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This will be the most money Sam has ever made in his life. With this kind of money, Sam can fix up the Paul & Darlene, the family boat. That’s the honest reason he accepted the job. Besides, living in a rent-free apartment and helping an outsider adapt to their new environment doesn't seem all that difficult. That’s what was in the job description, at least.
On Sam’s first day, he discovers this “outsider” is from the 1940s since they have miraculously discovered time travel. They proclaim this like a casual conversation piece. Sam tries his best to not look entirely stunned, but damn, he’s stunned. He thought time travel was something that would stay forever on television or in books.
When they reveal his future roommate, they sound out his name as if Sam’s never heard of him. Do they think schools stopped teaching about the legacy of Captain America and about his lifelong friend? Of course, Sam has heard of James Buchanan Barnes.
Next, they shift to updates. It’s jarring how fast they’re moving. Sam makes himself remain composed.
Sergeant Barnes had been hospitalized for two weeks, they tell him. Surgery was performed on his left arm. Sam assumes this is due to the fall — the historical fall in which Bucky Barnes fell from a train in 1945 and was never seen again. The one Sam read about in his high school history class. They don’t bother explaining this, though.
They couldn’t salvage his arm, they state blankly. Sam tenses with their bluntness. A prosthetic arm is being constructed, they continue, but it’ll take a few more weeks.
Sergeant Barnes has tried to flee the hospital ward three times; they pass by this fact just as swiftly as the others. The patient is disbelieving of time travel and has been repeatedly demanding to see flying cars.
They abruptly stand in unison.
“This way,” they instruct.
Sam stands from his seat, suddenly regretting his decision to be here. How could he have been so careless in accepting this job? To his defense, he hardly had any information except for the fact that he would be relocated to Brooklyn — which now makes a lot more sense. Otherwise, he was merely briefed on the security of the project. He was sent a work-issued laptop and cell phone with the knowledge that these devices would be regularly monitored. He was given the breakdown of reports he would have to send weekly. But this was all before he knew the project involved time travel. This was all before he found out the world decided to save Bucky Barnes.
Sam is led to a set of large double doors. When they open, the very man from history is standing in front of Sam. He’s surprisingly two inches taller than Sam. His eyes are a more piercing blue than old photographs would have suggested. And Sam doesn’t remember ever seeing Bucky Barnes with the thin layer of stubble that’s currently shadowing his jaw.
“I’m Sam,” Sam introduces himself, extending his hand.
Bucky struggles to accept Sam’s handshake as he’s clutching four paperback books under his arm. He clumsily let the books fall to shake his hand. Then hurries to pick them up from the floor the second their hands part.
“He refuses to leave them behind,” a nurse mumbles toward Sam.
“I have to read them again,” Barnes mutters in response, glaring at her.
They’re escorted to Sam’s car. Their temporary home is suburban enough that Sam can easily drive around the neighborhood. He knows Bucky isn’t originally from this area of Brooklyn, and it’s been so built-up over the years, he doubts Bucky will find the place all that familiar. Hopefully, being near familiar roots will still help.
“What should I call you, by the way?” Sam asks.
“Huh?” Bucky averts his gaze from the window he’s been staring out of.
“What name should I call you?” Sam rephrases. “I’m embarrassed to bring it up, but the textbooks always put your nickname in quotes. I wasn’t sure if ‘Bucky’ is reserved for certain people or…”
“Oh. No, Bucky is fine.”
“Cool,” Sam nods.
They drive the rest of the way in silence.
During the first few hours, Sam half expects Bucky to have a time-travel-induced nervous breakdown. Instead, he mainly reads the books he brought from the hospital, sitting silently on the couch and more than occasionally glancing over at Sam.
“You got any questions for me?” Sam asks, after maybe the seventh time Bucky has snuck a glance at him.
Bucky sits for a good, long minute.
“How old are you?” Bucky asks.
“31.”
“Am I’m…”
“Still 28, I guess. Just a good few decades in the future.”
Bucky makes a noncommittal sound, then falls quiet again, his eyes drifting back to the book in his hands.
Sam plans the first grocery trip, announcing this around four p.m. In response, Bucky automatically follows Sam to the front door.
“You have to stay here,” Sam frowns.
“Why?” he blinks
“You can’t leave until we get approval.”
Bucky’s brows furrow.
“I’m sorry, it’s the rules.”
“Rules are made to be broken,” Bucky tries, looking much too hopeful at his ability to sway Sam.
“Not this time.”
“What if—”
“You’re not leaving.”
“Hold on—”
“I order you not to leave this apartment.”
“You order me?” Bucky balks, biting back a smile.
“Yes,” Sam states, serious as ever.
Bucky sighs. “Can I at least go out onto the fire escape?”
“That can be allowed.”
When Sam comes home, he finds Bucky sitting in an old folding chair on the fire escape. Sam opens the door leading outside.
“You didn’t run away,” Sam comments.
“Surprised?”
“Partly,” Sam admits. “I got you something.”
Sam steps back inside as Bucky follows. They walk to the previously empty bookshelf in the living room, where the top shelf is now filled with novels Sam purchased on his way home.
Bucky looks quietly thrilled and thanks Sam in a very soft voice without looking away from the shelf.
“Thanks for not making me regret it,” Sam quips.
Bucky’s completely enthralled in the new collection of books until Sam starts making dinner a half hour later. Bucky enters the kitchen, looking suspicious.
“What’re you cooking?”
“Beef stew. Making enough to last us two to three days.”
Bucky stares at him.
“You’re cooking me dinner?”
“Well, yeah, we can’t eat out every night. We got a budget.”
His company-issued credit card actually has a limit and he just spent a good chunk on books.
“Oh.”
Bucky makes a face like he’s unsure how to feel. His confusion fades when his eyes catch the bottle of wine that Sam purchased.
“We can drink?” Bucky’s face lights up.
“Yeah, we can.”
“Is that an order?” Bucky smirks at him over the bottle.
“Alcohol’s allowed,” Sam bites back a smile.
By the time dinner is done, Bucky is clearly tipsy, but he’s hiding it well. If it wasn’t Sam’s job to observe his every move, he may not have noticed. He’s only just beginning to slur his words ever so slightly, and a smile keeps floating on and off his face.
They eat in silence for a while.
“You’re a really good cook,” Bucky compliments.
“Thank you.”
“It’s all so… flavorful.”
“It’s the seasonings. You’ll see a lot more of them in this decade.”
Bucky shovels more food into his mouth. He eats very quickly and refills his wine glass after he’s done.
Sam takes his time eating. He’s not sure how long Bucky’s been staring at him when he looks up again.
“Why did they choose me? You know, to bring to the future?”
It’s a question Sam was prepared for. How could someone in his situation not ask?
“Well, our records show that after you had fallen from the train… well.”
“I died,” Bucky finishes for him, sensing Sam’s discomfort.
“It was the last we heard of you. Steve Rogers went on record saying he’d lost his best friend.”
Bucky swallows thickly. “And Steve is…”
“He, um, was fighting a secret organization called Hydra. His plane went down in the Arctic in 1945.”
“I see.”
“I’ll take you to the museum.”
“Museum?”
“The Smithsonian,” Sam clarifies. “There’s an exhibit on you both.”
Bucky nods silently for a beat.
“So I should be dead, which is why they chose me?”
“Partly,” Sam answers. “I believe they estimated that, most likely, you wouldn’t have died from the fall, and so it’d be possible to save you. I’m not privy to the entire experiment. I believe they plan to extract multiple people from various timelines in history.”
Bucky seems to accept this and doesn’t say anything else until he offers to wash the dishes. Sam gladly takes him up on the offer.
The following weeks follow just as mundanely. Each morning, Sam finds Bucky on the fire escape, no matter how early it is. He soon worries Bucky isn’t sleeping.
He notes signs of insomnia for his weekly report. He’ll have to mention the darkening bags under Bucky’s eyes and the additional cups of coffee he’s begun brewing.
Sam also notes how easily Bucky gets distracted. Modern clothes seem to be an obvious culprit, especially when Sam’s wearing bright colors. He sometimes stares at Sam like he’s wearing a clown’s suit. His own attire is very dated. He wears many button-downs, collared shirts, and slacks. He hasn’t opted for shorts, regardless of the impending summer heat outside. The suspenders catch Sam off guard the first time he sees them. He’d forgotten what a staple of the past they are. He almost wants to tell Bucky about belts but the suspenders are so damn cute, he doesn’t.
Sam’s been teaching Bucky how to use his smartphone and the laptop. He explains the internet, encouraging him to search anything he’s curious about. Bucky seems to prefer the laptop, but he is very slow with the keyboard and rarely uses it.
Sam doesn’t mention that his search history will be recorded and that he’ll receive a confidential report from the Wellness team every week to make sure Bucky’s not looking up anything concerning. He feels funny keeping this secret, but then again, anyone could have made Bucky aware of this. Maybe they did. That’s what Sam tells himself when he reviews Bucky’s internet logs each week.
Bucky’s first internet search, heartbreakingly, is the names of all his family members. After that, many questions regarding cultural advancements and new slang terms. Otherwise, he has searched extensively about the Brooklyn Dodgers.
After a while of Sam cooking dinner every night, Bucky’s search history shifts to recipes. He has researched every meal Sam has ever cooked for him, but interestingly, Bucky hasn’t attempted to cook anything in the kitchen himself. Well… until the morning Sam wakes up to the smoke alarm blaring.
He jolts out of bed before he’s fully awake, running to the kitchen. Bucky jumps back from the stove, where a burnt pan sits under a billowing cloud of smoke. Sam sprints to the stove, turns it off, and throws the pan under water.
“Open the window,” he instructs. Bucky hurries to pry it open. “What were you making?”
“Eggs,” Bucky shares, guilty.
“Don’t look like eggs,” Sam says, and then he smiles because he sees how horrified Bucky looks.
After the smoke dies down, the alarm silences, and they both breathe a sigh of relief.
“If you wanna learn to cook, you could’ve just said something.”
“It’s the electric stove. It wasn’t heating up, I kept trying to get it hotter. Why don’t they use gas stoves anymore?” Bucky argues.
“They do. This place is just luxury.”
“Yeah, well… I’m sorry.” Bucky averts his gaze, huffing out a heavy breath.
“Hey, you didn’t burn the place down. That’s a win in my book.”
Bucky doesn’t attempt to cook after that. He sticks to doing the dishes every night.
Bucky still spends almost all his time reading. Sam tries to expose him to more music. He starts with Marvin Gaye, thinking it’ll be a safe bet, but Bucky seems ultimately unimpressed.
“I like '40s music,” is all he says.
Sam is undeniably salty about it.
“You know we have a TV,” Sam points out one night.
“I know,” Bucky replies, reluctantly putting his book down as if being forced to.
“I was just mentioning it. We don’t have to watch anything.”
“You pick something.”
Sam turns on the TV and finds a movie that Bucky is clearly not enjoying. He even yawns at one point.
“Want me to change it?” Sam checks.
“No.”
He yawns again, the nerve, then slouches further into the couch.
“You’re allowed to read, you know,” Sam sighs.
Bucky immediately picks his book back up.
“Well, you are in charge,” Bucky pretends to sound exasperated, hiding a small smile behind his book.
“Jesus, I'm never living that down.”
“No, sir,” Bucky grins.
Sam rolls his eyes, turning back to the TV, but his stomach betrays him with a shameless flutter.
Through Sam’s close observation, he’s begun to notice Bucky smiles more often. Specifically, he smiles at Sam. At least, that's what Sam writes in his notes — the private ones he writes in his journal. They are small smiles, but they happen more, and it always makes Sam’s chest twinge when he believes they are for him.
A full-width, dimpled smile is rare to come by, but Sam already begun counting how many he sees of those. Unfortunately, he’s currently at a tally of one, and that one beautiful smile came from a book. A bunch of fictional words made Bucky smile like that. Sam tries to forget that part.
Sam constantly questions whether anything Bucky does is for him. He realizes how much he desperately wants it all to mean something.
As summer looms on, the growing heat distracts Sam from this quest. Since they’re not paying for this place, they crank the AC up as high as they want. Still, a heat wave in early July is strong enough that Sam sleeps in his underwear. The next morning, he forgets to put a shirt on. When he walks to the bathroom, he catches Bucky eyeing him from the fire escape with alarmed amazement. Sam conveniently forgets his shirt most mornings now.
Unsurprisingly, Bucky grows restless. He lasts a month before he begins complaining about not leaving the apartment.
“Why can’t I leave?”
“You have to be cleared. They assumed you’d need more time to adjust.”
“You know, in my day, we went outside a lot more. I hear the sun is actually vital to our wellbeing.”
“Alright, old man, I’ll write a request.”
Sam submits the request and also mentions Bucky’s restlessness in his weekly report to make sure they get the point.
Sam Wilson Weekly Report 04:
Physical appearance: From close examination, blushes easily. Often reserved and intense looking. More often, stares blankly. Face continues to show evidence of lack of sleep. No weight gain, but gets noticeably excited about desserts and coffee. Drinks up to four cups of caffeine a day now.
Mental state: Typically calm and very quiet. Curious and patient around new objects. Has demonstrated light humor. Eager to leave the apartment, increasingly restless. Has asked multiple times about leaving the property. Truly won’t shut up about it.
A week later, Control emails Sam that a prosthesis is ready for Sergeant Barnes.
“Good news, you get to leave the apartment today!” Sam announces.
Sam’s startled by the leap Bucky makes off the couch, his face beaming with anticipation. It’s honestly the most excited Bucky’s ever looked. Sam tries not to get too attached to it.
Their return home is much more somber. Bucky remains hesitant about his prosthetic arm even though it’s easily the nicest, most elaborate-looking prosthesis Sam’s ever seen. Apparently, Stark Industries has donated considerably to this project.
At home, Bucky sits on the couch without a book, staring blankly at his metal arm.
“You good?” Sam asks.
Bucky shrugs.
“Does it feel okay?” Sam checks.
He sits down on the couch, leaving a good foot between them.
“Fine.”
His eyes haven’t moved.
“Can you feel this?” Sam asks and slides his fingertips across the top seams.
Bucky pales, his eyes shooting up to meet Sam's.
“Yeah… a little,” he breathes, astounded.
“Good,” Sam smiles, removing his hand.
Bucky continues to stare at him. Bucky has stared a lot since he got here, but tonight, it’s so intense it makes Sam feel completely unnerved.
Later that night, in bed, Sam realizes that may have been the first time he’s touched Bucky. It was such a fleeting and light touch. And yet, he wonders if Bucky’s thinking about it as much as he is.
Somehow, the brief touch must have opened a passageway in Bucky’s brain because suddenly, he touches Sam regularly. All very innocently, of course. Mainly just to move Sam out of the way when he’s standing in front of the coffee pot or the door to the fire escape. Bucky puts both hands on his shoulders and moves him aside.
Maybe he’s just testing out the prosthesis, he is using both hands. Regardless of the reason, Sam is secretly thrilled that Bucky’s touching him. He lets himself be moved.
Beyond platonically putting his hands on Sam, Bucky has become noticeably withdrawn, quieter than usual. Their nights are usually filled with small talk about their day or, occasionally, Bucky has simple questions he asks Sam. Lately, he only lets Sam talk. He doesn’t wear the small smiles Sam’s grown so used to seeing. This immediately worries Sam.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asks one night at dinner.
Their forks scraping the plates have been the only sound for the past ten minutes. Bucky peers up at him but doesn’t make an effort to answer; he blinks back down at his food.
“It’s okay if you’re not, you know,” Sam says gently. “This would be a lot for anyone.”
“I should be dead,” Bucky states bluntly.
“Yeah, but you’re not.”
Bucky doesn’t look happy with that response.
“Look, I’m not here because I know the perfect thing to say to you. They wanted you to have a friend. So that’s what I’m trying to be,” Sam shares.
“I thought your job was to make sure I don’t leave the apartment outside of medical exams,” Bucky says, finally with a small smile.
“And I’ve done amazingly at that. You’re going insane cooped up here with me. Mission accomplished,” Sam boasts sarcastically.
Bucky laughs. It’s pure and unexpected. Sam instantly needs to hear it more often.
In perfect timing, Sam gets approval for them to leave the house. The Wellness team pointedly suggests morning walks as a healthy source of physical activity. They attempt to limit excursions to grocery stores and movie theaters. Sam gets the sense they don’t want Bucky interacting with others for too long.
Sam shows Bucky the email, not wanting Bucky to think these limited options are coming from him.
“I used to run every morning anyway. Wanna join me?” Sam offers.
When they begin a new routine of running in the mornings, Sam needs to lend Bucky some gym clothes. It’s the first time Sam’s seen Bucky in shorts and a loose t-shirt. They hang on him a bit since he doesn’t have the same muscle mass. A fact Sam would typically brag about, but it doesn’t seem fair as Bucky has traveled 65 years into the future and has been limited to the inside of this apartment for five weeks.
Besides, Sam refuses to bring up the topic because he’s trying not to think about how much he likes seeing Bucky wear his clothes.
The truth is, he could’ve bought Bucky his own workout clothes with the company card. He just didn’t.
Since August has arrived, they’re both sweaty after their runs. It’s the first time Sam truly struggles to avoid overtly staring at Bucky when his shirt is drenched. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice Sam’s sweatiness or maybe his flushed face isn’t only from over-exertion. It’s hard to tell, especially when Bucky barely looks at him on their runs. Once, he told Sam, “You’re really fit.”
Sam got tongue-tied and pretended not to hear.
Even though Bucky can leave the house now, Sam occasionally still finds reasons to travel by himself. Sometimes, he’s called into headquarters. Other times, he needs something from the store and can’t rely on Bucky to find it.
Bucky learns how to call Sam on his cell phone and begins doing so every time Sam leaves the house without him.
“Just checking where you are,” Bucky will say every time.
“I told you where I was going.”
“That was fifteen minutes ago, your plans could have changed by now.”
Sam grins so wide at every excuse Bucky gives him — because there’s always one — and he’ll argue that Bucky is being ridiculous.
“These smartphones are quite handy,” Bucky will surmise, seemingly forgetting the argument.
As much as Bucky seems keen on checking in on Sam, Sam’s reminded that he’s supposed to be the one paying close attention when he receives another email from the Wellness team. Sergeant Barnes must not miss any monthly medical checkups. Monitoring is crucial, as time travel may have unforeseen consequences, it reads.
Sam remembers, not for the first time, that Bucky may fall privy to ailments completely out of his control. Possibly, Sam could lose him. Sam’s beginning to realize he can’t imagine a world where Bucky isn’t in his life.
Sam was never planning on missing a medical checkup, but he pushes Bucky out of the house an hour early for the next one.
“Can never be too early,” Sam claims when Bucky protests.
The exam goes smoothly and Sam breathes easy again when they step back outside.
“How about a walk?” Sam suggests.
“That’s such a healthy source of physical activity,” Bucky mocks the email from Wellness.
Sam grins at him.
Their walk evolves into a play-by-play of Bucky’s latest book when he begins relaying the entire plotline of the novel he’s reading to Sam. Sam nods along until Bucky stops short on the sidewalk. Sam turns abruptly and watches two men pass them, holding hands. And if he couldn’t be more obvious, Bucky turns himself fully around to watch the couple continue down the street. It’s a stark reminder of what time period Bucky is from.
“Yeah, that’s a common thing now,” Sam says casually.
For once, Sam nervously awaits Bucky’s reaction.
“Two fellas?”
“Sure. Guys, girls. Anyone, really. Gender is a whole thing now, too. We can get into that later,” Sam spills a little too fast.
“You don’t say,” Bucky marvels.
By the end of the week, Sam receives Bucky’s latest internet log. When he opens the report, two new searches make his breath stop.
“Is being gay legal?” is the first one. “Naked men” is the second.
Almost instantaneously, a second email delivers from the Wellness team mentioning Bucky’s “risque” search and explains they will continue to monitor his habits, but the issue does not need to be addressed currently.
Sam quickly closes the email and feels his face warm. It could be genuine curiosity, he comes from a different time. Then again, he didn’t have to look up naked men.
Sam desperately tries to forget the last internet report. He doesn’t want to consider a possibility that’s unlikely. But of course, now that he wants to forget it, everything makes him imagine the two of them together.
Like the next time Sam puts music on, he tries more modern hits, but Bucky still doesn’t budge.
“If we can’t dance to it, then what’s the point?” Bucky sighs.
All that does is make Sam think about their bodies too close, swaying together — grinding — Bucky’s hands on his waist.
He stops playing music in the apartment after that.
At some point, Bucky jokingly tells Sam, “You’re cruel to me even though I’m very handsome and I read online pretty people get treated better.”
Sam immediately checks the next report and finds a list of new searches that makes his heart jump a beat.
“How to tell someone they are pretty?”
“Attractive people treated differently?”
“Dollface, out of date?”
Sam’s head spins. These can’t be about him, can they? He’s not sure how to even approach the topic — what if headquarters emails him about it?
Sam is in a state of undetected panic for the next two days. Except, somehow, Bucky does detect it and asks if he’s okay.
They’re sitting on the couch, both reading, a whole couch cushion away from each other when he does.
“You’ve been quiet the past few days,” Bucky notes.
Sam shakes his head.
“Just been thinking a lot.”
“About what?”
He sounds so earnest when he asks it, Sam doesn’t want to lie to him. But he also doesn’t want to tell him it’s part of his job description to stalk his search history.
“Uh, my family,” Sam lies.
“Yeah? Tell me about them.”
Sam blinks, not expecting to hear genuine interest in his voice. Bucky slides down the couch, over the cushion separating them. Sam’s heart pounds in his chest at their new proximity.
“Oh well, they’re in Louisiana. My sister and her two boys. We got a boat out there. I’m hoping to fix it up when I get back.”
Bucky stares at him like he’s thinking long and hard about something.
“A boat?”
“Yeah, part of the family business…” Sam begins, but he loses his train of thought because Bucky’s sitting so close to him, still staring.
Then his eyes drop down to Sam’s mouth and Sam can’t move. Can’t finish his sentence for the life of him, but Bucky seems to have forgotten the question too.
“Sam,” Bucky says softly.
It’s not a question, but Sam still nods, waiting for the inevitable questions about homosexuality, about two men living openly in today’s world, about calling someone pretty.
His mind races with every possible question until Bucky doesn’t ask anything at all. He only dips forward and kisses Sam, fast and easy.
Sam’s lips scream for more the second Bucky’s mouth is gone. He can’t help the way his whole body wants to jump this man.
“What was that for?” Sam stupidly asks.
That’s when Sam earns one of Bucky’s rare, full-width, dimpled smiles. One that’s all for him. Only for him. Sam can’t stop the smile that stretches across his face, too.
“I’ve been thinking about… other forms of physical activity.” Bucky licks his lips into a grin.
Sam stares at him incredulously and then breaks into an unexpected laugh.
“That’s seriously how you’re gonna flirt with me?”
“I’d been meaning to ask if you had a dame for a long time now,” Bucky defends.
“And why didn’t you?”
“I finally realized I got this second chance at life. What was I doing wasting it when I could be taking out the most handsome man I’ve ever met… I mean, now that it’s legal and all.”
Sam leans forward to grab the collar of Bucky’s t-shirt and pulls him back to his lips to kiss him harder.
“How long is your assignment?” Bucky asks, in bed afterwards.
“My assignment?”
“I mean, we’re not meant to be living together forever, are we? This is only a job.”
“Yeah, my contract is through the year,” Sam tells him.
“And then?”
Bucky turns to look at him with the same intensity Sam’s seen before. He realizes this is how Bucky pleads with his eyes when he wants something. And for once, he’s never been more sure that Bucky wants him.
“And then, you’ll be free of me,” Sam jokes.
“What if I don’t wanna be free?”
He wraps both arms around Sam as if he’s about to run away.
“Then don’t let me go,” Sam whispers, and he doesn't let go of him for the rest of the night.