Chapter Text
When Sam wakes for what feels like the hundredth time that night, it’s to a pounding headache and exhaustion weighing on him like a lead blanket. His eyelids are heavy, but he’s resigned himself to the fact that he won’t be getting any real rest tonight, so he forces them open anyway. His vision is bleary at first, and he blinks sluggishly. Slowly, the ceiling fan above him comes into view, the blades spinning in lazy circles. He watches as it turns and feels the cool air hitting his face. Somehow, he feels more tired than he had before he’d gone to bed. It takes him a minute, but eventually, Sam works up the energy to move. He rolls onto his side and looks over at the nightstand. His eyes find the clock glowing brightly in the dark. 4:17 A.M., the angry red numbers glare back at him. Sam sighs and lets his eyes slide shut.
Of course, he wasn’t able to get any sleep tonight of all nights.
Just a few hours ago, Sam had been on the phone with Steve. It had been late, but he’d answered without hesitating, knowing that the other man wouldn’t call at that time unless it were important. And it had been important. Steve had found a new lead related to a certain missing super soldier. It hadn’t been that long since Sam had joined him in his search, but it didn’t take long for him to realize Steve was getting desperate. That’s why he understood when the other man wanted to check it out as soon as possible. They talked well into the night, planning for the next day. After the call ended, Sam had headed to bed. He’d need to be well rested for what they had planned.
So much for that.
Well, there was no point in complaining, and if he wasn’t going to sleep, he may as well get up. So, Sam pushes himself to sit up despite how tired he is. He tosses the blankets off himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet sink into the plush carpet, and just as he’s about to stand up, his phone lights up from where it’s sitting by the alarm clock. Sam frowns and grabs it. He squints at the brightness and reads the notification on the screen. As soon as he sees it’s a message from Steve, he laughs to himself. It looked like he wasn’t the only one having a restless night.
The message itself isn’t anything time-sensitive, and he’s sure Steve isn’t expecting a response anytime soon. He leaves the message unanswered and sets his phone back on the nightstand, leaving it there to charge. He pushes himself up onto his feet and makes his way out of the bedroom.
Sam ends up wandering into the dark kitchen, letting his feet take him there in his sleep-deprived state. He reaches out to the wall in search of the light switch. It takes a few moments, but eventually his hand bumps into it. Without a second thought, he flicks the switch on and light floods the room. Sam squeezes his eyes shut instinctively, blinded by the sudden brightness. He blinks slowly until his eyes adjust to the light. When it does, he takes a step forward, and then–
Sam freezes in place, and his blood runs cold. Whatever exhaustion he’d been feeling vanishes and is quickly replaced with panic. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it the moment he stepped into the kitchen, but it didn’t matter now. He’d noticed too late.
There was someone in his house.
They’re standing in front of the window just on the opposite side of the dining table with their back to him. But despite that, it doesn’t take long for Sam to realize who it is. The long brown hair and black tactical gear were obvious enough. But even if it wasn’t, the familiar silver arm branded with a red star was a dead giveaway. The gravity of the situation hits Sam all at once.
The Winter Soldier was in his house.
To be more specific, the Winter Soldier, Bucky, the man Steve was losing his mind searching for, had broken into his house in the middle of the night. And instead of seeking him out, he’d waited in his kitchen until Sam wandered in by chance. If the situation weren’t so serious, Sam might have laughed. The object of their search, the same one they’d just been talking about, came to them on his own. This should be a good thing. It means their search is over, and they can get Bucky the help he needs. It’s that simple, right? Except Sam isn’t so sure about that. Steve swears up and down that Bucky remembered him, that he’d broken through what had been done to him. But right now, the man standing there in his kitchen looks an awful lot like the Winter Soldier. For his sake, he hopes it is Bucky. Otherwise, Sam is going to have to fight a super soldier.
As if reading his mind, Bucky starts to turn around.
Before he knows it, cold, blue eyes are boring into his. Sam’s heart begins to beat wildly in his chest. Bucky is missing the mask that covered the lower half of his face, but his expression is still unreadable. Sam stays rooted to the spot as he waits for whatever is coming next.
Moments pass, and Bucky’s eyes never leave his face. The silence is deafening, but Sam doesn’t want to make the first move. It’s only then that he realizes he’s been holding his breath without meaning to. He exhales slowly. Bucky blinks in response, and his mouth turns downward just enough for Sam to notice. He waits for Bucky to do something, but they continue to stand there in silence, and Bucky does…nothing. Sam takes another deep breath. This could be a good sign.
Bucky had broken into his house in the middle of the night, and Sam was none the wiser. If he were here to kill Sam, why would he have waited for him to come down instead of attacking him in his sleep? And now Bucky was in here in front of him, and he still hadn’t done anything. Why? Sam can’t think of any reason other than one. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe Bucky saving him hadn’t been a fluke. Sam feels a small flicker of hope.
He clears his throat. “Is there a reason the Winter Soldier is in my kitchen?” Sam asks, keeping his voice even.
Bucky’s mouth twitches slightly at his question, but other than that, he doesn’t react. It’s almost like he hadn’t heard Sam speak at all. His expression never changes, and Sam’s question hangs in the air unanswered. But Bucky didn’t react negatively, and he takes that as a sign to keep going.
“What are you doing here, Bucky?” Sam tries again.
This time, he does get a reaction out of Bucky, just not the one he’d been hoping for. He watches as Bucky’s eyes narrow dangerously and his mouth drops into a deep scowl. “I don’t know who that is,” Bucky bites out, his voice low and rough with disuse.
Sam’s eyes widened at the other man’s sudden anger. He takes a quick step back. It’s then that he remembers his phone left behind in the bedroom. There’s no way he’d be able to get to it fast enough, even if he had the chance to run. Sam keeps his eyes trained on Bucky and waits for what he’s sure is going to be a fight.
Except, Bucky doesn’t move. He’s still glaring daggers at Sam, but just like before, he shows no sign of moving. That’s…good. It means Bucky isn’t looking to hurt him just yet. He might be able to fix this and get him talking. “Okay,” Sam says carefully, trying to ease the other man’s anger, “That’s okay.”
Bucky continues to stare at him silently, and for a moment, Sam thinks he might have made it worse. But then, slowly, Bucky’s glare eases. He’s still staring at Sam with an uncomfortable amount of intensity, but the anger from before is missing. His scowl also shifts back to that slight frown from before. Sam nearly sighs in relief. “What are you doing here?” Sam asks again, careful to leave out his name this time.
This time, Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but he can see the slight clenching of his jaw, and he shifts slightly. He stares at Sam for a few moments before he does the unexpected. He begins moving. Bucky rounds the kitchen table, slowly but deliberately. The sound of his heavy boots on the tile fills the air. Sam’s heart begins to speed up again, and his eyes flick around the kitchen in search of anything to defend himself with. Bucky is taking long strides over to him, and there’s nowhere for him to go. Sam clenches his fists. But then…he stops.
Bucky comes to a stop in front of him, only an arm’s length away. It’s only now that the other man is so close that Sam realizes how bad he looks. His hair is greasy, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. It looks like he hasn’t slept since the day he’d pulled Steve out of the river and took off. Sam wonders if that might really be the case. He keeps his eyes on Bucky, worried about what he’s going to do now. But Bucky’s hands stay at his sides.
“Tell Steve to stop looking for me,” Bucky says suddenly, his voice strangely quiet.
It takes Sam a little too long to process what the other man said, but when he does, he can only stare at Bucky in disbelief. “That’s why you’re here?” Sam asks carefully, “To tell me to get Steve off of your back?”
Bucky stares at him for a second before his frown deepens, and he nods. “Yes.”
Sam doesn’t know what’s going on in Bucky’s head, but he needs to convince him to stay. This is his chance to get him back to Steve and somewhere safe. “Let us help you,” Sam tells him, “I don’t know why you’re running, but you don’t have to. We can keep you safe if you just let us help you. That’s all we want to do.”
Bucky’s expression morphs into something unreadable. There’s a strange look in his eyes as he stares at Sam, but it vanishes quickly, and his frown returns. He takes a step forward into Sam’s space. “Tell him to stop looking,” Bucky tells him, leaving no room for argument.
Sam starts to say something, but before he can get the words out, Bucky steps back. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the back door. Well, at least Sam knows how he got in. Bucky pulls the door open, and before he walks out, he turns back to Sam. When their eyes meet, there’s that strange look again. Bucky turns back and walks out, the door shutting quietly behind him.
Sam is left alone in the eerily quiet kitchen. He stares at the door for what feels like an eternity. His eyes flick down, and he sees that it’s still unlocked. It’s the only proof he has that Bucky was ever there. Otherwise, he’d think he’d imagined the whole thing. Finally, Sam snaps out of it and walks over to the door. He clicks the lock back into place before walking over to the window Bucky had been standing in front of. He looks out and finds no sign of anyone still out there. His eyes flick up, and Sam sees the full moon shining brightly in the dark sky.
God, he really needs to get some sleep.
—
“And that’s all he said?”
Sam looks over at Steve. The other man’s eyes are trained on the coffee table, and he looks lost in thought. There had been no question about whether or not he was going to tell Steve about Bucky’s late-night visit, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about his reaction. Sam leans back into the couch and tilts his head up. He lets his eyes shut as he recalls the look on Bucky’s face when he’d delivered his ominous message. “I asked him if that’s why he was there,” Sam tells him, “He said yes, and then I tried to get him to stay. Told him that we could help him. He just said to stop looking for him, and then he left.”
He waits for Steve to say something, but only silence follows. When it goes on for too long, Sam raises his head and looks over at the other man. He sees Steve still sitting in the armchair, with his brows pulled together and looking worried. Now he’s staring down at his tightly clasped hands. Sam sits up and takes a breath. “Steve…” He says. The blonde-haired man’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet. Sam gives him a sympathetic look. He understands why Steve is so worked up over all of this. He would be, too, if their roles were reversed. “We’re going to keep looking for him,” Sam reassures him, “Him showing up was a good thing. It means he’s still in the area. The fact he hadn’t taken off before that makes me think he’s going to stick around.”
Steve nods slowly and then gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” He says, “I know.”
“And I wouldn’t take what he said to heart,” Sam adds, “About not wanting you to find him. I don’t think it’s personal.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what he’s thinking, but if I had to guess, I’d say he’s confused and probably scared,” Sam tells him honestly, “I don’t think he’s running from you. I think he’s just running, and he knows you’re looking for him.”
At that, Steve’s smile turns into something a little more genuine, “It’s like you read my mind.”
“More like you wear your heart on your sleeve,” Sam counters, “It’s not exactly hard to tell what you’re thinking.”
Steve sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I wish we could have stopped him from leaving, but at least we know he’s still out there,” He says tiredly, “That Hydra hasn’t found him yet. And… that he still remembers me… at least a little bit.” Steve pauses for a moment. “Hopefully, he knows to steer clear of any familiar faces,” He says with a frown.
Sam nods. Despite Bucky’s current mental state, the man is still a trained assassin. He’s more than sure that the man will be able to evade any Hydra agents who might be looking for him. It’s just too bad that’s what’s also making it hard for them to find him. Sam tucks the thought away and turns his attention to the apartment. Steve had been spending more time in New York since everything that happened with S.H.I.E.L.D., but he still kept his place here in D.C. Sam thinks it gives him a sense of normalcy that he doesn’t get with the Avengers. He looks back at Steve, who still looks worried. Maybe it’s time to change the subject. “How are things going with the super friends?” Sam asks with a slight smile.
Steve gives him a look, but the slight upturn of his lips gives him away. “It’s going fine,” He answers.
“Yeah?” Sam raises an eyebrow, “You guys aren’t at each other’s throats anymore?”
Steve smiles. “No. Well, I mean, Tony can be…Tony. But it’s better now.”
“That’s good to hear,” Sam says.
“Speaking of them,” Steve starts. Sam can already tell where this is going, and he groans. Steve ignores him and keeps going. “The offer is still on the table,” He says, “We could really use someone like you.” Sam gives him a wry smile. “I’m being serious,” Steve tells him, “You’d be a great addition to the team, and I think you’d get along with everyone.”
“That’s not why I was asking about the Avengers,” Sam says tiredly.
“You sure?” Steve asks, his smile widening, “Because–”
“It’s called being interested in your friends’ lives,” Sam interrupts him, “You ever heard of it?”
“Maybe I was just hoping you’d change your mind,” Steve counters.
Sam laughs. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m satisfied with what I’m doing now,” He says honestly, “I do good work.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “You do.” He watches Sam for a few moments before leaning forward and grabbing a manila folder sitting on top of a stack of other ones. Steve hands it over to him. “This is part of what we found on potential Hydra members remaining on the East Coast,” Steve says, “If we can track them, they might lead us to Bucky if they’re looking for him.”
Sam takes the folder and opens it to find a thick stack of documents inside. He sighs. This was going to take a while.
—
When Sam is at home later that day, his mind wanders back to Bucky. It’s hard not to when just a few hours ago, the other man had been in his house. It was still hard to believe the entire thing had even happened, given how strange their conversation had been. If you could even call it that. But still. He recalls the look on Bucky’s face just before he’d taken off. The way he’d looked at him…
It was strange. Sam can’t help but wonder what he’d been thinking. He supposes that if things go well and they find him, he’ll have the chance to ask Bucky about it. Until then, the question will linger in the back of his mind.