Chapter Text
Sam tapped his foot in impatience and, honestly, nervousness, as the elevator whisked him and Joaquín away to the sky-piercing heights of the ‘New Avengers’ headquarters. His face scrunched up just thinking about it, and he clicked his tongue. Bucky had better have had a good reason for forming his own official Avengers team without passing it by him first.
Honestly, though, Sam was finding it hard to believe that Bucky’s argument would meet his standards, no matter how logically-sound, which was maybe why it’d been so easy for Joaquín to weasel his way into this meeting. Maybe Sam was just shifting that responsibility onto someone else, selfishly relying on someone else to make the right call, the unbiased judgement. As if to remind him of his own weakness, Joaquín gave Sam a comforting smile and a firm pat on the shoulder. They were nearing the living area. Sam felt sick.
‘Don’t worry about it so much, okay? It’s just friends communicating, right? It’s healthy!’ Joaquín was really trying to sell him on this, huh? Sam’s lips twitched in response, falling back on their usual banter.
‘While I appreciate it, I’m not sure you and Buck are friends, Torres.’ Joaquín huffed and rolled his eyes.
‘He came to check up on me in hospital, didn’t he?’
‘He came to check up on me .’
Joaquín flung his arms up in mock-despair, getting a chuckle out of Sam, before the rattling ding of the elevator silenced them.
‘Just think: this can’t be worse than the President.’
‘Clearly, you’ve never been to a therapy session with Bucky Barnes.’
‘Isn’t that meant to be confidential, Wilson?’
The pair jumped as they were greeted by the man, himself, standing right outside the elevator doors. Dressed in a simple t-shirt, just like usual, Bucky was a sight for sore eyes, and it struck Sam that maybe the reason he’d brought Joaquín along was to avoid biased judgements in Bucky’s favour. He’d missed his friend.
That wasn’t to say Sam wasn’t upset with him, though.
Sam hadn’t realised he hadn’t replied until Bucky had turned awkwardly and called over his shoulder to have a seat while he got them all some coffee, casually (too casually) pointing at the sofas next to the window. He and Joaquín sat down, Sam’s body tensed like a coil. He faintly heard Bucky’s voice in the other room, probably talking to one of his teammates. Maybe Sam should’ve asked if one of the ‘New Avengers’ wanted to join in to balance out the argument—
No, not an argument. This was a communication .
Bucky soon returned with three mugs of coffee, handing them out before taking a seat across from the pair. Sam hated this, sat across from him, two-on-one, like a confrontation.
So, making an effort, he tried to open the conversation casually.
‘You and your team doing well, Buck?’ Bucky opened his mouth hesitantly, licked his lips, and then seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say, and took a long sip of coffee.
Well, this was going great .
After an awkward, caffeinated pause, he said, ‘As best as we can, at least. We weren’t really in the best places before we met.’
‘Yeah, no kidding’, Sam mumbled, the image of John Walker murdering a man in the street with Captain America’s shield flashing through his mind. Bucky, though, leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
And, damnit, Sam was immediately pouring fuel onto the fire. He’d gone into this hoping for a peaceful resolution, but he was starting to realise now just how difficult that was going to be with such a personal problem.
Maybe the best course of action was just to get everything out in the open. Rip the band-aid off, so to speak. He clenched his jaw, hating that he was having to prepare for the worst.
He caught Joaquín glancing at them both worriedly, but ignored it, turning his eyes back up to meet Bucky’s. ‘You know Walker’s a problem, Bucky. Knowing what he did, Hell, you were there to see it, how can you even consider bringing him onto a new team, let alone one with the ‘Avengers’ name?’
Bucky sighed softly and turned his head to the side, as if this exact line of questioning had run through his head a thousand times. Probably had. ‘Look, we didn’t pick the name, that was all Valentina, our… boss , I guess.’ The disdain was clear on his face. Sam took that as genuine. ‘In terms of Walker…’ He sighed again, looking every one of his one-hundred-something years. ‘You know how much the pressure of being Captain America gets to you, better than me, for sure, and you know just how much war can affect people.’
‘So do I’ went unsaid, but either way, Bucky’s reasoning gave Sam pause, because he’d felt that same rage when he thought Joaquín was going to die in that hospital bed, and Bucky had been there for him then. Walker had been alone, and he’d really lost his best friend. ‘Believe me,’ Bucky went on, ‘I was just as distrusting of him at first as you are now, and I’m not saying he’s any kind of saint, but…I saw, when we were dealing with the Void, I saw him, all of them, come together to protect people, just because it was the right thing to do. Everyone has their own issues. They shouldn’t have to deal with them alone.’ Sam supposed Steve had certainly had his own fair share of issues. The Avengers on the whole had, really, Sam could attest to that.
But Bucky had raised another point of contention.
‘Fine, I get it. I can’t lie and tell you Walker’s the first of his kind, and that no-one before him did any good for the world.’ Bucky seemed to know who he was talking about, swallowing tightly and giving a few small nods. ‘But while you’ve brought it up, you gonna tell me what exactly happened with the giant black void engulfing New York?’
The small smile that had been slowly blooming on Bucky’s face dropped, and Sam felt probably a bit too saddened by that, considering he was supposed to be pissed at him, but before either of them could say anything more, soft footsteps caught the attention of the room.
Coming into view, the bright pink sweater was what immediately drew Sam’s attention. Next was the face.
A face Sam had seen all over news coverage of Bucky’s new ragtag team: the face of the mysterious Robert Reynolds.
All eyes turned to him, and he froze under the attention. Following an awkward few seconds of staring, Bucky was the first to break the silence. ‘Bob, none of your pants go with bright pink, why are you wearing that?’ Sam had to bite his tongue to avoid making fun of Bucky’s own constantly moody wardrobe, but luckily, Reynolds had a defence(?) of his own.
‘Well, it’s a Wednesday, so…’ he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to his sweater, but it seemed to be a good enough reason for Joaquín, of all people, because he grinned at Reynolds, snapping his fingers and shooting him a thumbs up.
‘Alright…’ Bucky eventually said, seemingly pleased with the small smile growing on his friend’s face. Not wanting to waste this opportunity for information, Sam turned his body slightly to face Reynolds.
‘Bob, right?’ At the sharp nod, he continued. ‘You part of the team, too? I can’t say you’ve had much of a public spotlight compared to the others.’ Sam could feel Bucky’s steely gaze boring into him, but Sam’s own eyes remained solely focused on Reynolds.
‘Oh…yeah. I mainly just help out around the tower. Washing the dishes and stuff.’ Yeah, right. Sam knew there was more to it than that. Why would he have been stood with the team immediately following the Void incident otherwise?
The tension had somehow risen even more, even aside from the argument he’d just been having over Bucky’s team of assassins, war criminals, and…Bob.
Probably taking pity on himself (or maybe Sam) Joaquín saw an out and threw himself at it like it was water in a desert. ‘So, Bob,’ he said as he rose from his seat, ‘you like ‘Mean Girls’?’ Reynolds nodded eagerly, and Joaquín led him off to another room, the two debating over whether the original release or the remake was better.
Now it was just him and Bucky. At least, without company, Sam could get back to his original question. ‘Who the hell was that, Bucky?’ Sam wasn’t stupid. After the Void incident, victims had reported that, while reliving their most shameful experiences, they’d caught glimpses of a nervous, curly-haired young man hunched over a Rubik’s Cube in a shoddy-looking bedroom. He’d supposedly appeared in mirrors briefly, in puddles, just reflections in general, really, like he was straight out of a horror film. People hadn’t seemed to get a good enough look at him to put the pieces together on who he was, but now, seeing a guy who fits that exact description who had not only been with the team who had stopped the Void when they’d stopped the Void, but was now actually living with them was the nail in the coffin for Sam. ‘What’s he got to do with the Void incident?’
Bucky inhaled sharply at that, meeting Sam’s eyes head on. ‘Who told you that?’ The question was sharp, and Bucky’s newfound aggression made Sam feel a little better about grilling him mercilessly since he’d arrived.
‘What? It’s not hard to put two-and-two together from the reports people gave of the incident. Did he cause it , Bucky? And if so, how ?’
‘It’s not really my place to say, but he’s just like the rest of them. Lost. Alone. They need this, Sam. This chance .’
Sam let out a sigh. How would Steve have handled this? Probably with a satisfying agreement for both Bucky’s team and the general public. But then, Steve had left them behind to deal with all of this stuff, and Sam knew that, in his position, he couldn’t just leave these decisions to someone else, like Joaquín or Steve. Being Captain America asked the impossible of you. ‘Look, Buck, I can tell these guys are important to you. If you tell me they’ve really turned it around and are trying to do better, then okay. I trust you . But you’ve gotta trust me back.’ He looked imploringly at Bucky - at his friend - pretty much the only person left who understood about Steve. This snarky, goofy, kind man who had snuck his way onto Sam’s list of loved ones. ‘Please. People want to know they’re safe, Buck.’ At that last statement, Bucky averted his eyes and swallowed severely. Oh.
Oh .
‘You don’t think that’s gonna be the only incident, do you?’ It wasn’t really a question. Sam knew Bucky well enough to tell. ‘I’m sorry, Buck, but if there’s a chance of something like that happening again, Bob can’t stay here.’ And with that, Sam stood to go and find Reynolds and Joaquín, and Bucky rose with him.
‘Sam…’
Sam ignored him. He didn’t want to think about this. He felt nauseous, stuck between a rock and a hard place. No wonder Steve had just… given up .
‘Sam, please don’t do this.’
‘I’m sorry, Buck,’ he muttered, eyes trained towards the doorway where Joaquín’s muffled voice was chattering excitedly. God, that made him feel even worse. The sudden sound of energy charging behind him caught his attention, and before he knew it he’d been yanked back forcibly by the collar, stumbling to avoid falling on the coffee table. He whipped around to stare at Bucky wide-eyed, and saw Bucky’s equally-stunned expression staring down at the offending metal arm. The conversation in the other room had stopped. ‘What the hell, Bucky?’
‘You’ve never read ‘The Gruffalo’?! We’ve gotta fix that immediately .’ Bob huffed out a laugh, and Joaquín decided he’d take that as a win.
Bob was awesome, which, Joaquín supposed, was probably because he liked ‘Mean Girls’, and therefore triggered Joaquín’s instant friend bias. But even aside from that, for him to have been welcomed into the home of the New Avengers - a team made up of assassins and super soldiers with…questionable pasts and probably pretty closed-off personalities - just kind of proved that he was hard not to like.
Unfortunately, Joaquín was getting the impression that Bob didn’t think as much about himself.
Well, Joaquín (and hopefully Bob’s other friends) would just have to keep reminding him otherwise. On that note…
‘Hey, Bob, you got a phone?’ Bob blinked, before hastily fumbling around in his pocket. ‘Here, let’s swap contacts. We’ve gotta hang out soon, okay? Let me know how good ‘The Gruffalo’ is when you next see me, yeah?’ He grinned again, and Bob gave him a full grin back this time, showing him his contact info.
Just as Joaquín stuffed his phone back into his pocket, a pulse-like sound came from the next room over. Where Sam was with Barnes. Bob stared at him in fear and shock for a moment, mirroring Joaquín’s face. ‘What the hell, Bucky?’ was all he got out before dashing through the doorway, Joaquín in tow.
What they found was a face-off in the middle of the common area. Upon their entrance, Sam’s eyes locked onto Bob with the same intensity as someone looking at the culprit behind their family’s murders, prompting Joaquín to cover his new friend with his body. Either bravely or stupidly, Bob, himself, was the first to break the tense silence. ‘Bucky?’ The rest of the question went unsaid.
Bucky, having snapped out of his staring contest, turned to Bob. ‘We…were just finishing up. Sam’s leaving.’ Sam scoffed at that, but said nothing against it. Bucky’s tone left no room for argument.
‘Yeah…come on, Joaquín.’ He glanced again at Bucky, but with a sigh of…disappointment(?) turned to the elevator. ‘Nice to meet you, Bob,’ he said tersely. Joaquín gave Bob a tired smile, which he nodded at, and then went to join Sam in the elevator. As the doors were closing, he saw Bob sidle over to Bucky, reaching an arm out in comfort.
‘What the hell’, indeed.