Chapter Text
It was raining in New York, it always seemed to be bad weather these day's but that's just late fall. Seasonal depression was already starting to set in for Bucky, it was harder to think. The cold clouded his mind and filled him with anxiety. He had been taking a lot of walks the past few days, since they had come back to New York from Sam's place in DC.
It hadn't been odd when Bucky had come back from his walk in the cold late afternoon rain and had imediatly gone to his bedroom. He needed to put dry clothes on, Sam knew this so he thought nothing of it, just got up from the couch and started up the coffee maker. Bucky would want a warm cup, he kept trying to tell him that going out for a walk in this weather wasn't making it any better for him, not if the main trigger was the cold.
Sam started to get a little worried when Bucky hadn't emerged from the room by the time the pot was done. So he went to the door an knocked,
"James? You alright in there?" Sam called through the door.
It has been a few weeks since Bucky had last hurt himself. Sam still worried a lot, James' therapist doesn't know about it, he hates her and doesn't trust her. Why would he tell her anything? Sam knew though, he found Bucky after an episode, covered in blood, cuts along his right side. Bucky had surprisingly not fought with Sam when he took away the knife, and all his other knives for three days after that.
"Yeah... yeah I'm fine." Bucky said, though his tone was suspicious. Nit that he wasn't always a little suspicious.
The door opened quickly a second later,
"See, fine." Bucky said though he had his arms crossed over his chest, clearly hiding something.
As much as Sam wanted to press for answers he knew better, it could make things worse, much worse. So Sam nodded,
"Yeah," he might have sounded a little like he suspected something, "well, coffee is done." Sam inform turning as he pat Bucky's arm.
There was this tiny little squeak the emerged from Bucky, or his general person. Sam suspected it was just a squeaky floor board and he walked away.
As Sam walked away back to the kitchen he heard faintly Buckh whispering, to himself. 'whelp that is a new one.' Sam thought shaking his head a little.
Bucky eventually followed him out to the kitchen and very carefully, more carful than normal reached up into the cupboard for a mug. Sam watched and he sighed a little, he knew then that Bucky had in fact cut himself again. He wasn't disappointed that Bucky would relapse, no that stuff happens and he knows it, he's a little disappointed Bucky wouldn't tell him he thought they had finally gotten to a point where Bucky would tell him these things. He has told him in the past.
Then there was that squeak again, so small and slightly muffled. Sam assumed the worse, assumed that Bucky had cut himself deep enough that it was actually causing him pain to move around. Sam didn't want to force Bucky to tell him or show him anything but if he had done real damage to himself he needed to know.
"James." Sam tried to keep his voice soft as to not upset Bucky any.
James looked over a little confused, he put the pot back on the hot plate, "yes?" He was very careful to keep one arm around his chest even as he held the mug.
"Let me see." Sam started still trying to be gentle,
"See what? I don't have anything." Bucky had added the 'i don't have anything' part rather quickly.
Sam imediatly realized his initial assessment was wrong, Bucky hadn't hurt himself. He obviously brought some probably rabid animal into the apartment.
"Don't lie to me. What do you have." Sam spoke a little more stern now.
"Nothing, I don't have anything." It might have been convincing had Sam not heard the small squeak again. This time it was obviously coming from the inside of Bucky's red Henley.
"James." Sam didn't sound impressed.
"Would you believe me if I said it was drugs?" Bucky asked clearly just being a dork again.
"If it wasn't squeaking, sure. I would totally believe that you would bring drugs home." Sam admits, he wasn't lying, he was sure that if there was ever some type of synthetic weed made for super soldiers Bucky would totally buy some.
Before Bucky could continue to argue that he didn't have anything at all a tiny white head poked out of the little opening the two undone buttons on his shirt made.
"Ta-da I stole a tiny cat!" Bucky said in a bit of a forced cheer taking a sip of his coffee.
The kitten squeaked again, said small noise looked like it took every ounce of strength it had to make.
"A cat. You were trying to smuggle in a kitten." Sam said a little bewildered.
Bucky took a pause, he got that look in his eyes that told Sam he wanted to tell him something but, well he's a man from the 40s and had been brainwashed into not feeling anything for 70 some years, he doesn't quite know how to open up when he has the right words to describe what it is he was feeling.
"It will get in the way." Bucky had landed on saying. "We'll have to find her a sitter while we're away on missions, a-and if someone attacked us here she would get in the way." Bucky explained a little better.
It hadn't taken much effort to put together what Bucky had been thinking. He had thought Sam would be upset, that he would make James take the cat somewhere else because she would get in the way and what not when they had to do their jobs. Sam of course would never think that, if anything James having a cat would be a good thing.
"Babe, I don't care if you want to keep the cat. In fact, i think it will be good for you." Sam told him giving the small white kitten a little head pat, to which there was a tiny scream from the kitten.
"You think?" Bucky asked not really sure he believed Wilson. "You're not just saying that cause you don't want to upset me?"
"No, I really think it will be good for you. I read a study a while back that said cats purring reduced stress." Sam answered, to which James had just nodded.
Sometimes it was easier to do that with Bucky, to be a little less emotional about things. Instead of Sam explaining how he thought Bucky had a stronger urge to care for other things, smaller things, more than to care for himself he simply stated a fact. Well something be believed to be a fact, Sam couldn't quite remember the whole article he had read it quite some time ago.
two hours later
Bucky, Sam, and the little kitten were all on the couch wrapped up in a blanket with a rather mediocre romance comedy movie playing in the background.
"So, what's her name?" Sam asked.
"I don't know yet." Bucky answered looking down at the kitten curled up in his lap.
The silence continues for a few more moments, Bucky just looking at the kitten who was asleep in his lap.
"Alpine?" Bucky said it more like a question than anything else.
The small kitten made a soft trill sound. Bucky nodded a little taking that as an acceptance of the name.