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Bucky picked up on the fourth ring. Or someone picked up. Bucky didn’t say ‘hello’ or anything normal like that, which wasn’t unusual for him. He just breathed on the other side of the line.
Either he had crap PR people who hadn’t trained him right or he was just being passive aggressive. Whatever, par for the Barnes course.
“Bucky?” Sam said.
“Are you okay?” Bucky asked.
And that settled Sam a bit.
“Yeah, I’m–you’re in DC right now, right?”
“. . . Yeah? Do you need me somewhere?”
“No–I’m–my flight was cancelled. I’m in the airport–in DC. I–”
“–I’m on a date.”
“Oh. Good for you. No, that’s great, man. I–”
“–Why’s it great?”
“Yeah, I’m trying to compliment you. Jesus.”
Bucky was quiet for a moment.
“I’m just–you’re–when does your flight leave?”
“I told you, it’s cancelled.”
“When are they–when have they rescheduled it?”
“They haven’t rescheduled it. I don’t know.”
“But probably–”
“–Look, I’m sorry man. You enjoy your date. Alright? I s–”
“–I’ll come pick you up.”
“No, it’s–”
Bucky hung up.
An hour and a half later Sam met Bucky at the pick up stop. Bucky came out of a prius and hugged him.
Sam slapped his back.
“Who’s car is this?”
“It’s my car.”
“You didn’t tell me you got a new car.”
“I got it a year and a half ago.”
“You got a Prius?”
Bucky threw Sam’s bags in the trunk.
“Get in.”
“You gonna throw me in the trunk too?”
Bucky scowled at him.
“How was the date?” Sam asked, settling himself in the passenger seat.
“Crap,” Bucky said. He slammed his door closed, then pulled out his phone.
Sam’s stomach twisted.
“Crap how?”
“Uh–” Bucky typed something quickly, then put his phone down and pulled into traffic. “I don’t know–not the right person.”
Sarah had a theory that Bucky was gay. Sam tried to picture Bucky sitting across from another man in some sheeshee restaurant with a little candle between them.
Seemed unlikely.
Then again, picturing Bucky on any date was challenging.
They lapsed into silence.
It was funny, Sam could have sworn there had been a time when they were just comfortable together. Looking back he couldn’t actually remember any moments when this had been true. They had always been fighting over something.
And this was the truth. This uncomfortable, silent car ride was the reality of what he and Bucky were.
It had been so long since Sam had seen him. Somehow he thought they would be better–their relationship suddenly fixed–like in real life Bucky would be a different person than he was over text.
The truth hurt more than it should.
Sam waited for Bucky to break the silence. Of course he didn’t.
And then they were back on the highway where they’d started.
“Look, it’s where we met,” Sam said.
“Huh?”
“It’s–this is the overpass where you pulled the steering wheel out of my car, you–”
“–Yeah. They replaced it after the accident.”
“They wouldn’t have replaced the whole overpass over that.”
“It wasn’t over that. They’re redoing all the overpasses along here this summer. Like a bridge a weekend. It’s a pain. Have to–go all the way around.”
“Playing normal, huh?”
Bucky sighed, like Sam tired him.
“What?” Sam asked.
“You really–”
“–I mean you’re Mr. infrastructure now, huh? No more ripping out people’s steering wheels.”
“I hope not. I sincerely hope I never fight anyone again.”
“Uh huh . . . I don’t buy it.”
“You know, I did used to be normal, befo–”
“–Yeah, you got all that political experience working as the ‘clerk’ of the ‘landlord and tenant’s municipal advisory committee’, really had a fulfilled life filing their–”
“–Are you trying to tell me being the Winter Soldier was fulfilling?"
“No, I’m saying that–”
“–It wasn’t me. When I was working with you, I mean, I was lost. that wasn’t–I’d come home and I’d have fucking weeks of depressive episodes. I don’t–I don’t work like that. I never, I never want to fight anyone again, I never want to see blood like that. I never want to see when you cut someone and it looks like chicken. I–It made me sick. That work was making me sick. I’m a normal fucking person.”
“You can be a normal person and–”
“–No you can’t. You–”
“–So I’m not a normal person.”
“You’re Captain America, Sam. No, I don’t think so.”
“So your normal person retirement is–”
“–No–”
“–No, let me get this straight. Your normal person retirement is–”
“–Why do I have to be retired or the Winter Soldier? So–either I’m a tool or I’m a retired tool. I don’t want to–I want to do something. I want to make things better, I–”
“–Yeah? You wanna bring order from the fucking chaos? You–”
“Right, ‘cause I’m a puppet. Me without a handler? Or a–whatever the fuck you thought you were? A ‘guardian’ on my–”
“–I just don’t understand, why politics? Why politics? You hate public speaking. You’re not a power guy.”
“Heaven knows, if I’m not taking orders from you, I must be back with Hydra.”
“I never thought that you were–”
“–Yes you did. Pull up the text chain. You–”
“–I know you’d never choose to go back to them, but after Zemo–look it’s my job as your friend, and my job as Captain America, to make sure you’re doing okay–”
“–Right, because I’m a Captain America threat.”
Bucky pulled into a parking spot. Neither of them moved.
“No–look, I saw the–and it was true! It was true! You met with that Hydra guy, and it looked sketchy. Bucky, you have to agree, on the news it didn’t look good. It looked like you were pulling another Zemo, and I saw what happened last time. It didn’t look good and it still doesn’t look good, and as your friend–”
“–As–”
“–No. As your friend I–”
“–You know why he approached me? You want to know why?”
“–No, I trust you. I–”
“–No you don’t. No you don’t. You called me six times after I told you I was going to be in a fucking committee meeting. You wanted to know, because Fox News told you I was going back to the dark side so you had to know.”
“I–”
“–He told me he would testify. He saw–people, stuff that happened, with Hydra, and he told me he would testify with me against them, if I wanted.”
“He saw–”
“--He saw me being tortured and brainwashed.”
Sam didn’t know what to say to that.
Bucky continued on, fakely jovial.
“Wow, now I’m the victim. We’re here. Get out of the fucking car.”
Bucky popped the trunk, then got out. He slammed his door behind him.
“I can get a hotel,” Sam said.
“The sheets are already on the fucking couch!” Bucky shot back. He looked like he was about to cry.
Sam trailed Bucky up to his clean, white apartment.
Bucky muttered something about food in the fridge, gestured to the couch, which he’d fitted with its own bottom sheet and pillow-cased bed pillow with matching duvet cover, then disappeared into his room with the declaration he was going to bed.
Sam sat down heavily on the bed.
He heard water start running behind the bathroom’s closed door, extinguishing Sam’s faint hope that Bucky would have to come out to use the bathroom to brush his teeth. No, of course his bathroom had a door to the bedroom too.
Sam checked his phone. His flight had been rescheduled, then cancelled again. He put his head in his hands. The worst part was that a part of him was glad–glad Bucky still cared enough to get angry at him. Which was stupid.
Sam changed into his pajamas and helped himself to a bowl of cereal. By the time he’d done the dish the lights in the bathroom and Bucky’s bedroom had gone out.
He tried to brush his teeth quietly.
Sam’s stomach ached, lying in the couch, in the dark.
Bucky had a cat somewhere–he’d seen the litter box in the bathroom–and the clock kept ticking very loudly. Sam rolled over and then onto his back and pressed his sternum and massaged his stomach. He felt the divide of the cushions beneath him. It took a very long time to fall asleep.
Sam woke up around 2, in terrible pain. He used the bathroom and then turned around and ran back to the toilet to throw up.
It had been a while since he’d thrown up and it wasn’t as bad as it was in his mind.
He helped himself to a face cloth from Bucky’s third drawer down, (same as his last apartment) fed himself a glass of water and went back to bed.
You were supposed to feel better after throwing up. Sam didn’t feel better.
He was up again in a matter of minutes.
Up came the water, the last of the cereal, and the remnants of lunch.
Fantastic.
Sam sat on the bathmat for a minute to breathe.
He could tell from the quality of the silence that Bucky was awake.
Sam vomited again.
This time when it ended, Bucky was standing behind him with a fresh glass of water.
Sam jumped out of his skin.
Bucky looked very tired. He offered Sam the glass. Sam took it and rinsed out his mouth and spat it in the sink. Sam took another sip. Bucky watched the floor.
“Must have ate something bad,” Sam said. “Eaten,” he corrected himself. He wiped his mouth again.
“D’you want a bowl?” Bucky asked.
“I–no, I’m okay. I–”
“–You could go back to bed and try to sleep more if you had a bowl.”
“. . . Okay.”
Bucky got him a bowl and some saltines and watched him get back in bed.
“Okay,” Bucky turned off the lamp and went back to bed.
Sam threw up the saltines a few minutes later. Bucky emerged to clean out the bowl.
“It’s okay, go to bed, man. I’m–”
Bucky ignored him and went back into the bathroom. He came out with a murky glass of something painfully orange and a bottle of gravol.
Sam sipped his electrolytes and took his gravol.
Bucky sat down next to him.
He turned on the TV and navigated to Netflix. Bucky silently and arduously typed The Christmas Prince into the search bar. Sam watched it come up on the side and watched Bucky keep on typing it in.
Sam didn’t say anything.
Bucky started the movie.
Sam threw up again midway through the opening credits.
Bucky paused the movie to clean the bowl.
Sam dozed off sometime after A Christmas Prince and A Prince and Pauper Christmas but before A Royal Date for Christmas. When he woke up he found his feet in Bucky’s lap. The sun had come up, kind of. Bucky was eating a bowl of frozen blueberries over him.
“Can we watch something else?” Sam asked.
Bucky put down his spoon and reached over to pat Sam’s forehead. “You’re feverish. Can’t make decisions.”
“Hmm,” Sam said.
“What do you want to watch?” Bucky asked.
“I don’t know.”
Bucky shrugged and kept eating his blueberries.
Sam only threw up once during A Royal Date for Christmas.
“Do you fantasize about a young prince asking you out on a date for Christmas?” Sam asked as Bucky returned with the cleaned bowl.
Bucky passed Sam the bowl and lifted up his feet so he could sit back under them.
“Every day,” Bucky said, unpausing the movie.
At 8:15 Bucky’s cat appeared and started screaming. It was very large and white. It looked like the sort of cat a bougie old lady would name Princess. Bucky picked it up and put it on Sam. Sam and the cat were both very shocked by this.
Sam yelped. The cat immediately jumped off him and resumed its honest to god screaming.
“Why is it screaming?” Sam asked.
“She’s asking for breakfast,” Bucky replied. “She’s very vocal.”
“What’s her name?”
“Alpine.”
“Like where you got into Hydra?”
“Where I got captured by Hydra?”
“You know that’s what I meant.”
“She came with the name.”
“Where did she come from?”
“Facebook marketplace.”
Sam snorted.
“Does she make you happy?”
“. . . Yeah. Yeah, I really like her. I love her. She’s a good cat. I mean, I’d love her if she was a bad cat, but she’s a good cat.”
“That’s good.”
“Hmm.”
“We should watch the Sound of Music,” Sam said.
Bucky lifted Sam’s legs again and stood up. Alpine rubbed against him.
“The Nazis would retraumatize me,” Bucky deadpanned. “I think we need to watch A Castle for Christmas.”
“No, let’s watch A Christmas Prince, The Royal Baby,” Sam said.
“See, but how am I supposed to project my subconscious desire to give up busy city life and find love with a prince over Christmas onto a story about some lady getting pregnant? I can’t get pregnant. I don’t want to get pregnant. I feel like that one just isn’t realistic for me.”
Bucky opened a can of cat food and started dishing it out into a bowl. He broke up the chunks with a little spoon.
Sam threw up again.
Bucky sighed. “You need to stop doing that.” He was smiling slightly.
“How ‘bout you be my prince and get me some blueberries,” Sam replied.
“You think you can eat blueberries?”
“I want to eat something.”
“These are expensive blueberries. They’re wild. From Main.”
Bucky rinsed out the can in the sink, folded it with his metal hand and put it in the recycling bin. Sam took a few sips of water to clear his mouth.
“Your blueberries are too good for me?”
“I didn’t say that. Sam, you deserve nothing but the best blueberries, even if you are going to throw them up.”
“How much does congress pay you again?”
Bucky was smiling.
“You know what, I’ll just take these. I don’t want to trouble you,” Sam said. He took Bucky’s bowl of frozen blueberries off the coffee table.
“You want to share my spoon?”
Sam ate a spoonful of blueberries.
“I have herpes,” Bucky said.
“No you don’t.”
Bucky huffed a little laugh and came back to sit under his legs. He turned on A Christmas Prince, the Royal Wedding.
“Did he kiss you last night?” Sam asked.
Bucky tensed.
“Or her. Or them? Your date? Your royal suitor? Or–”
“--No.”
“Right,” Sam ate another spoonful of blueberries. Bucky was very carefully watching the screen.
“Was it a man?” Sam asked.
“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky looked away.
“It doesn’t matter, I just–”
“--Yes, it was a man.”
“Okay,” Sam said.
He forced down another spoonful of blueberries.
“You know it’s not a big deal now. I mean, you’re in politics. You know.”
Bucky laughed darkly.
“Like, it’s legal,” Sam said. “It’s chill, man.”
Bucky was laughing harder.
“They avoid shaking hands with me. Some of the people at work who I’ve come out to avoid shaking my hand.”
“You came out to opposition politicians before coming out to me?”
“You know I’m in the opposition. We didn’t form government. They have the majority.”
“Yeah, stupid me, calling the political party you’re competing against the opposition.”
“It was people in my party,” Bucky said.
“Oh,” Sam said. “You know I’m not like that,” He reached out and took Bucky’s hand.
“Well it wasn’t any of your business, anyways. It doesn’t matter,” Bucky said. He pulled his hand back.
“Bucky,” Sam said.
“I’m trying to watch the movie,” Bucky said.
“See this is our problem, you think you can read my mind and you think I’m always thinking the worst,” Sam said.
“I–”
“--And I know they fucked up your brain, and that’s the PTSD talking, and I know sometimes you need space, but–”
“--Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not patroni–see, you just did it again. You assumed I was patronizing you. Earth to Bucky–I’m on your side. I want to be your friend.”
“When you say it like that you really sound like Hydra.”
“What, ‘I want to be your friend’ sounds like Hydra?”
“Yes it does.”
“Okay, but you can make anything sound like Hydra. I literally–”
Bucky quietly fummed.
“Bucky.”
“You know for a while my negative self-talk came in your voice?” Bucky said.
“What?”
“When I was talking to myself, in my head, dragging myself down, I was repeating things that you said to me.”
“I’m sorry you were dealing with that, Bucky. I’m sorry your brain was doing that to you. I think you know that I was always joking.”
“Were you? I think you were angry with me. I think you were scared. Because you weren’t saying those things to laugh with me.”
“You know I’m not scared of you. I mean, the staring problem’s a little creepy, b–”
“You were. So what did you do? You cut me down. You’re still–”
“--That was never my intention.”
“Okay, I don’t think that matters. I felt . . . bad, when you called me names, called me, I don’t know, terminator, or, or Mr. Manchurian or–”
“--That is a good movie,” Sam said. “Those are both classic movies. I meant it like a pop-culture reference, okay? You know–”
“--Yeah, how ‘bout we watch Top Fucking Gun and you can relive how you let Riley die. That sounds like a fun time. What a funny joke. How ‘bout we call you Maverick because you let your partner die?”
Sam threw up again.
They both shut up.
Alpine resumed screaming.
Bucky’s mouth kept twitching like he was trying not to cry or speak or something.
“I want to be your friend too,” Bucky said eventually, quiet.
“I–” Sam started.
“--Shut up,” Bucky said. “Stop talking. I want to be your friend.”
Bucky sniffed and looked away.
“I’m glad that someone who knew me as the Winter Soldier can know me as me, too. I’m–I like your family. Your community is great. I like–I’m grateful you trusted me to meet them. I–” Bucky sniffed again, “I’m proud to know you, and I think you’re doing good things, generally.”
“Gen–”
“--Shut up.”
Sam shut up.
“I don’t like being friends with people who cut me down. I don’t have enough in the tank to be friends with people who cut me down.”
“What are you saying?”
“Look, I love you. I mean that. I love you. Not in a gay way.”
Sam laughed.
“And I care about you,” Bucky said. “And if you need me, I’ll be there. But I don’t want–I can’t take it, Sam. I’m sorry, I can’t take it.”
“Okay,” Sam said.
“For the record, I love you too. Also not in a gay way."
Bucky laughed.
“Look, if you need help, if you need someone to do a political assassination for you, now you’re out of the business, I’m always here.”
“I’m sure the house is bugged,” Bucky said.
“I’m sure you’re paranoid,” Sam replied. “That was a joke, but I mean it. For other things. I mean it.”
“You’re tired, Sam,” Bucky said, kind of squeezing his legs.
“No I’m not. Bucky–”
Bucky looked at him.
“--I’ve missed you, man.”
“I missed you too.”
And maybe that was it, their good times together, the moments they forced to happen. Maybe they were just trauma bonded. Maybe they had nothing in common. Maybe they would keep fighting and hating each other and getting mad, but Sam cared. And Sam knew Bucky cared.
“I’ve gotta know what happens with Princess Amber and the wedding,” Sam said. “Press play.”
Bucky pressed play.