[ being benched is one of his least favorite things, he's decided. partially because of the association of what used to happen between missions (wait. don't move until there's an order. stay frozen.) and because it currently gives him too much time to think. think about how zemo's disappointment at the bullets hitting the ground wasn't just about proving he was a killer but because the man genuinely wanted out. how bucky, himself, thinks the winter solider doesn't personally deserve an out and so he would never try to take one. think about walker's dive off the end. if that serum karli and him share does anything to the mind. it's from isaiah so it wouldn't turn their bones red like he used to have nightmares about his own being before every night turned into a montage of kills. if sam got discouraged by isaiah. if sam got discouraged by john. or karli. or zemo. or sharon. or him. he hopes not. he thinks... he's getting it more than he did. the magnitude of it all.
he wishes steve were here.
the decision to try and ...do something for sam by just handing him a case full of the means to take on something sam's not even sure about wasn't one he had to mull over terribly long. bucky's sure about it. steve was. he doesn't have to use it. it should be an option though. he's had the idea in his head longer than the last few days so it comes to no surprise that when he put the favor in, word returned that shuri hilariously already had everything close to done done before the request reached her. typical.
he debated maybe giving sam some space or something but one of the only things that makes him feel like himself is following wherever it is that shield goes. perhaps it's utterly foolish but it's why there's not a large gap of time between when sam last saw him and the delivery. he wasn't called for this group project and he thinks he's definitely intruding on some level but nobody tells him to go so he stays. close to that shield and close to the person it belongs to now, regardless of if he's wanted or not.
it feels right just fixing things. having something to do. someone that doesn't mind him. someone who doesn't think he has an easy kill switch. a whole family that doesn't think twice about his presence there and smiles like it's the easiest thing in the world. big and wide and full of life and light regardless of any burdens. sam smiles wider than sarah and so much here at his home. with the family. it's contagious and loving and not directed at him.
does he know a lot about boats? no. he just knows enough to make some educated guesses. an efficient solider can make his own repairs. he's pretty sure he knows more about pipes than him. and wiring. and knots. he tries not to point it out and just inserts himself in where he can make something easier, probably in a more irritating manner than if he just pointed out an easier way. sam's got the lead and he follows it without question. sam's a natural leader. bucky forces focus on the tasks to not to think about how easily he follows him too hard.
the day's work was closing out with that incoming sunset. he's sort of watching it while sam finished up, sitting close to the edge of the boat while packing the tools up. he likes sunsets. wakanda had the best ones, completely picturesque, but this one has something he can't really place. the water adds something. the smell of it. the very gentle rock the ties on the boat will allow. the creek of the wood beneath sam's feet while he moves over. ]
Should've went into sailing. [ steve would've thrown up too much, he thinks immediately. he shakes it away. elbows rest on his knees as he turns to look up at him, head tilted a little. his eyes sort of narrow out of habit because he doesn't blink as much as he should be when he looks at him. ] Yeah, sure.
[ it would take sam's entire supply and maybe then some to get a buzz going but it's about the social aspect. it's normal. friends have beers and he can't think of the last time anyone offered him one. ]
[ there is certainly a kind of magic in the sunsets in lousiana. sam had known that since he was a child, since it was just him and his sister and his parents out on the waves. things had never truly been easy, but it had been good. it had been comforting and loving and everything sam needed to know that the world out there, and the america back here, was worth saving. he could meet a lifetime full of isaiah bradley's and he could spend years questioning the reason why he wants to do this, why he would ever give himself over to a cause like this, follow an ideal like this, but coming back home? was all the reminder of why he needed. coming home gave him the same sureity that steve rogers once did.
and maybe that's why he doesn't turn bucky away the second he sees him there. why he doesn't send that old bag of bones and metal packing, as soon as he delivered the case. he has an idea of what's inside, has a vague understanding of what bucky is trying to say by delivering it, but in knowing what would be waiting for them would mean acknowledging that he's still thinking about it. still reconsidering a decision he had been so sure of, not months before. sam doesn't like going back on anything he's decided. he likes jumping first and figuring it out on the fall. but going back up into the plane? a wholly different story.
sarah and his nephews were a world worth fighting for, just as maybe - just maybe - america could be too. but it did take him coming home. sleeping in that bed. being in that house. and now it's being out on this boat, chipped paint reminding him every day of his parents, of the life and job they built. the work they put in just for this sunset, in this moment, to happen.
everything they did, for sam to be sitting here and watching it, with bucky.
it should feel weird. not that long ago, it would have felt weird. but something about their search for the super soldiers and dealing with the flagsmashers and freaking baron helmut zemo had shifted not only sam's understanding of what weird is supposed to be, but what should be housed under it. what isn't, really, all that weird at all. like how strong bucky really is, when it comes to work and not punching through walls. like how easily he delegates, how quickly bucky picks orders up. part of him wonders if it's just the work of the gulf water and the warm air, or if there's something else to this comfortable sort of air, but bucky says shouldn't went into sailing and sam snorts out a laugh. ]
Let's not get cocky. [ said with a friendly, joking tilt to his voice. a low watch yourself now that curls ever so gently around sam's almost smile. bucky looks up at him, and sam's brows both rise, waiting for an answer, and nodding once when he agrees.
sam turns, then, moving towards the back of the boat where it's wider, where there's more room for them to sit and where the cooler is tied down, and settles into a seat. he doesn't check to see if bucky gets up to follow him, just moved with a kind of expectant ease. (when did that start?) and when bucky walks by, sam will offer him up a green bottle - cheap beer, really, but it's something. it's social. it's the concept of it. and when bucky takes it, sam holds on for just a second longer, just to catch bucky's eyes. ] If you drink all my beer, you're buying the next case- got it? [ said with just seriousness that while it's joking, it's also not. an acknowledgment that maybe he knows bucky doesn't have to drink. maybe he knows it won't actually do anything for him. but he is here, and he didn't say no, so sam will take this as a win.
he pops off the cap before tossing the bottle opener over to the other, leaning back in the seat and taking a long drink. ]
Thanks for helping out today.
[ easy conversation. they can do this as long as bucky doesn't bolt. ]
[ he doesn't know how sam got up the courage to live anywhere away from this place. it's nice here. calm. peaceful but lively in a way that balances out perfectly. washington, d.c. over this? it makes sense to fight for this though. it really does. sam's a hard one to really get his reasoning out on things for but he'd like to learn. is trying to really understand it all from the perspective that he just doesn't have because how could he? he has to do better.
he was a little too quick to judge sam. especially with regards to assuming he hadn't thought anything through. the nostalgic ideal of captain america was what was presented to his head before his memories came back fully and he thinks, probably, that left a mark. losing him put a gloss over those memories. and it shouldn't have. he knew him.
and steve never, for a second, had a solid plan. him being the man with a plan was propaganda song lyrics. that guy used to pick fights with people four times his size and didn't think it through at all. he'd go charging into battle after battle, not checking his six because he knew, rightfully, bucky and the rest of them watched it for him. steve was wonderful leader because he knows how to recognize everyone's strengths and delegate everyone a goal. every plan was just goal points. we go in and win is not an actual damn plan and bucky was always left figuring out how to make it happen. do this and he does, having to figure out how along the way. then it was all of shield, sam, natasha, and presumably every other avenger working it out. (no way steve thought of time travel) and the goal gets reached. every time. goal reached so great plan.
sam takes the shield and becomes captain america is not a plan. it's a goal. once again, he's realizing, steve rogers has left it to his team to figure out how to get there. thanks, you jerk.
sam does a lot more thinking than steve ever did. comes up with actual plans, even if he's making them up while in the process of jumping. there is one eventually. it's obvious now when it wasn't so clear before. the orders he gives on the boat come with the plan on exactly to do it. if they didn't know, instructions were pulled out. people were asked for input. he's not assuming everyone else will figure it out because sam hasn't had someone saving his ass all his life. sam is smarter, more aware of everyone to a degree nobody else he's known has been and thinks of the consequences to his actions. he wouldn't be a good captain america, he'd be a better one. bucky owes him an apology. ]
Too late. [ his lips curve into a smile then scrunching his nose up and straightening his back, nodding to himself with his gaze on the water like he's seriously considering a career in fishing. he shakes his head. nah.
he gets up and follows behind, watching sam's back. the fabric on the shirt shifting. he doesn't sit once sam does, deciding to linger for a moment before moving to where he's decided to sit on sam's left.
the beer doesn't come right away and the words give him a brief pause before letting out a very reserved genuine chuckle, his head ducking. ah, so he knows. ] Got it. [ where do you even buy beer around here? that big grocery store on the road? those places are so overwhelming. too many options.
he sits, pulling the cap off the beer effortlessly with his hand before the bottle opener gets tossed over. ah, hell. he just... holds it awkwardly. ]
[ well, that's part of the story, isn't it? something idyllic, something to come home to, something he always missed when he was away. a place that was his own, but also wasn't his own, but a memory of his family. of the warmth of community, a well-worn coat that he knows how it fits, no matter how long it's been between each time he slips his arms into it. he never really wants to leave it behind when he does, but there are greater callings. worlds to save. avengers that call on him. and really, maybe, there's even more to it than before - having been on the run for years, then blinked away for more. it's something he really only appreciates the way it should probably be appreciated now.
now, with bucky here. now, as he's opened up this part of his life and his self and his home, to bucky too. even steve never made it this far into sam's life, never met his sister or his nephews (granted, at the time they were barely even kids). steve never made it this far home, with sam. but seeing bucky among the boats, the nets, the people, the parts - it shouldn't have been this easy and it shouldn't have been this seamless, and yet here they are.
and maybe bucky wasn't too far off, at the beginning of all this. being mad at sam for not sharing plans, commenting about how sam didn't think things through. because while part of that is inherently wrong - sam thinks these things through - it's the other half of it. it's the fact sam was either following orders, or making decisions for himself. it's the sharing of those plans, it's the concept of someone else looking to him to make the decisions, that sam wasn't prepared to do. bucky invited himself on that first mission, and sam didn't know what to do. bucky continued to follow him, the two of them becoming inherently intertwined as they chased down the super soldiers, karli, the flag smashers.
what sam learns, along the way, is that they have to talk. god damn, they have to talk. more than communication with a capital c, but just knowing where they are. how to have each other's back, how to step into fighting together. because, as bucky probably noticed because sam certainly did, they weren't good at that. they did not have a history of being good at it. so they needed to do better. five months of unanswered texts later, now is there chance. and bucky's not going to be the one who does it, isn't going to be the one to talk or speak or reach out, so sam will. he'll fill that space. he'll do that job. except that that job has turned into much more than that. that job has shifted to a place where sam tells bucky to go grab that wrench and to go pick up that crate and turn this and no, he didn't need help with that but sure, fine, use those crazy freaky super strength powers. whatever.
too late. ] Apparently. [ but bucky smiles - even if it's just for a second - so sam grins back. a promise of a full-chest laugh somewhere in the creases. he drinks from his bottle, leans back into the seat, is comfortable - really and truly comfortable. the sun on the horizon is warm on his skin, the boat is drifting comfortably in the waves, and bucky is laughing. or well- close enough to it. bucky chuckles and ducks his head and sam watches him, still grinning a bit himself. watches, as if he turns away from him he'll miss something.
the bottle opener gets tossed and bucky holds it awkwardly and sam, realizing very suddenly that he can pick up on that awkwardness and he gestures over to a box off to bucky's left. a silent you can put it in there. ]
Is there a story there? [ sam asks, one brow up. it's easy, not pressing, more of sam's 'i'm just trying to make conversation' tone than any kind of pressing conversation. he means the boat, means bucky feeling comfortable here, on this boat. sam wonders if there's anything there for them to connect about, or if it's just a comment, a connection. ] Or are you just an overachiever? [ that part is a joke, mostly because sam has also noticed - or thinks he noticed - a kind of lack of weight on bucky's shoulders. a kind of...not sincerity, necessarily, but honesty to the word. sam is curious. sam wants to know more. but also, more than anything, sam wants to know if they've actually come as far as he thinks they have. ]
[ bucky doesn't have a home. he has a places he occupied the space of. none of the fights to emphasize a place to look forward to returning. he didn't belong anywhere because home was a person. he'd follow home to the end of the world. he lost that and found himself following around the person that had the closest little piece of that and gave it away. for reasons he thinks better of now but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt. it wouldn't be the same, never the same. but it could be something.
how nice it would be to have all of this though. somewhere full of memories, a sense of belonging and community, family. he's jealous of sam.
bucky doesn't want to stop overstaying his welcome today. chilling here with sam until the sun sets seems like an ideal concept. warm and listening to the waves and sam's soothing voice full of harmless jabs at his entire strange being. he's not going to convince sam to keep drinking with him though. that man is far too responsible for that and will likely try working more on the boat at the ass crack of dawn. and he doesn't know how to start talking long enough that time can be lost track of. he's not going to make that move. he will have to get up and catch a flight eventually and then wait for an excuse to follow him again when the flag smashers resurface. if he wants help with something after that, he'll follow too. because something feels right about doing so.
or he just has nothing better to do.
his eyes widen at the gesture in an odd embarrassment. the bottle opener and the bottle in his right hand. he turns to put them both down on the box, then picks the beer back up. oops.
attention back on sam, mimicing his eyebrow raising intentionally then hanging his head a bit and shaking it. ] Not really. Never been on a boat before, actually. [ he pauses, looks sidelong. shoulders lifting with the start of a shrug. ] That's not true. I sank one once with a rocket launcher. [ he drops his shoulders, turning his eyes back on sam expectantly, like he's waiting to get a reaction to a joke. ]
[ except that bucky could have a home, if he wanted to. could have a place to settle, to slow down. sam understands bucky's issues with his original decision regarding the shield, and to a point he understands why bucky had been so upset with him. he gets it, he does, but he also knows there is something dangerous in holding on that hard to something that couldn't hold back. but if bucky wanted something else. if bucky wanted to be somewhere else. that could always work. that could always happen.
and bucky does fit into the vision of what this is, and sam can't decide if it's more surprising that a place with so many memories and so much history could easily mold itself to include one more, or if it's more surprising that he's not at all surprised.
dinner will be ready soon. they have some time, about an hour or so before he needs to heads back home. sam is in no rush, though. and as bucky sets the opener down and picks the beer back up, sam can feel the tension in him. can feel the unasked questions. the fact there seems to be something else under the surface that he won't bring himself to ask. sam takes another drink from his bottle, leans back in his seat, and feels the waves slowly lap against the side of the boat they're now on.
at first, he looks surprised. impressed, almost. that is, until bucky shrugs, once. continues. and it's at that second part of his comment that sam laughs, truly and honestly laughs. it starts off as a chuckle, but after a second or two grows to something bigger, and it takes a few tries before he can stop himself enough to take another drink of his beer. ] So you sank the boat while you were on it? Damn. [ he shakes his head, equally entertained by the fact he found that so funny and the fact bucky is cracking jokes at all. ]
And hate to disappoint you, but there are no rocket launchers on this boat. And I refuse to let you sink this one, so you'll have to entertain yourself some other way.
[ it's dangerous to hold on to something that can't hold back. he won't allow himself to presume anything that could hold back would though so it's all he has, he thinks, and all he knows. really knows. a lot of his memories, the ones that that aren't stained with blood and seem like they play on an endless loop every night, still feel detached. blurred. like trying to watch a picture through bad reception. anything from childhood, parts of the war, school, dates, his family - nothing's clear but blood and everything comes out looking red. and steve. he could remember him better than himself. blue eyes and kind radiant smiles. the shield had red on it, of course, but it wasn't red in the way everything else was.
until very recently, where they both got to see it dripping with blood. what if that makes it all fade away? he needs something else to hold on to. he wants something else to hold on to. this place, the person sitting next to him - clearer than anything. dark brown eyes and blinding smiles that stick in his head while other things rupture. but he won't assume. he can't keep this. it feels like it belongs to someone else.
bucky is overwhelmed, tense, wound up knots more difficult than any in the nets on this boat. there's a lot that should be said. wants to ask. they're horrible at communication and he has absolutely rancid social skills.
but he's trying. and it got a laugh that's contagious and drops some of the tension he's been carrying. ] Mmhm. [ he nods, small laughs escaping past the tip of the bottle he raises up to sip. he never gets the beer in his mouth because he starts laughing about it more, catching him off-guard. tension popped like a balloon. ]
Nobody told me to get off it. [ he points his beer towards him to add an additional fact to it: ] I actually escaped with that dumbass move. They lost me for a whole week and a half.
[ that came out so easily. he seems to realize it and it reels in the laughter. doctor rayner needed months to even get a word out of him and it was never recalling anything. not a peep. he rubs under an eye with a finger, confusion slipping into the smile that's still there, at least. ]
[ sam gets that - how dangerous it can be and how hurt bucky has already been. there is trauma inherent in the life bucky has led, even if you took away the actual, fucked up shit he had to survive through. childhood, war, the aftermath, losing your best friend, trying to find your place again - even if you took out the entire part of being the winter soldier, it makes life complicated. it makes this complicated. the shield might have been the closest thing he had to family, and sam knows why, he gets it, but it shouldn't be. not when bucky does need someone to hold back. not when bucky deserves more than the cold reflection of vibranium painted red and blue.
but then again, maybe bucky should be looking for a person, rather than a place, at all.
sam isn't going to force anything on him - bucky has spent too much of is life with his choices made up for him. orders given and little else. and that's not sam's way. that's not his gig. but he can, here, give bucky the space and time and assurance, can't he? he can give him an easy job to accomplish - sand this, twist that, here, bring that to me, hey thanks man - and enough space to pick if he wants to do it at all, and then maybe, also, a chilled beer that won't do anything to him except give him a reason to just stay, for just a few minutes more.
and it's amazing, sam thinks, that when given all those things, bucky can settle in and crack and joke and even laugh, just like that, which in turn makes sam laugh any more. ] Nobody told you to get off it? So what- you just stayed? You shot off a freaking rocket and thought 'oh hey maybe I'll stick around'? [ sam gives up on trying to take his next drink, his head thrown back a bit by the force of his laugh, one hand on his ribs as if in some shallow attempt to hold it back.
they lost me for a whole week and a half bucky says, and sam barely even recognizes the significance of it, his own laugh still lingering in the air, his breaths coming a bit short. he shakes his head, still amused by the picture of it, when bucky continues and sam - almost comically - goes very still and way too serious, frowning as he looks over to him. ]
You see that? Not funny. You're not getting anywhere near my car. Not after last time. [ one beat, and then one more, before sam's face breaks out into another grin, another laugh, because ah. bucky's funny now, is he? he's got jokes. and something about that realization, that feeling of how far they have come, how simply that had slid into conversation, makes sam feel...what? lighter? more comfortable? warm?
a moment passes that doesn't feel weird. doesn't feel heavy. sam's eyes move out to the ocean around them and the slowly setting sun and has to remind himself that this isn't how it's always been. that bucky, being here, is new. but like in direct opposition to that understanding, sam's body feels like it slides into something older. something comfortable. the kind of feeling that makes him think bucky has always been here, in a way. or that maybe he should be. ]
[ sam has a complicated life as well. a lot that doesn't need to be weighed down by his own. bucky's broken beyond repair possibly. but sam has been having to deal with too much, decisions about that shield aside. there's other people, war, losing his best friend, losing his (their) best friend again, having his entire family jump 5 years ahead without him. five years he won't get back that are different from any years he lost and will always exist. bucky doesn't know how sam keeps smiling so warmly, checking on him when his own shoulders have so much upon them. such an admirably strong beacon of warmth and determination. a kind soul that takes all his problems and still helps everyone around him. someone that an entire community would rally behind just because he asked. offering direction but never orders. sam is someone he wants to stare at and ponder like the sun just past the waves. and he already has a staring problem.
he has to get out of his hair soon. sam's just too kind to tell him to leave. sam's giving him a beer because that's good southern hospitality, isn't it? sam wants to take a vacation and wouldn't mind if he never saw him again - but once this is over they're on significantly more amicable terms, at least. so that's good.
the beer gets rolled between his hands and he nods, an amused grin on his face and sam's response to it. ] Yup. I just stood there on an exploding sinking boat until I was underwater. [ sam's laughter makes it all seem lighter and almost gets him going again but he's biting his upturned lips instead, preventing it.
he can crack jokes. he doesn't think he's funny half the time -just unintentionally funny. the therapist scolding him for cracking inappropriate, ill-timed, very dark jokes. "it's not funny, james." finding light humor in anything he did while completely brainwashed was apparently a horrible idea to everyone else but sam. sam goes still and serious so he freezes, swallowing nothing in his throat and then staring at him with puzzled gaze. the frown has him sinking in his seat somewhat. he leans forward. sam says his response. the beat feels drawn out and his eyes dart off sam to a few random places on the boat, squinting even further. searching his unclear memories for when the hell he has ever seen sam's car. has he seen sam driving a car at all? steve drove them to the airport and he didn't break that car. zemo didn't crash the car. sam starts laughing and he smiles at it but still looks absolutely puzzled for a beat more.
and then it clicks and he starts laughing harder than he thinks he has in about 100 years. Head leaned back and he has to shift an arm to keep from losing balance and going over the edge of the ship. ] I didn't know that was your car when I took the steering wheel. [ He wheezes the words out.
he savors the moment that passes, the high from a good laugh. the beer has a rather large sip taken out of it just to wet his mouth after that. this, right here. feels like the peace he wants. free. he hasn't felt free, even if he is. he feels a little drunk from it all and he knows he can't be. ]
[ bucky isn't the only one making a decision in that piece, though. because sam's life might be complicated, might be weighted, but it's the life he chose. with the people he chose. and maybe, just maybe, bucky's included in there. maybe he wants bucky to be here, whether or not he'll be the one to close that distance and say it. he's not one to downplay is own struggles or hardships over the last few years, and he's definitely not simply okay, because nothing in life is ever really that easy or uncomplicated. but he does have to keep moving forward. he does have to keep going. and in still going, he can check on those beside him, he can still focus on his family, on his teammates, on bucky - too - when he's here.
sam does find himself thinking about that - about how bucky didn't have to show up here. package delivery aside, he wasn't the type to do anything he didn't want to, or stick around if he didn't want to. more than even that, it was bucky who offerred to help. who was a huge help. and who sam couldn't help but notice, for himself, how good it was to hav him around. he may have a staring problem and may be a 100 yar old cyborg assassin, but. well. he's here. and he's laughing. and sam can't help but stare a little bit, himself, for it.
because that's just it, isn't it? sam doesn't force anything in his life. he jumps out of planes and checks in on his people and he's there, he's always there for anyone who might need it, but he's not the type to take anything for himself. to push people, closer or away. he wonders how much longer he'll get to have this moment before bucky leaves, and wonders directly after that, if there's something else he could do about it. ]
You have got to be kidding me. That's- oh my god, Buck. [ laughter is easy, a bubbly sound that fills him from toes to fingers, and sam just lets it. he's warm, he's light, they got good work done and he feels like he's doing something for someone again. the boat might not be fixed (yet) but it really is all thanks to bucky's help that they moved leaps and bounds forward. he gives bucky a look, a kind of i can't believe you before shaking his head.
he sees the way that bucky tenses when his own face goes serious, the panic and a bit of confusion there. sam would feel bad, if he didn't know what was coming, if he wasn't - in a childish, giddy sort of way - excited to watch it land. it's ridiculous, really, and if sam were anywhere else, with anyon else, he probably wouldn't be acting this way. but this is them, this is what sam has found when he falls in step with bucky.
that is when bucky barnes starts laughing, really and truly laughing, and sam's grin simply grows at the sight of it. the laughter looks good on bucky, sam realizes, and he can't bring his eyes away from watching him. the light way he simply reacts. the kind of - what? levity? - that finally seems to force its way through him. sam's brow arches up as bucky nearly falls off over the edge of the boat, and then sam is laughing again, himself.
the feeling is mutual - the peace, the drunken warmth of it. they're only a beer in, so sam knows he's not drunk either, but the feeling is a good one. sam's eyes haven't really left bucky at that point, either, catching onto little details he hadn't noticed before. how young he can look, when he relaxes. the way his face breaks a bit when he's laughing. the fact that he does, even now, favor his right hand and not th metal one. he's right handed sam reminds himself, then shakes his head as if to quiet the thought. ]
Doesn't matter. That was the first time I met you, and I am never letting you drive my car. Ever.
[ there is barely any weight at all to sam's words, his smile still hanging onto the corner of his mouth as he takes a drink from his bottle. unsaid in those words are the years (years) they've now spent together, fighting side by side even when bucky was out on the run. even when things still weren't settled. they are nowhere near where they started, and that thought is almost dizzying. ]
[ sam wilson has been making choices easy for years, actual years - ones he lived. sam wilson has existed in every year he can remember in it’s entirety after 1943. he counts to over a hundred but he’s old on a technicality. the people that he should be the same age as him, based on birthdates, are grey and he doesn’t remember time like they do. he remembers horrible things - and events where sam seemed to be a constant of ease. ever present, even while actively avoiding him.
when they found him that first time, sam treated him like a person. not someone to be feared, pitied, etc. just a guy who he won’t move a seat up for and could shit on like anyone else. minor bickering that threw him off so off hard at the time that it ended up pulling him out of the foggy haze to try and bicker back to match the energy. nobody else was treating him like a full person from day one like that. it made him think clearer. things became easier then.
easier now. too easy. there’s no pressure being put upon him except for what he adds himself. sam doesn’t provide constricting lose/lose scenarios that leave him feeling like there’s no choice. he decided to follow him. he decided to come here. that was all him even if he felt like he had to at the time.
he didn’t. but he did. if he looks, sam offers options and guidance he can accept or refuse when he doesn’t know what to do. there’s support. there’s always been support being offered. a hand on his shoulder at a funeral. a text with an open invite to respond, if he so chose to. a beer, if he wants to linger. ]
Seriously. That wasn’t even the first time that happened. [ He grins, wide and toothy at the look Sam gives him. ] I’ve done it with a helicopter too. There was this... [ The beer moves to the left hand. His right used to point, tracing a finger over his forearm. ]
This dent right here at one point where I caught the blades when it ...ya know, I crashed the damn thing.
[ it hurt like hell, he remembers. That’s not exactly as funny of a anecdote but the grin only slightly faulted - sticking the landing into staying on because of Sam’s expression. They’re laughing. They’re laughing and everything’s fine.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so at ease. Bucky covers his mouth, trying to stop himself from going further into the laughing fit and out of a slight embarrassment for not knowing he did that at all to Sam’s car until just now. The larger grin on Sam, the biggest he’s ever seen on the guy. There’s light in his eyes.
He gets sent him over and Bucky has to cover his face with his palm, body shaking from something he can’t stop and has to run it’s course. It’s loud and he’s unused to the sound.
He drags the hand down his face once he manages to catch his breath enough, dropping it. ]
Ma always said to make a strong first impression so I’m not apologizing.
[ Making light of that time he tried to kill you all? With anyone else, this wouldn’t happen. Bucky can be solemn, reserved, soft spoken even - but Sam has drawn out his humor. His jabs, volume in his voice. Sam makes him feel the age he looks. Lighter and not weighed down by the past as hard.
He wants to keep feeling that. He wants to keep this going. His beer is emptied (too quick! He internally admonishes himself) and he stares at Sam’s shoes to try and not stare at his face and hide how red his own feels from the giggle fit he practically nosedived into.
[ there are days where sam can see the age in bucky's shoulders. not because of how he hunches, not because of some frail bending of his spine. if anything, it's the way bucky just keeps going, even when he's bent. even with the weight of every year those fuckers forced on him bearing down. sam has a lot of thoughts about what bucky is doing with his time, about how he's working through that weight on his shoulders, but he will not force. he's spent too long around too many other soldiers to know how poorly any of them react when pushed. and it's built up a habit in sam - to check, to ask, to bring up in words. even if it's casual, even if it's light.
and it's funny, looking back and noticing how light it's all become. because that's just it, that's what sam can't quite shake when he looks at bucky. the dark lines that had been under his eyes, the lost expression in his face. the way steve looked at him, broken and torn apart and stitched back together, and said we could do this. and then, because steve had said it, sam could say it too. bucky did not get special treatment from him. and sure, yes, the whole super power freak show was a new thing for sam at the time, but what better way to get involved than to just not care? not bring it up? bucky never scared sam, whether it was because of steve or because of what sam saw in those blue eyes when he finally got close enough to look. and thinking back on it now? seeing bucky barnes who is laughing so hard on his family boat that he may just tip over the edge. bucky barnes, who had looked so unsure when he asked if he could help. bucky barnes, who is here, who is here, and who sam couldn't want anywhere else.
he finishes his bottle, then, though the last bit of it gets caught in his throat as he find himself laughing again, spitting beer onto the floorboards in front of him as he coughs his way through, holding up a it's okay, i've got this hand just in case bucky thought it was anything more serious, and sam shakes his head. ] You... [ he coughs, again, but it's more of a laugh this time than it was before. ] Are a menace to society. Boats and helicopters- what next? Jet planes? You already destroyed my wings before, so we're not counting those. Tanks? [ sam shakes his head because now he's being ridiculous, and moves to toss the bottle into one of the empty boxes. it rattles, a satisfying sound, and for half a moment sam feels like his sixteen again. before he ran off to the air force. just sitting around, shooting the shit, sneaking beer while his parents weren't looking. it's a comforting feeling, but more than that it's a warm one. like bucky has always been right here, right in that seat, right across from him in the lousiana sunshine.
they're not really talking about anything, at this point. casual, easy conversation that sam can keep bouyed for days, if he needed to. but sam finds he doesn't really have to, because as he grabs the next bottle and settles back into his spot, bucky is laughing again. cracking open and pouring out a kind of noise that sam can't help but match. he wants to keep laughing, giggling around like they're kids hiding under the dock, and it takes a few seconds for them both to be able to breathe. bucky drags a hand down his face, says ma always said to make a strong first impression, and sam is suddenly a bit frozen to the spot. there's still a smile on his face, though it's something a bit more thoughtful, a bit warmer, a bit more thoughtful. he's struck by the feeling of it, of the moment that surrounds them both, and while everything in him is screaming don't make this a big deal, he also has to take into account the space. the time. he's invited bucky into his home, introduced him to sarah, the boys. they're sitting around, drinking beer, and laughing, and bucky. well. ]
I think that's the first time you've mentioned your Ma to me before. [ there are no expectations in his words. if anything, they're just a statement of fact. an observation that sam seems...pleased. proud. touched, almost, to be a part of. but that voice echoes again. don't make this a big deal. and so sam takes a breath. settles back against the edge of the boat and watches bucky for a second, just one, before he snorts another laugh. ] Now- I didn't know your Ma, but pretty sure she wasn't talking about literally ripping the steering wheel from someone's hand when she said that.
[ easing any possible silence bucky may fall into. bringing it back to neutral ground. but god, he wants to know. ]
[ sam doesn’t hunch. his broad shoulders are squared off, strong and unmoving. bucky thinks of the way sam carries himself like those shoulders are capable of carrying the weight of the universe while flying off into a sunset. he might actually be able too. sam can pick it up and eventually put it down. the way bucky carries himself is off - he tilts with his steps, a shoulder shift, because there was an arm attached to it that weighed five times more than one he was born with. now it’s only three times but the shoulder had to stop being flesh and bone completely. the damage is there, irreversible- weight impossible to put down. would likely damage further if he tried to do what sam could. he won’t carry himself like sam because he can’t. but he can keep up with him and not yield. there’s no extra pressure. he can keep pace on his own time. at least one person is checking that he won’t topple over without forcing a thing and that’s enough.
he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. sam put trust in him and in return has wormed his way into gaining an undying loyalty. it’s not servitude or anything one sided. mutual respect and enjoyment. an actual friend that makes him feel giddy and light like a good night out. sam insisted they needed a long vacation from each other but-
sam laughs hard enough that he spits and bucky sits straighter automatically, empty bottle placed to the side and watching to see if he’s needed before he goes to move in. still smiling but ready to take action had sam started choking or something. because his first instinct is that it would be something serious. the amount of times steve almost killed himself by suffocating... but you can’t coddle, over-worry. wait. there’s a hand up that everything is good from sam and slouches back down, easy smile on his face. laughing too much ] You’ve seen me wreck a jet, haven’t you? Those were jets on that thing, right? [ bucky pauses to consider it, smile shrinking and decides not to focus too hard on how he definitely shot a pilot and hijacked his plane. a few times.
he’s shakes his head, holding his hands up. back to light laughs. ] Yes but- hold on. The tanks I started on during the war. That’s approved of menacing. [ nazi tanks are a-okay. the bottle is grabbed back after there’s a clang from Sam’s landing in the box. bucky flips his in his hand then tosses it in after. it lands next to the other one - silent. show off.
his cheek is resting in his hand now, smiling with amusement. he doesn’t realize how it slipped out. the implications of it. not until sam points it out in a way that doesn’t seem so large. his eyes move off his shoes and back to him. the smile slips off completely into a thoughtful straight expression. he blinks - slow and long and puzzled. he looks back at sam’s shoes. when was the last time he mentioned his mother at all? it’s been a long time. he’s never shared much about his home life with anyone. therapy sessions tried to goad it out and all she got were basic factual answers anyone can find in the museum. ]
Huh. [ sam let’s it hang there with zero expectations. bucky sinks into quiet thoughts. sam moves on after a beat to continue their light-hearted nonsense to break it, he expects. bucky smiles lightly at the words but doesn’t reply for a moment more. there’s that excuse to talk... ]
Probably not what she meant, yeah. [ he nods to himself. quiet for another moment more. and then decides to keep going down that path. sam’s entire family, community- is out on display. heart on his sleeve and bucky’s been holding his own in for what feels like an eternity. he takes a deep breath then starts with words quieter than the ones said through laughter he just had. ]
Tough lady. I mean, had to. There were four of us. Hit me with a spoon a couple of times. Passed when- I think I was ... thirteen or something? [ he cups his hands together, rolling his thumbs around each other. he shrugs. his eyes find their way back to Sam, open. a small smile. go ahead. ask. ]
[ sam might be able to, maybe. he's worked his whole life learning how to stand up straight, to carry whatever it was that pushed down on him. it had been a prideful thing for his dad, when he was growing up. always keep your chin high and your sights higher. and that's what sam did - kept carrying on, shoulders square, reaching higher and higher until he literally needed wings to get to where he wanted to be. higher and higher, until riley fell. but maybe that was a lesson sam had to learn that his father didn't have for him, something that it took his own experiences, his own losses, to really wrap his head around. specifically, maybe, that he shouldn't be carrying this weight alone. and for all of bucky's crooked walks and tilted shoulders, he had the strength and he has the stamina and sam has found, over these last few weeks, that maybe sharing this weight isn't as hard as he thought if he had someone else by his side.
the shield is back up at the house, unceremoniously leaned up against the doorframe of the living room, because sam couldn't store it in his room. the shield isn't even his (again). not really. no decisions have been made and no titles have been taken and for all that bucky's wakandan delivery acts as the loudest box in the county, sam hasn't fully accepted what is happening. hasn't really, fully, decided that this is what he wants to do. but maybe steve had the right idea - maybe a captain america does need a bucky barnes. or maybe it's just sam wilson who does.
bucky sits up when sam starts to cough just like he knew he would, and sam waves him off. pulls himself back together and then starts laughing, again, when bucky mentions the jets. ]Okay, fine, over-achiever. Yes- I'm pretty sure you destroyed the entire S.H.I.E.L.D airbase, but we took down the Helicarriers, thank you. [ sam can see bucky trip up, the smile falling and tension filling the space, and sam pauses - just for long enough to see if bucky's going to settle there, or if the lightness of the evening is going to win out. and maybe, just maybe, sam shouldn't feel as proud, or relieved, or whatever it is he feels, seeing bucky shake his head and laugh again. whatever the feeling is, it fills sam's chest with the same sort of warmth left in the air between them.
bucky mentions approved of menacing and sam opens his mouth to argue, or contradict, or say something - but it's that exact moment that bucky flips his bottle and tosses it into the box next to sam's empty bottle, and anything sam wanted to say leaves him in a rush, instead leaving room for - ] Are you kidding me? Show off. [ because they're always on the same page, aren't they? even in this. even now.
and then it is the moment, when sam takes a leap of faith. jumps right on out of the plane and into the open air, waiting for the moment that his wings will catch. that is the feeling sam has watching the smile fade from bucky's face, but rather than seeing something close back up again, get filed back into a room that sam doesn't have access to fully yet, he sees something else. something he thinks is thoughtful, something he thinks is complicated. the silence feels like it stretches out forever, sam's very own heart rate slowing to match the gentle rocking of the waves.
huh.
that is the moment that sam starts to question - if he should fill the space, if he should give bucky a way out. he doesn't want to turn all of this into an interrogation - if bucky doesn't want to say anything more, he doesn't have to. it's why he supplies the follow-up. why, even now, he's prepared to derail the conversation entirely. but before sam could continue, before the words make it out to shift the focus away, bucky speaks. not just speaks, but shares. don't make this a big deal the voice echoes again, but sam is entranced. isn't even sure he breathes.
it's not until bucky finishes, looking back over to sam with a small smile, that sam feels his heart start back up again. feels himself breathe. the weight of the moment is still heavy in the air, but it feels less like a burden and more like a comfort. bucky looks over to him and sam looks back to him, holding the eye contact for another moment or so, seeing the permission there. ]
I'm sorry. [ sam knows what it feels like to lose a mother. while he'd been a little older than thirteen, the loss never really goes away. not when it comes to mothers. to half of the name of the boat under their very feet. bucky has basically told him to go ahead, to ask, and he nearly feels paralyzed by the chance. ]
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he wishes steve were here.
the decision to try and ...do something for sam by just handing him a case full of the means to take on something sam's not even sure about wasn't one he had to mull over terribly long. bucky's sure about it. steve was. he doesn't have to use it. it should be an option though. he's had the idea in his head longer than the last few days so it comes to no surprise that when he put the favor in, word returned that shuri hilariously already had everything close to done done before the request reached her. typical.
he debated maybe giving sam some space or something but one of the only things that makes him feel like himself is following wherever it is that shield goes. perhaps it's utterly foolish but it's why there's not a large gap of time between when sam last saw him and the delivery. he wasn't called for this group project and he thinks he's definitely intruding on some level but nobody tells him to go so he stays. close to that shield and close to the person it belongs to now, regardless of if he's wanted or not.
it feels right just fixing things. having something to do. someone that doesn't mind him. someone who doesn't think he has an easy kill switch. a whole family that doesn't think twice about his presence there and smiles like it's the easiest thing in the world. big and wide and full of life and light regardless of any burdens. sam smiles wider than sarah and so much here at his home. with the family. it's contagious and loving and not directed at him.
does he know a lot about boats? no. he just knows enough to make some educated guesses. an efficient solider can make his own repairs. he's pretty sure he knows more about pipes than him. and wiring. and knots. he tries not to point it out and just inserts himself in where he can make something easier, probably in a more irritating manner than if he just pointed out an easier way. sam's got the lead and he follows it without question. sam's a natural leader. bucky forces focus on the tasks to not to think about how easily he follows him too hard.
the day's work was closing out with that incoming sunset. he's sort of watching it while sam finished up, sitting close to the edge of the boat while packing the tools up. he likes sunsets. wakanda had the best ones, completely picturesque, but this one has something he can't really place. the water adds something. the smell of it. the very gentle rock the ties on the boat will allow. the creek of the wood beneath sam's feet while he moves over. ]
Should've went into sailing. [ steve would've thrown up too much, he thinks immediately. he shakes it away. elbows rest on his knees as he turns to look up at him, head tilted a little. his eyes sort of narrow out of habit because he doesn't blink as much as he should be when he looks at him. ] Yeah, sure.
[ it would take sam's entire supply and maybe then some to get a buzz going but it's about the social aspect. it's normal. friends have beers and he can't think of the last time anyone offered him one. ]
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and maybe that's why he doesn't turn bucky away the second he sees him there. why he doesn't send that old bag of bones and metal packing, as soon as he delivered the case. he has an idea of what's inside, has a vague understanding of what bucky is trying to say by delivering it, but in knowing what would be waiting for them would mean acknowledging that he's still thinking about it. still reconsidering a decision he had been so sure of, not months before. sam doesn't like going back on anything he's decided. he likes jumping first and figuring it out on the fall. but going back up into the plane? a wholly different story.
sarah and his nephews were a world worth fighting for, just as maybe - just maybe - america could be too. but it did take him coming home. sleeping in that bed. being in that house. and now it's being out on this boat, chipped paint reminding him every day of his parents, of the life and job they built. the work they put in just for this sunset, in this moment, to happen.
everything they did, for sam to be sitting here and watching it, with bucky.
it should feel weird. not that long ago, it would have felt weird. but something about their search for the super soldiers and dealing with the flagsmashers and freaking baron helmut zemo had shifted not only sam's understanding of what weird is supposed to be, but what should be housed under it. what isn't, really, all that weird at all. like how strong bucky really is, when it comes to work and not punching through walls. like how easily he delegates, how quickly bucky picks orders up. part of him wonders if it's just the work of the gulf water and the warm air, or if there's something else to this comfortable sort of air, but bucky says shouldn't went into sailing and sam snorts out a laugh. ]
Let's not get cocky. [ said with a friendly, joking tilt to his voice. a low watch yourself now that curls ever so gently around sam's almost smile. bucky looks up at him, and sam's brows both rise, waiting for an answer, and nodding once when he agrees.
sam turns, then, moving towards the back of the boat where it's wider, where there's more room for them to sit and where the cooler is tied down, and settles into a seat. he doesn't check to see if bucky gets up to follow him, just moved with a kind of expectant ease. (when did that start?) and when bucky walks by, sam will offer him up a green bottle - cheap beer, really, but it's something. it's social. it's the concept of it. and when bucky takes it, sam holds on for just a second longer, just to catch bucky's eyes. ] If you drink all my beer, you're buying the next case- got it? [ said with just seriousness that while it's joking, it's also not. an acknowledgment that maybe he knows bucky doesn't have to drink. maybe he knows it won't actually do anything for him. but he is here, and he didn't say no, so sam will take this as a win.
he pops off the cap before tossing the bottle opener over to the other, leaning back in the seat and taking a long drink. ]
Thanks for helping out today.
[ easy conversation. they can do this as long as bucky doesn't bolt. ]
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he was a little too quick to judge sam. especially with regards to assuming he hadn't thought anything through. the nostalgic ideal of captain america was what was presented to his head before his memories came back fully and he thinks, probably, that left a mark. losing him put a gloss over those memories. and it shouldn't have. he knew him.
and steve never, for a second, had a solid plan. him being the man with a plan was propaganda song lyrics. that guy used to pick fights with people four times his size and didn't think it through at all. he'd go charging into battle after battle, not checking his six because he knew, rightfully, bucky and the rest of them watched it for him. steve was wonderful leader because he knows how to recognize everyone's strengths and delegate everyone a goal. every plan was just goal points. we go in and win is not an actual damn plan and bucky was always left figuring out how to make it happen. do this and he does, having to figure out how along the way. then it was all of shield, sam, natasha, and presumably every other avenger working it out. (no way steve thought of time travel) and the goal gets reached. every time. goal reached so great plan.
sam takes the shield and becomes captain america is not a plan. it's a goal. once again, he's realizing, steve rogers has left it to his team to figure out how to get there. thanks, you jerk.
sam does a lot more thinking than steve ever did. comes up with actual plans, even if he's making them up while in the process of jumping. there is one eventually. it's obvious now when it wasn't so clear before. the orders he gives on the boat come with the plan on exactly to do it. if they didn't know, instructions were pulled out. people were asked for input. he's not assuming everyone else will figure it out because sam hasn't had someone saving his ass all his life. sam is smarter, more aware of everyone to a degree nobody else he's known has been and thinks of the consequences to his actions. he wouldn't be a good captain america, he'd be a better one. bucky owes him an apology. ]
Too late. [ his lips curve into a smile then scrunching his nose up and straightening his back, nodding to himself with his gaze on the water like he's seriously considering a career in fishing. he shakes his head. nah.
he gets up and follows behind, watching sam's back. the fabric on the shirt shifting. he doesn't sit once sam does, deciding to linger for a moment before moving to where he's decided to sit on sam's left.
the beer doesn't come right away and the words give him a brief pause before letting out a very reserved genuine chuckle, his head ducking. ah, so he knows. ] Got it. [ where do you even buy beer around here? that big grocery store on the road? those places are so overwhelming. too many options.
he sits, pulling the cap off the beer effortlessly with his hand before the bottle opener gets tossed over. ah, hell. he just... holds it awkwardly. ]
Anytime.
[ he means that. when did that happen? ]
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now, with bucky here. now, as he's opened up this part of his life and his self and his home, to bucky too. even steve never made it this far into sam's life, never met his sister or his nephews (granted, at the time they were barely even kids). steve never made it this far home, with sam. but seeing bucky among the boats, the nets, the people, the parts - it shouldn't have been this easy and it shouldn't have been this seamless, and yet here they are.
and maybe bucky wasn't too far off, at the beginning of all this. being mad at sam for not sharing plans, commenting about how sam didn't think things through. because while part of that is inherently wrong - sam thinks these things through - it's the other half of it. it's the fact sam was either following orders, or making decisions for himself. it's the sharing of those plans, it's the concept of someone else looking to him to make the decisions, that sam wasn't prepared to do. bucky invited himself on that first mission, and sam didn't know what to do. bucky continued to follow him, the two of them becoming inherently intertwined as they chased down the super soldiers, karli, the flag smashers.
what sam learns, along the way, is that they have to talk. god damn, they have to talk. more than communication with a capital c, but just knowing where they are. how to have each other's back, how to step into fighting together. because, as bucky probably noticed because sam certainly did, they weren't good at that. they did not have a history of being good at it. so they needed to do better. five months of unanswered texts later, now is there chance. and bucky's not going to be the one who does it, isn't going to be the one to talk or speak or reach out, so sam will. he'll fill that space. he'll do that job. except that that job has turned into much more than that. that job has shifted to a place where sam tells bucky to go grab that wrench and to go pick up that crate and turn this and no, he didn't need help with that but sure, fine, use those crazy freaky super strength powers. whatever.
too late. ] Apparently. [ but bucky smiles - even if it's just for a second - so sam grins back. a promise of a full-chest laugh somewhere in the creases. he drinks from his bottle, leans back into the seat, is comfortable - really and truly comfortable. the sun on the horizon is warm on his skin, the boat is drifting comfortably in the waves, and bucky is laughing. or well- close enough to it. bucky chuckles and ducks his head and sam watches him, still grinning a bit himself. watches, as if he turns away from him he'll miss something.
the bottle opener gets tossed and bucky holds it awkwardly and sam, realizing very suddenly that he can pick up on that awkwardness and he gestures over to a box off to bucky's left. a silent you can put it in there. ]
Is there a story there? [ sam asks, one brow up. it's easy, not pressing, more of sam's 'i'm just trying to make conversation' tone than any kind of pressing conversation. he means the boat, means bucky feeling comfortable here, on this boat. sam wonders if there's anything there for them to connect about, or if it's just a comment, a connection. ] Or are you just an overachiever? [ that part is a joke, mostly because sam has also noticed - or thinks he noticed - a kind of lack of weight on bucky's shoulders. a kind of...not sincerity, necessarily, but honesty to the word. sam is curious. sam wants to know more. but also, more than anything, sam wants to know if they've actually come as far as he thinks they have. ]
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how nice it would be to have all of this though. somewhere full of memories, a sense of belonging and community, family. he's jealous of sam.
bucky doesn't want to stop overstaying his welcome today. chilling here with sam until the sun sets seems like an ideal concept. warm and listening to the waves and sam's soothing voice full of harmless jabs at his entire strange being. he's not going to convince sam to keep drinking with him though. that man is far too responsible for that and will likely try working more on the boat at the ass crack of dawn. and he doesn't know how to start talking long enough that time can be lost track of. he's not going to make that move. he will have to get up and catch a flight eventually and then wait for an excuse to follow him again when the flag smashers resurface. if he wants help with something after that, he'll follow too. because something feels right about doing so.
or he just has nothing better to do.
his eyes widen at the gesture in an odd embarrassment. the bottle opener and the bottle in his right hand. he turns to put them both down on the box, then picks the beer back up. oops.
attention back on sam, mimicing his eyebrow raising intentionally then hanging his head a bit and shaking it. ] Not really. Never been on a boat before, actually. [ he pauses, looks sidelong. shoulders lifting with the start of a shrug. ] That's not true. I sank one once with a rocket launcher. [ he drops his shoulders, turning his eyes back on sam expectantly, like he's waiting to get a reaction to a joke. ]
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and bucky does fit into the vision of what this is, and sam can't decide if it's more surprising that a place with so many memories and so much history could easily mold itself to include one more, or if it's more surprising that he's not at all surprised.
dinner will be ready soon. they have some time, about an hour or so before he needs to heads back home. sam is in no rush, though. and as bucky sets the opener down and picks the beer back up, sam can feel the tension in him. can feel the unasked questions. the fact there seems to be something else under the surface that he won't bring himself to ask. sam takes another drink from his bottle, leans back in his seat, and feels the waves slowly lap against the side of the boat they're now on.
at first, he looks surprised. impressed, almost. that is, until bucky shrugs, once. continues. and it's at that second part of his comment that sam laughs, truly and honestly laughs. it starts off as a chuckle, but after a second or two grows to something bigger, and it takes a few tries before he can stop himself enough to take another drink of his beer. ] So you sank the boat while you were on it? Damn. [ he shakes his head, equally entertained by the fact he found that so funny and the fact bucky is cracking jokes at all. ]
And hate to disappoint you, but there are no rocket launchers on this boat. And I refuse to let you sink this one, so you'll have to entertain yourself some other way.
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until very recently, where they both got to see it dripping with blood. what if that makes it all fade away? he needs something else to hold on to. he wants something else to hold on to. this place, the person sitting next to him - clearer than anything. dark brown eyes and blinding smiles that stick in his head while other things rupture. but he won't assume. he can't keep this. it feels like it belongs to someone else.
bucky is overwhelmed, tense, wound up knots more difficult than any in the nets on this boat. there's a lot that should be said. wants to ask. they're horrible at communication and he has absolutely rancid social skills.
but he's trying. and it got a laugh that's contagious and drops some of the tension he's been carrying. ] Mmhm. [ he nods, small laughs escaping past the tip of the bottle he raises up to sip. he never gets the beer in his mouth because he starts laughing about it more, catching him off-guard. tension popped like a balloon. ]
Nobody told me to get off it. [ he points his beer towards him to add an additional fact to it: ] I actually escaped with that dumbass move. They lost me for a whole week and a half.
[ that came out so easily. he seems to realize it and it reels in the laughter. doctor rayner needed months to even get a word out of him and it was never recalling anything. not a peep. he rubs under an eye with a finger, confusion slipping into the smile that's still there, at least. ]
I'll think of something else. How's your car?
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but then again, maybe bucky should be looking for a person, rather than a place, at all.
sam isn't going to force anything on him - bucky has spent too much of is life with his choices made up for him. orders given and little else. and that's not sam's way. that's not his gig. but he can, here, give bucky the space and time and assurance, can't he? he can give him an easy job to accomplish - sand this, twist that, here, bring that to me, hey thanks man - and enough space to pick if he wants to do it at all, and then maybe, also, a chilled beer that won't do anything to him except give him a reason to just stay, for just a few minutes more.
and it's amazing, sam thinks, that when given all those things, bucky can settle in and crack and joke and even laugh, just like that, which in turn makes sam laugh any more. ] Nobody told you to get off it? So what- you just stayed? You shot off a freaking rocket and thought 'oh hey maybe I'll stick around'? [ sam gives up on trying to take his next drink, his head thrown back a bit by the force of his laugh, one hand on his ribs as if in some shallow attempt to hold it back.
they lost me for a whole week and a half bucky says, and sam barely even recognizes the significance of it, his own laugh still lingering in the air, his breaths coming a bit short. he shakes his head, still amused by the picture of it, when bucky continues and sam - almost comically - goes very still and way too serious, frowning as he looks over to him. ]
You see that? Not funny. You're not getting anywhere near my car. Not after last time. [ one beat, and then one more, before sam's face breaks out into another grin, another laugh, because ah. bucky's funny now, is he? he's got jokes. and something about that realization, that feeling of how far they have come, how simply that had slid into conversation, makes sam feel...what? lighter? more comfortable? warm?
a moment passes that doesn't feel weird. doesn't feel heavy. sam's eyes move out to the ocean around them and the slowly setting sun and has to remind himself that this isn't how it's always been. that bucky, being here, is new. but like in direct opposition to that understanding, sam's body feels like it slides into something older. something comfortable. the kind of feeling that makes him think bucky has always been here, in a way. or that maybe he should be. ]
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he has to get out of his hair soon. sam's just too kind to tell him to leave. sam's giving him a beer because that's good southern hospitality, isn't it? sam wants to take a vacation and wouldn't mind if he never saw him again - but once this is over they're on significantly more amicable terms, at least. so that's good.
the beer gets rolled between his hands and he nods, an amused grin on his face and sam's response to it. ] Yup. I just stood there on an exploding sinking boat until I was underwater. [ sam's laughter makes it all seem lighter and almost gets him going again but he's biting his upturned lips instead, preventing it.
he can crack jokes. he doesn't think he's funny half the time -just unintentionally funny. the therapist scolding him for cracking inappropriate, ill-timed, very dark jokes. "it's not funny, james." finding light humor in anything he did while completely brainwashed was apparently a horrible idea to everyone else but sam. sam goes still and serious so he freezes, swallowing nothing in his throat and then staring at him with puzzled gaze. the frown has him sinking in his seat somewhat. he leans forward. sam says his response. the beat feels drawn out and his eyes dart off sam to a few random places on the boat, squinting even further. searching his unclear memories for when the hell he has ever seen sam's car. has he seen sam driving a car at all? steve drove them to the airport and he didn't break that car. zemo didn't crash the car. sam starts laughing and he smiles at it but still looks absolutely puzzled for a beat more.
and then it clicks and he starts laughing harder than he thinks he has in about 100 years. Head leaned back and he has to shift an arm to keep from losing balance and going over the edge of the ship. ] I didn't know that was your car when I took the steering wheel. [ He wheezes the words out.
he savors the moment that passes, the high from a good laugh. the beer has a rather large sip taken out of it just to wet his mouth after that. this, right here. feels like the peace he wants. free. he hasn't felt free, even if he is. he feels a little drunk from it all and he knows he can't be. ]
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sam does find himself thinking about that - about how bucky didn't have to show up here. package delivery aside, he wasn't the type to do anything he didn't want to, or stick around if he didn't want to. more than even that, it was bucky who offerred to help. who was a huge help. and who sam couldn't help but notice, for himself, how good it was to hav him around. he may have a staring problem and may be a 100 yar old cyborg assassin, but. well. he's here. and he's laughing. and sam can't help but stare a little bit, himself, for it.
because that's just it, isn't it? sam doesn't force anything in his life. he jumps out of planes and checks in on his people and he's there, he's always there for anyone who might need it, but he's not the type to take anything for himself. to push people, closer or away. he wonders how much longer he'll get to have this moment before bucky leaves, and wonders directly after that, if there's something else he could do about it. ]
You have got to be kidding me. That's- oh my god, Buck. [ laughter is easy, a bubbly sound that fills him from toes to fingers, and sam just lets it. he's warm, he's light, they got good work done and he feels like he's doing something for someone again. the boat might not be fixed (yet) but it really is all thanks to bucky's help that they moved leaps and bounds forward. he gives bucky a look, a kind of i can't believe you before shaking his head.
he sees the way that bucky tenses when his own face goes serious, the panic and a bit of confusion there. sam would feel bad, if he didn't know what was coming, if he wasn't - in a childish, giddy sort of way - excited to watch it land. it's ridiculous, really, and if sam were anywhere else, with anyon else, he probably wouldn't be acting this way. but this is them, this is what sam has found when he falls in step with bucky.
that is when bucky barnes starts laughing, really and truly laughing, and sam's grin simply grows at the sight of it. the laughter looks good on bucky, sam realizes, and he can't bring his eyes away from watching him. the light way he simply reacts. the kind of - what? levity? - that finally seems to force its way through him. sam's brow arches up as bucky nearly falls off over the edge of the boat, and then sam is laughing again, himself.
the feeling is mutual - the peace, the drunken warmth of it. they're only a beer in, so sam knows he's not drunk either, but the feeling is a good one. sam's eyes haven't really left bucky at that point, either, catching onto little details he hadn't noticed before. how young he can look, when he relaxes. the way his face breaks a bit when he's laughing. the fact that he does, even now, favor his right hand and not th metal one. he's right handed sam reminds himself, then shakes his head as if to quiet the thought. ]
Doesn't matter. That was the first time I met you, and I am never letting you drive my car. Ever.
[ there is barely any weight at all to sam's words, his smile still hanging onto the corner of his mouth as he takes a drink from his bottle. unsaid in those words are the years (years) they've now spent together, fighting side by side even when bucky was out on the run. even when things still weren't settled. they are nowhere near where they started, and that thought is almost dizzying. ]
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when they found him that first time, sam treated him like a person. not someone to be feared, pitied, etc. just a guy who he won’t move a seat up for and could shit on like anyone else. minor bickering that threw him off so off hard at the time that it ended up pulling him out of the foggy haze to try and bicker back to match the energy. nobody else was treating him like a full person from day one like that. it made him think clearer. things became easier then.
easier now. too easy. there’s no pressure being put upon him except for what he adds himself. sam doesn’t provide constricting lose/lose scenarios that leave him feeling like there’s no choice. he decided to follow him. he decided to come here. that was all him even if he felt like he had to at the time.
he didn’t. but he did. if he looks, sam offers options and guidance he can accept or refuse when he doesn’t know what to do. there’s support. there’s always been support being offered. a hand on his shoulder at a funeral. a text with an open invite to respond, if he so chose to. a beer, if he wants to linger. ]
Seriously. That wasn’t even the first time that happened. [ He grins, wide and toothy at the look Sam gives him. ] I’ve done it with a helicopter too. There was this... [ The beer moves to the left hand. His right used to point, tracing a finger over his forearm. ]
This dent right here at one point where I caught the blades when it ...ya know, I crashed the damn thing.
[ it hurt like hell, he remembers. That’s not exactly as funny of a anecdote but the grin only slightly faulted - sticking the landing into staying on because of Sam’s expression. They’re laughing. They’re laughing and everything’s fine.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so at ease. Bucky covers his mouth, trying to stop himself from going further into the laughing fit and out of a slight embarrassment for not knowing he did that at all to Sam’s car until just now. The larger grin on Sam, the biggest he’s ever seen on the guy. There’s light in his eyes.
He gets sent him over and Bucky has to cover his face with his palm, body shaking from something he can’t stop and has to run it’s course. It’s loud and he’s unused to the sound.
He drags the hand down his face once he manages to catch his breath enough, dropping it. ]
Ma always said to make a strong first impression so I’m not apologizing.
[ Making light of that time he tried to kill you all? With anyone else, this wouldn’t happen. Bucky can be solemn, reserved, soft spoken even - but Sam has drawn out his humor. His jabs, volume in his voice. Sam makes him feel the age he looks. Lighter and not weighed down by the past as hard.
He wants to keep feeling that. He wants to keep this going. His beer is emptied (too quick! He internally admonishes himself) and he stares at Sam’s shoes to try and not stare at his face and hide how red his own feels from the giggle fit he practically nosedived into.
Think of an excuse to speak... ]
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and it's funny, looking back and noticing how light it's all become. because that's just it, that's what sam can't quite shake when he looks at bucky. the dark lines that had been under his eyes, the lost expression in his face. the way steve looked at him, broken and torn apart and stitched back together, and said we could do this. and then, because steve had said it, sam could say it too. bucky did not get special treatment from him. and sure, yes, the whole super power freak show was a new thing for sam at the time, but what better way to get involved than to just not care? not bring it up? bucky never scared sam, whether it was because of steve or because of what sam saw in those blue eyes when he finally got close enough to look. and thinking back on it now? seeing bucky barnes who is laughing so hard on his family boat that he may just tip over the edge. bucky barnes, who had looked so unsure when he asked if he could help. bucky barnes, who is here, who is here, and who sam couldn't want anywhere else.
he finishes his bottle, then, though the last bit of it gets caught in his throat as he find himself laughing again, spitting beer onto the floorboards in front of him as he coughs his way through, holding up a it's okay, i've got this hand just in case bucky thought it was anything more serious, and sam shakes his head. ] You... [ he coughs, again, but it's more of a laugh this time than it was before. ] Are a menace to society. Boats and helicopters- what next? Jet planes? You already destroyed my wings before, so we're not counting those. Tanks? [ sam shakes his head because now he's being ridiculous, and moves to toss the bottle into one of the empty boxes. it rattles, a satisfying sound, and for half a moment sam feels like his sixteen again. before he ran off to the air force. just sitting around, shooting the shit, sneaking beer while his parents weren't looking. it's a comforting feeling, but more than that it's a warm one. like bucky has always been right here, right in that seat, right across from him in the lousiana sunshine.
they're not really talking about anything, at this point. casual, easy conversation that sam can keep bouyed for days, if he needed to. but sam finds he doesn't really have to, because as he grabs the next bottle and settles back into his spot, bucky is laughing again. cracking open and pouring out a kind of noise that sam can't help but match. he wants to keep laughing, giggling around like they're kids hiding under the dock, and it takes a few seconds for them both to be able to breathe. bucky drags a hand down his face, says ma always said to make a strong first impression, and sam is suddenly a bit frozen to the spot. there's still a smile on his face, though it's something a bit more thoughtful, a bit warmer, a bit more thoughtful. he's struck by the feeling of it, of the moment that surrounds them both, and while everything in him is screaming don't make this a big deal, he also has to take into account the space. the time. he's invited bucky into his home, introduced him to sarah, the boys. they're sitting around, drinking beer, and laughing, and bucky. well. ]
I think that's the first time you've mentioned your Ma to me before. [ there are no expectations in his words. if anything, they're just a statement of fact. an observation that sam seems...pleased. proud. touched, almost, to be a part of. but that voice echoes again. don't make this a big deal. and so sam takes a breath. settles back against the edge of the boat and watches bucky for a second, just one, before he snorts another laugh. ] Now- I didn't know your Ma, but pretty sure she wasn't talking about literally ripping the steering wheel from someone's hand when she said that.
[ easing any possible silence bucky may fall into. bringing it back to neutral ground. but god, he wants to know. ]
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he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. sam put trust in him and in return has wormed his way into gaining an undying loyalty. it’s not servitude or anything one sided. mutual respect and enjoyment. an actual friend that makes him feel giddy and light like a good night out. sam insisted they needed a long vacation from each other but-
sam laughs hard enough that he spits and bucky sits straighter automatically, empty bottle placed to the side and watching to see if he’s needed before he goes to move in. still smiling but ready to take action had sam started choking or something. because his first instinct is that it would be something serious. the amount of times steve almost killed himself by suffocating... but you can’t coddle, over-worry. wait. there’s a hand up that everything is good from sam and slouches back down, easy smile on his face. laughing too much ] You’ve seen me wreck a jet, haven’t you? Those were jets on that thing, right? [ bucky pauses to consider it, smile shrinking and decides not to focus too hard on how he definitely shot a pilot and hijacked his plane. a few times.
he’s shakes his head, holding his hands up. back to light laughs. ] Yes but- hold on. The tanks I started on during the war. That’s approved of menacing. [ nazi tanks are a-okay. the bottle is grabbed back after there’s a clang from Sam’s landing in the box. bucky flips his in his hand then tosses it in after. it lands next to the other one - silent. show off.
his cheek is resting in his hand now, smiling with amusement. he doesn’t realize how it slipped out. the implications of it. not until sam points it out in a way that doesn’t seem so large. his eyes move off his shoes and back to him. the smile slips off completely into a thoughtful straight expression. he blinks - slow and long and puzzled. he looks back at sam’s shoes. when was the last time he mentioned his mother at all? it’s been a long time. he’s never shared much about his home life with anyone. therapy sessions tried to goad it out and all she got were basic factual answers anyone can find in the museum. ]
Huh. [ sam let’s it hang there with zero expectations. bucky sinks into quiet thoughts. sam moves on after a beat to continue their light-hearted nonsense to break it, he expects. bucky smiles lightly at the words but doesn’t reply for a moment more. there’s that excuse to talk... ]
Probably not what she meant, yeah. [ he nods to himself. quiet for another moment more. and then decides to keep going down that path. sam’s entire family, community- is out on display. heart on his sleeve and bucky’s been holding his own in for what feels like an eternity. he takes a deep breath then starts with words quieter than the ones said through laughter he just had. ]
Tough lady. I mean, had to. There were four of us. Hit me with a spoon a couple of times. Passed when- I think I was ... thirteen or something? [ he cups his hands together, rolling his thumbs around each other. he shrugs. his eyes find their way back to Sam, open. a small smile. go ahead. ask. ]
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the shield is back up at the house, unceremoniously leaned up against the doorframe of the living room, because sam couldn't store it in his room. the shield isn't even his (again). not really. no decisions have been made and no titles have been taken and for all that bucky's wakandan delivery acts as the loudest box in the county, sam hasn't fully accepted what is happening. hasn't really, fully, decided that this is what he wants to do. but maybe steve had the right idea - maybe a captain america does need a bucky barnes. or maybe it's just sam wilson who does.
bucky sits up when sam starts to cough just like he knew he would, and sam waves him off. pulls himself back together and then starts laughing, again, when bucky mentions the jets. ]Okay, fine, over-achiever. Yes- I'm pretty sure you destroyed the entire S.H.I.E.L.D airbase, but we took down the Helicarriers, thank you. [ sam can see bucky trip up, the smile falling and tension filling the space, and sam pauses - just for long enough to see if bucky's going to settle there, or if the lightness of the evening is going to win out. and maybe, just maybe, sam shouldn't feel as proud, or relieved, or whatever it is he feels, seeing bucky shake his head and laugh again. whatever the feeling is, it fills sam's chest with the same sort of warmth left in the air between them.
bucky mentions approved of menacing and sam opens his mouth to argue, or contradict, or say something - but it's that exact moment that bucky flips his bottle and tosses it into the box next to sam's empty bottle, and anything sam wanted to say leaves him in a rush, instead leaving room for - ] Are you kidding me? Show off. [ because they're always on the same page, aren't they? even in this. even now.
and then it is the moment, when sam takes a leap of faith. jumps right on out of the plane and into the open air, waiting for the moment that his wings will catch. that is the feeling sam has watching the smile fade from bucky's face, but rather than seeing something close back up again, get filed back into a room that sam doesn't have access to fully yet, he sees something else. something he thinks is thoughtful, something he thinks is complicated. the silence feels like it stretches out forever, sam's very own heart rate slowing to match the gentle rocking of the waves.
huh.
that is the moment that sam starts to question - if he should fill the space, if he should give bucky a way out. he doesn't want to turn all of this into an interrogation - if bucky doesn't want to say anything more, he doesn't have to. it's why he supplies the follow-up. why, even now, he's prepared to derail the conversation entirely. but before sam could continue, before the words make it out to shift the focus away, bucky speaks. not just speaks, but shares. don't make this a big deal the voice echoes again, but sam is entranced. isn't even sure he breathes.
it's not until bucky finishes, looking back over to sam with a small smile, that sam feels his heart start back up again. feels himself breathe. the weight of the moment is still heavy in the air, but it feels less like a burden and more like a comfort. bucky looks over to him and sam looks back to him, holding the eye contact for another moment or so, seeing the permission there. ]
I'm sorry. [ sam knows what it feels like to lose a mother. while he'd been a little older than thirteen, the loss never really goes away. not when it comes to mothers. to half of the name of the boat under their very feet. bucky has basically told him to go ahead, to ask, and he nearly feels paralyzed by the chance. ]
What was her name?