The Wrong Side of a Fall

by LittleSixx

Bucky doesn't know how to cope with life after Steve's death, but maybe Sam Wilson does.

This story takes place after Avengers: Endgame. Movie is not out yet, so I did a little of my own worldbuilding to make this work. Steve died and Bucky took up the shield. Rated M for coarse language, mature situations, and references to previous trauma. No real sexytimes, but there are strippers. I have no idea where this fic came from, but I hope you enjoy it. This work has not been beta-read.

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Sam Wilson was a good person.

He was an infuriating, loyal asshole, but he was a good person. After Steve died, Wilson made sure Bucky got to hold the shield on the trip back to New York. He sat with his arm around Bucky's shoulders at Steve's funeral. Wilson said nothing when Bucky took the shield on his first mission afterward and glared at anyone who thought about commenting on it.

Stark retired from the team the day after Steve died. Thank fucking goodness for that, because without Steve to moderate their reactions, one of them would have killed the other within days. Bucky knew the only reason he had a room with the other Avengers was so Stark could have that disembodied voice track his whereabouts. It was fine, if the last seventy years had taught the world anything, it was that someone should be watching over Bucky Barnes. Unfortunately, Steve Rogers was no longer around to do it.

Stark spent most of his time in Malibu, three thousand miles away. Hulk was on a self-imposed vacation, Thor had returned to Asgard, and Hawkeye retired … Again. He swore it was permanent this time. Bucky spent most of his time locked in his room at Stark Tower. Teams break up, Bucky just never expected himself to fall apart with it.

A couple months after Steve's death, there was a knock on Bucky's door. He didn't answer. He sat on the end of his bed, knees tucked beneath his chin, arms hugging his legs to his chest. It used to be that Steve knew about these moments. He would come in without Bucky having to ask. He'd sit on the floor, back against the bed just to let Bucky know he was there. Bucky thought maybe if he waited long enough, Steve would walk through the door and say, "Betcha thought you'd seen the last of me, huh, Buck?"

He didn't.

Bucky opened the door sometime later. One hour, maybe six, he couldn't bring himself to care. But when he opened it, there was Wilson, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall across from the door.

"There's only room for one bitchy teenager in this tower and Wanda called dibs."

Thank God. Fighting with Wilson was comfortable and familiar, something he could do without thinking. Bucky pressed his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the hallway floor. Wilson was handling things well. He and Danvers were the de-facto leaders during the months after Steve died, but it was weighing on him. Bucky had seen enough repressed grief in his time. Hell, he saw it in the mirror. Steve did emotions better than anyone: accepting them then channeling them into what he believed was right. Something mere mortals could only aspire to.

"I'm not a teenager," Bucky insisted.

"Aren't you like a hundred and sixteen?"

"I'm a hundred and one, asshole," Bucky countered. "Hundred and two in a couple months."

"Want me to throw you a party?" Wilson asked.

"No."

"I'm definitely throwing a party," Wilson insisted. "Might even get you a birthday hat."

"Will I get presents?" Bucky asked.

"Could probably rustle up something," Wilson shrugged.

"No singing," Bucky insisted. He did not get a reply and that worried him. Wilson didn't look to be in the mood to say anything else, so they sat there in silence for several minutes. Sam wasn't Steve, but his presence was comfortable.

"How did you meet Steve?" Bucky asked.

"I was out for a run one morning and he passed me," Wilson said. "Then he lapped me again and again. I practically passed out afterward and he was standing there, looking like he'd hardly broken a sweat. Next day, he showed up at the VA and I thought, Captain America needs my help so I'm gonna help."

"Yeah …" Bucky mumbled.

"Sometimes I wonder what my life would be if I woke up an hour late that morning." Wilson paused then added, "Probably wouldn't have such a fucked-up back."

"Now who sounds like the senior citizen?" Bucky teased. Wilson laughed and Bucky relaxed, sinking further back against the wall. He hadn't spoken to anyone for more than sixty seconds since Steve died, and Wilson … Well, Wilson made it easy.

"Do you ever think about retiring?" Wilson asked, only half-joking. Bucky nodded.

"Every goddamn day, but then I'd have to give the shield to someone else. I'm not …" He paused and ground his teeth together. "I'm not ready to let go of it."

"You'd fight more battles just to hang onto the memory of Steve?" Wilson asked. Bucky shook his head.

"I'd fight so no one can ruin it."

"That may not be a war you can win, Barnes," he warned.

"There ain't any winning in war, just parts of yourself that get chipped off bit by bit until you don't know where your soul is anymore. I've been fighting one war after another for seventy-five goddamn years. I don't want to be a weapon, but Steve's legacy? That's something to fight for."

"You're only a weapon if someone else is pulling the trigger," Sam said. "HYDRA isn't in your head anymore, Elsa. You let them go." The corner of Sam's mouth ticked up like that should be funny, but Bucky didn't understand the joke.

"I dunno, Wilson, it doesn't seem that simple."

"Make it that simple."

Bucky chuckled darkly and said, "Shuri took HYDRA out of my head, but Winter Soldier is still in here. Brainwashing is hard to explain."

"Hey, man, you don't gotta talk about it," Wilson said. He shrugged and Bucky believed him, but for some reason he wanted to talk. Wilson seemed like he wanted to listen.

"It wasn't like they put another person in my head," Bucky said. "HYDRA just shut off all the parts of me they didn't need; the parts of me that cared what I was doing to people. Each of the words they used was like, I don't know, like an off switch. I didn't want to watch the life leave peoples' eyes, so Bucky Barnes wasn't useful to them. Bucky Barnes might not've killed those people, but my hands did. At some point the distinction ceases to matter."

"Burden of choice and conscience were not equally removed," Sam agreed. Bucky nodded, surprised Wilson understood. Even more surprised that he was listening at all.

"Yeah, that's … that's right."

"What did Steve think?" he asked. Bucky couldn't keep the words in.

"Steve was a fucking idiot who thought I could get better. He thought Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were two different people because that's what he wanted me to be. He only ever saw Bucky. He's my best friend but God, sometimes he's so fucking stubborn."

"Amen," Wilson quipped.

"He always thought I was worth it, whatever it was. He'd go to war for me, he went to Wakanda for me, hell, he dropped the shield for me twice. And I fucking love him, Wilson. I'd follow Steve Rogers from Coney Island to the gates of Hell."

"You talk about him like he's alive," Wilson observed. Bucky rolled his head to the side and looked at the shield leaning against the foot of his bed. He couldn't sleep without it nearby. Eventually he answered,

"To me, he still is. I don't think Steve will ever be gone; I feel him around every corner. Back in the thirties he was always just around the corner, getting his ass handed to him by someone twice his size."

"What do you think he'd want us to do?" Wilson asked. He didn't seem to have an answer ready. Good, since neither did Bucky. He just shrugged.

"I dunno, man." Bucky sighed. There was too much talk of Steve for this conversation to continue. He rubbed at the juncture of skin and metal on his left shoulder before standing up. "Thanks for, uh, ya'know, not being a dick."

"Anytime, snow queen," Wilson said. He stood up and turned to walk down the hallway when Bucky shouted,

"Wilson!" He turned around so Bucky gripped the doorframe and said, "I mean it. Thank you."

"It's been long enough, you can call me Sam, ya geriatric asshole."

"Anything you say, birdbrain."

Sam flipped him off as he walked down the hallway and Bucky couldn't hide a smile. Sam Wilson was a good friend.

.oOo.

After a couple months, Bucky found he liked having Sam around. He understood things no one else seemed to get, and knew the difference between the times Bucky needed to be alone and when he needed someone to curl up against. By the fifth Netflix binge Sam spent with his arm around Bucky's shoulders, Buck realized they were friends. Feet-in-your-lap-while-watching-TV friends. Unnecessarily jumping in front of each other in battle to make sure the other doesn't get hit sort of friends. Then March came and Bucky realized Sam Wilson was an orders-strippers-for-your-birthday friend.

He was called out to help Daredevil battle Bullseye earlier that afternoon. He should've known something was amiss because Daredevil never asked for help and rarely needed it. Once that was handled, Bucky went back to the tower and planned to shower, the common areas suspiciously empty.

Bucky trudged into his room and untied his boots. He toed off his socks, stripped out of his gear, and forced his shoulders back to crack the joints along his spine. He walked to the bathroom and jumped when his feet hit the cold tile. Bucky turned the shower knobs until the temperature was just on the uncomfortable side of warm and stepped inside.

The water droplets were hot and heavenly against his skin. Sometimes after a battle had been won too easily, he started to lose parts of himself again. Fighting was so easy that maybe the Avengers, or whatever they were right then, didn't need Bucky Barnes at all. He needed to feel real, needed to feel like himself. The warmth of the shower was relaxing, but not a weight on his skin like the invisible fingers he sometimes felt around his neck. He was calmed by the rhythmic plunkplunkplunk of water on the shower floor.

Bucky toweled off then pulled on some jeans and a "Carol Hot Damn-vers" t-shirt Carol gave him as a joke. He put his damp hair up in a loose knot then gripped the sides of the sink. He took a deep, slow breath in. It was in those moments that he felt all hundred and two years on his shoulders. He shook it off and made for the living area.

"SURPRISE!"

Bucky groaned. He'd forgotten Wilson had promised a party. He looked around and saw practically every living person he knew and hadn't tried to kill. (And even some he had.) The Avengers were there, as were the barista from that coffee shop around the corner and Agent Hill. They'd invited the people from the farmer's market that Bucky liked and, if he didn't know any better, it'd almost feel like he had friends.

But true friends don't put you in one of those ridiculous hats and sing "Happy Birthday." Bucky felt his face go red with embarrassment. Wanda looked empathetic, but everyone else was gleefully smiling by the time they sang, "Happy birthday, James! Happy birthday, to you!" They clapped and Bucky smiled down at the floor, grateful it was over. He glanced around, noting the entire area had been cleared except for a table and chair. He pulled the hat off his head and nodded.

"Thanks, everyone." He paused, looked up, and asked, "Wait … Is there cake?"

"What kind of friend do you think I am?" Sam asked, patting Bucky on the shoulder. "'Is there cake?' Of course I got you a cake."

Sam pointed to the kitchen and Shuri appeared, holding a giant sheet cake with, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY," written on it surrounded by what he assumed were 102 Black Panther-shaped candies. Bucky smiled as Shuri placed the cake on the table then turned to give him a hug. He was careful squeezing her shoulders, beyond grateful to see her.

"It is nice to see you, Sergeant Barnes!"

"Yeah, yeah …" Bucky said. He teased, "You're just here to check on my arm."

She laughed, did actually run a quick diagnostic on his arm, then started slicing cake. The party kept going and it was nice because people mostly talked around him; leaving Bucky to eat his cake and listen. Sam was at his side the whole time, making sure no one asked anything he couldn't answer. Shuri left after a half hour or so, then most of the others started filtering out.

Bucky thought there was nothing more humiliating than wearing a pointy cardboard hat in front of thirty almost-friends. Then three overly-muscled men in tuxedos burst through the door. He recognized what was coming and seriously debated throwing himself out a window.

"Sam, you did not," Bucky begged, praying it was all a very well-formed hallucination. It wasn't.

"I absolutely did," Sam replied. Then the one at the point of their little V formation looked at Sam, who pointed at Bucky and shouted, "OVER HERE!"

Music came on over the speakers, the kind with too much bass and occasional words that swirled together like an acid trip. It was so loud no one could hear much of anything. Point-man marched over to Sam as everyone else laughed at Bucky's impending torture. He shouted,

"I thought you said he was a hundred and two!"

"He is!" Sam shouted. "SoulCycle, it's a fucking miracle."

Before Bucky had time to wonder what the fuck a soul cycle was, Point-man replied, "You could've mentioned he's hot! I would've done some extra push-ups or something." Then the other two pulled Bucky over to the chair by his shoulders. Thank God he knew it was coming or else they would've been unconscious on the ground before they so much as blinked. He sat in the chair and planned to "take it like a champ" as Stark would say.

The first part of their little dance was synchronized and Bucky hadn't laughed so hard in God only knew how long. First, they tore off their sleeves and he wondered who the hell found that sexy. Then they started unbuttoning their shirts and his face went tomato-red. While the Winter Soldier didn't have any desires, Bucky Barnes sure as fuck did. But he didn't really want people to know. He looked over to Carol for help, but she was smirking along with everyone else.

Bucky glared at Sam and shouted, "This shit didn't happen in the forties!"

"We call it progress, old man!" he shouted back. Bucky laughed and, oh … Oh ... The three men had finished unbuttoning their shirts. They danced and touched each other, and Bucky sort of enjoyed it. Not in a sexy way, but like they were humiliating themselves along with him. They each came over and wiggled their abs in front of his face, which Bucky supposed was far worse for them than it was for him.

Then they ripped their pants off.

Bucky's breath caught in his throat. His eyes went wide and he tried to think of non-sexy things because staring at three not-entirely-unattractive men in their underwear was doing things to his nether region that did not need to be exposed in front of his friends. And that's when Bucky realized Sam had done this as a joke; he didn't know. Maybe Bucky should've told him, but there was never a right time so Bucky thought of green beans and puppies, willing his dick down.

The strippers were large men with dark hair, muscled beyond reason and well-endowed. They each did some sort of routine that involved taking their briefs off and doing yet another dance between Bucky's legs. He didn't mind so much. The first two tried their best but clearly did not prefer men. Bucky knew the type. Back in the army there were plenty of suck-me-off-while-I-close-my-eyes-and-pretend-you've-got-tits types to go around. The 107th knew very well what Sam didn't.

Point-man, though, was definitely interested. He wasn't particularly special and hardly stood out from the other two otherwise, but he looked at Bucky like there was some desire there. Bucky's heart sped up a little bit because nobody had looked at him like that for longer than he cared to think about. So when Point-man settled his naked self between Bucky's legs, it felt kind of nice. Point-man ran one hand up Bucky's chest and settled on the back of Bucky's neck. It was an uncomfortably heavy weight, pulling him upward until Point-man kissed him. It was rough, their teeth clacked together and Point-man sort of stuffed his tongue into Bucky's mouth. Not sexy, but Bucky kissed him back for a moment anyway and wrapped his hand around the back of Point-man's head to pull him closer. Bucky closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again it was like the whole party had been put on pause. The music was still going but no one moved, too busy staring at him making out with a stripper.

Sam's red Solo cup had fallen to the floor. He looked a little off. Not that Bucky knew him well enough to really say what was "off" and what wasn't, but Sam looked like someone had told him his wings were broken. Bucky pushed Point-man off and shouted,

"Agent Hill!"

Maria looked over to Bucky and he gestured to the chair. She looked at the strippers, blinked twice, looked back at Bucky and nodded.

"With pleasure."

"Be sure to get Sam's money's worth," Bucky teased as they swapped positions. He repressed the urge to run to the bathroom and swallow some mouthwash. Instead, he sidled over to Sam and said, "If that was your present to me, I'd suggest you get a refund."

"Yeah, man, I, uh …" Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Nah, I got you something else, just … I didn't realize you …" He trailed off and Bucky didn't quite know how to respond. They stood there in silence for awhile, the party continuing around them. Agent Hill was enjoying the strippers and everyone else who was still in the apartment seemed to be having a good time.

"I didn't realize people liked me enough to come to a party," Bucky admitted.

"Not to get all sappy, but you don't suck all the time, Barnes," Sam insisted. "These are just the people who know that. And I guess we've all seen just how fun you can be now," he teased. Bucky rolled his eyes.

"When someone buys you a present it's rude not to embrace the experience," he countered.

"Put a cork in it, Elsa," Sam said before moving elsewhere. Bucky wasn't quite sure what he said that made Sam close off like that. He'd never done that before, never just walked away. Bucky didn't like it.

He stayed away for the rest of the party. People gave Bucky hugs before they left, which he didn't mind much. After seventy-five years of seeing fear in people's eyes when he came close, birthday hugs were a welcome change of pace. Once most everyone had left, Bucky bolted to his room and gargled Listerine for far longer than recommended. He laid flat on his bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the voices as people passed by his door.

"Barnes kissed a boy and you liked it," someone sang several yards down the hall. It sounded like Agent Hill.

"Not supposed to kiss the strippers," he heard Sam grumble. Bucky grimaced, he didn't know there were rules. He began opening his presents, trying not to listen to the conversation happening down the hall. But supersoldier hearing had other plans.

Shuri brought a bracelet made by some of the kids in Wakanda. He tapped one of the beads and was treated to a video on how to properly tie his hair in a bun. He laughed then thought of how easy it would be to forget this life and return to Wakanda. He missed it, and there was nothing anchoring him to New York now that Steve was gone. Yet, Bucky couldn't imagine himself leaving.

"You know he probably hadn't been kissed in quite awhile," Hill said.

"I don't need to think about Bucky kissing other dudes," Sam insisted.

"Other dudes?" Hill asked. Sam sighed like he'd been caught.

"I'm so fucked."

Bucky didn't quite understand that, so he refocused on his presents. There were some organic hair products from the farmer's market, a gift card from his favorite barista, and another t-shirt from Carol reading "Web Design Specialist" underneath a Spider Man logo.

Sam knocked on the door sometime later. Bucky knew it was Sam because he always knocked twice then took a step back. Bucky practically launched himself at the door, and his heart sank when he opened it. Sam was staring at the ground, holding something behind his back.

"Can I help you?" Bucky asked.

"Got you a thing," Wilson mumbled. He held out a small box wrapped in light blue paper with what looked like deformed snowmen patterned across it. Bucky took it and stared at Sam for a moment.

"Do you want me to open it now?"

"No, wait until a hundred and three—"

Bucky slammed the door in Sam's face. He was too goddamn old to deal with other people's mood swings. He tossed the box on his bed and debated not opening it. He should stuff it in the closet and wait until Sam was being less of a bitch about something Bucky had been under no obligation to reveal.

But he was weak for presents. Sam had done a good job wrapping the small box, tucking the paper nicely on the ends and everything. Steve's ma used to do that. She always got Bucky something for his birthday, even if she couldn't afford to. After she died, Steve made sure Bucky got a birthday present, but his wrapping skills were moderate at best.

Bucky slid a finger beneath the flaps on the side and tore the paper off in one clean go. He popped the lid off the box and picked up a small card.

Elsa,

You can't find this in the Smithsonian.

-Sam

Bucky tossed the card on the bed then unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a framed picture. It was a simple silver frame with a grainy 5x7 photo taken on an iPhone. Bucky wiped his eyes with the heel of his right hand. He remembered Sam taking that photo during their trip in the yellow bug, right before they stopped at Starbucks. Steve was leaning into the frame from one side, with Sam smiling on the other and Bucky leaning forward from his place on the backseat. Steve had those worried lines in his forehead which never disappeared during that mess with the Accords, but he was smiling. It was that smile he had when he knew he shouldn't laugh but couldn't quite hold back. Steve said Sam could always get him to smile with a joke or a song on his iPod or, well, just by being Sam. Bucky understood that better now.

That photo was the only time the three of them had really been together.

Bucky ran out the door and shouted, "WILSON!" Sam was near the end of the hallway but paused before rounding the corner. Bucky was there just as he turned around and wrapped Sam in a tight hug. Sam wrapped his arms around Bucky's chest and asked,

"So tell me, in a hundred and two years where do I rank in terms of birthdays?"

"I only remember about thirty of 'em," Bucky admitted. "But I'd say you're a solid number three."

"Number three?!" Sam asked, offended. "I bought you cake and strippers!"

"Could've gone without strippers."

"I'll remember that next year."

Bucky dropped his hold on Sam and stepped back to say, "I can barely think to next week."

"You don't talk about him." Sam just came right out with it, and Bucky shrugged. "I think you should talk about him."

"You don't," Bucky countered.

"Not with you," Sam said. "I talk to Romanoff, hell I even call Barton once in a while."

"How do you know I don't?" Bucky asked. "I have friends, one of them even threw me a birthday party—"

"Just pull your head out of your ass once in awhile and say something about him, Barnes," Sam insisted. "I was his friend, but I was never you. I watched him lose you twice and nothing I was gonna say could stop him from trying to find you. And believe me, I tried. Spent two fucking years underground because when Steve Rogers batted his eyelashes I couldn't say no."

"Nobody could talk Steve out of anything once he made up his mind," Bucky said. Sam laughed.

"True."

"And I know the face. I couldn't even count how many times he dragged me to picture shows with that face. Couldn't afford to go, but we went anyway."

Sam pressed his lips together then smiled.

"Did you really just say 'picture shows?'"

Bucky pushed him away, laughed, and turned back down the hallway.

"Hey, Barnes!"

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, looking at Sam over his shoulder.

"Happy birthday."

That was the moment Bucky realized he was gonna fall in love with Sam Wilson.

.oOo.

Two more months passed and spring started to give way to summer. May was the best month in New York, perfectly warm without the overwhelming humidity the next months would bring. Plums appeared at the farmer's market and Bucky even got a haircut. Nothing drastic, just trimmed up the ends and added some layers. Steve wasn't waiting around every corner anymore. Sometimes Bucky felt Steve's hand on his shoulder or heard Steve's laugh in the middle of a conversation, but those moments were less frequent as time went on.

Sam told him talking about Steve would get easier, and it did. When those moments came and Steve felt so close, Sam would pull up a photo on his iPhone and tell Bucky the story behind it. There was the time Steve had insisted on seeing the Dodgers play at Nats Park, where he and Sam shared a pretzel the size of their heads. Another day, Sam showed Bucky a photo of Steve asleep in a safehouse somewhere, curled into a ball with his head resting on a pile of socks.

"He always slept like that," Bucky said.

"Yeah?"

"When he was smaller he needed to conserve heat, so he slept like a fucking pillbug. Guess the habit never died."

It was easy to talk to Sam, but he stopped avoiding everyone else in the tower as well. Wanda was quiet, but she would sit with him sometimes and play Jenga. She mostly cheated, using forcefields to prevent the tower from falling when she pulled on a pivotal piece. Natalia was his preferred sparring partner and Carol was there for everything else.

One night in late May, Bucky walked by the living area on his way to the kitchen. He stopped, noticing Sam was sitting toward the end with his legs crossed and a pile of used tissues on the floor. Bucky plopped onto the other end of the couch and asked,

"Allergies?"

Sam rolled his eyes and threw the box of tissues at him.

"Yeah, man, fucking allergies."

"Wanna talk about it?" Bucky asked. Sam looked at him, red-rimmed eyes and nose pink around the nostrils. It was so odd to see Sam without a smile. He always had a quip or a story ready to defuse a tense moment, but right then that duty fell to Bucky and he had no idea what to do.

"I got dumped," Sam said with a shrug. He grabbed the carton of ice cream off the coffee table and ate a scoop of vanilla. Bucky watched the spoon disappear between Sam's lips and looked away as he pulled it out. Bucky shifted so one of his legs crossed over to conceal a growing problem.

"I liked Alicia," Bucky said.

"Me too," Sam quipped. "She said the commute from DC to New York was too far, too long-distance for her."

"You don't believe that?" Bucky guessed.

"Not at all," Sam admitted. "Finally got her to admit she thinks I'm interested in someone else."

Bucky tamped down the jealousy working its way around his chest and made for the kitchen. Natalia was making a smoothie and didn't speak until she noticed Bucky grabbing a spoon.

"You and Sam having a snuggle party?" she asked in Russian.

"Fuck off," he responded in kind.

"You two have been spending a lot of time together," she observed.

"He's my friend."

"He could be more," Natalia insisted. Bucky laughed and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"There's not enough of me left to love anymore, Natalia," he admitted. "I've seen too much, done too much; had too many people in my head. You did the same with Barton. When people like us love someone the best thing we can do is help them get the life they want."

"Maybe the life Sam wants doesn't involve a woman in DC," she countered.

"He's worth more than I can give—"

She started the blender and shouted, "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Natalia stuck out her tongue and Bucky laughed before returning to his place next to Sam. Bucky took the ice cream carton from his hands and dug in, noting that Sam had already eaten half.

"Was that your first kiss since the forties?" Sam asked. He kept his eyes trained firmly on the television.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"On your birthday, was that your first kiss since the forties?" Sam repeated. Natalia walked by with her smoothie and said,

"Just fuck already."

Thankfully, she said it in Russian. Sam didn't miss the way Bucky's face went pink at her words, though.

"What did she say, Elsa?"

"Why do you call me that?" Bucky deflected. He ate another spoonful of ice cream as Sam answered.

"You know, Winter Soldier … Elsa's a snow queen … Trying to keep with the winter theme, but I can stop if you don't like it."

"It's fine," Bucky shrugged, "I just don't know who Elsa is." Sam stared at him for an uncomfortably long time.

"You've never seen Frozen?"

"Is that a film? Are you just trying to get me to say 'picture show?'"

"You haven't seen the movie?" Sam asked. Bucky shook his head and Sam sighed. "God, I've been calling you that for months and you just went with it."

"You could call me worse things and they'd be accurate," Bucky admitted. But Sam was determined, and a few minutes later Bucky was watching a Disney princess movie. "Steve and I saw the first one of these at a …"

"A picture show?" Sam asked, a teasing smile on his face. Bucky's stomach did an uncomfortable little twist. Sam Wilson had the best goddamn smile Bucky had ever seen. His eyes got real wide and his eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline. Sam always smiled like his face might break with the effort and it was contagious. Bucky grinned and looked down at his hands. Steve had talked about what a good guy Sam Wilson was, and Bucky got it in theory. Everyone needed a good friend. It wasn't until that moment, though, when Sam had been dumped and so upset he was eating ice cream from the carton, that Bucky really understood.

Bucky nodded and said, "Yes, Wilson, Steve and I saw Snow White at the picture show. Never thought I would relate to Snow, but I guess …"

"Damn, that would've been a good choice," Sam said, chastising himself. "Pretty princess, asleep for long periods of time, really into fruit—"

"Aw, Sammy, you think I'm pretty?" Bucky teased.

"Put a cork in it, Elsa, your namesake's on the TV," Sam countered. Bucky did watch the movie. At some point he kicked his socked feet into Sam's lap. He responded by taking the ice cream back. "My breakup movie, Barnes, and my breakup ice cream."

"If you're feeling lonely, I know some decent strippers," Bucky teased.

Sam was quiet for awhile so Bucky focused on the movie. He wasn't sure how to help, exactly, and found he wasn't upset about the breakup. It was wrong, but his thoughts kept bouncing from the cartoon on the screen, to Sam, to the mystery girl Sam may or may not be gunning for.

"I don't like Hans," Bucky said as the character started handing out cloaks to the citizens of Arendelle. Sam looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"For real?"

"Nobody is that benevolent. I've toppled enough regimes to know that when a country loses a ruler, the first person to ingratiate themselves with the populace is always gunning for the throne. Especially a foreign influence … This is all a front. Hell, Hans is probably HYDRA."

"Fucking supersoldiers," Sam mumbled. He tossed the empty ice cream carton onto the coffee table and mumbled, "Better watching this with my nephew."

"You have a nephew?" Bucky asked.

"My sister's kid," Sam answered. "And a niece; they're ten and four."

"Didn't know you had a sister," Bucky said.

"Another one of the reasons Alicia dumped me," Sam replied. "My time in DC was always split between her place and Alexandria where my sister lives."

"Maybe you should move," Bucky suggested. He immediately wanted to grab the words out of the air and stuff them back down his throat. Sam pushed Bucky's feet off his lap and asked,

"You trying to get rid of me, snow queen?"

"No!" Bucky said just a bit too forcibly. "No, just … You're my friend and I want you to be happy. If you're not happy in New York, then maybe you will be in DC."

"And do what?" Sam asked. "Go back to the VA and worry about you getting your ass killed every goddamn day? I don't think so. I'm not much of a sideline guy."

"People have been trying to kill me for eight decades, don't see why they'd start succeeding now," Bucky quipped.

"Never thought Riley would get blasted out of the sky 'til I watched him fall," Sam said. He stared straight ahead as the movie played out, but Bucky couldn't look away from him. Sam clenched his jaw and his right hand was fisted on the arm of the couch.

"Who's Riley?"

Sam didn't answer. He wouldn't say another word for the whole movie. Bucky leaned forward and tossed his spoon into the empty carton before tucking his legs underneath him. He leaned on the opposite arm, away from Sam, the foot or so between them like a giant canyon threatening to swallow them whole.

Once the credits were rolling, Sam asked, "What did you think?"

"I liked it," Bucky admitted. "I like Elsa."

"Why's that?" Sam asked, turning to face him. Bucky rubbed at the juncture of skin and metal on his shoulder.

"She's someone who can't face the destruction created by their own hands. I relate."

"You are one goddamn buzzkill, Barnes," Sam groaned. "You thinking about building your own ice castle somewhere?"

"I think about lotsa things, Sam," Bucky said. "But I liked the film. They coulda made Elsa the villain and they didn't. Her powers can be used for good as long as she has control, and I like that a lot."

"Better than Snow White?" Sam asked.

"Well, Snow White got kissed by a handsome prince at the end, so I feel like she got the better deal," Bucky teased.

"You never answered my question," Sam said. Bucky stood up, ready to go back to his room.

"No," he said, "it was not my first kiss since the forties."

.oOo.

July 4th was the worst. No supervillains attacked, which Bucky would have welcomed as respite from his thoughts. Instead, he spent the day sparring. First with Vision, then Wanda, then repeatedly getting knocked on his ass by Carol.

He kept getting closer to Sam. Emotionally, physically, running the gamut of bad ideas. They'd fall asleep on the couch together, Bucky's head always finding its way to Sam's shoulder. Hardly a day passed when they didn't have lunch together, Sam would make something delicious, Bucky would say it smelled good, and Sam would make more. The only thing that drove them apart was Riley. Bucky asked twice more, and each time Sam stopped talking. He'd get this look on his face like someone had kicked his puppy and erased all the photos on his iPhone. Then he would walk away. Bucky asked everyone for a clue, but no one was willing to divulge that information and Google felt just a bit too invasive.

Natalia was Bucky's fourth sparring partner of the day, and his favorite. He taught her most of what she knew, and it was an elaborate dance when they were in the ring. She ran at him and Bucky stepped to the side, laughing.

"Most important lesson when facing an opponent of equal skill, Natalia?"

"Never make the first move," she recited. Bucky nodded.

"Very good."

"That's your problem, Barnes," Natalia said. "You won't make the first move." She kicked at his legs and Bucky jumped back to avoid her.

"I don't need your lectures about Sam."

"And I don't need your lessons on combating people of equal skill," Natalia countered. She aimed a punch at his right side, which he blocked, then she ducked to avoid being elbowed in the head by Bucky's left arm. They sparred for several more minutes without conversation, but she found yet another opening when Sam came into the gym. Bucky looked at him for no more than a second, but it was long enough for Natalia to get her thighs around his neck. She had Bucky on his back a couple seconds later because he hadn't had his feet firmly beneath him. Bucky grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing Natalia to loosen her hold enough for him to roll away. He jumped up and said,

"Fortunate timing."

"No, I just found your weakness," Natalia said in Russian. "And he will continue to be a weakness until you deal with it."

Bucky glanced at Sam preparing to begin his yoga regimen and groaned. Natalia feinted left, but Bucky grabbed her by the nape of her neck and flipped her onto the floor. She jumped up, graceful and unscathed. Sam was stretching, bent over, facing away from the ring. Bucky looked again for no more than a second, but it was enough for Natalia to land two punches against his face.

"If you stare at Sam like that in battle, you'll never make it out alive," she half-teased.

"Zatknees!" Bucky shouted, loud enough for everyone to glance over. Natalia aimed for his face once again, which he dodged, and countered with his left elbow to her knees. She yelped in surprise and kicked his chest. Bucky caught her leg and used the momentum to flip her over once again onto the floor. Natalia kicked his legs out from beneath him and Bucky landed hard with an audible "oof!" He rolled over onto his front and Natalia pulled his hair, forcing him to roll once more onto his back. She wrapped her thighs around his neck and said,

"Talk to him, or I will lock the two of you in a room until you tell Sam about your superhero-sized crush." Bucky shook his head and she tightened her grip. She released him then hopped out of the ring.

"SAM!" she shouted. Bucky groaned. This not how he wanted this to go. He looked over to see Sam had paused his stretching. Natalia said, "Barnes needs someone else to kick his ass."

"You did not kick my ass," Bucky countered. "I was distracted by an ass that won't quit."

"You are such an old man," Natalia said, rolling her eyes.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I hear that's what the kids say these days."

Bucky stayed on the floor for awhile, the activity in the gym continuing around him. He closed his eyes and thought about leaving. Shuri promised his hut was available. He could go on the run again, but neither of those options appealed to him. Some part of him was always gonna be in New York.

"Barnes," Sam said. Bucky shook his head. He hated that, losing time in his own head. He opened his eyes and squinted into the lights. He blinked and sat up, turning to face Sam. Sweat stained the front of his black Air Force t-shirt and he was hanging over the ropes like he could barely hold himself up. He'd probably been sparring with Nat, then.

"Wilson?" Bucky asked, a little groggy.

"Get dressed."

"You try'na mom me now, Wilson?" Bucky said, using the ropes to pull himself up.

"Heard you've been asking questions about me," Sam said.

"I've had enough secrecy for a couple lifetimes. Felt like this was something I should know but you didn't want to tell me," Bucky replied.

"Why the hell do you think you're entitled to know anything about me?" Sam asked. He didn't seem offended, just curious, so Bucky answered honestly.

"Because we are friends and I feel like you've been doing a better job of that than me."

"Get dressed," Sam repeated. "We're going for a drive."

Bucky jumped over the ropes and headed for his room. He obliged Sam, not like he had anything better to do. He showered, toweled off, then looked at himself in the mirror. His beard could probably use a trim and so could his hair, but it had been so long since he cared. Bucky sat on the end of his bed and thought about a drive with Sam. A destination with Sam. Time alone with Sam outside of New York City. It wasn't a date, but it was the first time anyone, exempting Natalia, wanted to be alone with him outside the tower since Steve died.

He didn't know what to wear. It wasn't a date, of course, but his hands shook like it was. God, he used to be so good at this. Sam would notice if he wore anything out of the ordinary, so he should wear something normal. Only, staring into his closet, Bucky didn't know what constituted normal. Jeans, he figured, were a good start. T-shirt. Hoodie. Leather jacket. Normal.

They took one of the standard government SUVs for which Sam definitely did not fill out the paperwork. Bucky didn't ask where they were going. Sam tried to make small talk a couple hours in, but it didn't take. They spent the drive listening to songs on Sam's iPod, Sam occasionally pressing the next button five times to get to a song he liked.

Bucky saw the "Welcome to Alexandria" sign and remembered Sam had family there. Then his hands started to shake again.

"Hey, Sammy, we aren't, uh, we aren't going to visit your sister, are we?"

"Yup," Sam answered.

"No, Sam, that's a bad idea," Bucky insisted. "I'm not the kind of guy you take to meet your family."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked. "Is it the former international fugitive part or the former assassin part?"

"Both?" Bucky said, not intending to make it a question. He declined to mention the I'm-so-in-love-with-you-that-everyone-can-read-it-on-my-face bit.

"You're neither of those things now," Sam countered. "But you are my best friend and maybe that does entitle you to some things." Bucky's brain stalled for a moment.

"I'm your best friend?" he asked. Sam rolled his eyes as they pulled into the driveway of a nondescript brown house.

"Don't get all sappy on me, Barnes, I'm just glad you didn't steal the steering wheel this time."

Bucky didn't want to get out of the car. This was a strictly-friends outing, but Bucky desperately needed to impress Sam's sister. He wanted Sam's family to like him because then maybe he was more than the smart-assed supersoldier HYDRA left behind. So he forced himself out the car door and followed Sam up the front steps. Sam didn't even knock before the door swung open to reveal a woman just a couple years younger than him. Bucky didn't need to be told this was his sister—they had the same smile.

"SAMMY!" she shouted, grabbing her brother in a tight hug. "God, it's been months!"

"Yeah, I know," he said, returning the hug. Bucky just shuffled awkwardly, as far back on the top step as he could go. "And I brought a … friend," Sam said, stumbling over that last word. Sam motioned for Bucky to come forward, so he did.

"Bucky, this is my sister, Sergeant Sarah Casper, formerly of the US Marine Corps," Sam said.

Bucky held out his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"You can call me Sarah," she said. "And you are Bucky Barnes. Sam has told me all about you! About damn time he brought you to visit!" She chastised Sam with a quick slap on the arm. "Come inside, dinner's just come out of the oven."

Sam shut the door behind them and Bucky paused to take a look around. It was a nice house, cozy with family photos on every wall and shelf. Then, from out of nowhere, a small blur crashed into Sam's legs. He picked the child up and said,

"Naevia! I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Uncle Sam!"

Bucky stifled his laughter with a fist between his teeth. Uncle Sam? he mouthed. Sam shrugged and said,

"Naevia, this is my friend, Bucky."

"Hi, Bucky!" Naevia waved at him so Bucky waved back. She tilted her head to one side and asked, "Why do you have a metal arm?"

"My other one got blown off," he replied without thinking. Naevia took it in stride, though. She pulled on one of her curls and asked,

"How'd you meet Uncle Sam?"

Bucky smiled and said, "Turns out, we had the same best friend."

"I like you," Naevia said. She patted Sam on the shoulder so he put her down on the floor. She grabbed Bucky's metal hand and dragged him toward the dining room. "You can sit by me!" She pointed to one chair at the table and jumped into the seat next to it. Bucky did as he was told and Sam smiled. They were quickly joined by Sam's nephew.

"Jody, this is Bucky," Sam said, taking the seat on the other side of Naevia. Sam's nephew, Jody apparently, nodded.

"Cool."

After about five minutes of eating and chitchat, Bucky said, "Sam tells me you like Frozen."

"It's my favorite movie!" Jody said, excitedly. "I love Ana. Mom even got me a pillow shaped like Olaf last year for Christmas!"

"It's one of my favorites, too," Bucky said. Jody grinned and chugged some more milk.

"What else has Sam introduced you to, Bucky?" Sarah asked. He wasn't quite clear on her meaning, but Sam glared at her and Bucky thought that was not something he needed to get between.

"Marvin Gaye," Bucky said. It was the first thing that came to mind since it comprised the bulk of their road trip playlist. Sarah's eyes gleamed.

"Yeah, that's how you get in with all the pretty boys, right, Sammy?"

"I never said Barnes was pretty," he insisted. Bucky felt his cheeks start to burn and he repressed the urge to tug at the metal on his shoulder. Sam asked, "Naevia, do you think Bucky is pretty?"

"Yes," she replied, mouth half-full of food. Bucky offered up his hand for a high-five, which she returned. And dinner went smoothly after that. Bucky was given a guest bedroom for the night, even when he insisted on taking the couch. A couple hours later, the credits of Frozen were rolling, Jody asleep on the couch leaning against Bucky's right side, and Naevia curled into his chest with the carbon fiber arm protectively wrapped around her. Bucky himself was half-asleep, head resting on the back of the couch.

"He is such a sweetheart, Sammy," he overheard Sarah say. He knew immediately this was not a conversation he was meant to hear, but stayed put anyway like the spy he was.

"I know," Sam said. "He's fucking great, Sarah. I just wish I knew how to make New York feel like home for him."

"Is that why you finally brought him here?" Sarah asked. "You wanted him to see what home looks like?"

"Nah, he, um … He started asking about Riley."

"Oh."

"And I don't know what to tell him."

"You tell him everything!" Sarah insisted. "Sam, that boy would fuck you seven ways to Sunday. He looks at you like you pull the sun into the sky every morning and—"

"He does not," Sam insisted. Bucky grimaced. The only person who couldn't see how deep Bucky had fallen was Sam Wilson himself. "He needed a friend and that's what I am to him. He likes me because we both had a connection to Steve."

"Sure, he only likes you because you knew Steve Rogers. That's why he agreed to be dragged all the way down to Alexandria with nothing but you and Marvin Gaye for company. That's why he's asleep on the couch with my kids, because he loved Steve Rogers? No, Sam, it's not Steve."

.oOo.

Bucky and Sam dropped the kids off at school the next morning before heading toward DC. The drive was quiet again, and Sam's grip on the steering wheel was just a little too tight. They parked the SUV at a meter and walked a mile to Arlington National Cemetery.

"I have a headstone here," Bucky mentioned. Sam didn't reply, just led him through the visitor's center then walked along the path toward a specific lot. Bucky had never seen Sam so tense. His shoulders were rigid, like they were carrying the weight of a decade. There were no quips, no smiles, nothing until Sam led him over to a headstone in the middle of too many to count. Sam gritted his teeth together and wiped the watery buildup from his eyes.

"This is Riley."

The headstone had a cross at the top.

Riley Carter Justus.

Senior Airman.

US Air Force.

Afghanistan.

May 25 1979.

August 7 2012.

"He didn't have any family," Sam said. "We were in pararescue together over in Afghanistan. We were supposed to capture Khalid Khandil, but the bastard barricaded himself in and one of his men shot an RPG straight for Riley. Next thing I know, I'm watching my partner fall out of the sky and there was not a damn thing I could do."

"I was the one that fell," Bucky quietly replied.

"Yeah, well, I can tell you it sucks being on the other end," Sam said. He sniffed, willing the tears back. Bucky wondered why he felt the need to do that. "I'd give anything to have Riley back. I'd give up the wings, give up my left arm …" He paused and Bucky didn't laugh.

"You were close."

"He was my boyfriend so I guess you could say we were close."

Oh.

"Riley was the sort of man everyone had an opinion about. They either loved him or hated him, with no room in the middle. He was a straight-shooter to a fault kind of guy. He never left me guessing and I liked that, you know? Somebody who doesn't believe in secrets, somebody who never felt the need to hide anything or be afraid of anything."

"I knew a couple guys like that," Bucky admitted.

"Steve was like that," Sam translated.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, "he was."

"And after everything we went through, you still don't believe you were worth the effort, do you?" Sam asked. He turned to face Bucky, tears tracking down his face that he didn't bother to wipe away.

"Look, Sam, I don't know how much of me is left. And whatever is, I'm not sure it's worth much of anything," Bucky admitted. Sam shook his head. "Steve asked you to look after me, didn't he?"

"Of course he did," Sam answered.

"Sam, don't fuck up your life just because you made a promise to Steve."

He didn't answer for awhile. Bucky just stood there, staring at Sam who was staring at the headstone again.

"I told him with a name like Justus he should've been a lawyer," Sam said. "He would've been shit at it, though: terrible poker face and a God-awful liar. But he taught me a lot about the kind of person I want to be. Riley always tried to see the best outcome. Once, I had two cents in my bank account and he said, 'At least you're on the positive side, Sammy.' I always liked that. He'd look at our MREs and say, 'I'm gonna assume this is better than dog shit, but I wouldn't bet by much.' Everybody loves people like that, you know?"

"There's a lot to see in you too, Sam," Bucky insisted. Sam turned to face him. He said,

"And I see what's going on in your head. You, James Barnes, are one tragedy away from throwing yourself out a window and hoping this time it sticks. Don't make me be the one who watches my best friend fall again." Sam sighed and his shoulders fell, like he was just tired. "You don't have a place in the world without this team. You were a weapon, now you're a soldier again, but your idea of paradise is a hut in The Middle of Nowhere, Wakanda. You say things like, 'Sam you should move to DC,' when what you mean is, 'Move to DC so I can go away without feeling like I'm leaving something behind.' Well tough fucking luck Barnes, because I'm your friend and it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than some words and your early-2000s emo glare to get me to leave you."

And that's when Bucky Barnes fell in love with Sam Wilson.

.oOo.

Bucky got a haircut and had his beard trimmed. When Sam asked why, he said,

"Because next time you take me to visit your family I wanna look a bit more respectable."

Natalia glared at him, so Bucky returned his attention to his sandwich. It wasn't a big deal, losing the long hair. It always felt like a disguise, anyhow. Winter Soldier had the long hair, fugitive!Bucky had long hair, but Bucky Barnes always had short hair. Why not give it another go?

"I think it looks nice," Wanda said. "Like those photos of you from the Smithsonian."

"Yes, we went to visit the exhibit last month," Vision added. "You are considered very attractive by both 40s standards and modern standards."

Bucky's face went red and he mumbled, "Thanks."

"Yeah, we get it, Barnes is gorgeous, moving on …" Sam said, pulling leftovers out of the fridge. "Has everyone cleaned out their parts of the TiVo? I've got seven episodes of Say Yes to the Dress to record."

"Why do you watch that show?" Carol asked, licking the chocolate off the lid of her pudding cup.

"We spend so much of our time fighting bad guys, travelling to fight bad guys, and worrying about fighting bad guys," Sam answered. "That show has no plot, requires no thought, and it always has a happy ending." He shrugged and added, "Sometimes I need a break from supervillains."

"When you and Barnes get married, will you take him shopping at Kleinfeld's?" Carol asked. Bucky's face reddened even more and he choked on his sandwich. Sam patted him on the back and said,

"I don't know, Carol. I think we'd elope in Wakanda."

"Shame," she said, "I think he could pull off a Pnina."

"What is a Pnina?" Vision asked.

"An overpriced dress for New Jersey trashbags," Natalia quipped. Sam nodded in agreement.

"Why am I the one wearing the dress?" Bucky asked. He grinned and said, "Sam has the ass for it."

"You checking out my ass, Barnes?" Sam asked with a smile that made Bucky's stomach shrink to the size of a chickpea. He put his sandwich back on the plate.

"It's just that you land on it so often."

"Whatever, Elsa, I like the haircut," Sam said before returning to the common room. Bucky felt everyone's eyes on him, gave them a wan smile, and headed in the opposite direction.

.oOo.

Enchantress.

That's a new one.

"One of Loki's pets!" Carol shouted back over the comms. "She believes she's Asgardian."

Whatever she was, Enchantress had overtaken an entire street uptown. She couldn't be more than nineteen, wearing Loki's signature green and gold. Bucky would shoot in her direction and she blocked the bullets with some sort of light shield before teleporting to the other end of the street. Or onto the ledge of a window four stories up, nullifying his gun.

"She's putting herself near civilians so I can't shoot," Bucky said. "We'll have to go at her from above. Wilson, you ready?"

"Always for you, Elsa," Sam replied.

"Vision, draw her attention until Wilson is in range," Bucky said, trying not to laugh. "Carol, wait until she is back on ground level then subdue her before she can teleport. Natalia, remain on the lookout on the south end of the street, Wanda, you do the same on the north end."

Bucky ran to assist Natalia at the south end of the street, shield held in front of him as he came set at her side.

"Boxing her in," Nat said, "smart."

"A compliment, Natalia?" Bucky asked facetiously.

"I'm feeling magnanimous today," she shrugged. Nat nodded to the shield and said, "You look good with that, by the way."

"Doesn't feel quite right yet," Bucky admitted. He watched Sam fly upward just out of Enchantress's sightline. Vision floated four stories up, dodging her fireballs. "Spider-Man, you here?"

"Yeah, man! My bus was driving by! Great timing, really—"

"Great, kid, homework later but now I need you to evacuate that building."

"The one on fire?" Spider-Man asked. Falcon began his descent, prepared to force Enchantress off her ledge.

"Yes, that one," Bucky confirmed with an exasperated sigh. He hated involving the kid.

"On it!"

There are some moments in life that go by so quickly they seem to pass in slow-motion as the brain processes what the eyes are seeing. Bucky saw the moment Enchantress caught sight of Falcon diving at her. She looked up, raised her fist, and threw a red ball of light directly at Falcon's chest. His wings closed up and he started to fall …

And Bucky stood there, unable to do a goddamn thing.

Vision was able to tackle Enchantress and force her down onto the street. Bucky felt the shield slide off his arm and the gun fall from his fingers. He ran toward the falling figure, not sure what he would do even if he were there to break Sam's fall. Carol could, but she was forcing magic-restraining cuffs onto Enchantress's wrists.

"SAM!" he shouted.

Wanda caught him in a maroon forcefield maybe six inches off the ground, and Bucky's heart started beating again. His chest heaved with nerves and overexertion as she lowered Sam onto the ground. Bucky knelt by his side and forced the glasses off Sam's face. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted in a slight "O" of surprise. Bucky pressed the fingers of his right hand to Sam's neck and felt a steady pulse.

But Sam didn't open his eyes. Bucky grabbed Sam's face between his hands and asked,

"Sam?" Nothing. "Sammy?" he repeated. "SAMMY!" he shouted to no avail. Sam's eyes remained shut like he was napping on the couch.

"Barnes?" He heard Natalia's voice but it sounded far away, like she was at the other end of a tunnel. Sam was warm but comatose beneath his fingers.

"SOLDAT!"

Bucky straightened up and turned to face Natalia. She stood over him and said,

"We need a directive."

Bucky took a deep breath. Sam. He looked up at the team. Sam. He shook his head. Sam.

"Carol, Nat, take Enchantress down to the FBI so they can deal with her. The federal government wanted to deal with the aliens, well they can take her off our goddamn hands. No, wait …"

They both paused waiting for directions.

"Take her somewhere secure, Nat, and interrogate her. Find out what the hell she's done to Sam."

"Understood," Nat said, then they were gone.

"Spider-Man?" he asked over comms.

"I'm here! Just got everyone out, building is clear and surprisingly free of fire."

"Great, go home, kid."

"Yessir!"

"Wanda, I need you to come with me to the hospital. Vision, you stay to assist with cleanup and anything else the NYPD needs."

And that was all Bucky had in him. He collapsed onto the street, staring at Sam for another moment. It was everything he wanted to feel since Shuri had taken HYDRA out of his head, and Bucky wanted none of it. The pain wasn't one he could compartmentalize. Every second he spent staring at Sam's slack features was a second spent in terror. He swallowed hard and said,

"Sammy, I promise if you wake up I'll get my ass in one of those New Jersey trashbag gowns." Oh, God, he was crying. The NYPD were filtering onto the street but Bucky couldn't bring himself to care. He wrapped his arms around his legs and placed his head between his knees. He reminded himself he was in New York City. The year was 2019. Bucky said a silent prayer, because his mouth couldn't form the words. The pleas were meant only for the ears of Sam and God.

"You were right, Sammy; it sucks being on this side of a fall."

.oOo.

Bucky hadn't been in a hospital in about seventy-five years.

He hated the beeping. They said the machines were signs of life, but they were nothing more than a nuisance. Wanda stayed the whole time, and he was grateful. He hugged her and said,

"Thank you for catching him."

She just held him close for awhile, not needing to respond aloud. After about five hours of examination, an older doctor approached them.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

"How is he?" Bucky asked, a little too eager. Wanda put a hand on his arm then situated herself beneath it in a one-arm hug.

"Other than being unconscious, Samuel Wilson is perfectly normal. He is in excellent health, his brain functions are all normal, he's just asleep."

"Well how long is he going to sleep?" Bucky asked. "He never hit pavement; he was unconscious before he even began his descent. Something is wrong with him!"

"Whatever it is, Sergeant Barnes," the doctor said, "I do not believe the problem originated in this world."

"Fucking aliens!" Bucky shouted, pushing Wanda away and storming over to Sam's room. He looked at Sam, asleep on crisp white sheets, stripped down to the black t-shirt and pants he wore beneath the Falcon gear. "They took Steve from me, now they're gonna take Sam, too?"

"Mister Wilson is not in a coma," the doctor said, "so we have no reason to keep him here, if you'd rather—"

"Yes, we would rather take him to the tower," Wanda said. Bucky would have said the same thing, just with a few more expletives tossed in. They decided Wanda would do all the talking until they got home.

.oOo.

Carol and Natalia did not return until morning.

Sam was asleep on his bed. Breathing just like everything was normal. If Bucky hadn't watched him take an alien light ball to the chest, he would have assumed Sam had fallen asleep at a weird time of day. He was lying with his arms flat at his sides, still in his all-black underthings.

Bucky had never been in Sam's room. It was fairly bare-bones, much like Bucky's. Light gray walls, a plain king-sized bed and what the hell, Bucky only had a queen. Sam's clothes were organized in his closet by type; the door had been left open in the rush after the alarm. The only personal touches were the iPod speakers on his nightstand and three 5x7 photos on the right wall.

The first photo was Sam and Sarah when they were kids, Sam chasing his sister with a water gun. Bucky smiled when he saw that, wondered what he was doing during that time. Was he on ice, or had that been one of the days HYDRA unleashed him onto the world? The second photo was of Sam and Riley, arms around each other's shoulders. Bucky was jealous of that photo, the easygoing way they leaned against each other. It was the sort of bond he had with Steve, and the effortlessness he longed for with Sam.

The final photo was one Bucky hadn't seen before. It was obviously new, because it was a cell phone photo of Bucky on the couch with Jody and Naevia asleep against him. Suddenly the fingers were around Bucky's throat again, and he fell to the floor. He slammed his head against the wall and winced. It wasn't HYDRA suffocating him, it was regret. Bucky had known he was in love with Sam for weeks and hadn't told him, and now Bucky may never get to tell him. Bucky had lost everyone he ever loved. His parents were long dead and Steve newly so. Sam didn't deserve to die. Was he dying? Bucky didn't even know, but his track record in these areas was dismal.

Then Bucky started laughing. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Crying on the floor of Sam's room, feeling sorry for himself. Monsters were always hungry, and regret was no different. Just another emotion Bucky hadn't allowed himself to feel in God only knew how long. There he was, back against the wall, wishing for nothing more than the chance to tell Sam … Just to tell Sam.

Bucky forced himself up off the floor and grabbed the desk chair. He placed it next to Sam's bed and plopped down. For the first time in his life, Bucky Barnes wanted to lose time in his head. Maybe that would make looking at Sam more bearable, something he could handle until Nat and Carol returned.

"You gotta wake up, Sammy," Bucky said. He smiled wanly and said, "You gotta wake up, because if you don't then I gotta go tell Sarah that you won't be coming to visit anymore. I gotta go tell Jody that you can't take him to see any more picture shows and I gotta go tell Naevia that her Uncle Sam won't ever hug her again."

Goddamn it, he was crying yet again. Bucky wiped the tears from his eyes but they kept coming. He was silent until he was confident his voice wouldn't break.

"You told me about Riley because I'm your friend, right?" he asked. Sam didn't respond and his heart sank. "Well, I, uh, I know exactly what he saw in you, Sam. You're loyal, first of all, and I respect that. I'm sure Riley did, too. You don't compromise your principles and you spent years looking for me even though you weren't sure I deserved to be saved. And, let me tell ya, Sam, I didn't."

Bucky half-expected Sam to sit up and call him out on the lie. He didn't. So Bucky kicked his feet up onto the comforter and leaned back in the chair. It was hours later when Nat knocked on the door. Bucky stood immediately and asked,

"Did you get anything?"

"Sam's been cursed," Natalia said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and asked, "He's been cursed?"

"She's not Asgardian. Her name is Sylvie Lushton and she is from Broxton, Oklahoma. She did, however, receive her powers from Loki."

"Human form, alien magic," Bucky summed up.

"Like Thor, Carol, and—"

"Thor and Carol never put Sam in a fucking coma, Nat!" Bucky shouted. He pointed at Sam and demanded, "Tell me what happened to him."

"He was put under a sleeping curse," Natalia said. She touched his shoulder and Bucky jerked it away. He saw the hurt dance across her face, but it disappeared just as quickly.

"How do we break it?"

"According to Sylvie, she calls it the Sleeping Beauty curse," Nat said. "Watched one too many Disney movies as a kid."

"I must have missed that one," Bucky admitted.

"It means the only way to wake Sam is true love's kiss," Natalia said.

"This is a joke, right?" Bucky asked.

"Do I joke about anything, Barnes?" Nat asked. Bucky shook his head and sighed.

"I need his phone. We need to call Alicia."

"Alicia?!" Nat asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We need to get the person he loves. Let's start with Alicia and work our way backward," Bucky suggested.

"Are you fucking serious?" Nat asked. "You want to call his ex-girlfriends?"

"It's a start," Bucky replied.

Nat rolled her eyes, looked over at Sam, and said, "Fine."

.oOo.

It wasn't fine. Sam hadn't moved for three days, and none of his ex-girlfriends would come to help. Bucky begged them over the phone, but they said they never really loved him. Or if they did, it had dissipated long before. Which was ludicrous to Bucky because how could someone date Sam Wilson and not love him? He slept at Sam's side every night with that question running through his mind.

On the fourth day, Natalia cornered him in the kitchen. He would have ignored her, but she said,

"James."

He froze. She never used his name. No one used his name. Natalia placed a hand on his cheek and smiled sadly.

"Clint wanted a life on a farm and I couldn't give it to him. It does not mean I don't love him. I will never love anyone the way I love him. He saved me in too many ways to name. Sam does not want a farm, he wants this team. He wants you."

"No, he doesn't," Bucky insisted. "I am his best friend, but … But he doesn't want anything more. If he did, he would have said something by now."

"Maybe he thinks the same thing about you," Natalia countered. She moved her hand down to his shoulder and pleaded, "Just try, James. Please, for all of us. Just try."

Bucky shook his head.

"No. Nat, I can't. If it doesn't work, then I'd just confirm everything I know about what I am. If Sam can't love me then no one can. I don't wanna know that, Nat. I don't wanna know."

Natalia wrapped him in a tight hug and Bucky returned it, sobbing into her hair.

"I didn't plan to fall in love with him. I didn't want to feel this again, Nat. I lose everybody and I don't wanna lose Sam."

"I know, James. I also know he's loved you for longer than you would believe," Natalia insisted. Bucky laughed.

"I don't know where I would be without you, Natalia," he admitted. "You were such a tiny ballerina once …"

"And unmade, just like you."

.oOo.

Day five.

Bucky left Sam's room and returned to his own. He brushed his teeth, showered, and dressed. The team had been put on indefinite hiatus until the situation with Sam was resolved. He wandered into the common area where Wanda was curled up in a chair.

"Do you like Disney films, Sergeant Barnes?" she asked without looking up from her book.

"I like happily ever afters," Bucky admitted.

"Everyone's story begins 'Once upon a time …' and I believe it is up to us to cherish the time we're given to ensure we live happily ever after."

Fuck.

Bucky turned on his heel and walked down the hall to Sam's room. His confidence lasted as far as the first corner before it began to fade. He stopped in the doorframe, his fingers curled around the edges. He took a deep breath and walked inside. Everything felt different. It was the same room and Sam hadn't moved, but the knowledge of what he was about to do made it seem all the more treacherous.

There were approximately sixty-two reasons this was a bad idea. Bucky walked to the head of the bed and knelt on the side. He pressed his hand against Sam's chest and bit back a whimper. God, when had he gone so soft?

"I'm so sorry about this, Sam," Bucky said, "but I've gotta try."

As he leaned down, he thought he might be sick. His stomach shrank and the rest of his insides knotted themselves so tightly he doubted they could ever be undone. Bucky pressed his lips against Sam's for just a half-second. He smiled, noting how soft Sam's lips were, planning to treasure the stolen memory later. Bucky pulled away and leapt off the bed.

Sam blinked.

"Oh my God," Bucky whispered.

Sam blinked again and sat up, leaning against the pillows. He scrunched his face up and asked,

"Did you just kiss me?"

Bucky blinked.

"Did you just wake up?!" he asked. Sam nodded and Bucky ran out of the room. He headed toward the kitchen for no reason except his feet could carry him there on autopilot. Bucky's brain couldn't quite process the information it had received.

"Bucky?!" Sam shouted, right on his heels. Bucky made an abrupt turn and grabbed a pair of sneakers he had tossed aside a week earlier before heading toward the elevator. He frantically pressed the button and willed it to come faster.

"JAMES!" Sam shouted.

Bucky reluctantly turned around and Sam grabbed the center of his t-shirt to pull him down into a kiss. Bucky pushed him away and asked,

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Look, Elsa, I feel like I've been asleep for a week and damn do I need to stretch. Short version: I believed I was gonna die and the only thought I had was that I haven't gotten around to telling you I am in love with you. I've loved you since you stole my breakup ice cream and I would appreciate it if you would start kissing me now."

He obliged. The elevator dinged open behind them but Bucky ignored it. Sam's lips were so soft as he nipped at Bucky's lower lip. Bucky wrapped a hand around the back of Sam's head to pull him closer, terrified this was a dream, a hallucination never to happen again.

"I love you so much, Sam Wilson. This is too good to be true," Bucky said, still in shock. Sam smiled up at him and Bucky's heart skipped a beat.

"Come on, say it, I'm the best kiss you've had for seventy years."

"You're an asshole," Bucky countered. Then he kissed Sam again, harder. Sam explored Bucky's mouth and wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist. He groaned into the kiss and Bucky found that there was a problem growing very rapidly in his pants. He ground against Sam, who pulled away and began kissing a trail down Bucky's neck.

"We should go to a bedroom," Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know, I hear stamina really decreases once you hit ninety-five," Sam teased.

"Only one way for you to find out."