corner of Bucky’s lips curved up and Sam couldn’t help but stare back. “I’d’ve slept on the floor if I’d known sleeping with you was going to be a hazard.” The small smile dropped, Bucky’s expression were serious and surprisingly open. Or maybe Sam was getting better at reading him. “I shouldn’t have touched you in your sleep. I’m sorry, saw the Howlies have a bunch of nightmares in the war. Rookie mistake.”
Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s fine. Are you good?” He looked towards the bloody pile of tissues on the counter before looking back at Bucky.
Bucky, shrugged, waving at his nose. “I’ve taken worse. Getting socked in the nose under justifiable circumstances is fine once and a while.”
Sam chuckled, noticing that it sounded more normal. He felt more grounded. “I’m going to remember you said that next time you get on my nerves.”
That damn grin was back. “You can try. Plus, already feeling better,” Bucky said, gesturing towards his nose. It was less red underneath the stain of blood. Sam envied that resiliency sometimes, just a little bit. But it came up with a price that Sam would never want to pay. But still, there were a few perks.
Bucky hesitated, suddenly awkward. “You don’t have to talk about it. I sure as hell don’t talk about mine. But if you ever need an ear, I’ve got you.”
“You got me,” Sam said. Then he looked away, confessing, “I know, Buck.”
The silence between them was charged, too much for Sam’s still fragile state of mind in that moment. But soon, maybe. “Let’s go back to bed. Busy days ahead.”
The sheets rustled as Bucky fully got back into them. And then clicked off the light. “Goodnight,” Bucky’s voice said softly into the darkness.
And Sam fell back asleep, blissfully dreamless this time.
And when he woke up in the early hours of the morning, at first light, he noticed that they’d gravitated towards each other in the night, not quite touching. Bucky’s back was turned towards him, trusting.
Sam was still tired from the nightmares, but his heart felt lighter, more full. He enjoyed the feeling, examining the outline of it in his mind. Something was there, for both of them he was sure, but not yet. Soon.
He got out of bed, Bucky sound asleep, and got ready for the day ahead of them.