Chapter Text
Sam stormed into the locker room. Took off his goggles and slung them across the room. He punched the locker, and then opened it, so he could get his shit and go. Go. Sam thought about that for a moment. He should head back to Delacroix. He was so gung ho when this shit started. He packed up life, sold his house, and quit his job. Why? To help Captain America. Well, he wasn’t here, was he? And worse, he left his asshole best friend behind.
Sam could straight up murder Bucky right now. He actually thought about putting a bullet in Bucky’s ass, not really, but he did have a daydream about it once...every week. He should cut his losses. They had the Winter Soldier, they had new recruits, and between Pepper and Wakanda they had resources. Rhodey, Banner, Clint and Scott had things in hand. Today proved that him and Buck would never get along. They couldn’t even catch the bad guy. He slipped right through their fucking fingers while they were arguing. Bucky needed this shit more than he did- the facility and a day job with purpose. Sam had family, his parents, sister, nephews, and a new niece on the way. He had his Big Ma’s house. He could fix it up like he always dreamed and help his dad on the boat. They had a VA downtown in Delacroix that he could volunteer at.
Sam looked back when the locker room door opened. Bucky stalked into the room. Sam was calmer now. He had found a piece of solace by just thinking about heading home. Why should Steve be the only one to get his happily ever after? He wondered if Leila was still separated from her husband. Last time he saw his ex she was still fine as hell and very friendly. He grabbed his stuff out of his locker. He would come talk to Rhodey and Banner tomorrow. He was almost out the door, when Bucky said, “The tension is just going to get worse if we don’t hash this shit out.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said.
“Our performance today says it does,” Bucky replied.
“Which is why I’m thinking of packing it in and heading home,” Sam said.
“What? Look, we had one bad day.”
“No, we have a lot of them, but we’re usually able to pull it off in spite of our differences.”
“Where would-I thought you sold your place in DC?”
“I did, but I inherited my grandmother’s house in Louisiana. My parents are older. My sister just got remarried with two kids and one on the way. She could use my help, and honestly we're good on Avengers. It’s a good time to step away. Live a normal life.”
“This isn’t because of me is it? If anyone should leave…” Bucky started.
“It’s because of a lot of things. And what would you even do?” Sam asked.
“Go to school,” Bucky said. He didn’t even hesitate, so Sam wasn’t the only one dreaming of greener pastures.
“Oh, well, yeah, you should do that, but I’m still going to head home,” Sam said, walking over to the man. He stuck out his hand, “You’ve made my life interesting, Bucky Barnes. Drop me a line if you’re ever in Louisiana.”
Bucky looked down at Sam’s hand. “Were you really going to walk away without saying goodbye?” Bucky asked, placing his hands firmly on his hips.
“No,” Sam said, dropping his arm. “I was going to make it official before I said anything, but honestly I wouldn’t have thought you would have cared.”
“Then like usual you would have been wrong. Have a great life, Wilson,” Bucky said, slamming his locker door and heading for the showers.
-o0o-
Sam walked out of the restaurant a lighter man. He had just given Rhodey, Banner and Pepper the news. They did their best to talk him into staying, but he didn’t know what it was; he was homesick or something. He signed some paperwork Pepper had worked up, and he was no longer an Avenger. He was walking down the sidewalk when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Bucky.
He tried to answer it, but his call dropped. Sam felt a small pang of guilt there, but they were forced together because they were Steve’s best friends. Now, that Steve was gone it felt like he was the only thing they had in common. Bucky was a grown ass man. There was no reason to feel bad. Bucky had a job and a place to live. Him and Clint hung out when they were on a job together. Sam hoped he really would go to school and meet somebody because the guy needed to relax.
Bucky had called last night demanding several items that Sam borrowed from the facility. The guy was in the middle of a job, and he felt the need to call and harass Sam one more time. This is why he was leaving, he was so infuriating, and Sam told him so. After they argued for thirty minutes, Sam agreed he would leave the items in the common room tomorrow before he caught his plane.
Sam put his phone away, waiting at the crosswalk. The light turned green, and Sam proceeded to cross the street. He heard sirens, but didn’t think anything of it until he saw a blue car whip around the corner, heading straight for him. Someone grabbed Sam. He tripped over the curve and then fell backwards. His head smacked the pavement hard. His vision blurred and the world went black.
-o0o-
Sam woke up to a familiar beeping. The world came into focus, but his head was splitting. That sound...he had heard it before. It sounded like he was- fuck - he was in the hospital. Did he break a bone? Was there some type of brain bleed? The room door opened and a doctor stepped in the room. Sam was confused. Where was Banner? Strange even? Well damn, he signed that paperwork, and the Avengers were like fuck you, huh? That didn’t seem right. He was on the street, maybe someone stole his wallet, and they didn’t know who he was.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Pike. You were in a nasty motorcycle accident, and I need to ask you some questions.”
“Motorcycle? No, I fell on the sidewalk. The car never hit me,” Sam rasped. Maybe a motorcycle clipped him when he was down. He just noticed the cast on his leg. He didn’t feel any pain except the headache. Well, at least the drugs were good.
“Interesting,” the doctor said, writing something down. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Samuel Thomas Wilson.”
“Who’s the president of the United States?”
“Biden.” Sam watched the doctor scribble something else.
“What year is it?”
“2021,” Sam said. At that answer, the doctor took out his penlight, walked around the bed and flashed it in Sam’s eyes. He reached for Sam’s chart.
“Is something wrong?” Sam asked, wincing at his throbbing head.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson. Give me just a minute, and I will explain everything,” the doctor said, stepping out of the room.
How did Sam know this wasn’t some type of setup? Maybe the Russians snatched him off the streets. He thought about trying to make an escape, but his leg. Fuck his arm was bandaged too. The door opened again, and the doctor walked in with his mom, dad, Sarah... and Bucky? Sam narrowed his eyes at the man. His mom was crying. Oh shit, something was wrong . Was he paralyzed? Sam wiggled his toes. His left foot waved happily at him and his right popped loudly, but moved also.
“Mr. Wilson, can you tell me who these people are?” Dr. Pike asked. The man was talking to Sam in the voice the VA counselors use to talk irate clients down.
“My mom, Darlene; my dad, Paul; my sister, Sarah; and my co-worker, Bucky.” His mom burst into a sob. Sarah was dabbing at tears too. His dad looked worried, and were Bucky’s eyes watering, too? What did he say that was so wrong?
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Sam asked.
“It’s not 2021, Mr. Wilson. It’s 2029,” the doctor said.
“Say what now?” Sam asked, but as the words were leaving his mouth, he could see his dad was completely gray now, and his hair was thinning. His mom had more wrinkles around her eyes. Sarah looked the same except she was wearing glasses and got a haircut. Why was Bucky here? “I hit my head on the sidewalk in New York.”
“You fell off your motorcycle to avoid hitting a dog out by the docks,” Bucky said.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Buck, but why are you here? You on a job or something? Hell, where is here?” Sam asked.
“I know it’s disconcerting, but try to stay calm, Mr. Wilson. You’re at Alpha Hospital in Delacroix, Louisiana. I’m Dr. Pike, I’ve been your physician for the last two months.”
“Two months?” Sam asked, his eyes wide as saucers. He looked from his mom to dad for any indication that this was all some big joke. Did people really get amnesia in real life? Sure there was all kinds of data on memory loss, dementia, Alzheimer’s, and of course, the extreme case of super soldiers, but outside of that context Sam had never heard of it except for in a Sandra Bullock or Drew Barrymore Rom Com.
“You were in a coma for two months, Mr. Wilson. After your motorcycle accident, you had a punctured lung, fractured wrist, broken leg and hip, and some infection tried to set in. We got you patched up and have been waiting for you to come back to us. Your brain function was very strong throughout, it wasn’t a matter of if, but when you were going to wake up. You’ve been coming in and out of consciousness momentarily for a few days now,” Dr. Pike said.
“This is not a joke? I’m missing eight years of my memories, right now?” Sam asked. He realized who was in the room with him and closed his eyes.
“Most cases are temporary,” Dr. Pike offered.
“And my case?” Sam asked, looking at the doctor again.
“We’ll have to run some tests now that you're fully conscious and monitor you.”
“I know it seems like a lot, baby, but you’re still here. You came back to us, and that’s all that matters,” Darlene said, sniffling.
“We’ll catch you up, Son,” Paul added.
“I can’t imagine what you're going through right now, but I missed my big brother,” Sarah said. “You know we got your back.”
“I’m here to help in any way I can,” Bucky said. His eyes were still shining. His nose was red.
“What do you recommend, Doc?” Paul asked. Clearly his family was up to date on everything to do with his medical problems and the doctor had been informing them of all the options.
“Recommend?” Sam asked.
“Mr. Wilson, you are as healthy as can be, considering these circumstances. There are two schools of thought when it comes to amnesia. One says that patients should be slowly introduced to the world to not overwhelm, however there is a new school of thought that says the metaphorical ripping off the Band-Aid helps some accept and reconnect with their lives faster.”
“Rip off the Band-Aid,” Sam commanded. “I must live here in Delacroix. Do I live in Big Ma’s house?”
“Yes,” Darlene said. “You fixed up Mama’s house real nice. You even do the parade of homes every year.”
“Really? I mean… I do have some ideas… did, I guess,” Sam sighed. His headache was getting worse. “Do I help on the boat?” Sam questioned.
“No, I retired, and you own the P&D, and four boats of your own,” Paul said, proudly. Sam smiled at that.
“You sold me your cut?” Sam looked at his Sister.
“No, I’m your silent minority partner. You do all the work and I still get 35% of the profits.”
“They always said you were the smart one. Do I volunteer at the VA?” Sam asked his family.
“Yes, and the Boys and Girls club,” Bucky answered. Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. Maybe he was there on business. Bucky knew what happened, so he must have been hanging out with the sniper when all of this went down. Bucky was checking in because he felt bad, but the doctor said it was two months ago. Maybe he was on a surveillance gig in New Orleans. Those take forever, but he wouldn’t be able to leave his target for very long. Thinking about it made his head hurt more.
“So, I’ve reached all my goals. I’m living my dream. Nice. Wait...did I reconnect with Leila?” Sam asked. “She’s the one that got away and it would be the cherry on top,” Sam sighed, thinking of those glorious curves. His dad was doing something strange with his eyes. They were blinking really fast.
“No, but you are married,” Bucky grumbled.
“Married?” Sam exclaimed, looking at Sarah. He didn’t like her smirk at all. “To who?”
“Me,” Bucky said.
“Doc, I think I’m hallucinating,” Sam said.
-o0o-
Sam didn’t believe it. The married to Bucky thing was just too far. Bucky brought him a newspaper, but Sam didn’t believe it. Bucky brought their wedding certificate and showed him the photos he kept of them on his phone. They had deep fakes now. That little piece of paper won't be hard to forge, especially with the technology the Avengers had access to. Although, there was one photo that was hard to argue with.
Someone had snapped a photo of Bucky pinning Sam against a wall and biting on his ear. Sam looked at his past-future self. Yeah, he was about to fuck. As far as he knew he had never taken a picture all hot and bothered. That expression would be hard to fake. Sam handed the phone back to Bucky. Having sex with Bucky was out there, but not impossible. Sam could enjoy a hate fuck. Marrying the Winter Soldier felt like an alternate reality.
Sam picked up the certificate again- October 27, 2024. Three years after quitting the Avengers he supposedly married Bucky? Sam, why would they make this shit up? Why would your family be in on it? You could see your Mom and Dad were older. That thought scared Sam. He had precious little time left, and he was missing almost a decade of memories.
“Is it so hard to believe?” Bucky said, when Sam asked to see his phone again. “You hate me that much?”
“I don’t hate you,” Sam said, flipping through the photos. He kept going back to the same one. Him and Bucky on a picnic blanket curled around one another. He had a science fiction novel, from the looks of it, an old one, in his hands. He was smiling up at the camera. There were two things that said all this shit was true. Bucky was taking the photo. Bucky. Mr. Death Stare. He was happy and wore a smile that Sam had only seen a glimpse of in the Smithsonian. The White Wolf’s eyes were squeezed into flat lines by his cheeks because he was smiling so hard. Either Bucky was an excellent actor or this was real.
The second and most concrete reason is Sam was reading one of Bucky’s books. No one knew this, but he watched every episode of Dukes of Hazzard with Riley. He listened to Mary J Blige’s entire catalogue because of Leila, and knew way too much about Menudo because of Christian Narvaez. When he loved someone he liked to do things they loved to be closer to them. Reading ancient Sci-Fi novels meant he had to be head over heels for Bucky. Had to be, he thought, zooming in on the cover of the book. That thing made him sleepy just looking at it. Sam looked up at Bucky who was watching him pick a part their life. “I’m just surprised. We fight over everything. That’s not how I pictured my marriage. Are we happy?”
“I am. I think you were too, but I can’t answer for you,” Bucky replied.
“Do we still fight?”
“Of course, we’re married... and us, but we’re usually teasing one another, serious fights are few and far between.”
“How?... Who?... When?” Sam asked, his throat dry. Bucky walked over and fixed him a cup of water. He stuck a straw in it and brought it over to Sam, holding it out to Sam. Sam tried to take the cup, but his arm was wrapped pretty tight. The doctor said they would take the dressing off tomorrow. Bucky held it to his lips and he drank. They stared at one another. Bucky rolled his eyes and looked away until Sam had his fill. His parents and sisters were traders. They left him here with Bucky alone. His parents had some important vague things to do, and Sarah laughed and said he was in good hands.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Visiting hours are almost over, and remember, they are letting you go if everything from your scans today checks out.”
Bucky walked over and put away all the evidence of their marriage he brought and grabbed his coat. Sam found that fishy, but he didn’t say anything.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked. Sam was impressed that Bucky sensed his suspicion.
“It’s nothing,” Sam said. After all, he had been questioning their marriage all afternoon. He didn’t know if he had a right to feel this way, but if Bucky was his husband it shouldn’t matter.
“Your face says it’s something,” Bucky said, sticking his arms through his sleeves.
“You’re leaving,” Sam accused.
“I need to check on the house, the boats,” Bucky dodged.
Sam nodded. He could understand that, but it didn’t line up with the kind of marriage he envisioned. Plus, he didn’t want to be alone. It was silly, but he was afraid of his mind; like he might lose more time if there wasn’t someone to bear witness. Also, his dad got his tonsils out once, and his Mama slept in the hospital with him. They gave her some kind of recliner/cot to sleep on. He and his sister were teenagers at the time.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam grumbled.
Bucky sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll run home to check on everything, take a shower, grab my laptop, and be back before Sanford and Son comes on.”
Sam smiled. Damn, they might really be married. He watched classic sitcom reruns every night. Sanford and Son was his favorite. He had all the episodes on his DVR. Not to mention the whole DVD set somewhere. He had no idea where now though. If Bucky knew about his late night habits... Maybe, he should cut the guy some slack.
“Bucky, you don’t have to stay. I see how tired you are. I’m just freaked out a little bit. It’s a lot to process,” Sam said.
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I’ll be back,” Bucky said, glancing at his phone for the umpteenth time today. Bucky came over to the bed and leaned in to kiss him. Sam was dismayed at Bucky’s pouted lips coming towards him. Bucky caught himself and pulled back. He looked sheepish and kind of half patted Sam on the shoulder. “I’ll be back,” Bucky said, rushing out of the room when his phone beeped. Bucky had been checking his phone all day. Sam hadn’t realized he was paying attention. Something was nagging at his memory.
-o0o-
Sam had a bad dream. He was an Avenger again and on a missing person’s case. As time went on, he just got more and more desperate to find the person before time ran out. It didn’t take a genius or therapist to figure that one out. Sam was awake and thinking about this new reality he was in when Bucky got up from the cot they wheeled in for him last night. It hadn’t looked comfortable, and Sam tried to give him one of the pillows propping up his arm. Bucky declined. Same old Buck, he was always taking one for the team. Sam pondered on that for a moment. Why didn’t they get along...back then?
“Morning,” Bucky grumbled at Sam and went into the bathroom. Sam snorted, the ornery ex-assassin was not a morning person. Sam could have guessed that, but it was still adorable. Wait? Barnes is adorable? Well, he is my husband. Sam tried to remember if they ever had any early morning jobs. Most of it was at night or over several days and they always regrouped at lunch. Bucky came out of the bathroom with a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. He walked over to an overnight bag, and pulled out Sam’s favorite travelling toiletry bag and walked back into the bathroom. Sam had spotted his initials. He loved that bag. It held all of his stuff perfectly.
“I see you just take my stuff,” Sam said when Bucky came back into the room, brushing through his hair.
“Yeah, this bag holds everything perfectly, and it has an added bonus of pissing you off,” Bucky said, going over to the overnight bag again and grabbing a sweatshirt.
“Is that my sweatshirt?”
“It used to be,” Bucky said. “I mostly wear it now.” Bucky started, pulling grooming products out of his bag. He had shea butter lotion, Murray’s Hair Pomade, Sam’s favorite cologne, Eros, Jack Black Lip Balm, Cataphyll, and Sam’s Beville shaving kit. The only thing missing... Brickell’s Shampoo and Conditioner came out next. He had brought Sam’s entire grooming regiment. “The nurses said they can give you a sponge bath before you leave.”
Sam grimaced. He needed to get under the tub. He understood while he was unconscious he was dead weight, plus the cast on his leg, and his arm was fractured, but he could help now. He wanted a shower. He could feel the grime on his skin. It felt like bugs crawling all over him. He wasn’t even going to talk about his hair that had grown out and picked daily. He looked like a bit player on a seventies TV show. Bucky was looking at him waiting for him to decide, but he had only been given one shitty choice.
“What’s the alternative?” Sam asked.
“I can help you in the shower,” Bucky said. “I know how you are.”
“And how am I?” Sam said, uncomfortable with this choice as well.
Bucky mulled over a polite response, “particular.”
“Particular?” Sam snorted. “Liking to be clean and fresh is particular.”
“I’ve been called a pretty boy too, but look at all the products I had to bring from home.”
“And I bet you use every single one of them,” Sam said. Bucky came over to adjust his leg for him last night and Sam smelled his favorite soap.
“Yes, I use most of them because they’re there.”
“And you liked to be fresh and clean,” Sam said. He sighed. This was kind of awkward. He understood this was his husband, but to him, three days ago, he was plotting Bucky’s murder for fun. “Look, Man,” Sam started to explain.
“I can call your parents,” Bucky said, going over to the bag, putting his brush away and grabbing his sneakers.
“You’re leaving?” Sam asked. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but he was uncomfortable.
“Yeah, me and your parents are kind of playing tag team. They are handling everything at home while I’m here. If they come here, I have to go home.”
“Bucky, Man,” Sam tried again. Everyone thought Bucky was some robot even after his mind had been given back to him. He still shut off when it was time to get shit done, but that was adrenaline, stress, and fear doing its job. Bucky was like an open book when he felt safe and there wasn’t a gun in his hand and a target to kill. The assassin thought his expression was impassive, but Sam had three semesters of body language, nonverbal cues, and clinical techniques. He was hurt; it wrapped around his shoulders and hunched him over. Bucky was subconsciously trying to close himself off from the kick to the gut, Sam had just administered. This shit was fucked. He was just walking down the street three days ago, and now, he was unintentionally making Bucky sad, but Sam couldn’t help how he felt.
“I understand, Sam. In 2021 we were at each other’s throats.”
“Yeah. Reeves got a way because of us.”
“Mmm,” Bucky uttered.
“What did you do?” Sam asked.
“I killed him.”
“What?” Sam asked, even though he was not that surprised since it was Bucky, and Sam had done some digging on the fugitive of his own when he got home that night.
“I tracked him down and made sure no one else would die by his hand,” Bucky said.
“That’s- thanks for cleaning up our mess,” Sam said. Bucky nodded, heaving the laptop bag on his shoulder. Sam wondered how long he would be gone. If he would stay away because he was upset. “You said you would tell me more about how we even got together. All I can remember is I was planning on moving.”
“You moved. About six months later, I got a scholarship to Tulane University. Their criminology department has a world renowned “expert” in Hydra,” Bucky said, walking over to the tray table at the foot of the bed and leaning on it. Bucky really trusted him. He felt safe with Sam in this new reality.
“They wanted to pick your brain,” Sam guessed.
“I let them for a full ride and a paid internship.”
“So, you're a criminologist?” Sam asked. Bucky certainly had professional and personal experience with the criminal mind.
“No. I teach mechanical engineering and welding at the community college while I work on my dissertation.”
“Dissertation? You must really like it at Tulane to get another degree.”
“It was cool, but I’m working on my dissertation at MIT.”
“MIT?” Sam asked, impressed, but Sam knew Bucky was into technology and science fiction.
“You actually helped with that. One of your old Air Force commanders is on staff there. He put in a good word, after you invited him to dinner and talked me up.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the tons of books you read and your passion for science and technology had nothing to do with it. How did you go from being a Tulane student to being Mr. James Wilson?” Sam smiled.
“James Wilson-Barnes. I won that bet,” Bucky said, taking his bag off and sliding it on the tray table. You brought your group from the Boys and Girls club to an event I was working at the university.”
“So, you didn’t reach out to me when you got into town?” Sam asked offended for his past self...future?- oh, fuck it . He was offended by the idea.
“You said you wanted a different life. You left because we screwed up.”
“Hmm,” Sam uttered, barely pacified by that logical response.
“You spotted me at a table before I could duck. And then it was just awkward not to acknowledge each other. We had lunch the next week, mainly to say we did it. And then we just kept running into each other. I found a bookstore I liked that ended up being right next to your barbershop. Your family sells Shrimp Po-Boys at the farmer’s market I like to frequent. We were both invited to a museum opening, honoring the military. In fact we were both on a lot of invite lists including the mayor’s. It got out of hand, and we sort of just gave up and started getting lunch,” Bucky explained.
“You fell in love with me, huh? It’s the square jaw,” Sam said.
“Actually it’s your lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them. One day I decided to do something about it. You freaked out a little bit, and then you came around.”
“How long did that take?” Sam asked.
“Ten hours. I know because I couldn’t sleep. I thought I fucked up our friendship.”
“Was I an asshole about it?”
“You're always an asshole, but you just kind of left without saying anything.”
“So what? You’re gay? Bisexual? Pansexual?”
“I’m tired of being labeled and picked apart. The media had a field day. I love you and you do it for me. That’s the gist of it.”
“Hmm, when did you propose?”
“You proposed when we were deciding what to do about MIT.”
“I locked you down,” Sam snorted.
“You locked yourself down to make me go. That time I was the one freaking out.”
“We got married on the pier?” Sam said, remembering Bucky’s home screen. They looked happy. They had on complimentary tuxes. Sam’s was pink with a gray lapel and Bucky’s was gray with a pink lapel.
“We had our reception on your biggest boat. We honeymooned in Bali.”
“It sounds beautiful. It sounds like everything I’ve ever wanted. I wish I could remember it.”
“I wish that too,” Bucky said, lifting his bag on his shoulder. “I’ll be back to bring you home. Unless...”
“No. It’s our home. I would like you to show it to me,” Sam said.