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It's candy.
At least, he thinks it candy. He's not sure. The packaging is different now, even for brands he recognizes from...before. When he did things like eat candy when he and Steve could afford it. The memory is blurry, but it's there. He remembers. He was someone else before...whatever he is now.
And that thought is terrifying.
But he...he thinks it's candy.
The shelf is full of them, and Bucky stands there, starting to shake in clothes he doesn't even remember stealing as his brain picks through the words on the wrappers.
Grape. He can't remember what grape tasted like. He can't remember the last time he's even had grapes.
There's peach. What does that taste like?
Bucky doesn't remember the last time he ate...anything. He can't remember any flavor off the top of his head.
Orange. Something makes him pick up the small package, the cool plastic crinkling in a way that for some reason, sets him on edge.
Hydra never fed him. Not like this . It was all... tubes and--and wires and--
Bucky feels a full body shudder that he can't contain. He doesn't even know if his tastebuds even work anymore. And if they do, will his brain--as fried as it is--be able to handle the new sensation?
The store is dim, it's midnight since Bucky finds being out during the day a lot to handle, and the clerk is starting to look at him strangely. Bucky catches his eye and freezes, heart starting to pound. He can't feel his hands through the sudden panic.
Bucky is afraid. And it's weird because if anything, everyone he crosses paths with should be afraid of him , but it's Bucky who is trembling with nerves and stifling fear whenever someone so much as looks at him. What if they hurt him? What if someone sees him and sees the same tool that Hydra thinks he is and it all happened again ?
Bucky grips the candy, shaking. If he...if he leaves he thinks he'll be okay...but he wants the candy, at least he thinks he does. But then he'd have to talk to the clerk. What if the clerk is dangerous? Bucky can't handle any more pain or--or--
He turns, a jerking movement that makes his head swim as nausea crawls up his throat. Does he remember how to do this?
Money. Right.
He has some, though he doesn't remember from where and he hasn't counted it. Enough for the candy, he thinks. Is it? Fifty cents is less than a dollar....right? Is that how that still works? He can't... remember anything and he can't function --
What if he's wrong? What if he tries and the clerk tells him he doesn't have enough and Bucky panics--
He takes measured steps to the counter, his blood screaming for him not to bother and to run and his heart in his throat, the candy gripped tight in his hands. Time lapses and he's face to face with a wary cashier.
Bucky's tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and he trembles, breath coming in shallow puffs as he puts the candy on the counter with shaking hands. Is that right? Is he supposed to do that? Put it on the counter?
The cashier takes it, scans it (and the resulting beep makes Bucky jump about ten feet in the air) and accepts the dollar that Bucky--very shakily--gives him.
He gets two quarters back. And a concerned look. Bucky is so relieved he ended up having enough that he can’t find it in himself to say anything. He just pockets the change and candy with shaking hands and flees the store.
~
Bucky doesn't bother with a place to live until he’s free from Hydra's control for long time that he figures out the intricacies (or at least has a gist) of how to live and be okay. But within that time frame, quite a lot happens. Quite a lot--including a certain Sam Wilson.
Something about being inside four walls and a roof makes him feel claustrophobic, and subconsciously Bucky doesn't even consider the prospect until his head is on a bit more straight. Bucky wanders around the streets, alone and confused and trying to get a firm hold on his mind.
A part of him had trouble grasping the concept that he’s a person . Like the people he passes on the street. A human . He always knew that, but it meant something different with Hydra. It meant that he can only function for a set amount of time after being shot during missions before he loses too much blood and passes out. Or that he can only survive so long under water due to lack of air. It always was in relation to his missions, and what he could handle as a lump of biological mass before he would be unable to complete it.
Anyway, he's a person. Which is news to him, in a way.
And he needs certain things. Food, for one. Shelter. Clothing and health services. For those first few confusing months he was just...there. Trying to ward off ghosts and figure out what was going on and who he was. What happened to him. Trying to draw the line between himself--a tool that somehow ditched the toolbox and now wears the same worn clothing he somehow acquired since he'd run away, and sleeps in alleys when he finally listens to his body when it tells him it's exhausted--to Bucky Barnes.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Bucky thinks about that as he curls up under a bridge. He isn't sure how he's gotten there, but here he is. It’s raining, and the cold water slips through his old, stolen clothing and stains his skin, making him shiver. It's not like he notices, though. He's too busy thinking.
James Buchanan Barnes.
That's his name. He has a name . They always used to call him the Asset .
James Buchanan Barnes.
And if he has a name, he must have come from somewhere, right? And if he came from somewhere, someone must know him. Care about him.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
~
Then he finds the museum (and he figures that if he and Steve were as close as the blond implied maybe Bucky is in the museum too, at least in some way shape or form, and he’s hungry for some information about himself, no matter how little) and the exhibit and a picture of himself--large and with information. His birthday. That he was Captain America’s right hand man. That he died, and Steve grieved.
There’s more recent information, seeing as it’s Captain America’s exhibit and Steve is still out and about. A new section. About Sam Wilson.
His credentials (Air Force, Pararescue), the first time he was seen at Cap’s side (when Hydra found them on the highway, along with The Winter Soldier), a short biography (grew up in Harlem, joined the Air Force and was given an honorable discharge), a few stats (5’11 and about 180 pounds.), his birthday (September 23rd, 1978).
How he helped Cap save millions of people.
~
Those first five months are a continuous loop of waking up somewhere he doesn’t remember to wandering about in bone-deep confusion and longing for something he doesn’t remember and can’t put a name to, intense moments of sudden fear/panic/pain, falling asleep somewhere he doesn’t care enough to name, and repeat. He visits the museum a lot.
Sooner or later (he isn’t sure--his concept of time is still screwed up), he acquires a book. It’s small, red and dirty, but it does the job. They taught him to write, which is fortunate, but his handwriting isn’t the best since it’s been utilized maybe five times over the last seventy or so years.
It’s when Bucky drags himself in and out of a public bathroom (after cupping his hands under the sink’s faucet and drinking the water like a dying man, seeing as he has no clue how to read his body's many tells that informed him that he needs water) that he realizes that the weakness he been feeling is in line with his body suffering from hunger.
He takes the pen out of his hooded sweatshirt pocket and the small book from the other. He should write that down before he forgets. No food = weak, light-headed, not good. Not the most articulate note, but Bucky understands it. It's not like anyone else will read it.
~
Bucky finds a park. Well, he’s not so sure he finds it so much as accidentally stumbles across it, but he ends up walking an empty path lined with flowers. It says it’s a butterfly park on the plaques.
He doesn’t see any butterflies, but the flowers are nice.
~
Bucky goes inside grocery stores, usually at night when nobody's there, and he roams the aisles, looking at the food. He has no idea when he’s hungry or not, but he observes the packages like if he looks hard enough he can connect with this era. This time.
He has no idea what half of it is, but he feels like this odd practice of his does...something.
~
A woman in the park lets Bucky pet her dog.
He wouldn’t have even been back on the flower path if he’d had known someone else was on it, but he was caught up staring at this flower (it’s so, so purple ) and didn’t see her until he heard the tinkling of the bell around her dog’s collar.
He starts, eyes trained on her as she gets closer. She’s not a threat, he can see that, but the nervousness winds him up anyway.
Then he sets eyes on the dog. It’s brown, with a curly, fluffy coat and big brown eyes, its tongue lolling out happily as it trots beside its owner. And for some reason the dog makes Bucky brighten, just a bit. It’s cute.
Wow.
“Would you like to pet her?” the woman asks kindly, and Bucky looks at her, surprised that as he’d been staring at the dog, she’d stopped so Bucky could get a closer look. His eyes widen upon being addressed.
“Yeah.” he says, blinking at her. She smiles, gesturing to the dog like she’s saying ‘go ahead’.
Bucky kneels, eye level with the dog as he slowly extends a hand. He scratches at the dog’s head first, smiling lightly as the dog pants in his face and wags its tail, happy for attention. The dog is as soft as it looks, and his fingers trail through curls, feeling the silkiness of the well groomed animal.
“Thanks.” he mumbles, giving her a small smile when he’s done.
“No problem. Have a nice day.” she chirps, then she smiles down to the dog, “Say bye-bye to the nice man, Rocket.”
The dog wags its tail and yips. Bucky smiles and watches them go before turning back to the flowers
~
People stare at him. He stares back.
Their gazes unsettle him sometimes, and sometimes he swears it’s like they know . Who he is. What he’s done. Even though Bucky himself can’t even completely remember.
He makes himself small, hiding his metal hand in a glove he found and hunching into himself, his hat hiding his face, trying to exude vibes of ‘I’m not a threat I’m not a threat I’m not a threat.’ from his very pores . He just wants to be left alone. He isn’t trying to hurt anyone.
He just doesn’t want anyone to hurt him anymore.
~
Bucky finds Sam somewhat by accident.
Though, being him, he isn't sure how 'by accident' it is seeing as there's junk in his head that he never remembers learning, which could mean that he was tracking Sam even subconsciously and not even knowing it.
Either way, his eyes end up catching the man holding three large bags of groceries. He's also on the phone. He wonders where Steve is. Why isn’t he with Sam?
Bucky remembers him almost as soon as he sees him. He ripped his wing off. And kicked him off a ledge.
He seems so normal, and yet Bucky watches him, taking in the subtle ticks that give away just how capable he truly is under that 'doe-eyed civilian' look. And how traumatized , just like Steve. Like Bucky .
Though maybe Sam hides it much better. Bucky still sees it though.
The groceries look heavy. Should Bucky help? He's not sure.
He decides to stay hidden.
~
He watches Sam at first. He watches Sam walk to the store and feed the birds on his windowsill every morning. He watches Sam carry groceries home and smile when he sees more birds outside his window than the morning before. He watches Sam receive little gifts from the birds he feeds, little rocks, strange and shiny odds and ends that they bring him simply because Sam is kind enough to care for them. He watches Sam's face light up no matter what junk the birds bring.
Bucky wonders if he keeps it all. Probably.
He watches Sam dodge people who remember him from the last time Captain America made the news.
Sam is...nice. A fighter, like Steve, but gentle. Kind. And it turns out Sam had Bucky figured out since the second day he started rising early from his little corner on the alley floor nearest to Sam's apartment and shadowing him during the day. And that says a lot, that Sam simply went about his usual routines while knowing a dangerous former assassin was watching his every move.
And it also means a lot that Sam never tried to force Bucky to turn himself in or see Steve. Captain America.
Bucky decides that he likes Sam. Sam always gets chocolate ice cream from the parlor two blocks away. Sam pets stray dogs and smiles at people who say good morning to him. Sam returns the small child that slipped from their mother’s sight back to their parents. Yeah, Bucky likes Sam. He's been watching Sam for two weeks when he sees him come out of his home one evening, a box in his arms. Bucky perks up in interest from where he stands across the street in the space between two buildings, hidden by shadows.
Sam puts the box down and folds his arms, looking around before his gaze lands right on Bucky's general vicinity.
He starts tapping on his arm, and Bucky recognizes the Morse code before his brain even processes what's going on.
If you won't come in at least take these.
Sam taps the message all the way through again, and then he turns and enters the building, like he hasn't done anything at all. Bucky stands there, stunned. But he trusts Sam. Sam doesn't seem like a person that would hurt him. Or even try to.
Bucky likes Sam. He moves, wound tight as a spring as he shuffles across the street and to the steps. This is the closest to Sam he's been since he started watching him. Shaking hands in ratty gloves reach toward the box, numbly opening the flaps.
Clothes. Thick, warm clothes, and at the bottom, three large containers of steaming warm food. A battery operated heated blanket. Gloves. Boots. Socks. Deodorant. Canned soup. Wet wipes. Water. A box of hot cocoa mix and a heating thermos to make it in. Bucky bets the thermos is meant to be used for the soup too.
(And eventually Bucky snaps himself out of it and moves off of Sam's front steps, the looks he's getting from passerby making him skittish while confirming his thoughts that he doesn't belong and that everyone knows he less than a person. What they made him.)
Bucky quickly takes the box, shuffling across the street and back to his alley, looking behind him to find Sam watching him from his front window, an approving look on his face.
Bucky eats the food that night, suddenly realizing how incredibly hungry he is. It's delicious: rice, some sort of saucy, delicious stewed meat and a vegetable he's never had before. Or at least doesn’t remember. It's amazing, it's so warm and the flavor makes some formerly thought long-dead part of Bucky's brain light up due to the fact that his tastebuds are finally being put to use. He puts on the hat Sam left him, and the gloves before examining the shirts and coat. They seem to be his size. The jeans too. Lined with some sort of fleece.
Sam was watching him too.
Sam gave him these. Bucky tried to kill him and Sam...gave him food. Clothes.
That...doesn't balance out.
Sam should hate him.
Be afraid of him, probably. Like everyone else is. And yet, that is not the man's reaction.
He knew Bucky was watching him and he didn't call the police. He didn't call people who would hurt him. Sam chose to try to help him.
So when Bucky, days later, spots a suspicious looking man that he thinks he may remember from... before , he doesn’t hesitate to drag the man into the alley, knock him out and check his pockets. He has a few things in his coat that make Bucky’s blood run cold.
Hydra file on Sam Wilson (and that nearly spins Bucky into a panic because if Hydra has a file on Sam it means they've gotten close enough to really get a good look at him). And a fully loaded .45.
Bucky suffocates him. Then hides the body somewhere he can find it to move it later.
This man wants to kill Sam, and he can't do that if he's dead. Bucky's mission was simple, all he had to do was complete it. And he did. Sam is safe now, and now that Bucky is no longer being given missions, he can take on his own. Right.
Sam is his mission. Protecting Sam. Sam is good, and Steve isn’t here, so Bucky will take over until he comes back.
And that leads to another thought.
If he interacts with Sam, he can do so in a more effective manner.
Possibility of saving Sam is 96% more likely if he's close . He will be able to better protect Sam if he walked with Sam to the grocery store every Wednesday, or to the bar or the mall. Or wherever. Trying to stay out of sight isn't helping his cause too much.
So, because this makes sense to him, a few weeks and a few boxes of food and clothes from Sam later Bucky crawls into Sam’s kitchen from the window and stands in the dark corner until Sam wakes up and comes stumbling from his bedroom, sleep clinging to him like a blanket. He finds his way to the coffeemaker, and Bucky figures he should say something. Sam doesn’t even know he’s here--
“You want coffee?” Sam asks, not even glancing at him. Bucky looks at him for a moment, eyes raking over Wilson’s form. He wears a worn t-shirt and soft pants. He looks comfortable, and Bucky finds himself happy about that.
“And do you wanna get out of those clothes?” Sam adds, pouring a cup, “I have more that oughtta fit you...”
"You're the one that flies." Bucky says, voice hoarse from disuse. He hasn't spoken to anyone in ages . He takes out his book slowly, to make a note.
Not talking makes his throat hurt. Noted.
"Uh, yeah." Sam blinks, and Bucky can't help but stare holes into him, "What's that?"
Sam's pointing to the book.
"My instructions." Bucky says simply.
"Instructions?"
"So I don't forget how to do things."
"Like what?" Sam asks, looking genuinely interested. Something about that makes Bucky jump to explain.
Sam is interested in something he has to say.
And for some reason that's important .
"How to shop. Or brush my teeth. Or what happens when I don't eat for a while." Bucky mumbles, "Stuff like that. So I don't forget."
"Great idea." Sam says, with a small smile. Bucky's head snaps up to look at him.
What?
"Huh?" Bucky asks, dazed.
"It's a great idea." Sam says easily, moving to open the fridge, "Writing things like that down. Smart."
Bucky stares at him.
Those aren't words he would attribute to himself, but if Sam says it...maybe it's true.
And if Sam says that, maybe Bucky isn't doing everything wrong after all.
Oh, right. When someone says something like that he's supposed to say thank you.
He wrote that down a few weeks ago. It’s something he remembered.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
For some reason he suddenly can't think of anything except how soft Sam's skin looks. He wonders how it feels to touch him. Just...press his fingers to the skin of his arm or cheek.
Bucky has this thing with texture and touch, the need to run his fingers over things. See how they feel. And people too, though he suppresses that urge. The last time he touched anyone was about two weeks ago, and it was a woman in a fur coat. Bucky timidly brushed his fingers over the fur of her hood as he passed her while he shadowed Sam while he went to the mall.
It was soft. Silky, almost.
"So what have you been doing these days?" Sam asks, looking at him curiously, sipping his coffee.
"Learning." Bucky tells him.
"Learning what?"
"How to be."
Sam nods, "How's that been going?
"I...don't know."
It's the truth, Bucky has no idea if he's been doing anything right. Has he been eating the right things? Saying the right things? He has no idea.
Everything about being a human is something he knows very little about. He's learning all the time.
"Well you look okay, so you're probably doing a pretty good job." Sam says, smiling lightly.
"Really?" Bucky asks, both timid and defensive.
Sam nods, "Yep. You've been taking care of yourself. That's admirable."
Bucky looks at him, “I don't know what to say to that.” he says simply. And it's true, he doesn't have anything written down in the way of a hint.
“It's cool. You don’t have to say anything .” Sam says easily, “Just know you're doing pretty well.”
Bucky levels him with a stare, face blank. He doesn't know what to say. Sam doesn't seem to notice, moving around the kitchen to make breakfast.
“Where's Steve?” Bucky deadpans, pocketing the book and looking around. He knows what he hopes the answer will be, but Bucky waits for Sam to stop and answer. The man pauses, eggs in his hand and eyes on Bucky, who still stands in the corner of the kitchen.
And Bucky finds himself annoyed at the blond. Where is he? Why is Sam alone? Especially now that he’s on Hydra’s radar? Clearly Sam has been playing civilian for a while, even before this, so that means Sam was out of duty for a while, before he showed up with his wings, making Bucky wonder about him.
“He's...dealing with some stuff.” Sam tells him, and Bucky catches the wrinkle of worry in his brow. Dangerous, then.
“And he left you here?” Bucky asks, feeling a tinge of anger.
“No.” Sam says pointedly, “I'm supposed to be continuing our work to find someone.”
“Who?” Bucky asks, though he has an idea.
“You.” Sam confirms, and though the topic is a bit on the shaky side for Bucky, Sam's gap-toothed smile calms the tensed muscles of his shoulders, “Though you’re making it easy for me, man. I haven’t had to keep up with you for weeks, since you’ve been stalking me .”
“Why aren't you with Steve ?” Bucky asks, voice quiet.
“Because we're working on different things.”
“Not good. He should be protecting you.”
“First off, I can protect myself , thanks--”
“Not against Hydra. You're on their radar now--”
“And I'll deal with this problem myself, thanks.”
“You don't understand! They'll hurt you!” Bucky urges, eyes going wide in panic and arms waving slightly in emotion, “They’re monsters and they’re dangerous . They hate everyone not like them and they really don't like coloured people and--”
Sam pauses, and Bucky holds his breath, hoping he's gotten through to him about how dangerous--
“Barnes.” Sam says, turning to him and looking him in the eyes, all traces of any smile long gone, “You don't ever ,” he says, emphasis on every word, “Call me coloured .”
Bucky stills. Oh.
Oh?
Bucky is unsure whether to ask why simply because he doesn't want to seem like he's even considering not heeding Sam's words. He accepts what Sam says, because Sam has no reason to lie to him, so he should never call anyone that (which is confusing because it was okay before , at least he thinks so? Maybe it was never okay...) but he doesn’t know why--
A part of Bucky panics. He did something wrong didn't he? Why doesn't he know what to say?
And as soon as that question enters his head, it's answered. Hydra wouldn't bother to put any information in his head that could be used to help their weapon blend in with modern society . That would imply that he's something other than a weapon.
And Hydra couldn't have that. That, and the fact that they’re fucking nazis . He feels that familiar and intense rush of hatred for them.
“I'm sorry.”
“When referring to my race--or anyone like me--you can use black or African-American.” Sam says, “Not coloured. Ever. Okay?”
“Okay.” Bucky says, hand dipping into his pocket for his notebook.
Sam watches for a moment.
“What are you doing?” he asks. Bucky nods.
“Making a note...” Bucky mumbles, “'s important.”
Sam nods, watching him slowly before he turns back to the stove, cracking the eggs.
“Sorry about that.” Bucky says, “I...they didn't tell me how to... function and what I shouldn't say, or what’s bad or...or not. Thanks for correcting me.”
“I think that's the most you've said since I walked into my kitchen to you standing in the corner.” Sam muses, throwing away an eggshell, “In the dark, no less.” he adds, eyes narrowing before he mumbles, “With your dramatic ass...”
”Steve should be with you.” Bucky tells him, spark of anxiety back in his voice, “Hydra is-”
“Really bad. Really racist.” Sam acknowledges, looking at Bucky (and strangely enough Bucky can't help but feel like Sam really heard him and really understands, though his own panic has him still trying to get the point across), “Got it. I promise to be careful. Scout’s honor.”
“That's not enough .” Bucky says, stressed, “It's not--”
“You like pancakes?” Sam asks suddenly, opening a cupboard. Bucky pauses in confusion before he tries again.
“Hydra is--”
“You--” Sam says, interrupting him and therefore derailing his panic, “--need to be worrying about whether you like pancakes or not. Not Hydra. Not right now .”
And Bucky bites his lip in frustration because, fuck, Hydra is the reason he can't remember whether he likes pancakes or not--
“Just...don't worry about me, okay? You have to look out for yourself. You’re your priority, okay? And I don’t mean to undermine how dangerous they are or anything, and I know you definitely have more than enough reason to be wary...Hey, can you pass me a mixing bowl?” Sam asks, like having Bucky there is completely normal.
And he doesn't know that for some reason Bucky can't stop worrying about him.
And Bucky--completely out of his depth--gingerly opens the cabinet Sam points to before he asks, “Which one?”
“The red one.” Sam says.
Bucky reaches for it, hands it to him, and feels incredibly accomplished.
~
Turns out, Bucky likes pancakes quite a lot.
~
Bucky tells Sam about the store. Buying the candy. He’s not too sure why, he just thinks that’s the best instance that'll give Sam some idea of how Bucky... is now. How he acts and what’s difficult for him. Maybe Sam can fill in some of the blanks. The parts that Bucky can’t get quite right by himself.
“So if you like candy, why didn't you buy more?” Sam asks, brows furrowed slightly. Sam sits on the couch, and Bucky paces, hands wringing as he stumbles through words and half-thoughts.
“I...I didn't know if I had enough.” Bucky rasps.
“Enough money?”, Sam looks at the bills in his hands that Bucky has hastily handed him as he told his story, then back at Bucky, “You have $180 here.”
Bucky balks, face coloring in shame, “I wasn't sure . And I...I didn’t want to deal with whatever happened if...if I was wrong.”
Sam nods, “I understand. It's okay.” then he pauses before he adds, “When I first got out the army I ended up only eating microwave meals because it didn’t cross my mind that I could make anything else . And I didn’t want to have to ask someone either. So I kinda get it. It’s okay. I'm going to the store in an hour, I can get you some more if you want. You should sleep. You look exhausted, and I promise I'll be back soon.”
Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide, “Can't leave you alone.”
Sam looks at him, somewhat offended, “What, why not?”
“Have to keep you safe.”
“Says who?”
“It's my mission.” Bucky says, like that's all the explanation he needs to provide.
“Mission from who?” Sam asks.
“Myself.”
~
Bucky ends up trailing after Sam all day, eyes taking in the packaging of foods he doesn’t even remember ever seeing, much less eating.
Some people give him odd looks, but Sam never shows any sort of concern at being seen by Bucky’s side. He picks out food and talks about how he’ll prepare it, and Bucky listens, soaking up the information and keeping an eye out for danger.
~
Sam sets Bucky up on the couch that night. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know whether Bucky will stay the entire night (he seems a bit jumpy in smaller spaces, blue eyes darting about as he shuffled around), but he decides to do so anyway, if for no other reason than to reinforce the idea that Bucky could stay if he wanted.
Sam throws three pillows onto the couch along with a nice, fluffy fleece blanket. Bucky however, doesn’t really seem to get it, because he follows Sam to the stairs that lead to Sam’s room.
“What--” Sam stutters, surprised to see Bucky following him. Bucky stands there, looking at Sam like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“What are you doing?” Sam asks slowly, sounding puzzled. Bucky blinks at him.
“Securing you.” he answers.
“Securing me.” Sam repeats, before he asks, “Where did this whole ‘protect Sam’ mission come from anyway? I can protect myself.”
Bucky blinks at him, “You should have someone looking out for you. Bad people are everywhere.”
Sam’s brows furrow, “I know, I just...why you? Why is this your job?”
Bucky shrugs, “It’s gotta be.”
“Why?”
“It just does.”
Sam looks at him, expression neutral.
“Well, you’re not watching me sleep .” Sam tells him, “And you’re not sleeping in my bed. So sure, ‘secure me’, just don’t make too much noise, I’m exhausted.”
Bucky moves to follow him up the stairs.
Sam heads for the bathroom, and Bucky checks all available windows and locks while Sam brushes his teeth, watching Bucky out of the corner of his eye. When Sam slips into bed, Bucky stands in the doorway until Sam’s breaths deepen into light snores. He guesses Sam changes his mind about letting Bucky watch him sleep.
Then he checks the locks downstairs.
Then he stands by Sam’s door again.
~
The first night Bucky stays up all night, and in turn, regrets it. Sam has to go to the VA for something, and Bucky needs to go with him and make sure he's safe and Bucky can hardly keep his eyes open.
He accidentally falls asleep on the couch for hours, and by the time he wakes up Sam is back and standing over the stove, humming to some soft music that sounds like it's coming from...everywhere? Bucky startles, glancing around nervously.
“It's the surround sound.” Sam tells him, standing in the doorway with a remote control for the radio in hand, “It makes it sound like the music is all around you. Is it bothering you? Do you want me to turn it off?”
Bucky shakes his head. It's better now, knowing what it is.
He watches Sam cook.
~
“Gay people can get married.” Bucky says after dinner, eyes on the television. Sam can see he's watching the news. It’s low, and he’s more surprised that Bucky actually took him up on the offer to watch TV. When it turned on Bucky had jumped about twelve feet in the air, and Sam quickly dimmed the brightness and turned the volume down before handing Bucky the remote, explaining about channels, and that he could choose what he wanted to watch.
Bucky kind of remembers TVs. He remembers Hydra agents looking at screens while they worked on him, though Sam told him that those were probably computers, and that they’re similar, but different things.
After a long moment--Bucky tears his eyes from the screen and looks at him, “Is that word okay? For me to say? Gay?”
Sam nods, “That word is fine. More of an identifier than a slur.”
Bucky nods, pulls out his notebook and scribbles that down. That's something he should remember.
“You okay?” Sam asks, looking both on edge and concerned.
Bucky looks at him (and realizes Sam looks a bit small without his wings) and nods.
“Yeah. I just didn't think it would ever happen.” he tells him, “I mean...there were guys who got discharged or arrested for being with other guys. And now they can get married.” Bucky finishes softly, “I missed so much.”
Sam sighs, nods.
“You did. But you get to witness what's going on now.” he offers.
Bucky looks at Sam Wilson, and decides he's right.
~
Bucky writes down things about Sam. He rereads his notes whenever he can. Which is unnecessary because when it comes to Sam, Bucky never forgets a single thing.
~
“You’re in the museum,” Bucky says one day. He’s been here for about three and a half weeks, and as a result knows Sam’s routine, and how he sticks to it.
Bucky considers coming up with his own routine. They seem to help Sam.
Sam stops stirring the food on the stove, giving Bucky an alarmed look, “What?”
“You’re in the--” Bucky starts.
“I heard you, I just--” Sam says hastily, sounding both surprised and panicked, “But... why? What about me is in the museum ?” he asks, brows furrowing, “And which museum?”
“The Smithsonian.” Bucky tells him, taking in the man’s concern, “Next to Captain America’s exhibit. You’re his new right hand man.”
And he doesn't mean anything by it. Not at all. He knew he and Steve used to be that, but Bucky is actively avoiding him, so someone has to fill the role, and he knows Sam is the best one for the job. He’s glad they have each other, even though he’s confused and mad that Steve isn’t with Sam every second of every day.
But even that’s a good thing, he guesses, because Bucky gets to be here with Sam in his absence. So that’s nice.
Sam opens and closes his mouth.
“It has information about you being in the Air Force. And that you grew up in Harlem. Uhm, it has footage of you flying, and some speculation about how you control your wings.” Bucky continues, “Has your stats too. How many missions you flew and stuff like that.”
Sam is silent, looking at Bucky with hesitant brown eyes.
“Oh.” he says, brows furrowed as he puts the spoon down, “Okay...”
Bucky blinks at him, face carefully blank, “Is that okay?”
Sam gives him an unsure look, “I...don’t know.” he confesses, “I’ll have to think about it.”
Bucky nods.
~
Bucky finds Sam pacing his room, talking to Steve. He knows it’s Steve because he calls the other person on the line ‘Cap’. He doesn’t catch too much of the conversation but he hears Sam end the call with a promise to tell Steve anything if something comes up.
“You didn't tell Steve I was here.” Bucky says as he shuffles up to the door, brows furrowed.
Sam looks at him, somewhat confused, “You said you didn't want me to.”
“I know, but...I just…”Bucky trails off.
“I get what you mean.” Sam says, after a moment, “It's cool. I’m not going to tell him. Not if you don’t want me to.”
Bucky looks at him before his voice goes quiet and he looks away.
“Thanks.”
He means it.
~
They’re eating dinner when Bucky asks.
“Sam?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam from where he sits across the table, “Are you gay?”
Sam calmly stops eating, putting his fork down and looking at Bucky evenly.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I am. I think.” Bucky tells him. He wouldn't say he's nervous to say this, especially not to Sam because he trusts him, but mostly because Bucky at this point has been through so much that he doesn't care.
“You think you're gay.” Sam repeats thoughtfully, “You know it doesn't matter, right? There are still bigots, but you'll be okay. Especially since you can defend yourself. It’s nothing to hide or anything, especially if you don’t want to.”
“I know.” Bucky says.
Sam nods, looking at Bucky intently.
“But are you?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious, “I saw your phone. The picture? With you and Steve--”
“We're not--” Sam blurts out, before he gathers himself, “We're not...anything.”
Bucky blinks at him, “Why not?”
Sam looks at him, surprised.
“We just...aren't.” Sam mumbles.
“I think Steve’s gay. He likes you. Like that.” Bucky says simply, going back to his food.
“What?”
“He likes you.” Bucky repeats, “He does that stupid half smile-grin thing he always used to do with fellas and dames he liked.”
Sam blinks at him, “So you remember that? Some stuff from before?”
“A bit.” Bucky shrugs, shoving more food in his mouth.
Sam nods, looking away. Bucky is quiet for a moment, unsure what else to say. It’s Sam that speaks again.
“There isn’t just gay, you know.” he says, looking at Bucky, “There’s bisexual, where you like men and women. And pansexual, where--”
He stops, Bucky’s expression making him smile in amusement.
“I’m confusing you.” Sam chuckles. Bucky blinks at him.
“But do you like Steve?” Bucky asks, and Sam rubs a hand down his face, laughing nervously.
“I’m trying to get you caught up with the times and you’re asking whether I wanna kiss Captain America.”
“Do you?” Bucky asks, “I think he wants to kiss you.”
Sam sighs, “Where did you even get that from, man?”
“He looks at you like he wants to kiss you.”
Sam looks at Bucky, looking uncertain, “And you know how that looks from forever ago, huh?”
Bucky nods. Sam shakes his head, face going hot as he looks away, brown eyes avoiding Bucky’s steady gaze.
“There’s more rice on the stove.” Sam says after a moment, “Want some?”
Bucky nods.
~
When Sam ends up being attacked in the parking lot of some food store Bucky has long since forgotten the name of, Bucky is thankful he's there. Granted, the first man that walked up to Sam and attempted to pull a gun ended up disarmed by Sam and promptly knocked unconscious and on his ass quicker that Bucky could blink, but the second comes out of Sam's blind spot and Bucky slyly knifes him, dumps him behind the dumpster in the parking lot, tells Sam to go home (which results in a 27 minute argument where Sam refuses to do so and Bucky is trying to explain that he has to hide the body and it'll be easier to do that if he's alone ) and then covers his tracks.
He walks back to Sam’s and the man lets him in with no hesitation.
~
“How many times have you had to do that for me?” Sam asks. He doesn't look angry, or sad. Just curious.
“Just one other time.”
“Another Hydra agent?”
“Yeah."
Sam nods, looking at his hands, “Are you alright?”
Bucky nods, shrugs, “Yeah, why?”
Sam blinks at him, “Just asking.”
“Okay.”
~
“Okay, you're in charge of laundry.” Sam says the next day, “This is a hamper, all the dirty clothes go in it. I'm gonna show you how to work the washer and dryer.”
Bucky nods, pulling his hair out of his face, happy to have something to do. The majority of the dirty clothes are Bucky's (though Sam has some sweaters in there) and Sam shows him the controls on the machines, teaching him how to set them to his preference, and voila, Bucky ends up mastering a normal thing like laundry.
It's a small thing but it helps him feel better. That maybe he isn't as bad at this as he thought.
~
Bucky stands over the kitchen sink, twisting the two knobs and trying to adjust the water.
“Nope.” Sam says, nudging him out of the way, “I do dishes.”
“Can't I try?” Bucky asks.
“You want to wash dishes?” Sam asks in disbelief.
Bucky shrugs, “Yeah.”
“Fine. They're all yours.” Sam concedes, “You just use the dish soap and soap them up, rinse them off and put them on the drainer like this.” he demonstrates.
Bucky aces that too.
~
“Can you clear the windowsill for me?” Sam asks, “Put everything on the coffee table?”
Bucky clears the area, putting all the birdfeeders to the side and leaving the middle clear. The breeze comes through the window, a bit cold though pleasant.
“Why?” Bucky asks once he’s done. He’s not used to being able to ask that. Why.
So he’s been doing it more often.
“Because if it's not clear the little drama queens will just peck at that stuff.” Sam tells him.
Almost as if on cue, a bird flies onto the windowsill, making a ‘peep!’ sound and tapping her beak against the shiny stone she's placed on the sill next to her. Bucky expects the bird to fly off, but Sam approaches it, feeding it some seed out of his hand and petting down windblown feathers. The bird pushes the rock toward Sam, peeping again.
“Aw thanks, buddy.” Sam smiles, and the bird makes a satisfied sound before eating some more from Sam’s hand and flying off.
“It got you a rock?” Bucky asks quietly looking over Sam's shoulder at the stone.
“Seems so.” he grins, dropping it in Bucky's hand.
During the course of the day the birds bring Sam five rocks, two paperclips, one shiny blue jewel, a nickel and three snapple tops.
Bucky feeds a red breasted robin.
~
“He’s wondering where you are, you know.” Sam says.
Bucky’s been there for two months, and has long since found the room where Steve put his Hydra file, along with any clues about where he could be. Every now and again he finds himself in that room, though he isn’t sure why. It’s not like he reads the file. He doesn’t think he could deal with it.
(‘I haven’t read it.’ Sam has said when he found Bucky in there, looking at the file with wide eyes. Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.)
“I know.” Bucky says, then he looks at the boxes piled by the door in question. They’ve clearly been placed in there to be used again, if need be.
“Reporters found my old place.” Sam says, “So I moved here for a bit. I’m not even supposed to be here long, but we knew you didn’t leave DC yet, thanks to some intelligence Natasha sent our way.” Sam says, “But you found me, so I don’t really have any work to do anymore.”
“And Steve is…?”
“Dealing with some disaster with the Avengers.”
The Avengers. He recognizes the name, and makes a mental note to do some research.
Bucky knows what Steve expects. Steve expects Bucky to be who he was, and he can’t be that simply because too much has happened and he doesn’t remember who he was. He doesn't remember James Buchanan Barnes. How can he be him?
But Sam? Sam doesn’t have a point of reference for who Bucky was, and he wouldn’t know how much he’s changed like Steve would. Sam just knows him as he currently is, and for some reason that means a lot, and it makes Bucky more comfortable with Sam.
That, and the man’s easy-going personality. The fact that he doesn’t judge. No matter what Bucky says to him about everything that’s happened he just...doesn’t turn him away. He tells Bucky it wasn’t his fault, and when Sam--having been shaken awake from nightmares one night--tells him about Riley he tells him the same thing.
Because it’s true . Just because Sam was up there doesn’t mean that he could have saved him. And though Bucky doesn’t say it, he’s selfishly glad that Sam made it out of that fight alive and unharmed, if short a best friend.
The world would have really lost something special if it lost Sam Wilson.
~
Bucky reads. Anything he can get his hands on. They wouldn’t let him read in Siberia, where they kept him, (there’s no reason for a weapon to have knowledge of any kind, and Bucky is just relearning what it means to be able to do things recreationally) and now that he’s free he reads everything he can. The Autobiography of Malcolm X (that was his favorite), A Tale of Two Cities (which he hated), The Outsiders (which made him cry like a huge baby), The Grapes of Wrath (which he didn’t finish), The Complete Cases of Sherlock Holmes (he speeds through that quicker than anything else).
He uses the internet (and of course, Sam had to show him how, though Bucky was a quick learner) and from there learns about pop culture, social justice politics and even a bit of knowledge about music. He listens to Sam’s entire spotify playlist and finds out he really likes that group The Fugees.
(He finds that dame, Lauryn Hill, really pretty too.)
He learns about all sorts of things, and Bucky savors the steady trickle of knowledge that these things open him up to.
(It also makes him extra embarrassed when he remembers the fact that he called Sam coloured not too long ago. Jesus, what was he thinking? How was his brain that fried? He’d read up about race relations and cringed so hard he almost chipped his teeth with how tight he had his jaw clenched in mortification )
He apologizes again for that, and Sam just narrows his eyes at him and tells him to pass him the ladle for the curry he’s currently making.
Bucky ends up helping with the cooking a lot too. Sam makes a lot of different things, but mostly West Indian food, which Bucky really likes. He could live on stew chicken, he learns.
~
Sam hears fireworks one evening and has a panic attack right in the kitchen. Bucky himself had jumped about ten feet in the air, but very quickly composed himself and took a deep breath, recognizing where he was and trying to remember the date and why fireworks would be lit in the first place.
Then he turns in his seat and sees Sam, who stands there wide-eyed and frozen still, not even breathing until Bucky reaches for him (not knowing what to do but not letting himself do nothing either). As soon as Bucky's hands touch suddenly clammy skin gone ice cold Sam jumps again as another crack goes off, a scream tearing free from his throat.
He's never heard Sam raise his voice, much less scream , that far off look of terror on his face making Bucky's stomach form into a hunk of ice as he moves even closer, arms outstretched ready to...Bucky doesn't know, hug him? Hold him? Pull him close and try to block out the jarring sounds?
Turns out, all three. As soon as Bucky's arms wrap around Sam (and maybe he should have thought about that more, what if Sam had an issue with being restrained?) the other man curls into him with a whimper, trembling almost violently. Sam feels small like this.
Another firework. Another wilted scream of panic from Sam as he covers his ears.
Bucky holds him close and grits his teeth, anger bubbling up because why won't they stop? Who is even firing these things?
Bucky decides he hates them, whoever they are.
~
Sam recovers about an hour after they've stopped, shaking as he sniffles and pushes Bucky away, embarrassment plain on his face.
“Sorry.” Sam mumbles, turning away and stumbling to his feet.
“Why?” Bucky asks.
Sam shrugs.
“Don’t be.” Bucky tells him. Sam looks away, but nods.
~
Bucky starts calling Sam ‘doll’.
He doesn't notice it until Sam points it out, and when he thinks about it he remembers calling people that, such a long time ago. People he liked. Pretty people.
And Sam is pretty.
Sam doesn't object, and in fact he looks thrilled that Bucky remembers something. That some more remnants of his personality is showing through.
~
He’s with Sam for about four months. Sam gently suggests therapy. The VA.
Bucky refuses, saying that he’d like to just...be, for now. If he can. Try to figure out what he can for himself. He doesn't trust anyone else (other than Sam) yet.
He feebly gets a handle on who he is, and what life is now. How to blend through life as seamlessly as he can manage, being who he is. So when Steve calls and Sam ends up being told he’s an Avenger now, and that Steve is coming to get him and bring him back to base after Sokovia has quit hovering among the clouds, Bucky is ready to leave.
He isn’t sure he wants to, but he knows he has to. That he's better equipped now. He chooses a place and settles on it, making a plan on how to get there.
Steve will be there to get Sam in two days, and Sam packs, putting things in storage and preparing. He knows Sam wants to ask, if Bucky will stay and talk to Steve, or if he’ll run off again.
And Bucky would stay--simply because Sam wants him to--but he has to figure this out. Who he is now. What happened to him and how it turned him into what he is. He needs to be on his own. Establish his own routines, figure out how to function as a sole entity. He can’t see Steve right now. He has to try and remember.
He needs to be alone. If he can’t stay with only Sam, he has to be alone.
Steve will...expect things. And Bucky can’t deal with that. Not now. And it won’t be forever, but he might not be able to manage it for a while .
~
“You’re leaving.” Sam says, voice carefully even.
“Steve is coming to get you.” Bucky says, zipping the duffel he’d asked Sam if he could have, “I can’t be here when he gets here. And you don’t need me to protect you anymore so--”
He knows Sam feels like he’s ditching Bucky for Steve, and he never wanted Sam to feel like that, but he can’t stay, and he can’t let Steve see him. Not at this point.
He needs time.
“I never needed you to protect me.” Sam says moodily, upset that Bucky’s leaving, though he’s loathe to admit it, “I’m just...gonna miss the help around the kitchen.”
Bucky smiles at him, “With Steve you’ll be too busy to do all that cooking, getting into firefights and all.”
Sam folds his arms, looking away, “I guess.”
“Aw, don’t miss me too much, doll.” Bucky smiles, “I’ll see you real soon.”
Sam scoffs.
“I know you like me.” Bucky grins, and Sam gets that content look he gets on his face on the rare moments Bucky gets cheeky, “It’s okay--”
“Oh yeah, because I’m just pining for you.” Sam says sarcastically and dramatically, “I’ll be heartbroken if I can’t watch you chew your food with your mouth open one last time .”
Bucky chuckles, slowly reaching up to run his thumb along Sam’s cheekbone, savoring the feeling of his skin. The feeling of Sam under his fingers. Bucky stops and looks at Sam, taking in the almost too-big sweater he wears and how he’s folded his arms, the sleeves too long and slipping over his hands.
“He better protect you.” Bucky grumbles more to himself than anyone else. Steve has always been reckless, and a punk, but hopefully he’s more careful with Sam. He better , or Bucky will show up just to kick his ass.
“He doesn’t need to.” Sam says, rolling his eyes, “I’m pissed at you for leaving, by the way. In case you didn’t pick up on that.”
Bucky huffs a quiet, sad laugh (because while he’s choosing to leave Sam he really doesn't want to) and nods. Yeah, fine. True. Sam is more than capable of taking care of himself.
"Thank you.” he says quietly, moving closer to gently press a soft kiss to Sam’s cheek. He’d thought about doing that for a while, and it’s really just his luck that he finally does it when he has to go. The moment lingers and settles, fragile and sweet. Sam blinks surprised brown eyes at him when they part, and he has a look on his face that Bucky has never seen before.
It’s tender.
“You’re welcome.” Sam says, eyes soft and tone genuine before he slips the facade back into place, “And yuck, man. Did you just kiss me? Gross.”
Bucky laughs, loud and long. He hasn’t done that in a while.
~
Bucky sticks around the alley he used to sleep in across the street to make sure no trouble crosses Sam’s path until Steve arrives at Sam’s door, knocking and looking around with a protective air that tells Bucky that Sam is in good hands.
That he’ll be okay. Steve will look out for him.
Then he makes his way to Bucharest.
~
A year later he ends up behind Sam in a VW buggy while Steve (rather awkwardly) flirts with a blond.
“Can you move your seat up?”
“No.“
(Ah. Sam’s still sour at him for leaving.)
Bucky fakes a grumble and moves to the other side, looking at
Sam and holding back a smile. And the urge to kiss him.
Maybe later.
Definitely later.