Chapter Text
Bucky twirled, rocked, dipped, swayed, and sashayed Sam around the room through four different songs before Sam acknowledged a very distinct, disturbing pattern to this playlist.
Had he….?
No. Of course, he hadn’t.
But-
Nope. No way.
Buuut…
Had he…crap!
Under the guise of getting Bucky caught up with current culture, had Sam inadvertently made his partner the modern-day version of the mixed tape of his youth–one full of sappy, maudlin love songs intended to tug, pluck, and caress the heartstrings? Was this…this some subconscious ploy to woo Bucky through the art of music?
The controlled, rational part of his brain said no. The gleeful, snarky part that suddenly sounded an awful lot like Sarah, rolled its eyes and hollered, “How are you this dumb, Sam?!”
It started with Paula Abdul’s “Rush, Rush”, Bucky murmuring a broken but excited “Sammy! You stormed the mother-fuckin’ castle for me?” before sweeping Sam into his strong, entirely too capable arms for a warm embrace that started with a gentle lift off his feet and turned into dance number one. “I’ve been waiting half my life to spin you ‘round this room. Whaddaya say, Sweetheart?”
And yeah, Sam probably should have put a halt to it all, shut the music down and forced Bucky to communicate; but he was too damned happy to see the man alive and thriving instead of clutching his chest and breathing his last thanks to a random, gawdforsaken neurotoxin. Sam immediately caved against the hard contours of Bucky’s body; undone by a mess of tangled emotions he couldn’t begin to decipher. There was relief that made tears burn in the back of his throat. There was irritation because what the fuck even was any of this shit? Exhilaration because Bucky had literally swept him off his feet and Sam didn’t quite know how he felt about that. Worry because what if Yelena was wrong, this moment the calm before the storm, Bucky’s serum a knock-off that could never be relied on to react the same as Steve’s or even Walker’s. Curiosity…had Bucky held Ava Starr this close while dancing? Confusion, because why was that even a thought he was having? Joy because it had been two damned weeks since he’d seen Bucky and that was 14 days too long. Misery because it had been two damned weeks since he’d seen Bucky and that was 14 days too long.
Instead of navigating any of that, it was easier to do what he always did: ignore his feelings as he fell into the natural rhythm of his bond with Bucky, even if that natural rhythm usually involved more talking shit and less…well, moving rhythmically. Paula turned into Orleans’ “Dance with Me” and huh…Sam hadn’t quite remembered putting that one on Bucky’s playlist, but it was obviously there and pretty fitting, so he went with it, arms around Bucky’s neck, forehead falling to his shoulder as he let Bucky lead them in an undulation of limbs that was probably closer than his mama would have called appropriate. “I knew you’d find me,” Bucky said with a deep rumble that Sam felt in his own chest. Sam pulled slightly away so that he could search the other man’s expression, suddenly reminded of why he’d come in the first place. Bucky’s frantic phone call as he uttered goodbye. “Hey now.” Sam reached up, gently tilting Bucky’s stubbled chin so that he could meet bright but unfocused eyes. “Look at me, Buck. You know you misunderstood what you heard the doctor say, right? You’re not gonna die.”
Eyes flew open wide. “I’m gonna die?”
“No, dammit!” Sam rushed out. “That’s exactly the opposite of what I just said.”
“But it’s an option? You wouldn’t have said-”
“I’m trying to comfort you. You’re not gonna die.”
“Who thought I was gonna die?”
“I did, which is why I’m here-”
“Of course, I’m not gonna die! It’s just a harmless toxin. Who you been talking to? Yeesh.”
“You, Asshole!” Sam swatted his shoulder in a way that definitely felt more like aggrieved spouse than aggravated bestie. “I’ve been talking to you.”
“Me? Ow!”
“Man, there’s no way that hurt you,” Sam muttered, noticing that Bucky never once relinquished his hold or stopped their swaying. And Sam never once tried to make him. They’d danced before, bickering and bantering around Sarah’s living room as they tried to show Cass some moves. But never like this. So close, chest to chest, breaths mingling, Sam’s leg slotted between both of Bucky’s as he relinquished all control, trusting Bucky to get them wherever they needed to be. There was something comforting in being held this way, handled with both care and mastery as he lost himself to the music in the arms of a man who could move. And he’d known Bucky had it in him, even if it still surprised him a little. Some remnant of the charmer from days of ol’ coming through when Sam least expected it. “You scared me with that call, just so ya know. I know you didn’t mean to, but you did. Please don’t do it again.”
“What call?”
“What call…” Sam trailed off at the obvious confusion on Bucky’s stupid, handsome face. Some battles weren’t worth it, not when he had Bucky safe and whole in his arms, flashing a shameless smile as he twisted Sam with roguish abandon. “Okay, never mind.”
“You mad at me?” Bucky’s teeth emerged to nibble at his bottom lip, and Sam…yeah, Sam noticed, warmth flooding his body.
“Nah, we’re good.” He forced his gaze away from Bucky’s full, red, beckoning lower lip.
That’s…that’s not who they were.
“Can we just keep dancing?” Bucky asked quietly, somehow managing to lean further into Sam’s space when Sam would have sworn nothing separated them. His hands moved in a subtle caress from Sam’s hips up his back and down again. “Nobody wants t’dance with me anymore. And even if they did, I wouldn’t know how to ask.”
The gruff sorrow in Bucky’s voice sent any hint of inappropriate thoughts fleeing. He rested his cheek against Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey now, I don’t know about that. If people knew you could dance like this, I bet they’d be lining up.”
Bucky snorted. “You’ve known I can dance like this since that day in Sarah’s living room. Don’t see you filling up my dance card, Sweetheart.”
Again, with the Sweetheart. Somehow the endearment kept tumbling out of Bucky’s mouth and Sam wasn’t exactly minding. He’d never been anybody’s sweetheart, the concept too old-fashioned and soft for the relationships he’d had. “There you go again, not wanting to put in the work. You wanna dance with me, Barnes, you gotta put in some effort. You don’t know how to ask? Pfft. Just open your mouth and say the words.”
“It was easier then. Everything was easier then. I was better. Knew the words. Knew the moves. How to touch. Before my hands an’ all the rest of me became weapons. I never wanted to be a weapon, Sam.”
Sam’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach, the unfairness of it all staggering. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Definitely not your fault.”
“Yeah well, not yours either.”
Bucky pulled away, the lock of hair falling in his eyes lending him a rakish appeal. Sam hated pretty much everything about this Thunderbolts Era Bucky currently found himself in, but not the fact he was growing his hair back out. “I never feel like that now. Free. Easy. That’s why this…it’s so amazing. And scary. I don’t much like it–whatever the fuck they doused me with– because I recognize I’m not really in control. But oh Sammy, I can move! I can sweep you around the room. And I can touch you.”
Before Sam could ask for any elaboration, Bucky dipped him then swung him up and around in a twirl like he’d surely done to the simpering ladies he’d danced with in the 40s. Sam honest to fuck giggled at that shit. Yeah, maybe he’d always had a bit of a manhandling kink, but this was so much more than that. Bucky had lifted him like he weighed nothing, when at times he felt like he carried the weight of the whole fucking world on his shoulders. That…that was some potent shit, right there. “Warn a guy next time, would ya?” He sounded breathless, aware he was teetering on a precipice far too dangerous if he wanted to come out of this evening with his best friendship intact.
Bucky threw his head back in a strong and hearty laugh, giving Sam a rare glimpse of the aimless charmer from before, the one he’d only seen in photographs and grainy black and white footage courtesy of the Smithsonian. The James Buchanan Barnes of old, untouched by war, violence, violation, and the loss of every single person he’d ever loved. “You liked it.”
“Yeah okay, maybe I kinda did,” Sam admitted ruefully. “Who even are you right now?”
The music had changed from “Without You” by Harry Nilsson to “All Out of Love”. When that morphed into the beginning strands of “Making Love Out of Nothing at All,” Sam nearly stumbled. If anything was ever going to cause an ‘Oh, shit!’ moment of reckoning, two Air Supply songs playing back-to-back was going to do it. “Where’s the R&B?” Sam tried to joke, he really did, but the words got all caught in his throat. “I know I put Black people on here.” Truthfully, he’d put a lot of freaking music on that playlist. Sarah made fun of him for just how much, but Bucky had missed a hell of a lot. He just didn’t remember putting quite this many love songs on it.
“You mean like Boyz II Men? There’s some Boyz-”
No! Not like Boyz II Men! “Not–not them.” The last thing Sam needed right now with Bucky looking all soft and dewy-eyed was freakin’ “I’ll Make Love to You” playing in the background. Had he put that on there? Sam couldn’t remember and really didn’t want to know. No Marvin Gaye, no Janelle or Nina or Roberta. He had to change this trajectory. “Did…is there any rock on here? Like, I don’t know, Pink Floyd?” Surely, he put “Another Brick in the Wall” on this shit.
“‘Wish you Were Here’ is on here, somewhere? I like that one.” And fuck if that wasn’t so on point that Sam felt a little woozy. If they danced to that, Sam might openly weep for all they both had endured, the temptation to hold Bucky tight and never let go so strong, Sam just might cave and do it.
“Just…uh…never mind…”
“I’m getting…a little…maybe we should stop,” Bucky said, stifling a yawn as he stepped away. “I used to…coulda danced all night. Now, now…I just feel so tired, Sam. All the time. I’m so tired.”
“I know, I get it Baby.” The endearment rolled out before he could stop it. Bucky arched a brow, and Sam sighed. “Bucky. I meant Bucky.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He sighed again. Damn, he felt so tired, too. Sacrificing all for a better world that never seemed to come. Pushing back feelings and snuffing out dreams because they had no place in the life he’d chosen. “No, I probably didn’t. But it’s not the time or place for either of us to be having this epiphany.”
“It’d never work, would it?”
“Buck–”
“I know that, ya know? No matter how much I want it to.” Bucky heaved a broken sigh. “So, I never say anything. Better to put a lid on it. But you, you woulda liked me back then. Back when I could’ve danced all night long.”
Sam felt the loss as Bucky pulled away, shifting to stop the music. Funny to miss something he’d never had. Could never have. To only miss what might have been.
“You really would have liked that version of me.”
Sam reached out to grab Bucky’s hand, pulling him close in what had to be top contender in the Bad Idea Olympics. But he couldn’t let that one go. “I like this version just fine. Bucky, I don’t want you to change.”
“I’m a fuckin’ mess, Sam. What’s to like about this guy? The nightmares? The intrusive thoughts? The trail of death and violence? The fact that some days I can barely string two sentences together?”
“I didn’t know that other guy. And yeah, I’ve heard he was great. But this one right here? This one has my back. This one I trust. This one, he hurts like I do sometimes, so I know he gets me.”
“Sam…I…” He gave a helpless shrug, as if without further words, so Sam continued.
“That other guy, he wouldn’t understand me like you do, Bucky. He might not even wanna stand with me, because he’d be too busy standing with someone else.”
Tears glistened Bucky’s eyes as he tipped forward, resting his forehead against Sam’s. “Don’t you realize? It was always gonna be you! Any time, any version. I ain’t ever leaving your side.” He gave a gentle hum, moving down to nuzzle Sam’s cheek. His jaw. So close…so dreadfully, wonderfully, recklessly close. “There’s no one else for me to follow. Not…not because of necessity, but because there’s only you. Steve left because he knew. He knew there was already only you.”
Sam blinked, trying to decipher a sentence that didn’t really make sense, distracted by the burn of Bucky’s chiseled, stubbled jaw line scraping down his chin to his neck, then back up in a tantalizing slide.
Sam could kiss him; Bucky would let him. And it would be magical and perfect, until it wasn’t…
“Sam…” Bucky tilted his face as he moved in closer. For a split-second Sam teetered on the edge of temptation, Bucky so warm, so loving and strong. Everything Sam needed, wanted, and adored–right there, sweetly in reach. But this–it wasn’t real. And it wasn’t right. And it wasn’t really what Bucky wanted. Sam jerked away before their lips could touch, putting space between them.
“Not a great idea, Buck,” he said firmly, ashamed for letting desire weaken his resolve when Bucky stood there so innocently trusting, so obviously not in full control of his thoughts or impulses.
“I’m sorry, Sam!” Blue eyes widened with panic. “Don’t be mad. I shouldn’t have–I’m sorry!”
“No, it’s not…you didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t…it wouldn’t be right if I-”
Bucky shook his head, his gaze somber, his smile sad. “It’s okay, Sam. You don’t gotta explain. I get it. I…I understand. Remember I told you. It’s my heart, right?”
Sam’s gaze narrowed. “I thought you didn’t remember the phone call?”
“Of course, I remember the phone call. Who said I didn’t remember the phone call?”
This…this was kinda exhausting. Sam heaved a heavy breath. “I’m not rejecting you.”
“You clearly are. And that’s okay. I already knew. Remember, my heart? That’s why I called, so you’d know.”
“No Bucky. It’s just, this isn’t really you. Isn’t what you want. It’s the toxin talking. You’re not you right now. You can’t consent to kissing me or anything else. And we’re not going there like this.”
“I whole-heartedly consent!”
Sam bit back a smile at Bucky’s eager expression, even as his insides gave a painful wrench. “That doesn’t count. Yelena said you won’t even remember any of this tomorrow.”
“I’m never forgetting you. Hydra could reemerge an’ put me in the machine, and you’d still be there. If Steve could get through, there’s no stopping you now that I’ve known you this way.”
That…that was a lot. Sam’s heart stuttered in his chest at the absolute honesty etched on Bucky’s face. How did they move forward from all this in the light of day tomorrow, in a world where Bucky wouldn’t remember saying any of it?
“It’s…look…okay…let's go to the bed.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Just to talk! Damn Bucky. We’re gonna sit on that bed and talk for a minute.” He led Bucky over, giving him a gentle push so he was sitting. He considered moving beside him but decided against it. He didn’t trust Bucky to keep his hands to himself. Didn’t trust his own self to make him. “Okay, I want you to think about this logically. Let’s say I got hit with the toxin.”
“You’d be dead. You’re not a super soldier.”
“Buck-”
“Gone. Just like that.” Bucky shook his head mournfully. “I’d never get over it. That’s why we’re doing this. The Thunderbolts, not Team Cap.”
Sam blew out a breath. “Okay then, let’s just say for a second I took the serum-”
“You would never.” Bucky interrupted staunchly. “And fuck if you even need it which just makes you pretty damned amazing. The way you fight and move. The way you use your words. You’re the greatest superhero I’ve ever known. Hell, the…the greatest man.”
Sam tried not to preen under the unexpected praise, but it was hard going. The awe in Bucky’s voice was humbling and heady. This stupid toxin was ruining his life. Now that he’d heard such honesty come from Bucky’s mouth…how the hell could he ever unhear it? “Okay, let’s say there’s another toxin. One that works pretty much the same but wouldn’t kill me. Are you with me?” He waited for Bucky’s nod. “And let’s say it hit me. Made me…made me not as in control of my words or my actions. And let’s say, I don’t know…let’s say Walker was here and I…” Sam hesitated, not liking this analogy he’d started one bit, but deciding to trudge through. “Let’s say I tried to kiss him.”
“Wait, why is Walker here? Where am I? Why would you try to kiss him and not me?”
“Are you purposely missing the point here?”
“No Sam. I just don’t understand why you’d be trying to kiss John and not me, when we’re both here.”
“Because you’re not here-”
“I’m literally right here!”
“No, you’re not. Not in this scenario.”
“Well, this is a stupid scenario.”
“You’re on a mission with the Thunderbolts-”
“But Walker is on the Thunderbolts, too. Why does he get to be here kissing you instead of me?”
Sam could only stare at Bucky, who looked completely distressed over this entire scenario. “The point is not who is here.”
“But where am I?”
“Okay, okay, so let’s say Team Cap and the Thunderbolts do a joint mission. Are you following?” Bucky gave a small nod, already glaring. “And I got hit by the toxin-”
“Wouldn’t happen. I’d take the hit for you.”
“But it does happen. In. This. Scenario.”
“Where is Torres in all this-”
“It doesn’t matter, dammit! Fuck. Walker comes to check on me because you’re helping Yelena fight the bad guys. And because of this toxin I’m not thinking clearly, so I make a…try to…ugh…why did I start this again?”
“You kiss him?”
“Yes!”
“You’d never compromise the mission like that.”
“It’s the toxin compromising the mission like that, not me.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re gonna be devastated, when it wears off.”
“Probably.”
“So, where’s Ava?”
“Why do you care where Ava is right now?” Sam gave a good frown.
“Why are you kissing Walker?”
“That’s the point. I’m not kissing him, the toxin is. And it would be wrong for him to take advantage like that, right?”
“He takes advantage of you, and I’ll shoot him in the face.”
“Bucky-”
“In. The. Fucking. Face.”
“Okay Rambo, bring it down about ten notches.”
“Who’s Rambo?”
“Just a movie I watched as a kid.” He held up a hand before Bucky could ask. “No, we shouldn’t watch it. It’s too triggering now. For both of us. Anyway, do you understand now why I can’t let you kiss me? Why it has nothing to do with whether I want to kiss you back?”
“You coulda just said the toxin makes you think I don’t know what I want and left Walker the hell out of it.”
“The toxin does make you not know what you want.”
“I know what I want.” Bucky shrugged. “But okay. I get it. I think.” He let out another yawn, before nodding back toward the bed he was sitting on. “Now that we’re on the bed, can we…will you stay? With me. Like we sometimes do? I’ve…I’ve already consented to that, so that’s okay right?”
That gave Sam pause as he considered the propriety and ramifications. Yes, technically they did occasionally share a bed. After a building explosion had left Sam incapacitated and in need of care a while back, it had been easier to keep Bucky close at hand. For convenience, not to mention comfort, Bucky had ended up sharing his bed during that first week of recovery. Occasionally, after a rough mission or a devastating nightmare, it still happened. It wasn’t anything they discussed really. One of them would just shuffle into the other’s room, and the other would make the necessary space. They didn’t even touch, staying on their own side of the bed and letting the others’ breathing lull them into slumber. “Yeah, I guess that’s okay,” he said hesitantly. “Just to sleep though.”
“What else we gonna do?” Bucky scoffed as if he hadn’t been trying to get Sam in bed mere minutes before. Stupid fucking toxin. Ruining Sam’s life. He watched Bucky scoot under the covers, trying not to wince. “Man, you’re still in your outside clothes.”
“You want me in my boxers right now? Did you bring an overnight bag?” Bucky returned, back to his regular mocking asshole of a self. “Looks like you’re gonna be in your outside clothes, too.”
“Just shut up,” Sam muttered as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He hadn’t even brushed his damn teeth. But Bucky was right. It wasn’t like he had an overnight bag. And Bucky…Bucky suddenly looked exhausted and vulnerable, all scrunched up under the covers. As tall and muscular as he was, Bucky had this heartbreaking ability to make himself look small. Sam eased under the covers, careful to keep space between them. They didn’t need to bring cuddling into the equation now, not with Bucky lacking total control. “What’s the team doing in DC, anyway? Do I even want to know?
“Sammy, that’s class-see-fied, ya know?”
Sam rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “So, I’ve been told.”
He let himself get comfortable, realizing he was weary. Thinking your best friend was near death and rushing to his rescue, only to be twirled around the room like an extra in West Side Story, then fending off potential advances you secretly wanted would do that to you. He closed his eyes, emitting a contented sigh. Drifting…drifting…drifting…
“YELLS!”
He jumped awake when Bucky literally yelled it. “What the fuck, man?”
Bucky sprung up beside him. “I’ve got a great idea!”
Yelena barreled through the door as if prepared to stop a terrorist attack, coming to an abrupt halt, and arching a brow at the sight of them in bed together. “Ain’t what it looks like,” Sam defended.
“I don’t care, and I don’t want to know,” Yelena returned, giving Bucky her full attention. “Yes Smolder, you bellowed?”
Bucky gave her his best puppy dog expression. “It’s important. Life or death.”
Yelena looked mostly unimpressed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Whose life? Whose death?”
“I took the hit for Ava. She’ll help me.”
“Leave her alone. She’s busy.”
“Which is why I called you.”
“Loudly,” Sam and Yelena both muttered at the same time.
“What do you need, James,” Yelena finally relented.
“Can I have some ice cream?”
Yelena stared at him blandly. “I was in the middle of decoding those messages when you call me away for this?” She glanced at Sam. “Why can’t he get it for you?”
Bucky gave a helpless shrug. “Sam’s very busy right now.”
Yelena smirked. “So, I see.”
Sam glowered. “It really isn’t what it looks like.”
“Unfortunately,” Yelena said with a put upon sigh. She turned her attention back to Bucky. “Shall I bring it on a platter with a candle to set the mood?”
Bucky glanced innocently between the two. “No,” he said in confusion. “That could start a fire. Can I have Cookies ‘n Cream?”
“Maybe some rose petals sprinkled on the tray?”
“Not funny,” Sam muttered as she turned to go. He gave a grudging huff. “Can I have some, too?”
“Flavor Sam Wilson? We have several in the safe house. Antonia is a fan.”
What did these Thunderbolts do anyway? Sit around eating ice cream all day, getting hit with toxins, talking a lot of shit? “What he’s having is fine.”
“At your service,” she returned with a smug little bow that left Sam wondering why the hell Bucky liked her so much.
“Ain’t she great?” Bucky said fondly as the door closed. “Don’t tell her I said it.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
Bucky laid back down, turning his head on the pillow to stare at Sam. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” Sam returned, feeling soft as hell. None of this was good for his fucking heart. But it was too late now. Tomorrow would come. Bucky would fail to remember, and they’d go on like they always had. But tonight…tonight they could sit side by side and eat ice cream while Sam pretended just for a little while there was hope for something more. “You call. I’m gonna come.”
“Good,” Bucky murmured with a yawn as blue-gray orbs grew heavy, leaving Sam to wonder if when Yelena came back, he’d be eating two bowls of ice cream instead of one. Oh well, it was a sacrifice Sam could make he thought, watching warmly as Bucky sank further into the pillow, his eyes falling closed. “I always wanna be with you.”