The Inheritance

by Six2VII

Summary:

Sam and Bucky are tricked into living with one another.

 

 

 

 

 

Sam sat in the car and wiped away a few more tears. Sarah rubbed his back and handed him a handkerchief. He didn't understand why they had to do this right after the funeral. "We're going to be late, Big Bro," Sarah said. Sam sniffed, wiped his face, and put on some sunshades. Sarah squeezed his hand before they got in the car and walked into the house.

Sam gasped. The place had been emptied. Sorrow slammed into him like a pile of bricks. It was now, with all his friend’s things packed away, that Sam realized he would never see his best friend again. Sam tried to control his despair, wiping furiously at tears, despite knowing it was okay to grieve. It was a repast. The man had just died days ago. He was allowed to feel this. Sam sobered and looked around. There were a few pieces of furniture still present, proof that his friend was once here. 

Sam sniffed at the couch. They had laughed so many times on that thing. Sam had slept on it when it was too late or cold to go home. Before he could tear up again, he went into what used to be the dining room. There were folding chairs lined up in rows and refreshments on the bar. Sam and Sarah sat in the back row. The hard plastic was cold and unwelcoming. Temporary furniture - not the sturdy antique oak dining set that once sat in its place. In the grand scheme of things, Sam guessed life was temporary as well. The ache in his chest let him know he was on to something.

It was by chance that he got to know the man he was honoring here today. Sam was surprised he had been included in the will. He shouldn't have been. They were close, but- Sam was touched that he thought of him on his deathbed. Sam heard raised voices in the front room. He rolled his eyes. Sam had no doubt who was making today all about him.

-o0o-

Bucky stood staring down into the grave long after everyone else had left, even after it started drizzling. The weather matched his mood. There was not one childhood memory that he did not have that didn’t involve his best friend. It was too soon. They were so young. He beat everything else, but couldn’t beat this? It was absurd. Bucky turned when someone grabbed his arm. “It’s time to go,” Nat said. 

He was startled. He didn't realize anyone else was still here. “I’m good here,” Bucky mumbled. He cleared his throat.

“James, we have the reading of the will,” Nat reasoned. 

Bucky turned to her. Her hair was curling from the rain. Her eyes were watery, but her eyeliner was sharp. She dropped one single white rose into the grave. 

She was amazing. Bucky didn’t know how she seemed so calm, put together. Anger churned in his gut. He was doing everything in his power to not punch something, to make something hurt like he was hurting. “You think I give a shit about any of that?”

“He gave a shit.” She turned to him, her brow raised. “That’s why you were named.”

“You were his wife; you take it.” Bucky looked away from her, chastised.

“That’s not what he wanted, and my last gift to my husband is to carry out his wishes. So, get your ass in the car before I make you get in,” Nat said.

"Nat," Bucky scoffed, wiping away a tear. The redhead laughed, wiping at her own eyes, and then grabbed Bucky's ear hard.

"Ow Ow Ow," he whined going to the vehicle.

He rubbed his aching ear all the way to the house. When they walked in, Bucky hit the roof. “Where’s his stuff?” he asked, walking into the front room. He turned back to Nat, tears streaming down his face. “It’s been days, and his life, his legacy has already been erased?” 

“His legacy lives on in us. These trinkets-objects- weren’t him. They were given away and sold to benefit the charities of his choosing.”

“He just died,” Bucky whimpered.

“He’s been dying for a year, and I’m out of here as soon as the will has been read,” Nat said, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

“Shit,” Bucky said, ashamed. “I’m sorry. It’s just-”

“We all deal with it differently. You want to kill something. I want to disappear, and Sam wants his family near.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Be nice today,” she whispered, walking towards the dining room.

“Did you tell him that?” Bucky asked. 

“Yep,” she smiled. He watched her walk by Sam and squeeze his hand before she went to sit down. Bucky looked around for a moment. Of course, that ugly couch was still here. Only his buddy wanted a grandma couch from the 70s. How was it striped and floral print? It was so old they played GI Joe and made blanket forts on it. Nat probably couldn’t sell it or give it away. He walked towards the dining room. 

Bucky was momentarily thrown off by the tears in Sam's eyes. He had to leave the room. He ducked into the water closet and willed the tears to go away. He wiped his face, and then came back into the room. By that time, everyone that was supposed to be there for the reading of the will was there. The estate lawyer stood when Bucky sat down next to Nat. The widow took Bucky's hand.

“This is the last will and testament of Stephen Grant Rogers,” the man began.

-o0o-

Sam smiled watching people light up when the lawyer revealed what Steve had left them. That was his boy, always trying to build people up. Tony got a mint condition He-Man shield they fought over as kids. Clint got Steve's toolset. The man was always renovating something. Nick got Steve's set of antique pistols. One of them belonged to Bass Reeves. Maria got his antique camera. The thing still worked and was probably worth some money, like Nick's new gun. Banner got some old-school books. He seemed pretty stoked about it. Elijah also got a collector's item, a set of limited-edition comic books. Steve also made sure Elijah had the money to go to SUNY debt-free. Mr. Bradley, Elijah's grandfather, got an undisclosed gift.

Whatever Steve got me, I am going to cherish it , Sam thought. He would not sell it.

The lawyer continued, "To my beautiful and beguiling wife, I leave my art collection. Don't sell the Cezanne." Nat pursed her lips but then smiled. "I also leave my savings, checking, and stock portfolio accounts. The remainder of my personal belongings not mentioned should be donated or sold. The proceeds of any donations and sales should be split evenly between the Disabled American Veterans Organization and St. Jude's Children's Hospital and Research Center."

Damn , Sam thought, wiping a tear. Steve was a good man. 

“And finally, to the two best friends a guy could ever have, Bucky and Sam, I leave my mother’s house and my favorite couch.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky sniffed. “Who gets the house, and who gets the couch?”

“Mr. Rogers bequeathed both the house and couch to both of you,” the lawyer answered.

“When you say both of us,” Sam tried to clarify.

“One half of the house is yours, Sam, and the other half is Bucky’s. Same with the couch,” Nat explained. 

“This is bullshit,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “He couldn’t kumbaya us in life, so he’s doing it in death?” 

For once, Sam agreed with the Bucky, but he wasn’t about to complain at his best friend’s funeral. They could deal with this later. Bucky could buy him out or vice versa.

-o0o-

The small group of friends ate the refreshments and waited for the items to be handed out. They took turns telling Steve stories. Tony and Steve met in summer camp and hated one another’s guts at first. Sam could tell. They still argued like cats and dogs. 

Steve worked with Nat for years flirting back and forth until she finally had to ask him out. Sam was so glad she did. Steve was head over heels until the day he died and would not shut up about it. 

Steve was assigned as Elijah’s big brother when the young man was in middle school. Steve took shit like that to heart. Mr. Bradley gained another grandson that day. Nick looked out for Steve and his mom when Steve was a kid. Sam laughed when everyone turned to him. 

"I ran next to dude every morning in Gotham Park for a year and never talked to him, but then someone decided to rob me. I hadn't even seen Steve out there yet, but he came out of nowhere and hip-checked the robber and knocked the guy over. When we were done with him, the guy told the cops he wanted to press charges.” Sam laughed. He sniffed. “Steve had my back, and from then on I had his,” Sam smiled. He teared up a little bit. 

Sarah put her arms through his. “Y’all know I knew Steve through this knucklehead,” she said, pushing Sam in the head. “He was a good man and a good friend to my brother. And he always lied and said my food tasted good,” Sarah laughed. Everyone laughed with her.  

“He was like that,” Bucky smirked. “He had to fight every battle for every underdog in our neighborhood. I had to keep him out of trouble,” Bucky said.

“Or help him into it.” Nick smiled.

“Yeah,” Bucky smirked.

The lawyer’s assistant arrived with the items and began handing them out. Tony got his shield and walked over to Nat. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, call.”

“I will. Thank you,” Nat said, hugging him and Pepper goodbye. Nick took his case and slid a card in Nat’s hands. Elijah and his grandfather, Isaiah left next until it was just Sam, Sarah, and Bucky. 

“Sarah, I have something for you too,” Nat said, taking Sarah’s hand and leading her from the room. “I saved Steve’s mother’s recipe book. It would just sit on my bookshelf-” 

Sam and Bucky eyed one another. Nat leaving them alone? That couldn't be good. The lawyer took two envelopes out of his briefcase and handed them to the men. The men opened the envelopes. They contained a letter and the house appraisal.

“I will now read the last of Mr. Rogers’s instructions,” the lawyer said.

Sam and Bucky,

I know you are going to be miffed at me, but if you're reading this I'm dead, so you'll get over it. You're my best friends, and I love you both like brothers, and that is why I am entrusting you to take care of my childhood home. Nat doesn't want it. She wants to move back to Europe, and I wanted it to go to family since my mom worked so hard to buy it. It only cost her $50,000, but now it's worth over two million dollars before renovations. You both love New York, so I figured you two would be perfect.

I know what you're thinking. Let’s sell and split the money. I get it, but it’s my house, and I want you to keep it. I can be a dick and selfish when I think I’m right, you know this better than everyone. I don’t know why you never got along, but I know you would if you ever really tried. I’m gone. You were important parts of my life, and I can only assume that’s true for you too. You're going to need a new best friend. Why not each other?

With that being said, the house is yours if you don’t sell it in the first two years. If you do decide to sell it, 99.9% of the proceeds will be split between the veteran and St. Jude’s organizations. To take possession of the home you have to both live in it together for a consecutive period of six months. I know you think this is bullshit, but I’m trying to look out for my boys one last time. 

After six months you can go back to your lives, and after two years you can sell, but can you at least try to be cordial to one another? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you finish school, Buck. I know you will do great things one day. Sam, what you do at the VA is inspiring. You're my hero.  I was looking forward to being your best man, but you took too long to find Mrs. Right. Promise me you will take more time for yourself, Sam. I love you both. Take care of my home, my couch, and maybe just maybe, each other?

Steve

Sam was flabbergasted. “Did the cancer start to affect his brain?” Sam asked no one in particular. He didn’t understand why Steve would do this. Steve knew how he felt about Bucky. Sam was sure Bucky had a few choice words about him when it was just Steve and Bucky alone. Maybe he couldn’t decide who to leave the house to. He glanced over to Barnes.

Bucky was annoyed. "He's such an asshole," Bucky said.

"Man, respect the dead. He thought you needed a babysitter," Sam said without thinking.

“Don’t tell me what to say about my best friend,” Bucky said. 

“Here we go. You know what? A million dollars will go a long way to helping the Veterans at the DVA,” Sam said.

“Of course, you want to sell,” Bucky sneered. 

“Actually, I don’t, I wanted to respect his last wishes but-” Sam started. He cut himself off and shook his head.

“You don’t want to deal with me for six months,” Bucky finished.

“Ain’t nobody worried about you, Dude,” Sam mumbled.

“Prove it,” Bucky dared.

“Prove what, Asshole?” Sam turned back to the man.

“My lease is up in two months. I’m moving in. I grew up here anyway.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I just renewed my lease so-” Sam said.

“More room for me,” Bucky smirked.

"You both have to move in to take possession of the property, and if you're interested, Mr. Wilson, I can advise you on how to get out of your lease," the estate manager chimed in.

Sam sighed. “What happens if we don’t move in?” Sam asked. Bucky shook his head and stormed out of the door.

“The house will be sold immediately. Then 99.9% of the proceeds would go to charity,” the lawyer supplied.

“And I will never speak to you again,” Bucky yelled from the front porch. 

Sam could smell the cigarette smoke from here. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” Sam said. Sam walked over and sat on Steve’s ugly ass couch. “You are an asshole,” Sam said to Steve’s ghost.

-o0o-

Sam thought he was going to be slick, and say he was moving in. He would bring some clothes over to the house, a fake toothbrush, and some church shoes. Then he could live at his apartment until it was time to reevaluate in two years. Steve thought of everything. It was written into the fucking property transfer that he and Bucky had to give up their leases. Sam was pissed until Steve’s lawyer got him out of his lease through some legal wrangling. 

Despite how annoying he was, Sam couldn’t ruin this for Bucky. The guy wasn’t his favorite person in the world, but Sam knew how much he needed this. Barnes was in school, working part-time, trying to make ends meet, and living in a dump. Steve talked about all the time how Bucky wouldn’t let him help. 

Steve was an art buyer for Stark Industries and made lots of money to acquire pieces for Stark's collection. Steve had a pretty impressive art collection himself. He even directed Sam on a few pieces to buy. 

The point was Steve had it to give, but Bucky was proud. Steve tried to make sure Bucky was straight before he passed, and Sam wasn’t going to mess that up. He loved his brother too much. Besides, owning half of a 2.2-million-dollar brownstone in Brooklyn was not a bad thing.

-o0o-

It was no secret that he and Sam never got along. They got on each other's nerves, to be honest, but Bucky got why Steve liked him. Of course, Bucky was going to take care of the house. He grew up here too, beyond that, he would never let Steve and Ms. Rogers down. Bucky also knew Steve had been worried about Sam pushing himself so hard and not taking time for himself. They all did tours in the military. Sam lost a close friend. Bucky lost an arm. Wilson channeled his pain into school and working at the VA, Bucky into a number of vices. He was just starting to get his life on track. Wilson was stuck.

The things Wilson sees from day to day can be hard for anyone to deal with, but Sam lived it. That experience probably makes him a good counselor, but Bucky knows it can be hard experiencing trauma over and over again. The guy had no idea what a work-life balance was despite counseling his clients on it all day. There was the added fact that Sam already knew what grief and losing a brother felt like. He had never truly gotten over the first time he lost a dear friend.

And now, they had just lost Steve. It was going to be hard for both of them. Bucky knew what it looked like to put on a brave front in public and then lose yourself in the shadows and pitch of the night. So, Bucky would watch out for Sam for Steve. They were going to be roommates. He would check in with him now and again. Make sure he wasn't falling back into the void. Bucky made a note to set up his psych appointments.

He wasn’t going to ignore the fact that Steve probably thought he needed the house. He did. Shit. He couldn’t yell at Steve about trying to give him handouts now. He hadn’t known how he was going to make rent this summer. His spring classes took all of his financial aid and the diner business had slowed. Maybe Steve wasn’t such an asshole after all. No, he was, but Bucky loved his brother anyway.

-o0o-

Sam opened the front door and looked around. Bucky said he had moved in, but Sam didn’t see much in the living room. All of his furniture could go in here. They had both agreed to move “the couch” to the den and to leave the master bedroom alone. Sam heard Bucky blasting rock music on the second floor. He grabbed his duffel and a suitcase and started up the stairs.

Sam got to the room that was supposed to be his and grabbed the brass knob. It jiggled but did not turn. He tried a few more times. It was locked. He was just over here the other day and the door was not locked. Sam popped his lips, dropping his stuff. He tried the knob one more time. "Bucky!"

The man peeked his head out of his room. “Did you lock my door?”

“Why would I lock your door?” Bucky asked, going back into his room.

"Because you're a hater," Sam said. He got out the ring of keys from the lawyer and found a key that worked. Sam got the door open and turned on a light and gasped. Steve, or rather Nat, had filled the room with the stuff from his and Steve's friendship. There were pictures, golf clubs, a Mets' hat, and a painting. The painting was abstract, but they were wings. He closed the door, sat on the bed, and cried all over again. He missed his friend.

-o0o-

Bucky got to the house early that morning. He didn’t bring much. All of his stuff was junk and he had trashed a lot of it. He mostly had books, albums, his record player, and his clothes. He kept his father’s trunk. He set it in front of the couch in the den. Both were of a bygone era and should have been thrown out years ago, but held too many memories for that. The doorbell rang while he was carrying his mattress in a box towards the stairs. An Amazon package was on the porch addressed to him.

After getting everything in the house, Bucky opened the box. It was kitchen supplies from his sweet baby sister. He told her he didn't need a housewarming gift, but she and Jones sent one anyway. He looked at the time. It was 8:00 a.m. He would wait until lunch to call and thank them.

He would need that time because Steve had drawn the most beautiful sketches of him, and Nat had framed them and filled his room with them. He cried like a baby looking at all the mementos from their life. He put on some music in case Sam popped up. He was supposed to arrive after lunch.

Five minutes living together, and Sam had already found something to blame him for. Bucky went back to arranging his books on the built-in shelves. He loved this room. It used to be Mrs. Rogers' office. After a while, the spines were getting harder to read because golden light was fading outside his window. Bucky turned off his music. The house was quiet. 

Steve must have gotten to Sam too because he closed his bedroom door and hadn’t come out for hours. Bucky had an unobstructed view of the stairs. He hadn’t heard Sam when he went to the bathroom. He filled the last shelf and broke down the box. He sighed and listened. 

The furnace came on. There was a tree branch that needed to be trimmed because it was scraping against the window. Bucky’s stomach growled, but no indication that another person was there. He walked out into the hall and went to Sam’s door. He listened for a moment and realized that was either creepy or clingy. “I’m ordering takeout. You want anything?” Bucky asked through the door. 

Bucky heard Sam clear his throat. “Luigi’s,” floated through the door. Bucky didn’t have that kind of money. He was thinking of a slice from the place up the street. 

“How about-” Bucky tried.

“I’ll call it in, and you pick it up,” Sam said. The door snatched open. Bucky stood back as Sam went into the bathroom. His eyes were red. “You still like pineapple on your pie, right?”

“If there is pineapple on my pizza, I will cause you bodily harm.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. The app says it will be ready in 35 minutes,” Sam said, washing his face.

“How much?” Bucky asked.

“I got it. You can get me back later.”

“Fine by me,” Bucky said, going to grab his wallet and coat. He walked out of the house thinking this might work.

The next morning, he knew he was wrong. It started out fine enough. He went downstairs to get some coffee started. He ate his pizza alone last night. Sam never came out of his room, or so he thought. There was only one slice of pie left in the fridge. Sam must have gotten up in the middle of the night. Dude was going to be wrecked this morning.

Bucky almost spilled his coffee grounds on the floor when Sam came bustling through the back door. He was sweating. Rap music blasting in his ears. He had on running gear. Bucky peaked out the window. Yep, it was gray and drizzling. The trees were bent in protest against the wind.

“Morning,” Sam chirped at him. God, he was talking to him. He was also letting all the cold air into the warm and cozy house. Winter was coming.

“Mfnngkg,” Bucky grumbled back at him. It was too early for this.

Sam chuckled at him, closed the door- finally, and started doing stretches in the kitchen. Bucky was not amused. He got his coffee going and went into the pantry to see what he could come up with for breakfast.  He was starving. Sam's muscles must have properly relaxed because he disappeared. Bucky groaned when the shower cut on above him, and Sam started singing Prince. Jesus Christ, he was living with a fucking morning person.

-o0o-

Sam came down after a shower. He always felt great after a run, and to be honest, he needed a little pick me up. He knew, professionally, it was fine to grieve Steve, but he didn't want to fall into a dark space. He wanted to focus on honoring Steve's life. In doing so, he thought about Steve's last question. Why didn't he and Bucky get along?

Bucky just always grated on his nerves. The college student always went out of his way to say he grew up with Steve or Steve was his best friend. Sam let it get to him, and admittedly, Bucky had successfully pulled him into a pissing contest that had lasted eight years. Maybe he should try to make more of an effort. Try to be an adult. 

He walked into the kitchen and got his lunch out of the fridge. Bucky was studying at the counter with a bowl of cereal beside him. Sam smiled at the man, "I'll see you later, Buck," Sam said. "I'm going to work."

“We’re roommates Wilson, not married,” Bucky snarked.

Sam fought through his annoyance. And that right there is why they never got along. Bucky just pushed his buttons. “I was trying to be cordial, but I forgot who I was dealing with. See ya, grumpy,” Sam said, leaving the room.

Bucky snorted. "Did I hurt your feelings? Have a good day. Love you, sweetheart," Bucky called as Sam walked out the front door.  Sam closed the door harder than necessary. He walked down the porch steps and then noticed a neighbor in the yard putting up harvest decorations.

“Hi, Neighbor,” the blonde woman called.

"Hi," Sam said, smiling. "I'm Sam Wilson, a friend of Steve's, I moved in yesterday."

“Hi, I’m Carol Danvers,” the woman responded. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Just then the front door opened on the house, and Bucky came out to take out the trash. “You’re still here?” Bucky asked Sam, walking past the counselor and completely ignoring Carol.

“Bucky, this is-” Sam tried.

“I know who that is,” Bucky muttered, throwing away the trash and trooping back up the stairs into the house.

“Yeah, keep walking dipshit,” Carol said.

“Get a fucking life, Carol,” Bucky said before he closed the door.

Sam eyeballed the woman. “We grew up together,” Carol said. “He broke my best friend’s heart. Now, she’s my wife.”

“Oh-” Sam said. “Congrats?”

“You’re funny. I like you,” Carol said. “We do game nights on 2nd and 4th Wednesdays. Leave the asshole at home.”

“Okay, cool. Well, I gotta get to work. See ya, neighbor,” Sam said.

“See ya,” Carol went back to her lights.

Sam was boarding his train when his phone rang. It was Bucky. He sighed and picked up. “What?” he said, quietly. He didn’t want to be that guy talking loud on the train. 

“House rule: you can’t be friends with Carol.”

“Why? Because you're not friends with Carol?”

“Yes. At Steve’s suggestion, I’ve decided to try you out as my new best friend, and this is test #1.”

“Bucky, I’m not getting involved in your high school beef. We need to be cordial with our neighbors.”

“Cordial and game nights are two different things.”

“You’re tripping. You were listening to our conversation?”

“Me and Carol used to be buddies, and she ditched me for a girl. How was I supposed to know she was in love with Maria?” 

“She says you broke Maria’s heart, and now I’m in the middle of some HS drama. My stop is coming up. Bye.”

“Your best friend application isn’t looking so hot, Pal.”

"I don't remember applying," Sam said, hanging up the phone. Sam did not doubt that the conversation was more about Bucky being petty to his former friend than wanting loyalty from Sam. The thing is, Sam had been thinking about giving Bucky a chance as well this morning.

-o0o-

Bucky had no idea why he had told Sam he was trying him out as a new best friend. It wasn’t anything he thought too much about until it was coming out of his mouth. He could only chalk it up to grief, but now that he had said it… He had the greatest best friend ever. He didn’t even care that it made him sound like a teenage girl. It was true, and teenage girls could be kickass. His baby sister was. 

The point was he would try to be a good friend, which is why he was trying to find a polite way to say, Sam, your outfit is god awful. He would just tell Steve. Fuck it. It’s not like he and Sam had ever minced their words before. “What are you wearing? I thought you were going to hang out with some dames,” Bucky asked from the couch in the living room. Sam was in the coat closet and grabbed a hoodie. 

“It’s not like that and there is nothing wrong with what I have on,” Sam said.

“Wilson, I’ve seen you put in more effort than this. These girls nuns or something?”

“No, not that it matters. They are colleagues and friends of colleagues,” Sam said, pulling on the coat.

“They’re ugly?” Bucky asked, flipping the page of his book.

“I’m not even going to answer that.” Sam closed the door to the closet.

“Lesbians?” Bucky guessed.

“They’re smart and beautiful women I work with. Their sexuality is none of your business. There's nothing wrong with my outfit.”

“You look like a serial killer, but not the charming ones that lure their victims with good looks. I think you should change and maybe you can get laid.”

“My outfit is not that bad, and I’m not going for that,” Sam reiterated. Bucky saw him glance in the mirror. 

"That doesn't mean you can't look your best, and there may be someone you do like there."

"It's last-minute drinks with work friends, and I don't feel like looking for-" Sam groaned.

Bucky hopped up from the couch. His knee knocked the coffee table back with a screech. He went into the laundry room and pulled Sam’s good jeans off the drying rack. He grabbed a striped turtleneck sweater off a hanger too, and because he was a kind person, he tossed Sam his leather bomber jacket.  

“You’ll thank me later,” Bucky said, laying back on the couch.

Sam did get laid that night. Bucky heard. And to his credit, Sam did thank him once his guest left the next morning. "Thanks for telling me the truth, Man. I wasn't feeling it when I accepted the invite, but you had my back," Sam smiled, drinking his green juice.

Bucky nodded and grinned. He should be happy he was able to be a good friend. He wasn’t happy. After Sam left for work, he tried to figure out why he was so annoyed. Maybe it was grief. He probably needed to get laid himself. 

-o0o-

One month down, and Sam was starting to feel like they could do this. They sniped back and forth at one another. They had one or two heated arguments, but they got alright in a day or so. Sam was feeling hopeful. 

Why did he let himself get his hopes up? He was laying in the den watching TV. He must have fallen asleep because he woke up to Bucky calling his name. “Sam, I want to play COD. Move your feet,” Bucky said.

“Buck, I know you see me napping,” Sam said. He had a rough day at work and wasn’t feeling his best.

“You can nap in the living room or better yet in your bedroom. The CPU is hooked to this TV.”

“Unhook it and take it in the living room,” Sam said, closing his eyes.

“I don’t want to,” Bucky said, pulling on his feet. Sam tried to pull away from the man’s grasp and ended up kicking Bucky in the chest. Bucky’s eyes narrowed. His nose scrunched. His lips curled.

“Oof,” Sam said, surprised. “My bad-” 

Bucky growled, “Fine, you won’t be an adult and get up. It’s our couch and my turn,” Bucky said. 

“Your turn? Are we in second grade?” Sam snickered. Bucky always brought out the petty in him.

“Move,” Bucky commanded.

Sam didn’t care about that base in his voice. He was here first. Sam was hardly ever home. Bucky always had the place to himself. He could let Sam finish his nap. Sam laughed at him, making a show of snuggling into the cushions. Bucky sat on Sam’s legs. “You’re the child,” Sam said. “You weren’t worried about being in here any other day except for when I want to take a nap.”

“I come in here every night and play COD with my buddies. You would know that if you ever got home before eight p.m.”

“You ain’t playing in here tonight.” Bucky glared at him. Sam grinned back. Bucky huffed and laid down on top of Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Getting comfortable,” Bucky said.

“You’re such an asshole. I’m not moving, so enjoy your turn on the couch.”

"I'm not moving either," Bucky said, lying fully on top of Sam.

“Get your hair out of my face,” Sam complained.

"The couch in the living room is hair-free. So is your bedroom."

Sam lay there determined not to get up. After a while, the warmth and heaviness of Bucky's body had his eyes slipping closed again. He doesn't know how long he had been asleep, but Bucky's head was on his chest and they were covered in a throw blanket. This asshole had made himself comfortable. If he wasn't so cozy he would wake him up and give him a piece of his mind. Sam's stomach growled.

“I was going to get take out. I guess I owe you for Luigi’s,” Bucky mumbled in Sam’s chest.

“Sounds good,” Sam said. His eyes closed again. They opened when his phone went off. He grabbed it off the trunk. It was Rhodey. “I’ll call him back later,” Sam said mostly to himself, yawning. He was almost asleep again when his phone sounded again.

“Geez, Wilson. You running a hotline?” Bucky groaned.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, looking at his phone. It was Leila. Sam rolled out from under Bucky and hopped up.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said, falling half off the couch.

“Hello? No, I'm not busy. Plans? Tonight? Not really,” Sam said, glancing back at Bucky. The man had made it back on the couch. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there in an hour. Okay,” Sam said, hanging up.

“I’m going to have to get a raincheck on dinner. Leila-”

“I heard. They heard in New Jersey,” Bucky griped.

“Well, now you get to play COD.”

“Whatever,” Bucky grouched.

Sam shook his head and went off to get ready. He came downstairs to show Bucky his outfit, but the man was gone. Sam realized he was disappointed. He didn’t think Bucky was mad. It’s not like their plans had been set in stone for decades. He asked for a raincheck.

Later that night, Sam walked in and it sounded like Bucky was trying to break through the wall. It also sounded like Bucky’s bed was as old as Steve’s couch. Eventually, Bucky and his guest quieted. Sam couldn’t say anything because he was sure he was loud the other week.

The next morning, after his run, he went and got coffee and donuts from that place Bucky liked. He walked through the back door just as Bucky was making it in the kitchen. “Hey, sounds like you had fun last night.”

“Dksj,” Bucky grunted.

“I got coffee and donuts from the baker’s”

“I’m not hungry.” 

Sam pursed his lips. One Bucky was always hungry in the morning, and two, he enunciated to shit on him. Maybe he was mad.

“You're mad at me because I got dinner with my boss instead of eating a chopped cheese or hot dog with you.”

“You're on strike two, pal. Ditching me for some girl is not best friend material.”

“I got dinner with my boss,” Sam said. He opened the box and smelled the aromas of fried bread and sweet glaze.

“That’s bullshit. She was your date to Steve’s anniversary party. Leila is your ex.”

“Who is now my married boss with two kids. She needed an update on a project I’m spearheading before she flew to DC to beg the government for more money. So, stop being a grouch and eat a donut. I know you want to. It sounds like you worked up an appetite last night,” Sam said, biting into a bear claw. He moaned and smiled at Bucky.

Bucky glared at him and walked over to the counter. He pulled the donut box towards him with a scrape. He grabbed two donuts and his cup of coffee, and went and sat in front of his laptop. 

“This coffee is delicious and made exactly how I like it. Are you stalking me, Wilson?”

“Remember, some idiot had the great idea to take Steve camping for his birthday, and I was forced against my will to come along.”

“I didn’t want you to come, so-”

"A man fitting your description cried for two days about his perfect cup of coffee he wasn't able to make because he forgot the Moka pot."

“I don’t recall,” Bucky grumbled, biting into his donut. 

Sam shook his head and left the kitchen. He headed upstairs and jumped when the bathroom door opened. That’s right. Bucky had a gir- Sam's eyes widened. Sam smoothed his features quickly. Bucky had a dude over last night. Sam's brain shut down for a moment as the practically naked Asian man smiled and went into Bucky’s room. 

-o0o-

Bucky could admit he was miffed at Sam last night and acted accordingly, but now that logic and reason had returned, he doesn’t know if he should have come out to him this way. Sam didn’t act any differently when he went off to work. Shang-Chi was scoffing on a donut and drinking half of Bucky’s coffee when Sam said goodbye. Bucky was freaking out a bit.

He focused enough to turn in his discussion post for the week, and then he was done with all of his work, so his mind turned back to Sam. He went back and forth about calling him. He shouldn't. He had a shift at the diner in an hour.

Sam picked up on the third ring. “Yes, James, how can I help you?” Sam asked. Bucky could hear him typing. The words got stuck in his throat.

“Bucky?” Sam asked concerned.

“My phone broke up for a little. I was thinking about the raincheck and your second strike.”

“I don’t have a second strike because again, Leila is my boss,” Sam whispered. “And more importantly, I didn’t apply to be your best friend.”

“I am going to reverse the second strike, now that I know all the facts. The raincheck is happening tonight and tonight only. A buddy of mine is opening a pub.” Bucky hit his palm against his forehead. He was inviting Sam to meet Dugan now? His mouth and brain were out of sync. The truth was they always had been around Sam.

“What time?” Sam asked.

"6:00 pm," Bucky said.

"I got a group session at 5:00 pm. I will get there when I can, and I won't be able to go home and change. I may look like a serial killer again."

“You looked fine this morning. Lose the tie and the top button. I’ll text you the address.”

“Sure thing, Dad. Is it? Uh-” Sam hesitated.

"Spit it out, Wilson."

“Is it just going to be you and me? Do I need to invite someone?”

“I was thinking just us but if-”

“No, that’s fine. I didn’t want to be the odd man out.”

“Well, I can’t help you with that, but it’ll be just me.”

“You're an asshole. See you around six.”

Later at the pub, Bucky was flirting with a blonde when Sam walked in. Oh boy. He wasn’t supposed to feel like his heart had just been launched into space looking at his prospective new best friend. Sam looked amazing. When Sam made it over to him in the crowded bar, Bucky leaned over and shouted, “Did you go home and change?”

“No, I had a few things at the office.”

“That’s pitiful, Wilson,” Bucky said.

“Or is it smart?” Sam responded, winking at a woman looking his way. “I do know how to clean up when I want to.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bucky said. “Dugan has our table ready.”

Bucky never noticed how easy it was to talk to Sam. They sniped at one another for a little while, but then Bucky asked him how work was. Sam was honest about having a harder time and asked him about school. Bucky filled him in on his classes and how he was feeling overall. Stressed was the word. He cursed at his Blackboard calendar. Why did profs schedule all their exams and essays the last two weeks of school? It felt good to get it out.

It felt good making Sam smile after he got that far-off look in his eye. The counselor always went back to that tragic moment no matter how many times he talked about Riley. No matter how long ago that was. Bucky knew how to bring him back because he watched Steve do it expertly. He knew how to bring him back because he clawed himself out of a pit. There were days where he felt like giving in, but Becca and his mom would worry. Sam would too. He would not add to their grief. In more ways than one, they were in the same boat.

He reminded Sam of the Employee of the Year Award he got from the VA. It came with a week-long vacation to some golf resort. He, Sam, Steve, and Rhodey spent the week drunk off their asses, hitting golf balls, and pissing off very rich people. "I'm still shocked you asked me to go and that someone gave you an award.”

“Man, by that point we had spent so many occasions together because of Steve. I had four tickets. You didn’t have to invite me on the camping trip,” Sam answered. Bucky scoffed. “No, like really, you could have left me out of that.”

“Honestly, I thought you were going to say no.”

“I almost did but-” Sam paused.

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, Steve-” Sam said, taking a sip of beer. “This food is a’ight, and you know the owner?” Sam asked.

“Served with him. There he is,” Bucky said, waving Dugan over. “Dumdum, this is Sam. Sam, this is my friend, Dugan.”

“You must be a charitable man to be Bucky’s friend,” Sam joked.

“I’m a fucking Saint.” Dugan grinned. 

“Alright, you two. Dugan, it’s a great place.”

“Thanks, Sarge. I’m honored you’re here, and that you brought your date.”

"Oh. Uh-" Sam said.

Bucky choked on his beer. He wiped his mouth looking up at Dugan and glancing at Sam. “He’s not my date.”

“Sarge, I know while we were in-with Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” Dugan muttered.

Bucky glanced at Sam again. He was trying to school his features. His eyes and the shape of his mouth gave him away though. "No. We're roommates," Bucky clarified.

“Oh. Really? I could have sworn. I’m so sorry,” Dugan said, looking at Sam. He clapped him on the back. “I thought you were Sam Wilson.”

“I am Sam Wilson,” Sam said. The counselor’s head cocked, looking between Dugan and Bucky.

Bucky's eyes closed and then looked up at his friend confused. “Dugan, what are you talking about?”

Sam interrupted, “Look, Man. The food was delicious. I’m going to run to the restroom.” Sam smirked when he got up.

“All the way in the back,” Dugan smiled.

“What the fuck, Dumdum?”

“Sarge, I thought you were sweet on the guy. Every time we get together you were griping about something he did.”

"Yeah, because he was a goody-two-shoes trying to steal my best friend."

“If you say so. The only person that could make me that mad is Betty. When you told me, you were living together-”

“What the hell does that mean, Dugan?”

“It means I haven’t seen you smile this much since well ever. I like it on you, Sarge.”

“I wasn’t. You’re not-” Bucky babbled.

“FYI, he was smiling too.” Dugan winked.

“Sam’s a good-natured guy. He’s always smiling and joking.” Even when he’s upset, Bucky thought. “Where’s the check?”

“Can you split our bill?” Sam asked, coming back up to the table. He sat back in the booth.

“Dugan, here’s my card. Ignore this asshole.”

“Bucky, I had like six beers. I can at least pay for my alcohol,” Sam tried, pulling out his wallet.

“I got it,” Bucky.

“Sarge, it’s on the house,” Dugan said.

“No, the fuck it’s not. That’s not how you run a business, John, letting all your friends eat free. I’m paying. That’s the end of it.”

"Alright. Thanks, man," Sam said.

“If you say so,” Dugan grumbled. He went off to settle the bill.

Sam and Bucky walked out of the pub headed for the train station. Bucky pulled his coat closed. Sam zipped his jacket up and pulled a beanie out of his coat pocket. Leaves crunched under their feet. 

“We should walk,” Sam suggested, reading Bucky’s mind. They only lived twenty minutes away on foot. “I need to get a feel for the neighborhood anyway. You can bore me with your ‘me and Steve against the world’ stories.”

“You hate my stories,” Bucky said.

“When has that ever stopped you from telling them,” Sam said.

They walked down the busy sidewalks as Bucky regaled Sam on his best stories from various holidays and dances. They looked in store windows at the coats and sweaters on display and drooled at the pies ready for Thanksgiving. Sam laughed in all the right parts as Bucky embellished his memories. As expected he was a great listener because he asked all the right questions, but Bucky could tell he was thinking about something else. “You miss Steve so much you’re willing to listen to me jabber on all night?”

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“I’m in a charitable mood,” Bucky said, already knowing where this was headed.

“Had you come out to Steve?”

“He knew I had sex with guys sometimes.”

“He never brought it up,” Sam mumbled.

“You mean I never brought it up. Is this going to be a problem? I can’t have a homophobic best friend.”

“I’m not homophobic. I’m surprised. I’ve known you for seven-eight years.”

"Get over it. It's not a big deal. Look at the kitties," Bucky said, walking over to the pets in the window. It was some kind of drive from a local shelter.

“Nope,” Sam said. 

“Wilson, we have a nice house in a family neighborhood. We need a pet.”

“You need a pet. I’m not taking care of a cat.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and walked into the store and peered down in the case. Two little white floofs were crawling around. Sam came into the store grumbling and glanced at the case. There were only two cats left. They were still pretty young. "How much?" Bucky asked the attendant.

“They’re usually $100 each, but I let you have both for $80.”

“Whoa,” Sam said. His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They are perfect,” Bucky said. Sam walked over to the case. Bucky saw him looking in the bin. There were stuffed animals and toys or what used to be stuffed animals and toys. Everything had been shredded and demolished. “Their siblings probably did that,” Bucky cooed at one of the kittens. Sam read the placard and showed it to Bucky with pursed lips. It said one was energetic- code for a hellion, and one had lots of personality- drama queen. “Like I said, we’ll take both.”

“Bucky,” Sam warned, but the one not in Bucky’s arm meowed at Sam. Sam looked at the furball. The man petted the cat between the ears and the white floof purred. Bucky had him now.

“If we don’t buy them, no one will. Not with these slanderous characterizations. And then-” Bucky grimaced, gesturing a slit across his throat.

Sam shook his head. “You’re a dick,” Sam said, petting his new friend.

“I’ll take care of them,” Bucky promised.

-o0o-

Sam woke up with a cat’s tail on his head. Figaro had slept on his pillow all night again. Sam named him that because Figgy had no problem telling you about yourself. He was always whining or arguing at you. Sam had stopped griping about it weeks ago. The truth was Sam loved the furball, and Figaro loved him. Bucky’s murder cat was a different story. Sam swore he saw the thing staring at him once when he woke up from a nap. The feline had been sharpening his claws. 

Sam got up and went for a run. He stopped by the donut shop and got their usual. A green juice and egg white waffle for him and two donuts for Bucky. He got in the house good and was taking down a saucer to warm his egg sandwich. 

Bucky came into the kitchen and beelined for the box of donuts. The man did not understand personal space. He reached around Sam. The runner felt like he was being felt up by an octopus. "You could have asked me for the box."

Bucky grunted and sipped his coffee and ate his donuts. Bucky didn’t have on a shirt. It was freezing in here. Sam could tell he was cold by the goosebumps on his skin and his pebbling nipples. “You’re not cold?”

“Food,” Bucky said. 

“Don’t say anything when your grouchy ass gets sick. I’m not taking care of you.”

“You're a pocket of sunshine today,” Bucky sighed. He smiled down at the cup in his hands. Bucky usually becomes polysyllabic after coffee. 

“Look who's talking. Hey, Carol asked me over to game night again. It’s getting awkward coming up with excuses,” Sam said.

“It’s only awkward because you want to go,” Bucky accused. He glared up at Sam. 

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I do want to go. I told you that the second time she asked. Can't you just apologize for creeping on Maria?"

“See you're taking her side. That’s a mark on your record.”

"No. I know you and have seen you in action. I also have had to listen to more Bucky fuck tales than I care to mention. If anything, I should get two points. One for knowing who you are and two for calling you on your bullshit. Yes men aren't real friends."

“Steve used kindness to sway me to his position.”

“I’m not trying to be your new Steve, Bruh. I love him. I do, but I’m Sam. You want to be my best friend; you need to understand that. I’m going tonight. Am I going to have to buy a dozen donuts tomorrow or help with your intro to psych paper before you act right again?”

“I don’t care what you do. And for the record, I didn’t need help with my paper. I asked you one thing last time and you took over.”

“I made a few suggestions, and you got a 98. You're welcome.”

“It was an A paper before your suggestions.”

Later that evening, Sam came down and said goodbye to Bucky. He was playing Call of Duty with his military buddies. He didn't have anything smart to say about his attire, so Sam assumed he looked okay. He decided to walk down the street and get a bottle of something for the party. When he got back to the house, another couple was walking in next door. Sam learned their names were Okoye and Ayo. Everyone here was coupled up and a part of the LGBT community, except one guest. Sam glared at Bucky speaking to Carol and Maria.  

Sam walked over to say hello to his hosts. Carol hugged him. “Maria, this is the poor darling who has to put up with Barnes all day and night.”

"Nice to meet you, Sam. I've heard so much about you," she said, shaking his hand. She pulled Sam towards her and slung her arm around his neck. "Be for real, how bad do you want a truce between these two?"

“Very,” Sam agreed. “And nice to meet you too,” Sam smiled. He already loved her.

“I don’t even understand what this all this about? You guys used to be close,” Maria said. 

"If we're being real," Sam said. Carol and Bucky were shaking their heads. Bucky turned on his best glower. "I heard it was about you. The fact that you don't know that means they need help to verbalize their feelings."

“Strike two,” Bucky mumbled. Sam blew him a kiss and immediately regretted it. Luckily, Carol started speaking.

“He broke your heart,” Carol defended.

“He who?” Maria asked.

“Bucky,” Carol said.

Sam had to hide a smirk at Maria’s puckered lips and furrowed brow.  “Bae, what are you talking about?”

“You dated for a bit, and then he dropped you as soon as you had sex. You were upset for weeks.”

“Danvers, Me and Bucky were just fooling around. I knew it wasn’t serious. You know Bucky was community dick back then. No offense, B. I love you,” Maria cooed, patting Bucky on the cheek.

“It’s fair,” Bucky admitted, still glaring at Sam. Sam reached out to pat his cheek too.  Bucky moved his head. Sam tried again, and Bucky bit at his hand. Sam smirked at him. Bucky flicked him off.

“Then why were you so upset?” Carol asked.

“Again, being real. And this is how much I love you both and want this silly beef to end. He helped me figure out I was a lesbian.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. Maria smirked at him. “Go ahead.”

“Wait? You turned a woman gay?” Sam asked, smiling.

“That’s not how it works, Dickwad,” Bucky grouched.

“Bucky was one of the flyest dudes in our neighborhood. If he couldn’t make me into guys then I didn’t have hope for anyone else. I was struggling with my identity, and honestly, he made me realize I was in love with you, Carol. This is what this beef has been about?”

“I thought he hurt you,” Carol said, grabbing her wife’s hands. She kissed them.

“No, you assumed, and then just stopped being my friend,” Bucky chimed.

“Oh, pal. You went after her when I asked you not to,” Carol said, spinning around and poking into Bucky’s chest.

“I didn’t know you were in love with her. You could have told me. I would have never done it. Bud Code.”

“So, now we can all be friends again, seeing that he inadvertently brought us together,” Maria tried.

Carol huffed, “your cat is evil.”

“Oh please...your dog is a big baby,” Bucky returned.

Sam shook his head. “Maria, where can I put this?” Sam asked. 

"I'll show you," Maria said, leading Sam towards the kitchen.

“Don’t think I’ll forget about this Wilson,” Bucky said. 

“Friends help each other,” Sam smiled and touched Bucky’s cheek. Bucky tried to swat at him, but Sam was too quick. He was in the kitchen in seconds.

“Your game night looks lit except I don’t see any games.” Sam grabbed a gingerbread man and bit off his head. 

“They’ll break out charades, Scattergories , or Taboo later. Hilda, Okoye, and Phastos are bound to start a spades or dominoes game in the den.”

“Well, I know where I need to be,” Sam laughed.

“So, you and Bucky? Where’d you guys meet?” Maria asked.

“Through Steve,” Sam returned.

“How long?” Maria asked, replacing the salami slices with a fresh row on the charcuterie table.

“About eight years now,” Sam said, eating a canape.

“Eight years?” Maria gasped. “I don’t know why I thought you were a new item. Even though Carol says you argue like an old married couple. You guys thinking of getting married? having kids?”

“Oh no-” Sam said.

“Maria, where are the playing cards?” a woman with a face tattoo asked. It looked tribal. “Okoye running her mouth ‘cause her boo here. I hate to do it, but I’m about to have to spank my good Sis.”

“I’ll show you. Hil, this is Sam, Bucky’s partner. I’ll be back, Sam.” Maria said, going off.

Sam was speechless. Carol and Maria thought he and Bucky were together? That meant the whole neighborhood thought…Sam ate a pepperoni slice, and then went over to the table in search of hard liquor. 

For two people who just ended a twenty-year feud, Carol and Bucky had been talking all night. Sam realized that Bucky grew up with a lot of these people and hung out with them. That meant Bucky had been out a long time. 

By the end of the night, Sam had been introduced as Bucky’s partner so much that he just went with it. The first few times he tried to explain, but there was music going, a loud spades game in the back, and an even louder Taboo game going on. It wasn’t worth it. He was having fun anyway. He watched the spades game. Okoye and Hil were acting a fool. They tried to get him to play. Sam knew better. He could play, but he wasn’t on their level. Ayo read her books wrong, the couple got set, and Okoye looked like she wanted to break up with the woman. Sam snickered with Maria on the couch. It was a good time.

Well, it was until Bucky came into the room and made it uncomfortable. He dapped Phastos and Ben up. He plopped on the couch next to Sam and stole his beer. Maria excused herself. “So, you’re my partner?”

“Man, I know,” Sam groaned. “but it was easier just to go with it.”

“I was trying to get laid tonight.”

“There’s nothing but couples here.” Sam laughed.

“Like I said,” Bucky reiterated.

“So, you a freak too? I ain’t mad at it.”

“No, you’re just cockblocking.”

“I can cut out,” Sam said. 

“No, you seem like you're having fun. It’s about time.”

"I probably do need to head home."

“Wilson,” Bucky chastised.

“I have a presentation I need to be preparing for.”

“You're the only person I know that would leave a party to go do a slide deck.”

“That slide deck is hopefully going to help raise money to buy insulated tents for homeless vets.”

Sam thanked Carol and Maria for the invite and promised he would be at the next function. He wasn’t even surprised when Bucky left with him. Sam was working on his laptop in bed when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Sam said. 

The door swung open, and Bucky was in the threshold. From the wet hair and fresh scent, Sam could tell he just got out of the shower. It was funny because Sam didn’t even hear it going. This house has four bedrooms with one full bath upstairs and two halves: one on the first floor and one in the master bedroom. 

Bucky had on sweatpants, but they were dangerously low on his hips. He was also shirtless again. Sam didn’t know if he was imagining things or- nah. He was tripping. Sam liked to relax when he was at home too. Bucky felt at home here. That’s all it was. It was starting to feel like that for Sam too. 

“Chanukah and Christmas are coming up. We should decorate.”

Sam smiled. Bucky was enjoying this house. He was too. Maybe Steve wasn't so crazy. "Yeah, man."

“We can go shopping tomorrow.”

-o0o-

Sam laughed at the bare ornament shelves. Everything left was a strange color and just ugly. Bucky didn’t realize mermaids could go on trees, but he was looking at a metallic puke green one. He was kind of disappointed. Sam snickered beside him and put the mermaid in their basket. Bucky eyed him. 

“It’s slim pickings, Bruh. It’s shiny, green, and goes with the couch. And I like mermaids.”

“Yeah, it’s also ugly,” Bucky said. He turned to Sam and they smirked at one another. They spent the rest of the trip finding the most awful decorations for their tree. Bucky got a regular wreath for the door because he wouldn’t subject their neighbors to their madness. Bucky watched Sam troop back up the aisle with two boxes. They looked expensive and the cart was already full.

“I’ll get these,” Sam said. “I always thought they were cool.” The counselor stuck the boxes on the bottom of the cart.

Bucky glanced down at the pictures on the box. It was an inflatable snow globe and menorah. Bucky’s insides went mushy. Sam walked off again before he could say anything.  

Bucky was trying to pick which real menorah he wanted. He could spring for the nice tree of life one and cut back until the New Year, or he could be sensible and get the travel one. Sam came and dropped four stockings in the cart. Two had tigers all over it. One was all black with a spaceship, and one had a penguin on it.

“Get the one you want. I’ll go half,” Sam gestured to the display.

“You’re not Jewish, and I don’t want any handouts.”

“We said we were going Christmas and Hanukkah shopping. That’s what we’re doing. I will be expecting a latke, chocolate gelt, and a donut. Hurry up. We still have to get the tree, and I’m hungry. I have a craving for some Aloo Gobi.”

Out on the tree lot, Bucky could not believe Sam wanted a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. The thing in Sam’s hands barely had any branches or needles. “It goes with our theme.” 

“Do you remember all the crap we brought? The thing is going to snap in half.” Bucky wanted a full fir. After they argued for ten minutes, Groot, the attendant, took them to the corner of the lot and showed them a tree that was a happy medium. They compromised and got the skinnier tree mainly because Sam made the point that their impish cats would try to live in a tree the size of the fir.

Sam sighed behind him as they walked home with the tree. “What’s your problem? The takeout should arrive five minutes after we get home.”

"We just argued at a Christmas tree lot."

“So? We have a lot of arguments.”

“I know. Why is that?”

“We don’t get-”

“Along?” Sam finished. “We were getting along great, Bucky, up until that point.”

“What’s this about? You want that stick to be our Christmas tree so bad?”

"It's about dying on a hill to piss each other off when an agreeable compromise was two steps away if we just took the time to look."

“I get it. You're a counselor. A level-headed person. You're not supposed to get into arguments in public.”

“Or just an adult.”

“That’s bullshit. You're a human being. If you're angry or sad you get to feel it as long as you're not hurting anyone. And you don’t scare me, Flyboy.”

“I wasn’t angry, not really,” Sam admitted.

“Me either, but if you're passionate about a topic you're going to speak up.”

“Are you passionate about fir Christmas trees?” Sam asked.

No. He wasn’t. Not really. Part of it was pissing Sam off. Oh . Bucky swallowed. What was he trying to get at here? He wasn't suggesting- "I am passionate about several things, Pal," Bucky said, climbing the stairs to their porch.

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“Typewriters”

“What in the 1994 typing class?”

“Exactly! Wordsmithing used to have a rhythm, a percussion session.”

“Don’t the keys clack on a keyboard?”

“Not the same,” Bucky said, opening the door.

They ate takeout and figured out the Hanukkah decorations first since the first day was the next day. Sam even cleared off the sofa table for the menorah. It would be the first thing you saw when you walked in. They went outside after dinner and started messing around with the inflatables. They got it working before their fingers fell off.

It was a good thing too because the tree decorating was proving tricky. They were three cups into the rum-laced eggnog, and the kittens thought the ornaments were their new toys. The tree was just a brand-new cat condo and scratching post.

Despite the furballs, they finally got everything up. Thanks to the vacuum cleaner standing guard in front of the tree. Alpine and Figaro both hated it. Sam used glue and glitter to write their name on the stockings. He had art supplies leftover from a family day at the VA.

Once Sam hung the stockings on the fireplace in the den, he plopped down on the couch and Figaro jumped up to snuggle with him. Bucky brought the carton of eggnog and rum over, and Sam moved his legs this time for him. Bucky sat down and grumbled when Sam put his feet in Bucky's lap. Before Bucky could do anything, Alpine leaped on the couch and attacked Sam's socks. Bucky chuckled. Sam moved his feet.

“You need to get your guard cat. Figaro, you're just going to let him do that to daddy?” Sam asked the cat. He meowed and went back to his nap. “No help,” Sam mumbled, petting the white floof. Bucky handed him another cup of eggnog. They drank it and watched the flames dance and the wood crack.

-o0o-

Sam woke up to the smell of grease frying. He was still on the couch. The throw blanket was over him again, and Figaro was posted on the back of the seat. Bucky walked into the den and placed a plate on the coffee table. Sam looked at the golden-brown potato latkes and the fried egg to not look at Bucky's bare chest and legs . The colder it got, the fewer clothes his roommate was wearing. Sam's stomach did not care. He reached for the plate. "Thanks, man," Sam said.

“Thanks for agreeing to decorate last night.”

“It was a good idea, and I had fun,” Sam said. He was cutting into his breakfast when Bucky went over to the fireplace. He was poking at the ashes. Sam guessed Bucky was about to throw another log on, but all Sam could see was Bucky’s ass in his face. He realized how cut Bucky was. His prosthetic was all black and admittedly, next level.

There was a knock at the back door. “Oh, that’s Carol and Maria. I made them some latkes too,” Bucky said, heading into the laundry room. “Just a minute,” Bucky yelled. He came out with a shirt and sweats on. Sam thought that was interesting. 

Bucky opened the back door, and their pajama-clad neighbors trooped in. "Did we interrupt something?" Maria asked, smiling.

“No, why?” Buck said, handing them a platter.

“Because you took forever, and it’s freezing out there. Hi, Sam,” Carol said. “Thanks for these. Happy Hanukkah. We’re having a holiday party on the 16th,” Carol said, going back out the door.

Maria handed over her platter. "Happy Hanukkah, Bucky. Morning, Sam. You lovebirds have a great day," Maria giggled, heading out the door. She turned, "your shirt is on backward," she said before she disappeared.

“So, I guess we never told them we weren’t a couple,” Bucky said, bringing the platter over to the coffee table. He lifted off the foil. and Sam was salivating at homemade piping hot donuts. Sam smiled and grabbed a treat. 

“Happy Hanukkah,” he said.

“Happy Chanukah,” Bucky said, sitting next to him on the couch.

-o0o-

They were singing Christmas carols around the piano. Sam snickered at poor Monica who was home from college and forced to play. Her boyfriend was in the corner trying to pretend he wasn't thinking of running out the door to escape all the middle age gays singing off-key. Bucky was beside him and could sing! He won't no Luther or K-Ci, but Sam would give him Jon B or JC Chasez.

When the song ended, Carol clanked her wine glass with a spoon. They were all pretty sloshed except one person. “We have an announcement,” Carol smiled, kissing Maria. Monica looked up at her two moms. 

"We're pregnant!" she and Maria said. Everyone cheered.

“Pregnant with what?” Monica asked when the party quieted down.

“A baby,” Maria said back.

“You're going to be a big sister,” Carol laughed.

“Aren’t y’all too old for that?” Monica grimaced.

“No,” Carol said, smacking Monica with a stuffed snowman.

“Well, I have news too,” Monica said, getting up. She gestured for her boyfriend. He came over and locked hands with hers. He had a lopsided smile on his face. “Jimmy asked me to marry him, and I said yes,” Monica said, pulling a ring from her pocket and letting Jimmy put it on. Everyone cheered again.

“Wait,” Maria said, eying Jimmy. Sam shook his head when Bucky glared at him too.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Carol asked. “I’m happy for you kids, but you still have two years on your degree.”

“I’m not pregnant. We’re in love,” Monica said, kissing her boyfriend.

“Well, we’re going to have a very Merry Christmas,” Maria toasted.

Sam drank, watching everyone congratulate the Danvers-Rambeau family. Bucky shook Jimmy’s hand and rubbed Maria’s belly. Carol smacked his hand away.

“I’m so glad we’ll have some little kids in the neighborhood again. Junior will have someone to play with,” Phastos said. Sam learned that the man and his partner had just adopted a newborn. 

"I remember I couldn't wait to tell my friends what I got for Christmas every year. It will be fun to see kids riding their bikes, playing ball. Okoye and I have been thinking about starting a family," Ayo said. She smiled at her wife across the room. "Maybe it is time."

“Do it. Do it,” Ben said.

Ayo laughed. She quirked her brow at Sam, “And what about you and Bucky?”

“Me and Buck-” Sam choked. “Look guys, there is something I should tell you,” Sam began. 

“We’re veterans. We need to think about our mental health before we decide to start our family. Sometimes, I wake up back in the desert,” Bucky said while eating a pickle.

Sam turned to Bucky confused. Why didn't Barnes let him tell them? Sam hoped Bucky didn't think his PTSD was some kind of deal-breaker. He gave him a look, but added, “I struggle with depression. It’s been particularly hard these past few months losing Steve, but once I feel like I’m back on track. I would consider it. Family is a dream of mine.”

Later, they were walking back into the house. Sam went into the kitchen for some aspirin. The numerous glasses of mulled wine and coquito were not doing good things for his head. He was in the fridge getting water when Bucky brushed past him. Sam grabbed a water and watched Bucky eat a snickerdoodle Becca sent. "You still hungry? It was a holiday smorgasbord over there."

“I didn’t eat any sweets. Groot likes to put weed and magic mushrooms in everything. I don’t like what it does to my head.”

“Is that why I had a conversation with an Elf on the Shelf? I thought it was the D’usse. The crazy thing is dude was making some points,” Sam mumbled, taking the aspirin and another sip of water. Bucky snorted and grabbed the bottle out of his hands and drank a sip too. “You’re so rude,” Sam said.

Bucky stuck his tongue out and tried to hand the bottle back. “You can keep that. I don’t know where that mouth has been. Hey, for real. What you said about having kids. You know there are programs right. Your psychiatrist just needs to-”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I scare myself. I haven’t had a bad episode in a while, but when I was low. I was low. A kid doesn’t need that shit.”

“If you stay on your meds, follow the plan.”

“Everything will be magically fine.”  

“Hell no, and you know I wasn’t about to say that. It takes support.”

“The adoption process is already hard enough not to mention shady as hell.”

“Shady?” Sam snickered. Bucky pushed Sam’s shoulder. “There’s always surrogacy.”

“With what money?” Bucky said, standing beside Sam. Their shoulders mushed together.

"Buck, you're a millionaire now, and you're about to graduate. Your professor still wants you to work at that paper in Jersey?"

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “Should I be picking out baby names for our kids or something? I like Phineas.”

“Phineas? Like the cartoon.”

“There’s a cartoon?”

“Ask Becca. And no, you’re the one- Why didn’t you let me tell them?”

"You realize Maria and Carol's parties are invite-only. Every gay within a fifteen-mile radius wants in. I only got an invite because of you."

“You grew up with them,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I did. That’s how I know the fall from grace is brutal. Man, I’m beat,” Bucky said, pulling his sweater over his head. 

When Bucky reached for his belt buckle. Sam reached into the fridge to grab another water. Bucky reached over him for a yogurt. His chest was on Sam's back.

“Why are you stripping in the kitchen?” Sam said, opening his new water.

“I’m right here,” Bucky shrugged. He shot his undershirt into the washing machine. He stuffed his sweater in the dry-cleaning bag. “I smell like weed and vodka. I didn’t want that in my room.”

"Mm-hmm," Sam said, stealing one of Bucky's snickerdoodles.

“Hey, Pal,” Bucky said. The man tried to run over and grab Sam’s arm.

Sam spun quickly and stuck the whole cookie in his mouth and crunched with a smirk as Bucky attacked him. When Sam was done chewing, he took a sip of water and uttered, “Ahhh,” for effect. “Hay is for horses,” Sam said, his head locked under Bucky’s arm. Sam broke Bucky’s hold and made a beeline for the stairs. “Yeah, you need a shower.”

“And I’m rude?” Bucky said. Sam heard the man muttering to himself as he climbed the stairs.

-o0o-

Bucky was excited. He was done with school for the semester. He got a 4.0, and he only had an internship next semester before he could graduate. His internship was paid. It barely paid more than the diner, but it would give him a lot of experience. It might even lead to a full-time job. 

Sam was convinced the position was going to launch Bucky’s career. The student had talked to Sam earlier, and the counselor said he would be home early. Sam leaving the office while it was still light out was a pleasant surprise too. Bucky would tease him about being a kiss ass more, but Bucky knew that was the furthest thing from Sam’s mind. He wanted to help people, sometimes to his detriment. So, Sam taking time for himself was cause for celebration too. 

Bucky was making sarmale and polenta. They always ate it this time of year when he was a kid. He missed his family back in Indiana and his mom’s cooking, so Winifred and Becca walked him through how to make the dishes on Facetime. Gabe was watching the show. “Bucky, I can send you a ticket.”

"Ma, you don't have the money either, and before you say anything, Gabe. You need the money to spoil my nieces and nephew. I'll save and come next year."

Bucky heard the key in the front door. “Okay, I think I got it. I’ll call Christmas Eve.” He was trying his best to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“That’s tomorrow,” Becca said.

“I know. I love you,” Bucky said, cutting the feed. 

Sam walked into the kitchen smiling. He had a bottle of champagne in his hands. “What’s all this?” Sam peeked over into Bucky’s pot.

“I felt like cooking.”

“Is that Stevie playing?”

"I love ‘Someday at Christmas’," Bucky said, stirring the polenta. He turned off the eye. The corn porridge was done and so were his cabbage rolls. They were kept warm in the oven with the cozonac.

“I feel like your psychic,” Sam said.

“Why? I noticed the bottle and the grin.”

“I got a promotion. Leila got promoted to DC, and I’m taking over her position.”

"Congrats," Bucky said, coming around to hug the man. Bucky meant to give him a quick loose hug, but Sam grabbed him, spun him around, and started dancing to the song. "Alright, Pal. You can let me go now," Bucky said, hanging upside down in Sam’s arms.

Sam pulled him out of the dip and let him go. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t want me to touch you.”

“I don’t,” Bucky returned.

“Okay,” Sam said, letting him go and going over to his champagne.

Bucky's heart was thundering in his chest, his face hot. He knew he should drop it, but he cleared his throat, "What does that mean?"

“You know what it means,” Sam said.

“Are you drunk already?”

Sam popped the cork on the champagne and poured himself and Bucky a glass. He walked over and handed Bucky the flute. Bucky toasted and then took a sip. Sam was watching him. Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“It’s freezing in here. Why are you in pajama bottoms only?” Sam asked.

“Just because your cold doesn’t mean I am. I’m from Romania. My code name was the Winter Soldier.”

“You're covered in goosebumps, Buck,” Sam smirked, gesturing to the man’s arm. “You're always in my space.”

“If insinuating what I think you're insinuating. You're still tripping from Groot’s magic mushrooms.”

Sam downed his drink, staring into Bucky's eyes. The brown-headed man swallowed. Sam crossed the kitchen and crowded him against the sink. "What? I told you, you don’t scare me, Flyboy.”

The man reached up and ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s eyes closed. When Sam yanked, they shot back open. The former pararescueman smirked and leaned into Bucky’s lips. He hovered just before touching them. “I don’t think I am imagining things,” he whispered. “You want this…me.”

“Is this delirium a stress reaction or a fantasy you're trying to project on to me?” Bucky said. Sam shrugged and started to move away. Before Bucky knew it, he was grabbing Sam’s ears and crashing his mouth into Sam’s. Bucky moaned into Sam’s mouth. 

Sam pulled his hair. Bucky’s head went back, and Sam suckled at the skin of his Adam’s apple. “Imagine that…the Winter soldier barefoot, half-naked, and in the kitchen cooking me dinner,” Sam joked. Bucky pushed off the counter and tried to move away, but Sam grabbed him and pulled Bucky back into him. Sam bit at the man’s ear while he yanked Bucky’s pajama bottoms down. He walked the man back over to the counter and bent him over it. Bucky rolled his eyes. His cheek pressed against the cold counter. He pouted. The polenta was going to be cold.

Bucky could feel Sam against him. “Do you know what you're doing there, Pal?”

“I did my research,” Sam mumbled. Bucky turned, and Sam had gotten out the coconut oil. 

Bucky jerked forward and grabbed the counter when Sam opened him up. “You're trying to get laid, not conduct a prostate exam,” Bucky growled. 

“My bad,” Sam said. 

Bucky shivered when Sam circled his fingertips around his rim. He relaxed as the man found a rhythm. “It’s so tight.”

“Imagine what it’s going to feel like when you're inside of me, Sammy. Add another finger.”

Sam did and worked his digits in and out of Bucky’s ass. It was beginning to be too much. There was a fire building that needed to be squelched especially with Sam smacking Bucky’s ass with his other hand. 

Whack! It stung so good, especially when Sam squeezed.  “You ready for me?” Sam asked, his voice was heavy with lust.

“Yes,” Bucky gritted as Sam smacked him again.

-o0o-

He tried to go slow like the website said, waiting for Bucky to adjust. Bucky groaned under him. Sam leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam said.

"I do. I'm good," Bucky signaled. Sam rolled into the man, and his head swam. The grip, the friction were delicious. It wasn't long before he was railing the aspiring writer against the counter.

He got his hands around Bucky’s dick and worked his shaft as he punished Bucky’s asshole. Sam wanted to hold on to the feeling, but it was too good, too tight, and the way Bucky was begging for it, he came. He collapsed on Bucky still slowly pumping the man’s cock. Bucky came with a sputtering sigh, and then they were quiet.

Sam eventually got up and pulled up his boxers. He kicked his trousers off and picked them up to put in the laundry room. Bucky pulled up his pajamas, washed his hands, and went over to the stove. He pursed his lips looking down into the pan. Sam smirked. He walked over and kissed him on the cheek. Bucky turned, and their lips met again. “Just put some water in it and turn it back on,” Sam said.

"No," Bucky responded.

“That’s how you do grits.”

“These aren’t grits. I have to start over.”

“They bougie grits and a little water or stock will make them right as rain. You got some shrimp to go with them?”  

“Cabbage rolls.”

“Mm. I love cabbage.”

Sam and Bucky ate their celebratory dinner and then fucked again on the ugly couch. Sam was tipsy as he bit at Bucky's nipples. The man was on top of him, bouncing on Sam's cock and holding on for dear life. Bucky was flexible and had knees like Megan. Sam had all kinds of ideas of how he could exploit that talent. They ate dessert and drank Tuica, and eventually made it to a bedroom. Bucky's leg was thrown over Sam's shoulder. They were in Sam's bed, making out. Sam was inside of Bucky, moving slow and lazy like the kisses they were sharing. Sam fell asleep with Bucky's hair in his face.

-o0o-

Bucky was annoyed with himself. Why was he so nervous? So, they fucked? It wasn’t a big deal. He brought this gift way before any of this. He pulled the monkey bread out of the oven and made sure the stuffed biscuits were ready. He dropped a piece of Bacon for Alpine who was winding through his legs. Figaro meowed, and Bucky walked over and fed him one too. “That’s all you beggars.” 

Sam came through the back door. Instead of his usual rap music, Sam was listening to Christmas music. Bucky smiled as he heard Michael Jackson sing about Santa. Sam pulled out his air pods and stowed them in his pouch.

“It’s Christmas and snowing,” Bucky said, taking a sip of coffee.

“More of a reason to run,” Sam said, grabbing Bucky’s cup. “It’s beautiful and deserted.”  He took a sip of coffee. “Uggh,” Sam exclaimed, swallowing the saccharine liquid.  “You're going to get diabetes.” He handed the cup back to Bucky and stole a quick kiss. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“If you take too long. I’m eating without you.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t already eaten. There’s a saucer in the sink,” Sam said heading upstairs.

-o0o-

Sam came back downstairs and the tree was on. The fireplace was crackling, and Bucky and the kitties were on the floor in front of the tree. The food Bucky made was on the coffee table. Sam went and sat on the floor and Figaro immediately jumped into his lap. Sam snuggled his baby. He looked up and Alpine was watching him. Sam smiled and stuck his hand out towards the cat. The cat turned, lifting his tail, and went over to Bucky.

Bucky handed Sam Figaro’s stocking. They both took the new treats and toys out of the stocking one by one to see if their cats liked them. Sam dangled a squeaky mouse in front of Figaro. He knocked it out of Sam’s hand. Alpine didn’t even swat at his. He kept trying to swipe at an ornament on the tree now that the vacuum was moved. “I told you not to buy all this stuff. You saw what they did to those stuffed animals. We should have just wrapped a cardboard box.” 

“They’ll pick them up later. They are too excited,” Bucky said, handing Sam a box.

It was the Secret Santa gift from work. Sam opened it while Bucky opened the gift from Becca and Gabe. Sam smirked as Bucky looked at the typewriter ribbon confused. His smirk turned into a genuine smile when he found a gift card to his favorite coffee house. His secret Santa had spies. 

Bucky handed Sam his gift from Nat. Sam had a hard time getting into it. Bucky ripped his right open and was happy with his journal and expensive ethically sourced coffee. Sam finally got into his gift and found two tickets to an upcoming Adele concert. There was a note. 

Take a date, not Rhodey.

Love you,

Nat 

If only she knew. She probably did. Sam looked towards the sky. They both did , Sam realized. Sam looked back at Bucky who was overly interested in his gift from his mom. Sam shook his head. “You wanna go see Adele?” Sam asked him, holding out the tickets.

“It’s in April. Our six months will be up,” Bucky pointed out.

“You wanna go see Adele?” Sam reiterated, grabbing a stuffed biscuit and eating it. Figaro snatched the bacon piece that fell out of the pastry.

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

Bucky got a nice sweater from his mom. Sam was thinking he might need to borrow that. He wondered what Sarah and Darlene had gotten him. He and Bucky were going to eat dinner with them later. Carol and Maria had sent over Christmas cookies and a bottle of whiskey. Great minds think alike because Bucky sent them a loaf of cozonac, and Sam brought a nice bottle of Prosecco and St. Germain. It was Maria’s favorite cocktail. She would be able to drink it in nine months.

Sam stopped stuffing his face when Bucky finally picked up his gift. 

“It’s heavy,” Bucky noted.  He laughed when Bucky opened his brand-new typewriter. “Are those tears?”

“This is too much,” Bucky said. 

“It’s a typewriter dude. Only you,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“Laptops are cool, but there’s something about your words being pressed into the page.”

“I get it.”

“Good. Open your present,” Bucky said.

Sam tore into the box. He moved the tissue paper and was staring at a jacket. It was a bomber jacket like Bucky’s. “Are we going to be one of those couples that dress alike?”

“Couples?” Bucky asked.

“When we decide that,” Sam muttered.

“I’m into it if you are, and hell no. I figured you liked mine since I haven’t got it back yet,” Bucky said.

Sam grinned. He had been wondering if Bucky noticed he ganked his jacket. Of course, he did. He pulled the coat fully out of the box and a frog leaped in his throat. Bucky had somehow found his element's symbol and call sign. A falcon patch was sewn on the sleeve. So was his Captain’s Insignia. "Are those tears?" Bucky teased.

“Shut up. This is- Merry Christmas,” Sam said and leaned over and kissed Bucky.

“Merry Christmas,” Bucky replied and kissed him again.

“Meow!” their cats objected to being crushed and ignored any longer.

Notes:

Thanks in advance for any kudos or comments. I hope you enjoyed it!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 9 of Couch Sessions