Chapter Text
“I should be there,” said Bucky as he watched on from the small office at his campaign headquarters.
“You’re right where you need to be, sir,” his assistant replied.
Bucky’s eyes remained on the screen in front of him. He watched on as Sam did what he did best: Save the day. And then Torres went down, and all Bucky could think of was getting there.
“I’m going,” said Bucky as he got up from where he was sitting and stomped toward the door.
“James,” his campaign manager stepped in. “Captain America’s got a hold on the situation. He’s got this.”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed a moment before he said, “Yeah. I know he does. I know Sam’s got this. But who’s got him?”
“You have a flight to catch.”
“Reschedule it,” Bucky said as he left the room. “I’m going to him.”
…
The room was sterile and cold in that clinical way that always made an uneasiness swirl around inside of Bucky’s stomach. He stood in the doorway a beat and took the moment to just stare at Sam. He was in one piece. Stoic, always handsome, and in one piece. Bucky had to take a steadying breath before he moved from his spot in the doorway.
"It's a private room. Go away."
He could hear the weariness in Sam’s voice and that tugged at his heart. He sidled up next to Sam.
"Missed you, too," Bucky said then.
Sam turned to look at Bucky, whose eyes were soft. He knew they were soft. Sam had that effect on him. Sam looked away then, as a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. His smiles, no matter how small, always made something akin to a flutter settle inside of Bucky’s chest.
“I hate to admit it,” Sam proffered, and Bucky knew he was going for banter. “I'm glad you're here."
Sam turned to look at Bucky then, and they both instinctively went in to hug one another. It was fleeting, in the grander scheme of things, a quick hug between friends. But it meant so much more to Bucky. He relished in the feeling of holding Sam’s firm, warm body in his arms.
Bucky closed his eyes then. Let all of the worry that he had been carrying dissipate as Sam’s arms encircled him. He was there for Sam. To support Sam. To show up for Sam in the same way that Sam showed up for the whole world. To make sure that Sam had someone there who had his back at a time that was uncertain and scary. Someone who wasn’t there to make demands of Sam or to second-guess him. Yet there was something selfish about it for Bucky. He needed to be there for Sam, but he also needed Sam. In his line of sight; in his arms.
They parted and it was just as quickly as they had embraced. Bucky missed Sam’s warmth immediately. They stood side by side once more.
"You looked good out there on that 6 o'clock," Bucky supplied and he meant it; Sam shook his head and then a small, coy smile flashed across his face. "But then I saw this."
"Doctors had to restart his heart. They don't know if –"
Sam’s eyes closed and Bucky could feel the guilt radiate from him.
"This isn't your fault,” said Bucky, in the same manner that Sam had often said the same words to him.
"It makes me think of Steve. How many alien invasions did he stop, again?" asked Sam, and Bucky knew where the conversation was headed. The way both he and Sam defaulted to talking about Steve and his accomplishments when they each felt like they couldn’t compare to him.
"Two."
"Two. Wow. What made me think I could follow that?” said Sam in a self-deprecating way that Bucky rarely heard from him, only when he was feeling raw and vulnerable. “I should’ve taken the serum. Like Steve. Like you."
Bucky knew that Sam knew that Bucky didn’t actually take the serum. He knew Sam knew that. And he knew Sam was in a highly emotional state. Bucky learned long ago not to make things about himself when Sam needed to vent. He looked at Sam the same way Sam often looked at him. It was the tough love look they gave one another.
"Why?"
"Because this is all starting to seem much bigger than me," Sam offered before turning to face Bucky. "Ross, he asked me to restart the Avengers, Buck. But Joaquin's in here. Isaiah's in prison. And Sterns – I had him. I had Sterns. Right in my hands. And he got away. He damn near pushed us to the brink of war, because I wasn't—"
Sam let his own words fall away.
"Say what you need to say," Bucky urged as Sam looked down and then back at him.
"Steve made a mistake."
There it was. The doubtful words that Bucky knew lived inside of Sam. The words that came back to Sam when the weight of everything got a little too much. The vitriol that people hiding behind online anonymity spewed. The words Bucky had once said.
Maybe Steve was wrong about you.
The memory of those words he had said to Sam rung out in his head. He should never have given voice to anything like that to Sam in the first place. He didn’t understand then, but he knew better now. And he would do everything he could to make sure that Sam knew that Bucky was wrong; that the people who had everything and anything to say about Sam were wrong; that the loud voice inside was wrong.
“No, he didn't,” said Bucky plainly; clearly. “He gave you that shield, not because you're the strongest, but because you're you. You think if you had that serum, you'd be able to protect all the people you care about. Steve had it, and he couldn't. You're a human being and you're doing your best. Steve gave people something to believe in, but you – you give them something to aspire to."
He could see the change in Sam’s demeanor, albeit a small change. Could see some of the weight lift. Sam’s eyes narrowed as his lips curled up.
"Did your speech writers help you with that?" asked Sam, the familiar mirth returning to his pretty eyes.
"They did, yeah, the ending, a little bit. Well, did you like it? Was it—?"
"No no, it was good. Solid – B plus."
“Yeah. Emotional."
"Very. I felt it."
"But just enough."
"Yeah."
Bucky exhaled. Sam was going to be okay.
“Listen, I've gotta – catch a plane. I have a campaign fundraiser. It's so stupid."
They glanced over at where Joaquin was. Bucky looked at Sam.
"He's gonna be all right, man."
They shared a look then and shook hands. Bucky wanted more.
"Thanks, Buck."
"I love you, buddy,” said Bucky before he went to leave.
He stopped in his tracks then.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“If you need to talk,” Bucky said softly. “About what’s happened. With Isaiah. With the kid. About – Riley. Anything. I can be here for you in no time if you need. I’m here for you.”
Sam gave him a plaintive smile and then walked over to draw Bucky in for another hug. It was different from the first one they had shared some moments before. Sam got close and buried his face in Bucky’s neck. Bucky rubbed a soothing hand up and down Sam’s back. They clung to one another. Melted into one another.
“Thank you, Buck,” said Sam, as he pulled away and then straightened Bucky’s tie.
He patted down the tie and then placed his palms to the lapel of Bucky’s jacket. Neither man moved away. Sam averted his gaze and then bit his lip. Bucky could see he was wrestling with something he needed to say.
“Sam?”
“Mmmm?”
“Say what you need to say,” Bucky whispered, as he took hold of one of Sam’s hands in his own.
Sam gave his hand a squeeze and then said, “I love you, too, Buck. I love you, too.”