forum Marvel AU OxO?

Started November 29, 2019 by @ElderGod-Icefire

tune

Bucky nodded a little bit. "Alright." he replied slowly. He leaned on the back of the couch, looking at Steve and Sam for a moment, then away again. He ran his hands through his hair.

"So you're good here? I'll be back in a bit." Steve asked Bucky as he slowly moved across the room.
"Get rid of that beard, young man." Sam urged, shaking his head. Steve frowned and touched his jaw, giving Sam a little smile before moving on.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. Might throw Sam out the window, no promises." he replied, looking at the ceiling. His tone was deadpan, making it difficult to tell if he was joking or not.

Steve frowned but smiled at the same time, looking back to make sure that was a joke. He gave Sam an affectionate grip on his shoulder and Sam feigned smacking his ass with his wooden spoon in return. Steve chuckled as he left the room, thinking back to Sam's comment about his beard. Is it really that bad?

Bucky was quiet after Steve left, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the muddled memories and…and feelings that accompanied them. Because he wasn't sure how he felt.

Sam glanced at Bucky, wishing he knew a little more about what was really going on between them. "So uh…you and Steve?" He said, looking up from his cooking and trying to find the right way to ask, "Are y'all…knockin' boots?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "I have…no idea what you mean by that." He replied slowly, looking over at Sam and seeming very confused. Knocking boots? What?

Sam cleared his throat, wishing he had someone to help him out with this, "Like…dating." He nodded slowly, "Are you guys uhm…in a relationship." Sam glanced at the door, wondering if he'd have to abandon his gnocchi and make a break for it.

Bucky blinked slowly. "Ah…no." he replied, looking at Sam for a long moment. "He's not…I don't think that would…" He fumbled with his words for a moment, shaking his head.

"–Oh I think he is." Sam said, raising both his eyebrows, "Don't tell him, but a few of the others think so too. We got bets ridin' on it." He laughed a little, "And after that sight–" He nodded to the couch, "Take no offense, man, but I think I saw somethin'."

Bucky frowned a little bit. "That…" He shrugged a little. "What about Peggy?" He finally said, slowly. "He liked her well enough."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah he 'liked' her, I guess, in his own way." He paused, debating if he should tell Bucky this,
"But between you and me…Steve's greatest loss wasn't her. It was you." He smirked, filling a pot with water, "You're everything to Steve." Sam put the pot of water on the stove pausing again in thought. He didn't want to encourage anything that might not actually be true, but his intuition told him more, "I seen the way he looks at you– the same way with Peggy." Sam shrugged, glancing at Bucky, "But I could be wrong. I don't know."

"Maybe I used to be." Bucky replied slowly. "But I'm not that person anymore." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He didn't quite know how to respond to Sam's words. What he was saying about Steve…that couldn't be true. Right?

"Neither is Steve." Sam nodded, "We say 'people change,' but I don't really believe that. Their…demeanor, maybe, but not who they really are." He thought back to himself before his military service, and how much he'd changed after. He came home different, but still the same Sam. Maybe Bucky's situation was a little different, but even Sam knew that behind his troubled gaze was someone who truly knew Steve. Sam looked at their fridge, littered with post-its and a few candid photos of each other. "So yes, maybe you've changed, but the way Steve cares about you hasn't."

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe so, but I don't remember anything. Even if I…felt the same way, I don't remember it." Liar. He had that flash of memory still, of wanting to be the one Steve was dancing with, wanting to hold and be held. He pushed the memory away.

Aha. Sam thought, so there was something. "But you don't feel anything currently? For Steve?" He questioned, glancing at the door as if he might arrive at any moment, "Cause what I saw looked like the opposite, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"I fell asleep, Sam." Bucky's voice sounded tired for a moment. "That doesn't mean anything beyond the fact that I was exhausted."

"Hm," Sam smiled a bit, remembering the photo; Steve's arm around his waist, Bucky's head draped lazily on his chest, Looked more like you were holdin' on for deal life. Which he probably was– but Sam was still convinced. "But regardless…the world's different now." He nodded, "That type of thing isn't bad."

Bucky shrugged slightly. It never was– just illegal. He blinked at that thought, that realization, but didn't speak it aloud. "Either way. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, Sam." His mouth twisted in a strange smile.

Sam hid his confused look, glancing at the simmering water before looking back to him. "We don't need to teach the dog anythin'," He chuckled, "'Cause he's off-leash now." Sam shrugged, hoping that Bucky knew what he meant and would feel a little more welcomed in the world.

Bucky frowned a little. "Still. I'm not…" He trailed off, not knowing how to adequately explain to Sam what he was, what he thought of himself as.

"You're not…" Sam started, trying to piece together what Bucky was saying. His instincts told him something was there; faint, hidden and buried deep down, but there. As Steve's wingman (pun intended), he felt like letting Bucky know how Steve felt about him was his job. It could have been an alternate realitly, where Sam and Steve were at a bar and Bucky had caught Steve's eye– someone as complicated as he was, even from a first impression– Bucky was somehow perfect for him.

Bucky shook his head again. "I don't know. But either way, I doubt SHIELD would want their golden boy anywhere near the man sent to kill him." His voice was cold for a moment, bitter and angry, and then it was gone again.

"I mean–" Sam shrugged, "They already know you're here. They know more-or-less of what happened, and–" He shook his head, slowly putting the round ball-like pasta into the boiling water, "We all got shit we don't talk about, so It's okay– that's what I'm tryna say."

Bucky shrugged. "I know. But…none of you has ever killed or done as much as I have. Except for Widow, and she's…not the same as me." He looked at the ceiling.