You wouldn't think it to look at him, but Sam Wilson is a romantic. He can't help it, it's in his bones. He wishes he could be like the other guys in his old paratrooper squad, with their "screw 'em and lose 'em" mentality, but that just isn't him. His tendency to fall fast and hard for people has gotten him into a fair amount of trouble over the years, not least of all his entirely unrequited and ill-advised thing for Steve Rogers. He followed the man into a full-on conflict with Hydra for god's sake, and then halfway across Europe tracking down a brainwashed assassin. And look how well that particular crush turned out….
But honestly, that's not even the biggest problem Sam Wilson has to deal with. These long and oftentimes lonely months in Wakanda have given him plenty of time for self-examination, which hasn't exactly been enjoyable. As they're all technically still in hiding from the collective global authorities who demanded the Sokovia Accords, there has been no word from New York, and no word on how Rhodey is recovering from his paralysing fall, so Sam has had nothing with which to assuage his guilt. And it's killing him.
Since his mental breakdown in Afghanistan, after Riley's death, Sam has woken up almost every night on his bedroom floor, shaking and covered in a cold sweat, mind filled with images of blown-apart bodies. His bed feels too soft and reminds him too much of being safe and home while Riley is gone, so he lies on the cold floor, wishing that it was him that was dead instead.
And even now, five years on, he still can't sleep. All he sees when he closes is his eyes is all the people he's let down, all the people who have died on his watch. The truth is nowhere feels like home anymore. After two tours in Afghanistan, three years in Washington and two years alternating between the Avengers facility in New York and tracking Bucky across Europe, it's been years since Sam's had anywhere permanent to rest his head. Wakanda is lonely and empty, and Sam feels too separate from the other Avengers; no one sees how the shadows under his eyes are growing longer, and how his good-natured jokes are becoming less and less frequent. They are planning and strategizing, throwing banter across to each other and Sam feels so small.
But one day he notices someone looking at him. Bucky is sat across the table from him, looking at him, really looking. Steve and Natasha are vigorously debating strategy with Wanda and Scott, and it's all Sam can do not to scream at them to just stop dammit! He can't sleep, he can't think and this constant talk of battle and weapons is going to send him insane. And Bucky is staring at him, with those intensely blue eyes that seem to pierce Sam's very soul. Sam stares back at him, and as Bucky offers him a slight nod in understanding, Sam feels something inside him shift.
He notices it all the time after that. Bucky is watching him, really paying attention. To start with, it's just a cup of coffee offered with a half-smile on the mornings where Sam really feels his PTSD nightmares. And it's the catching of his eye and a smirk in the middle of one of Steve's rousing speeches, and then it's Bucky wondering whether Sam would like to come and help work on his new prosthetic arm, something T'challa has been tinkering with since Bucky came out of the cryo-freezer. Little gestures, here and there, and suddenly, all Sam can think about is Bucky's smile. But Bucky's just being nice, right? This is just like the Steve thing, any day now Bucky will suddenly be making out with Wanda or something.
His nightmares are getting worse. They've just received news that Rhodey is paralysed from the waist down, and the image of him falling out of the sky follows Riley exploding in midair in Sam's mind, over and over again each night, until he wakes, screaming and sweating in terror. He can't take much more of this.
One night he wakes up from his nightmares to see Bucky sat on the chair at the foot of his bed.
"I heard your screams," he says simply. "You still have the dreams, don't you?"
And then he stays up with Sam for the rest of the night, talking softly in the darkness. And for the first time Sam feels truly calm. The next morning they are both puffy-eyed with tiredness, but as they share a smile over their morning coffee, Sam gets the feeling something has changed.
It becomes a habit then; Sam wakes, tangled in his sheets and panicking, to see Bucky coming into his room to check on him. They stay up together, talking and keeping the darkness at bay.
And then Bucky starts climbing into bed with him in the middle of the night, to hold him as his breathing and heartrate slow back down to normal, and it just feels right. Sam's falling hard. He starts talking more, rolling out his old sense of humour; anything to coax one of those earth-shattering smiles from Bucky. The others notice the change, glad to have the old Sam back, though they can't quite figure out what the cause is. And Sam, well he is looking forward to those visits in the middle of the night, and waking up, curled up with Bucky and feeling safe.
The lonely darkness in the middle of the night feels a lot less scary now he knows that Bucky will come to check on him, with those deep blue eyes softened in a gentle half-smile. So one day, when Bucky comes into his room, Sam takes a breath and kisses him, feeling Bucky yield against his lips. And he feels the fractured parts of his heart falling back into place as Bucky kisses him back, opening his mouth and deepening their embrace.
The nightmares are manageable now, now that he shares a bed with Bucky, and he is happy. The others have noticed now, sharing amused smiles when the pair sneak a kiss when they think no one is looking; Steve claps Sam on the shoulder one day and says he is happy for him, Bucky is one of a kind, and Sam deserves nothing more.
It seems silly really, to be this happy when the Avengers are scattered and the world is scared of him, but to be honest he just doesn't care. He says this to Bucky, who laughs and points out that life is short, so why not be happy? He should know, having spent most of the last century frozen and alone. Sam curls into his broad chest and smiles; maybe sometimes being an incurable romantic isn't such a bad thing.
