Chapter Text
Being Captain America has its pros, like getting drinks on the house occasionally, or you know, being a voice for those often silenced and forgotten, but it definitely had its cons, like getting himself in this type of situation.
They weren't in the heat of battle or even fighting anybody. They were just transporting an incredibly delicate machine found in one of Hank Pyms’ warehouses, as a favor to Tic Tac.
And, really, that should've been his first clue, Sam should have known not to mess with any type of technology that was somehow related to the Ant-Man suit. It had only caused him trouble before and it was becoming a recurring theme now.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at first. Sam had put on his certified mission type playlist, which is to say the most obnoxious and ironic-like songs just to annoy Bucky.
And it was working, just like it always did. The old man had his signature scowl on and he was even muttering under his breath.
It was deeply entertaining to watch.
…Up until an asshole decided to get in their lane without warning and Bucky had to put his amazing driving skills to use to avoid getting into a car wreck.
No matter how much of a great driver you were, you can't totally avoid joggling some of the goods every once in a while, especially under current circumstances.
So when Sam heard what could only be described as a turning on sound coming from the back seat, he only had one thing to say.
Fuck.
Yeah, this was the last time he did Scott any type of favors.
Surprisingly, nothing hurt.
The weird thing is that the machine had apparently decided to be nice enough to bring their car along. Or maybe it wasn't such a good thing, now that Sam thought about it.
This hero business was no joke. He had already lost two cars to it, two perfectly good cars. Well, one nice car and a beautiful, brand new truck.
God, it still hurts to think about it.
Huh, he wonders if he really doesn't have a concussion or some sort of magic head injury. Because this is decidedly not what he should be thinking about right now.
Maybe it's because his vision is barely starting to clear, his surroundings starting to come into focus. He doesn't even have to turn his head to see that he never had to worry about his situational awareness.
Having Bucky by his side was more than enough for him to know that whatever they were going up against didn't stand a chance.
Turns out, they were going up against an empty airport.
Bucky tensed next to him. He turned at the same time. There they were and…
What?
Sam definitely had a concussion. Was this a coma dream?
This really couldn't be real, because that would mean that Sam was currently looking at Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit and Steve Rogers in his eye-sore of a costume.
He locked eyes with Bucky for the first time and saw his feelings reflected back at him in those soulful eyes.
Well, shit.
They hadn't seen them yet, they could quietly go and try to figure out how to get back home.
Except, engineering was not part of their skill set. And after weighting it in his head, he decided it wasn't worth the risk.
The multiverse was a thing, as it turns out. A crazy thing to hear on a normal Tuesday, for sure. But it was currently very useful information and Sam knew he had to tread carefully here.
During the whole minute it took Sam to figure out a semi decent plan, Bucky had been watching his micro expressions while making sure they still had their cover. So when Sam opened his mouth to explain, Bucky just shook his head. “I'm right behind you.”
He said it so matter-of-fact that Sam just had to take a second to let that warm feeling spread across his chest.
That unwavering support and trust made him believe that he could do anything, as long as they were together. A stark contrast to their first solo mission together.
He took a breath, and reached for the door handle. “Come on.” He opened the door and got out, Bucky did the same and they slowly walked side by side until they were in full view of their past friends.
Fucking time travel.
They couldn't be dropped at another time, like last week when they had finally gotten a lazy Monday, cuddling and not doing anything productive.
It just had to be right in the middle of the Avengers’ split up.
Great.
And better yet, their friends' attention had finally shifted off each other and settled on them.
“Hi.”
He can admit, this was not one of his best moments, but oh, well.
He can physically feel Bucky's amusement even while not looking at him. The smug bastard is never going to let him live this down.
He mentally sighed.
“Sam? Bucky?” Sam doesn't think he's ever seen Steve look more confused. The poor guy looks like his entire reality just shifted. Which, not that far off.
“Ok. Excuse me. What the fuck?” Tony eloquently voices everyone's thoughts.
They all have their weapons down, not fully, but it's still a statement to their bewilderment that they aren't throwing fists yet.
He looks to Bucky for support, but the bionic staring machine only shrugs.
Fine.
“Uh, so, funny story. Turns out time traveling is a thing.” Where his gift with words went he doesn't have a clue, but he sure as hell would like to know now.
“Time travel?” is the unanimous response he gets.
“Yeah, we were transporting a machine that can, apparently, do that. Not that we were told of it before.” He says the last part under his breath, but he can see it didn't matter with some of the enhanced individuals present.
“And, why, exactly, were you two doing that?” Again, Stark is the spokesperson for the group.
“You know we can't tell you that. It could change things in your future.” Not that this won't definitely change things, but he doesn't want to fuck things up too much.
“And you being here is, what?” He should have known Stark would say that. Damn.
A polite, yet firm voice intervenes. “Sorry to interrupt, but is that vibranium?”
Oh.
T’Challa.
It sends a pang through his chest to see him, to see them, standing there, like they aren't ghosts of Sam's friends.
“Yes, Your Majesty. It was a gift from Princess Shuri.” Bucky rolls up his left sleeve, letting more of the metal arm in full view.
He sounds solemn, likely feeling once again the loss of a dear friend, of someone who risked so much so Bucky could have a little peace.
He can't see through the mask what must be surprise on T’Challa’s face, but his body language sure shows it.
“How am I meant to know what you are saying is true?” Some of that princeling training must be kicking in now, but still Sam can see T’Challa could once again become their greatest ally.
“The princess would be offended if you can't recognize her work when you see it.” There's a faint smile on Bucky's face, his voice fond, as it often is when talking about literally anyone of Wakanda, but especially the princess.
T’Challa chuckles, softly shaking his head. “She would.”
It seems that was enough for him, his guard not as high as before.
“Bucky?”
Ah, yeah. Sam thought he may have forgotten about something.
“Hi, Stevie.” Bucky's face does that weird thing it sometimes does when they talk about Steve, between sad and fond.
He inches just the tiniest bit closer, offering his silent support.
Steve hesitates.
“How are you?” His voice is soft, unsure, looking like he's stopping himself from coming any closer.
“I'm definitely way better than he is, that’s for sure.” He nods at his past self, who tenses under the sudden attention.
“How old are you?”
Not that of an unexpected question, but Bucky still looks at Sam for backup.
“112.” He says, proud, remembering the birthday party they just had, a little gathering in Delacroix. Sarah, the kids and a few of their close friends.
“It's been 13 years for you?” Steve sounds breathless, probably due to what that means for Bucky, for them.
To Steve it means that what they're fighting for today was worth it. That despite the odds, he was able to get his best friend to safety, to give him a chance at life.
It's suddenly hitting Sam too. He remembers this day all too well. He remembers his lack of faith in Bucky then, of how much has changed since.
He also remembers what this fight leads to, and, fuck it. If he can avoid them the heartache, he will.
“Yeah.” Bucky sounds like he's having some realizations of his own. They'll talk about it when they get home. Right now they only have to focus on getting everyone to get along again.
Easy, right?
A nasally, prepubescent, all too familiar voice snaps them out of the sudden tension the revelation had brought on. “Holy shit.”
“Language.”
All at once, the original Avengers chuckle at Steve's reprimand.
Steve sighs, “I'm never going to live this down.” He mutters under his breath.
Sucks to be him, because in the silence of the empty airport everyone heard it, which just causes a few sneakers and smiles among the group.
“So, Sam, how are things in 2029?” Natasha wryly asks.
Looking at her kind of hurts, even after all these years. Knowing he never got to say goodbye makes it even worse.
One minute he was there with her, in the heat of battle, and the next he was being told five years had passed. He only realized she was gone until after the final battle against Thanos.
It's unbelievable to him that he could have spent all that time thinking she was out there, fighting, as she always was.
He has to clear his throat before attempting to answer that question. “Things are good. Busy, as always. But we get by just fine.”
He doesn't know what to say. He knows he has to say something, anything to warn them against what's to come. But the words don't seem to be coming out.
He feels Bucky's shoulder knock against his. “Ah, come on, Sam. Don't be so modest. Things are going better than fine. I mean, you finally got the kids to stop going rogue every time they patrol together.”
Sam smiles, he thinks of Peter, Kamala, Billy, America and Kate. They aren't really kids, but to him, they are. They've grown on him over the years.
Even if those five made him and Bucky decide not to have kids. With how many white hairs they've gotten out of them both they don't think they could take more.
Besides, they feel good with what they have now, and being pseudo parents and the cool uncles is way underrated, in Sam's very much not biased opinion.
“Kids?” asks Younger Sam.
Nobody prepares you for how much of an out of body experience it is to see yourself from the outside. He looks at himself and he can see the passage of time. His younger self doesn't have a single white hair, his goatee carefully trimmed, unlike Sam's own hair, more gray every day.
The biggest difference right now probably is the evident alarm in his past self’s eyes.
“Yes, kids. Five of them. All yours.” Bucky grins, proud of himself.
Although it's not as bad as before, him and Bucky had kept the banter going even after years together. Evident in how the former (current?) Mister America looks like he's having the time of his life messing with Sam's naive younger self. Even Bucky's counterpart looks vaguely amused, and for that guy that's basically a full belly laugh.
“Five? What do you mean five? Are you kidding?” Younger Sam desperately turns to Steve for help. “He's kidding, right?”
Steve looks between them and back at his Sam. “I actually don't know.” He doesn't seem particularly upset about it though, more curious than anything.
Bucky shrugs. “Guess you'll just have to see.”
Damn.
No wonder people thought he was the bad guy. With that evil glint in his eyes and the knowing smile he’s giving everyone.
Sam decides to finally intervene before things get more out of hand. “Guys. Let's not lose sight of what's important here.”
Blank stares.
He sighs.
“Time travel?” Still, nothing. “We have information we are kind enough to be willing to share with you?”
Now they're interested.
“As long as you help us get back home.”
They immediately agree.
“You got it, Birdboy.” Typical Stark.
“Creative.” He remarks.
“Yeah, yeah.” Stark finally moves to get out of his suit. “So, where's the machine?”
“What exactly are we going to tell them?”
“I'm not sure. Everything? As long as it doesn't cause another civil war.”
“Fair enough.”
Sam grabbed the machine, which, for something so powerful and volatile it was actually kind of small, but heavy, like a toolbox.
“Wait, should we leave this here?” Bucky points at the shield case on the backseat of the car, sitting innocently, like it doesn't hold a big piece of conflicting history inside, like Sam does every day.
“I don't think we'll need it.” He says, wondering how they would all react to seeing Sam hold the shield.
“You never know.” Bucky shrugs. “Besides, don't you want to look at Steve's face when he sees it? Wait, no.” He grins, much like before. “At your face when Past You realizes what it means?”
Sam laughs lightly, shaking his head. He's so exasperated, fond and terribly in love with this idiot. He barely has half a mind to stop himself from kissing him until they’re both breathless.
Definitely later though.
“Fine.” He says, and Bucky practically skips as he goes to grab the shield, getting it out of its case.
“I swear, you're a child.” He muses aloud. “How can a man over a hundred still be like this?”
“Hey!” Bucky says, feigning offense.
“You know what? I'm telling Sarah about this.” He smiles, self-assured. “Let's see what she has to say about this.”
“Why, you think she'll finally fall for my charms?”
“Sure, that's exactly what she needs, another child to take care of.” Sam moodily puts the machine carefully on the ground and moves closer to him. “And I already told you to stop flirting with my sister.”
Bucky smiles, propping the shield against the car. “Aww, Sam. You know I only have eyes for one Wilson sibling, and it's not Sarah.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. But it seems I may have to do something to really remind you, huh?” Bucky steps even closer, grabbing a hold of Sam's waist.
Sam, not unlike most times he's in close proximity to Bucky, feels a rush of giddiness pass over his chest and go all the way up to his cheeks.
God, getting to be with Bucky, with someone who gets him like he does, of knowing that he really does get to have this, never fails to make him feel almost invincible.
Who would have thought being married to a over-a-hundred year old super soldier would make him feel like a teenager again?
Sam damn near giggles, as he says. “Okay, okay. Maybe later.” He lightly pushes at Bucky's chest, stepping back. “Now, come on. We gotta find a way home.”
“All right. But don't think I'll forget about this though.”
I sure as hell hope not.