Chapter Text
Stark’s tower is one of the most modern constructions there are, not only in New York or the USA, but in the entire world. It’s big, it’s sleek, it’s imposing… Sometimes Sam thinks Stark is trying a little too hard. But you just can’t not notice it, not even once you’re inside and don’t get to see the façade anymore. Open spaces, high ceilings, massive windows… Everything's decorated in such a way that you just know that having a painting hung on that wall and not the opposite one, cost Stark more than Sam’s house and car together.
It’s opulent, build with top-quality materials, stylishly decorated, with an AI running it… And still, Sam can hear the ruckus on the other side of the closed door. It makes his hand falter when he’s about to knock. It’s only a murmur that gets through, but he still recognizes the two voices and some of the words being said.
“Buck… get… yes, you…”
“No, I can’t!” it’s the last thing Sam hears, loud and clear. He almost expects the words to be followed by a slammed door, but it’s not the case. The voice is too adult and sober for the scene to remind Sam of a petulant teen with a tantrum.
Sam’s hand spasms around his walking cane as he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. He knocks on the dark wood. A few seconds pass, Sam’s eyes glued to his shoes, ears perked up. The doormat has the form of a cat, even though Sam knows there isn’t one in the apartment. He frowns down at it, wonders what’s happened since he went back to Louisiana. Even if he’s kept in touch with Steve, there’s a lot that can happen in two months.
The door swings open and Steve’s pinched expression is what greets Sam. It only lasts a short moment, rapidly replaced by a bright smile. Before he can realize what’s happening, Sam’s inside the apartment with Steve’s arms around him. It forces a huff of breath out of him but Sam winds his arms around the blond man without a second thought.
His muscles suddenly unwind and it’s then, when he almost lets go of his cane, that he realizes how tense he’s been for the last few hours. Steve’s told him a million times that he’s okay, that Barnes is… docile, but he hadn’t truly believed him, not until now. Now that he sees Steve and Steve’s skin, as pasty white and untouched as ever.
Sam takes a quick look at the apartment over Steve’s shoulder, just to make sure everything’s all right—at least on the surface.
Nothing broken, Sam tells himself. Not that it actually means anything, it’s just a way to calm his nerves. All in vain, of course. A part of him wants to check every room, cupboard, and vent.
Just as Sam and Steve are moving away, Barnes steps out of a room, struggling with a tie around his neck. His expression’s a mix of annoyance and weariness, the last one most noticeable in the dark circles under his eyes. Barnes stops in his tracks when he notices Sam. He stares at him as if he expects Sam to do something. Maybe start punching him with his non-existing metal arm until he falls into a coma.
Sam tries to dislodge the thought and feeling pressing on his chest and throat, goading him. He hopes Barnes doesn’t come too close—he has no idea what his response will be, if fight or flight. Perhaps freeze, like Barnes’ seems to be, hand in hand with a bit of disassociation and numbness. Sam can almost feel it at the edges of his perception.
“Um.” Steve shuffles, looking between the two of them. His hand is on Sam’s arm, comforting and grounding; but still, he knows Steve wants to go to Barnes. “Sorry, Bucky was actually…”
Steve looks constipated.
“Not supposed to be here when I arrived?”
Barnes blinks and Sam notices him swallow; apart from that, he’s still a deer in the headlights. Sam leans more heavily on his cane and Steve notices, this finally getting him out of his funk.
“More or less.” Steve stirs him in the direction of the couch and a muscle twitches in Sam’s jaw when he loses sight of Barnes. Doesn’t really matter, though; he hasn’t moved an inch from his spot. “Sorry, there was a change in our schedule, and I wasn’t expecting you so soon…”
“It’s nine, Steve,” Sam says after he clears his throat.
Steve turns to the windows; it’s dark outside but for the bright windows shining on the other buildings. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, I’m not going to break.” Steve observes him with an evident skepticism that would push even the Dalai Lama’s buttons. “You’re dating the guy that almost killed me—that almost killed you and Nat. But he saved you once so now we’re cool.”
“Sam—”
Sam raises a hand to cut him off. He sees Barnes clutch the tie to his chest, finally coming down from the stars. “Let me be bitter, Steve, I think I deserve it since I’m doing so well taking into account… everything.”
This is not how Sam had envisioned this moment; the one where he would face the Winter Soldier. He’s spoken with his therapist about him, so much that he’s even joked with her about who’s actually dating Barnes, him or Steve. She’s told Sam not to push himself—physically nor mentally. But here he is, walking only with the help of a cane and in the same room as the guy who caused the need for said cane in the first place. And he isn’t a catatonic mess on the floor.
Of course he hadn’t expected Barnes to attack him, at least not the rational part of him. What he’d expected was to see the calculating eyes of the Soldier, the sureness and the determination. But Sam’s starting to believe everyone else was right and the Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not some new concept that has just revealed itself to him, of course not. Andrea and he have had a lot of conversations about this during their sessions, but part of him hadn’t been able to believe it all the way.
Some of his scenarios were of him telling Barnes how he feels, how he can’t look at him without a gnawing fear paralyzing him, without having the need to draw out one of his guns, and of how his feelings are valid and don’t have to ever change. Sam can hate him for the rest of his life without feeling bad about it.
There were some other scenarios where he didn’t have to confront Barnes. He’s kinda embarrassed by them since they play out like a soap opera where he tries to steal Steve away. The fantasies consist of Sam telling Steve to wake up, get his head out of his ass, get down from the clouds… There are a few versions, but the point is the same in all of them if not the phrasing: he’s crazy if he thinks he can trust the Winter Soldier, and he should kick him out of his house before Barnes tries to slit his throat while he’s sleeping.
Where’s the throat-slitting guy?
“Are you going to move?” Sam hears his own voice but needs a moment to realize it was him who said the words. He doesn’t let his surprise show. “Does he have an off switch?”
“Don’t be a jerk, Sam,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. He seems to falter on his spot in front of Sam, looking at the couch behind Sam, but Sam doesn’t feel like sitting down. Steve groans at his friend’s raised brow. “Just give me a moment.”
Steve walks to Barnes and takes the tie from his hand, gently but deftly tying it around his neck. For a second, Barnes’ expression is like looking into a mirror—if it weren’t for the obvious differences, like Sam being more handsome and less creepy. If it wasn’t beyond awkward, they could even interchange a knowing look.
Sam notices then that Barnes is in a black suit, sans jacket and shoes. This time his arched brow is directed at Barnes. “You going to a trial?”
“Jesus, Sam.” Steve turns to scowl with disapproval at him. Sam only shrugs. He should sit down, his legs already ache.
“Is it a recital?”
Steve finishes the knot only to turn and stare at Sam with hands on his hips. He’s so close to looking at Barnes as if he’s a camera in The Office. He’s content with sitting down on the couch and laying the cane across his legs.
“It’s a play.”
If he’d been drinking something, Sam would’ve spit it out. His eyes go from Barnes to Steve, mouth open and speechless. Barnes only straightens down his black tie.
How much has changed?!
“In Broadway,” Barnes finishes after a second, like some standup comedian who’s delivering a well-timed joke for his audience.
It’s after a moment that’s too long and embarrassing for Sam to admit, that Steve cracks a smile and Sam finally catches up with the joke. “Good one, Buck.”
‘Buck’ doesn’t acknowledge Steve’s pat on the shoulder, nor does he raise his eyes from his tie to laugh at Sam’s dumb expression. Sam feels something boil inside his chest and then rise to his face. His hands grip the cane until his knuckles turn pale. Then Barnes turns and goes through a door, closing it behind himself—exiting the stage.
Sam tries to calm his breathing but he’s seeing red.
“Think he’s confused me with someone else.” His voice is even as he catches Steve’s eye—Steve’s slight smile fades when he catches the ice in Sam’s tone. “Maybe with one of his friends.”
Steve doesn’t answer right away; he actually takes his time to think through what to say, to which Sam’s grateful because he doesn’t have the patience to deal with a hot-headed Steve. He’s seriously thinking about just leaving, but Darlene and Paul Wilson have taught him better. So, he waits out his pig-headed friend.
(It’s also true that if his parents knew he was here, they would beat him with a stick.)
Steve takes the cane from his hands and sits by his side. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”
“How?” Sam turns so he can see Steve’s face with all its subtle changes. “How can you not, Steve? He almost killed you, twice, he almost killed Nat, he almost killed me!” He hasn’t realized his tone's been rising. Steve doesn’t bat an eye at his outburst.
His friend lets out a little sigh, gaze moving over the apartment. “I understand you, okay? I want you to know that, that I completely understand where you’re coming from.” Steve’s giving him one of his earnest looks. Sam doesn’t give him the satisfaction of nodding. “But I’ve seen the shit he’s gone through, Sam, and I can’t just unsee it. And I’m not talking about HYDRA’s videos. Maybe it’s not enough for others, but it is for me.”
Steve’s expression is tense, his lips a tight line as his jaw clenches and unclenches. Sam’s sure Steve has some things to say about those ‘others’.
“And the fact that he’s dicking you down.”
Steve's too stunned to say anything at that, he just turns his head with parted lips, staring at Sam as if he can’t decide if what he just heard was a hallucination. Sam’s grateful because he doesn’t know where it came from and he’s not proud of this outburst.
“Or are you?” Sometimes he can’t escape being a moron. Steve’s still flabbergasted. “Okay, that was too much, go on.”
“I don’t—Jesus, Sam, what the fuck was that?”
“Probably my TBI; I have some aphasia too.” It’s true; luckily, it’s of the less severe ones, but he still has to think over what he’s going to say before opening his mouth.
Steve blinks, his expression slowly morphing into one of guilt. Sam’s seen it enough times already, and he knows right now Steve’s feeling bad for sleeping with the guy who caused Sam’s traumatic brain injury. Even when Steve believes that Barnes is innocent for everything he did, he still possesses the ability to make himself feel like shit over it. Sam can imagine the idiot watching HYDRA’s records of Barnes’ torture sessions, closely followed by the tapes of Sam being beaten to an inch of his life. No, he wouldn’t put it past him.
“I’ve read about it,” Steve comments with a cautious tone, guilt-ridden expression turning into careful interest. “About TBI, I mean. I’ve read that it causes irritability.” Steve holds his gaze with an innocent expression.
“No, that’s just you,” Sam clarifies without missing a beat, pressing the end of his cane against Steve’s stomach, making him let out a startled laugh.
Perhaps he’s been getting irritated more easily lately, but he won’t tell that to Steve.
“He has a dinner,” Steve says, taking a quick look at the door of the room where Barnes is. He rolls his eyes as Sam raises his brows in surprise. “He was invited two months ago, when HYDRA took him.” Sam will ignore the break in his friend’s voice. “He saved a few of the Tower’s employees and some of them have sent him letters and gifts as a thank you.”
He wants to tease Steve about what a proud mamma he looks like right now, but he doesn’t have it in him.
They sink in a sudden silence. Sam watches Steve from the corner of his eye, how he rubs a hand over his stubble and hangs his head.
“He’s gone through some awful shit. More than anyone can imagine.” Steve’s voice is quiet, almost too much for Sam to catch, and he can’t ignore the strain on the lines of his face. His tone doesn’t leave space for any arguments on the matter. “He hasn’t been a person for the last seventy years and he still…” Steve’s hands clench and unclench. “He hasn’t been a person for decades, and he still kept clinging to his humanity, to-to his sense of self.”
Sam remembers the Winter Soldier looming over him, remembers staring at his dark form silhouetted by the sun at his back. He’d looked like the angel of death and Sam had been at his mercy. His hand had faltered, Sam had been certain about it even when he was convinced he was a punch away from death. The Winter Soldier’s eyes had grown larger, hand shaking in the space between them.
It’s still hard for Sam to just accept it and be cool with the guy. He wishes knowing something intellectually was enough.
“I know,” Sam finally says, and having the words out there feels like a tremendous step. He isn’t being difficult on purpose and he’s more annoyed than Steve at his own behavior; he’s always been able to harness his moods and impulses.
An understanding passes between them.
Sam wishes he could just say it; that Barnes is a victim just like him, that the ones who pointed the Winter Soldier in Sam’s direction are either dead or in jail, that Barnes deserves a chance to live. But it’s not that easy to be buddy-buddy with the guy that still haunts him in his nightmares.
“So he has a dinner.” Steve smiles a grateful smile at Sam’s offered olive branch and nods. “Isn’t it a little late?”
“Yeah. He was supposed to get there hours ago.”
“He chickened out?”
Steve doesn’t answer, probably so as to protect Barnes’ honor, but that’s answer enough. Sam snorts. “The Winters Soldier’s scared to go to a dinner. Yeah, yeah, he’s not the Winter Soldier,” Sam dismisses Steve waving a hand.
“I told him I could go with him, but he doesn’t want that.”
“He wants to do it on his own.”
Steve nods, his face conveying a clear question: how do you know that?
That gives Sam a lot of information actually.
“Let me guess, you’re a helicopter mom when it comes to Barnes.”
Steve looks at him with a pinched brow for a few silent seconds. “Have you talked with Tony?” Sam can only laugh.
“So I’m not the first to call you that.”
Steve gives a little shake of his head with a self-deprecating smile. He looks pointedly at something to Sam’s right, where he catches a helicopter toy on the end table. Sam picks it up and turns it in his hands.
“Bucky gave it to me a few days ago.” Sam can’t help huffing a laugh. “I think he asked Nat to buy it for him.”
Sam hums, thoughtful. He trusts Steve, of course he does, but being told that the Black Widow herself is on good terms with the Winter Soldier… It gives him new insight and worries.
Not for the first time, Sam wonders how different things would be if he'd been able to help Steve and the rest with what went down two months ago—if he was there to help with Barnes.
Sam’s pulled out of his thoughts when a mug appears in front of him. He blinks at it and subsequently at the owner of the hand that’s offering it. He hadn’t heard him approach.
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place.” Barnes gives a little shake at the mug and Sam takes it out of pure instinct. It’s full of coffee. At a loss of words, Sam chances a look at Steve, searching for solidarity in these weird times. He rolls his eyes at his friend; it’s like he’s witnessing a star shower in his own living room.
“No, it wasn’t,” Sam agrees as he sniffs the coffee.
“I know you think I’ve poisoned it.”
Something about that statement doesn’t sit right with Sam; maybe the fact that Barnes doesn’t know shit about him.
Sam stares him in the eye and drinks the cup in one go. One of Barnes' eyes twitches.
“Good luck with the rest of your night.” Sam tries hard not to let a smirk slip.
Sam feels like he’s having a revelation in the most literal way of the word. Time stops and, just like that, Sam looks at Barnes and sees the same eyes that blinked down at him in shock, fist hovering in the air. No Winter Soldier, but James Barnes showing from behind the big scary shadow of HYDRA’s fist.
“You’re a dick.” He cannot be sure, but Sam feels there’s an understanding that passes between him and the other man. Barnes' shoulders drop a bit and it’s as if Sam can feel the tension leaving him as well.
The epiphany is over, and Sam sinks farther into the couch.
“Where’s your new arm, Astro Boy?”
Barnes frowns, probably wondering who that is. Sam feels Steve fidget uncomfortable on his left, but he deliberately doesn’t pay him any attention.
“I don’t want them to see it.”
Sam wasn’t expecting him to be so sincere, and neither was Steve if his startled expression is anything to go by.
Barnes looks at the space where his arm should be, and Sam can almost hear him thinking. Then he looks up, at Sam and Steve, and the empty space on the couch; Sam can see him hesitating for a few seconds, but Barnes finally sits on Steve’s side. The three men stay silent and just breathe for a few calm moments. Sam doesn’t want to analyze how weird this is.
“You think they’re going to get scared?” Sam hears himself ask. Barnes turns to look at him with a slight frown.
“You sound like my therapist.”
Sam groans at Barnes’ words. He feels Steve’s shoulder shake slightly with laughter. “Close enough; counselor.”
“I know, Steve told me.”
“Hmm.” Sam’s actually surprised.
“Are you...” Barnes makes a pause. “Do you want to be one again? Steve told me you were a full-time Avenger.”
“Steve speaks an awful lot about me,” he comments taking a quick look at the man, who shrugs with a placid smile. He prefers not to comment on the question, though.
“You’re my friend and I missed you.”
Sam’s first instinct is to be sarcastic, but he catches himself on time. “I missed you too, man.”
Barnes gets off the couch then, fast as a bullet, and strides to the room where Sam saw him enter.
“Buck?”
“I’m just going to put on the jacket, don’t fuss.”
Sam smirks at his friend’s flustered face.
“So you’re going?” Steve asks as Barnes returns. Steve makes his way to him, helping him with the black suit jacket.
“I am.”
“You don’t—?”
“No.”
Barnes sighs at Steve’s crestfallen expression. Sam feels like he should look away when Barnes takes Steve’s hand; they’re just holding hands, but Barnes seems to be a tad uncomfortable and insecure. Also, they’re holding hands as if they have a fragile bird between their fingers. It’s enough for Sam to forget for a second who are the two men in front of him, everything they’ve done and gone through.
When Sam looks at Barnes looking at Steve… It’s uncomfortable, for starters, but there’s more. He can see the way gray eyes turn gentle, how he tilts his head to the side, paying close attention to Steve, how he tilts a bit forward. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also revealing. It’s like he’s seeing the guy for the first time and Sam doesn’t know how to feel about that. He’ll have to mention it to Andrea in their next session.
“I want to go,” Barnes starts saying. Sam twists the cane between his hands, having the feeling that he should go to the bathroom, maybe visit Natasha while the two eye-kiss. “I’m just...” He makes another pause, eyes cast down and lost on their entwined fingers. Steve waits him out patiently, eyes on his face. “I feel like they’re going to kick me out the moment they see me.”
Part of Sam wants to ask “why? What makes you feel that way?”; another one doesn’t want to hear a thing.
“They’re not,” Steve assures him, one hand squeezing his shoulder. “That’s an irrational thought.”
Someone’s done his homework. Sam’s actually impressed that Steve’s been reading on some psychology, even if he himself still isn’t going to therapy.
“They’ll love you, Buck, really.” Barnes directs a skeptical look at Steve, but it doesn’t discourage Steve from smiling winningly at him.
“If it’s any help, I don’t want to kill you.” The two men turn to look at him, still holding hands. They blink a few times at Sam on the couch. “I don’t love you—I mean, you haven’t broken through your brainwashing just to save my ass, so maybe it has something to do with that.”
Barnes snorts and Sam fights off a smile.
“Now that I've said it out loud, that’s disgustingly romantic and disturbing.”
Barnes outright laughs now, and Sam feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience; shit is getting too weird.
The two separate and Steve busies himself smoothing Barnes’ already smooth tie. “Then good luck.” Sam knows him well enough to recognize that tone of voice: he wants to tail Barnes and probably mic the house where he’s going to.
“J.A.R.V.I.S., could you ask Hogan if he could give me a ride?”
He’s so polite Sam’s mom would probably try to adopt him—if it weren’t for the obvious reasons.
“Mr. Stark says he will be your chauffeur tonight, Mr. Barnes.”
“I assume I don’t have a say on it.”
“I am afraid not, sir.”
The exchange takes Sam by surprise, even more the reactions of the two men. This man's had his agency ripped away from him for decades, so why isn’t he upset over Stark’s imposition? What’s bothering him even more it’s why Steve is snickering. None of the two turns so they don’t get to see Sam’s confusion, that’s why he has enough time to catch on what’s actually happening.
At the time when Steve had been in a hospital bed himself and Sam got the opportunity to have a chat with Stark, he’d quickly realized he wouldn’t find an ally in the man when it came to who he thought then was still HYDRA’s assassin. He hadn’t realized they were on such good terms now, though.
Sam takes advantage of Steve dotting over his man and gets to his feet with the help of his cane. Steve glances at him as he talks with Barnes, and Sam opens the fridge.
“Get me one, too,” Steve calls over Barnes’ shoulder, and Sam grabs another beer.
“You sure you don’t want to wear your arm?” Sam asks, standing a few feet from them as Steve pins the empty sleeve of the jacket so it won’t flap. “What if you have to play Twister?”
Barnes directs a frown at him. Sam’s starting to get that’s his thing.
“I’ll take the risk.”
Barnes smoothes out a non-existent crease on his shirt as Sam turns back to the couch, sure the conversation's over.
“They have a kid.” He turns to look at Barnes, expecting him to add something else. But it seems he believes that’s enough explanation. Sam thinks he understands.
“His name’s David,” Steve chimes in with a smile, not moving from Barnes’ side. “Tony told us; it seems the kid really wanted Bucky to know his name.”
Barnes’ ears seem to turn red.
“He says Bucky’s his favorite superhero, even if he doesn’t know him. Yet.” Steve’s smile grows bigger, and Barnes’ ears turn crimson. But he seems pleased with Steve’s bragging on his behalf.
It doesn’t take long until Stark comes into the apartment after one single knock as a warning of his eclipsing personality arriving. It’s actually nice–Sam’s missed the Avengers' sugar daddy.
“Hey there, Wilson,” Stark says with a wave as he strides in Steve and Barnes’ direction. “You seem to be doing pretty great after your brush with death.” Sam catches Barnes’ wince before the man turns his face away, hair obscuring his face.
“Don’t start, Tony,” Steve admonishes. Stark brushes him off with a wave of his hand.
“Oh, come on, Captain Politically Correct, we’ve all been through it. It adds some spice, keeps you on your toes.”
Barnes snorts and mutters something under his breath Sam can’t make out. Steve snickers.
“I hate it when you do that,” Stark says with an irritated grimace directed at the two men. “Well, I’d like to catch up with you, Wilson, but I’ll probably just call Darlene. You know how it is,” Stark tells him with a shrug of his shoulders.
Sam needs a few seconds to catch up with the implications. He leans forward, eyes almost popping out of his skull as he does a double take. “My mom? You’re going to call my mom? Since when do you phone my mother, Stark?”
Stark hums as he counts on his fingers; Sam knows it’s only for show. “Since you were treated in my tower and she and your sister came to visit you.”
“There’s no way my mom gave you her phone number,” Sam states with conviction because there’s just no way in hell Darlene fell for Stark’s act.
“Of course not, Samuel.”
“Do not, Anthony.”
“Sarah gave me her number.”
Sam almost chokes on his own spit. “You’re not for real.”
“I am. You’re sister actually likes me.” Stark smiles smugly.
“That’s a strong word,” Steve corrects, and Sam turns his astonished expression in his direction.
“Tolerates is more like it,” Barnes puts in his two cents.
“Hold on, hold on!” Sam exclaims, hands in front of him as if he’s trying to block all the information. He shakes his head. “You know my sister?” Barnes doesn’t answer but Sam notices a slight upward tick to his lips. He groans; the guy’s fucking with him.
“I only know what I’ve heard them say,” Barnes has the grace to explain in the end.
“Well, alright, she tolerates me,” Stark recognizes with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll take that over her blaming me for what happened to her brother.”
Stark says it so simply, without heat or resentment, that Sam needs a moment to actually understand the words. “What? My sister doesn’t blame you for what happened—you weren’t even there when… when it happened.”
Sarah’s never mentioned Stark, actually. Maybe there’s been some bite to her words when she mentioned Steve, but never Stark.
Stark’s already tugging Barnes towards the exit, but he stops and turns to face Sam. “She was going through something awful, Sam, I don’t blame her for how she felt. I think she thought we were trying to recruit you for The Avengers, and I was the closest one at that moment.”
Sam doesn’t know what to say to that. It always leaves him silent when Stark says and does things so out of character—out of the character he’s so adamant on showing others. It’s like having some sort of out-of-body experience where you’re able to see the real man that’s always been before you, but your senses weren’t able to perceive before; until he turns into a dick again and you feel whiplash.
“C’mon, Terminator, David wants Iron Man’s autograph, and I don’t have all night.” He tugs Barnes by the sleeve and Barnes opens his mouth, staring pleadingly at Steve. Steve only shrugs helplessly and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Barnes, stiff and glaring with irritation, is dragged out of the apartment.
Sam stares at the closed door for a few beats, his brain processing the last minutes.
“That was… bizarre. And life’s been crazy since that guy turned himself into a transformer,” Sam says pointing at the door. He can still hear Stark talking.
“Even before that,” Steve says, passing Sam the beer he had forgotten on the table. He stares down at the cold bottle in his hand.
“Unbelievable, I’m going to have to organize an intervention for my family.”
Steve laughs after he’s taken a sip of his beer. He looks at Sam from his spot in front of him, still on his feet. “C’mon, Tony’s not that bad.”
Sam opens his mouth to retort but deflates after the first syllable. “Nah… The guy’s pretty awesome when he lets you past that unsufferable exterior.”
Sam lowers his head, thumbnail scratching at the label. He licks his lips, feeling his voice tremble even before he’s made a sound. “I think I’m still here thanks to him.”
Steve doesn’t say anything at first, but he sits close to Sam on the couch.
“How are you feeling right now?”
He takes a moment to think it over, to feel himself, body and mind.
“Shaky, for starters,” he says with a short laugh. Steve puts an arm around his shoulders.
“Thanks for coming, Sam, I really missed you. I should’ve gone to Louisiana.”
“No, Steve, I’m the one who told you not to come. I just needed some time.”
“Alone?”
Sam can’t answer that, it’s too painful.
“No,” Steve answers his own question. “Because seeing me would’ve reminded you of him.”
That you chose that guy over your friend, he doesn’t say, because it wouldn’t be fair. Because he knows it’s not the truth, but he still can’t help feeling like that’s what happened.
“Okay,” Steve breathes out with a placating tone but his voice trembles. “I just… I just want you to know that I’m glad you’re here,” he says when Sam doesn’t open his mouth—but he nods at Seve’s words, grateful that he said them.
Sam exhales and leans against the back of the couch, running a hand over his face. His eyes prick.
“So.” He clears his throat. “You living here now? I thought you preferred Brooklyn and didn’t like the Tower.”
“I don’t like the outside.” Sam judges Steve silently. Steve rolls his eyes with a smile. “And that everything is… too much. But.”
“I think I can guess who that ‘but’ is.”
Steve searches his face, unsure if Sam’s actually okay with talking about Barnes. In the end, he deflates. “I don’t want to make things a bigger mess for him; he’s settled here, he likes it–loves the robots and J.A.R.V.I.S.”
“But in the future, once he’s… better.” Sam grimaces at the word as he takes a sip. “Would you like to go back?”
Steve mulls it over with an expression of pure concentration. Sam would’ve thought Steve had that figured out. “I don’t know, it’s not home anymore.” Steve gives Sam an embarrassed look before he explains further. “I know it sounds cheesy and cliché but…” Steve laughs at himself before he finishes saying, “He really feels like home.”
Sam can’t help but smile at his friend and his pink face. “I’m happy for you, Steve, I really am.”
“Thank you, Sam.” He seems about to say something but stops himself. Earnestness takes over his features and Sam gets ready for some of that Captain America truthfulness. “It really means a lot to me, Sam—you mean a lot to me. I want you to know you can always come visit. I’m sure Bucky will understand if you need him out of the apartment when you come here.”
“Hey, hey, don’t get ahead of yourself, man. The guy’s not that scary once you’ve seen him turn pink over Captain America like a fangirl.”
Steve lets out a bark of laughter and Sam grins as he watches the other man shake. He’s missed him and the whole slapping-his-chest-when-truly-laughing thing he does.
“He is!” Steve gasps between peals of laughter.
“What was that?” Sam questions, leaning forward with interest.
“He was a Captain America fan,” Steve manages to say. Sam feels his face light up.
“Okay, man, now you have to explain that with more details,” he says as he catches Steve’s hand about to slap his chest this time. “Didn’t HYDRA have him by the time you were Captain America?”
“No, no, no, he was one of the original fans.”
Sam doesn’t understand at first and he’s going to smack Steve if the man doesn’t reign himself and starts talking. Then it clicks.
“No way.” It comes out breathless and Sam feels his expression twist with glee. “You mean…?” Steve nods and then dissolves into laughter again. “Oh, man, this is so great. Do you know that you can buy the costume from the internet?”
Steve can’t look him in the eye, not only because there are tears.
“Are you fucking with me, Steve?” There’s only laughter bouncing against the walls as a response, but Sam’s almost somber when he speaks again. “Nah, man, this is serious shit. Did you or did you not buy an original Captain America costume because your boyfriend was a fan?”
There’s no answer but something passes through Steve’s face, muscles twitching, and Sam lets out a surprised laugh of his own. “Barnes bought it?!”