Sam's new apartment was anything but cold. From the soft carpeted floor, the one that both men could pad through without making a single sound, to the blankets liberally placed throughout the home (Sam had said that his grandmother was a fast knitter, but Bucky had not realized how much until they left her home with a stack of blankets, sweaters, scarves, beanie hats, and mittens to last a lifetime), the place seemed cozy. In the short amount of time since Sam had returned to the states and gotten himself a brand new apartment, he had turned it into home.
Home - what a strange word. Still, it was hard to call anywhere else that word. Even Steve's apartment felt alien to him. Though Steve would gladly have him over any time, he would make Bucky sleep on the couch.
Walking into the living room, he stepped over to where the thermometer was placed on the wall. It was electronic, a far cry from the red mercury filled gadget of his days. The electric blue buttons read that the place was seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit. For a moment, his fingers hovered over the buttons before ultimately pushing them up.
Maybe there was a reason that they had called him The Winter Soldier. Not just because they did not want to give him a name, but because without even touching him they knew that he was cold.
No, no, they made him cold. They took the heat from his body and the memories from his mind and the happiness from his heart. Took everything that made him Bucky and turned him into a soldier.
Nothing but a soldier.
For a moment, all Bucky could do was stare at the thermometer in front of him. His legs had turned to jelly and both of his arms - one flesh and one metal - hung limp at his side.
After some amount of time (minutes or hours?) they began to move again, his body shivering as if though Bucky were covered in snow.
"Bucky?"
Somehow, Bucky found the strength to turn. His eyes locked on Sam's own, and he managed to straighten his back.
"Bucky, what's wrong?" Sam's eyes widened, taking all of him in.
For a moment, Bucky expected him to add another question or to make a comment on something. However, he simply remained standing a few feet from him, his eyes wide and filled with concern.
"I was cold."
Sam smiled. "Then I'll just have to help get you warmed up."
Bucky stepped forward, letting Sam place his hand on his back. Sam had done it a million times before, and easily found just the right spot with his warm hands.
"Need me to make you some soup?"
"Maybe later." Bucky looked down to the ground. "Thank you."
"Oh, it's nothing." Sam leaned in closer, letting their sides brush. "I trust that you would do the same for me."