"I missed my nephew's birthday. Twice."
Bucky slumped down as low in the seat as he could manage with his long legs, knees jammed into the back of Sam's seat, but his head stayed up and his face remained blank and impassive. He could have ducked down, looked away, hid behind the fall of his hair, but he didn't. Steve grimaced from the driver's seat, and changed lanes without using his turn signal because he was a hundred years old and drove like a total asshole.
"Sam, come on –"
"My sister graduated from NYU. Guess who couldn't make it to the ceremony in time because he was following a bullshit lead out of fucking Oklahoma?" Sam barreled on, glaring out the dirty windshield of the car as they passed another sign he couldn't read because he took Spanish in highschool and he only learned to speak some choice phrases of Pashto in the Airforce. Someone in a vehicle passing on their right was definitely flipping them off. "Go ahead. Guess."
Steve sighed. "Sam."
"That's right!" he smacked the dash, and was honestly surprised that the whole front end of this rustbucket car didn't fall the fuck off. "You know I missed every holiday this last year to fly around either looking for your dumb ass or saving his?" Here, he glanced at Bucky's reflection in the rear view mirror and jerked a thumb at Steve. Then he began ticking the holidays off on his fingers: "New Years, MLK, Valentine's Day, Easter, Mother's Day, Memorial Day, Father's Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Halloween, Veteran's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas –"
"You didn't have to –" Steve tried to interject, but Sam cut him off again.
"Excuse you, Steven, but was I talkin' to you?" Sam didn't wait to give Steve a chance to speak. "No. No, I was not."
Bucky didn't say anything. His stupid face hadn't changed either. Jesus Christ, what an asshole.
"My parents celebrated their ruby anniversary. Threw a big ol' party with all our family and friends." Sam had to pause, take a deep breath through his nose before he could say, teeth grinding, "Guess who couldn't make it and had to call a day late because of shitty cell reception? I was freezing my balls off in North Dakota. Man, you ever even been to North Dakota? Because someone who looked a little like you was up there, and Steve was in fuckin' Malayasia, so I had to go check it out."
Bucky, that insufferable bastard, looked down at the back of Sam's seat for a second. His own jaw tightened like he was rolling the answer across his tongue before he finally – finally! – said, "I've never been to North Dakota."
"I got chased out of town by the fucking Klan!" Sam yelled, hitting the dash again. Steve looked over sharply.
"What? You never said anything about –"
"I'm still not talking to you, Steven! This is an 'A - B' conversation, 'C' your way out." Sam twisted to glare into the backseat. "How long have you had that apartment in Bucharest?" he demanded.
Bucky slumped down lower in his seat, shoulders starting to hunch up around his ears. ". . . A while."
"Have you been there the whole fucking time?"
"No," he answered quickly with a little shake of his head. Sam kept staring at him, but Bucky didn't squirm. He met Sam's eyes for a moment and then fixed his gaze on the back of Sam's headrest. "After Project Insight, I spent a day in Italy. Sixteen hours in France. Two days at a hostel in Austria. Then I took the train to Bucharest."
"You motherfucker," Sam whispered.
