Work Text:
Bucky's DC apartment was depressing. It reminded Sam of a hotel room. Cold. Generic. Impersonal. Like nobody really lived there. But for the files stacked on the coffee table and the jacket thrown over an armchair, he wouldn't have known anyone had been there recently. Probably because Bucky hadn't been. He'd been staying at the re-christened Watch Tower with his new friends. Criminals. Assassins. What Bucky must be thinking —
Sam spun on his heel as the door to the apartment opened and then quickly shut. Bucky leaned against it with a weary sigh. He looked good. Sam hated that. He hated that Bucky teaming up with criminals made him look more settled, more content — dare he say happy — than months of campaigning and politics made him. It just wasn't right.
"They should be in jail," Sam declared, getting right to the point.
Bucky shook his head. "Innocent until proven guilty, Sam."
"Proven?" Sam repeated incredulously. "It's been proved! You've got a couple of assassins, who have murdered God knows how many people. One of whom broke her pseudo super powered dad out of prison —"
"With the help of an Avenger," Bucky calmly intoned, crossing to the kitchenette, and retrieving two beers from the fridge, offering one to Sam that he reluctantly accepted, and set unopened on the coffee table; beer wouldn't change his mind.
He moved to the kitchen to confront his kinda sorta boyfriend, having a few things he needed to say to him. "You've got a bipolar meth addict who nearly destroyed the world when he had a bad day —"
"When people who promised to help him killed him twice in twenty four hours," Bucky retorted, uncapping his beer bottle with a scowl. "And pushed him into a manic, and then a major depressive episode before he even had time to catch his breath — "
"And Walker!" Sam exclaimed, his anger rising. "Do not get me started on Walker! He killed a defenseless guy in cold blood — "
"After he watched his best friend die," Bucky said quietly.
Sam just stared at him, frozen in disbelief. When the hell, and why the hell — how the hell — had Bucky gone from disarming the guy who tainted his best friend's legacy to working with him, befriending him — trusting him? Clearly, something had happened in between all those missed phone calls and aborted vacation plans.
"Bucky," he said, shaking his head. "There is no excuse you can offer — "
Bucky grimaced. "PTSD?"
"Not good enough," Sam said sternly.
"Divorce?" Bucky offered, setting his beer bottle on the kitchen counter.
"Thinking about it," Sam said lightly, desperate to break the tension, but needing to have this out with him. "What the hell happened to people that made their choices, huh?"
Bucky didn't answer him. His shoulders slumped, and he turned away from him. He looked defeated then, miserable, and Sam hated to see it, hated to be the one making him feel that way, but also needed to be the one to bring him to his senses before it was too late, before the situation was irretrievable.
"You know all those things they've done, I did 'em too," Bucky told him, turning back to him, his expression fierce. "Assassinations. Experimental substances. Destroying lives, families, cities— or do you not remember what my mission was in Washington DC all those years ago? Facilitating a world wide extermination of any threat to Hydra — you and Steve included."
Sam bit his lip. "You didn't do any of those things of your own volition," he reminded him, not that he needed to. "You were tortured, brainwashed, conditioned— they screwed with your head so badly that you didn't know your own name, much less what you were doing. But they did!"
"So that's it? You make a wrong choice… or a lifetime of wrong choices, and you're beyond redemption?" Bucky said softly.
Sam could sense a fight coming, but he pressed on. "Bucky, they — "
"Need a second chance," Bucky implored him. "For people to see their potential for good— like I did."
Sam shook his head. "Bucky, the kind of potential people saw was for a public riot if you were convicted when you had the King of Wakanda showing up with a character reference, flanked by every member of the Dora Milaje!"
Bucky ducked his head, but not before Sam saw his smile, his boyfriend commenting, "Well, I'm not T’Challa, but I can give you character references if that'll help."
The super soldier raised his head with a lopsided smile that Sam adored. Damn him. He loved Bucky. Bucky was being an idiot. He loved an idiot. God help him. Arguing about it wasn't going to change Bucky's mind or Sam's, but it kind of felt too big to file under agree to disagree. He looked at Bucky, feeling unspeakably sad and frustrated, but also like he wanted to let everything drop, and be held for a minute.
"I don't trust them," he said quietly. "I don't know them. I don't like them."
Bucky cocked his head at him. "They're not crazy about you either, just for the record. Mostly it's the lawsuit."
"Noted," Sam said, pursing his lips.
Bucky sighed. "Where does this leave us?"
Sam sighed too. "Buck, I love you — "
"But?" Bucky said sharply, his expression pained.
Sam shook his head and stepped toward him. "No but. I love you. You say they need a chance? Fine. Against my better judgment. They've got one. For two reasons. One —"
"You love me," Bucky repeated, his tone soft as he wrapped Sam in a tight hug.
"I do," he mumbled into Bucky's shoulder as his boyfriend slowly released him. "And two. I am curious as hell about what kind of character references you would write."
Bucky grinned. "Well, I don't think I have T'Challa's eloquence, but — I'd give it a shot."
"Oh, I know," Sam said with a laugh.
His amusement faded and he set both his hands on Bucky's broad shoulders, resting their foreheads together. He loved him. He didn't agree with him. He needed to be there to catch Bucky if it all went to shit anyway. That's what love was. Supporting someone even when you thought they were making a mistake.
"I love you, and we're cool, I promise," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Bucky's forehead, and easing back with a grimace. "I'll even drop the lawsuit for the time-being. Your new friends though? I can see a train wreck coming, so just know, I'll be watching your back."
Bucky nodded. "I know you will. They'll prove you wrong though. You'll see."
"Yeah. Okay," Sam reluctantly conceded.
He let Bucky pull him into his arms, deciding to keep his doubts to himself for now. They'd talked about it, because they needed to. He didn't need to agree with someone to love them. He needed to stand by them and protect them even if — especially if — he thought they might be wrong, because if —when— things fell apart, they'd need him. More than ever.