Chapter 1: prologue: cerulean
Chapter Text
“I'm pregnant.”
Bucky pauses and stares at the man across from him, trying to gauge his sincerity. Sam is fond of messing with him, so he could never really be too sure when the man said insane things like this. So, Bucky responds in the only way he knows.
He laughs.
Sam's face does a weird thing though, making him stop.
His brows are furrowed in a way that causes a wrinkle to appear between them, and his brown eyes are turned downward at the table beneath them, his pouty lips twisted in discomfort. This… isn't how Sam acts when he's pulling Bucky’s legs. He seems… anxious.
But that doesn't track. The Sam Bucky’s familiar with doesn't do anxious. He's one of the most confident, extroverted people Bucky has ever met, and it's one of the reasons they've never truly gotten along. They shared many mutual friends, and both butted heads over who could take the crown of Steve's best friend, but they'd never really been friends themselves. Sam has always been a bit too much for Bucky’s tastes, and their warring personalities tended to clash… often. And explosively. Bucky could admit a good chunk of it was because of him and his issues though.
“I’m actually pregnant.” Sam says quietly, gaze still turned to the table.
“You're not joking?” Bucky asks, just to be sure. He can't think of any other reason Sam would be telling him something like this.
He'd been skeptical after receiving that text from Sam earlier in the first place. A location and a request to meet alone, something they never did. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but his curiosity had won over his suspicion. So… here he was… hearing that Sam was pregnant.
“I wouldn't joke about this.” Sam says, voice doing an odd thing before he lets out a cough that's clearly meant to make his voice go back to normal rather than the actual need to cough.
Bucky… doesn't know how to feel about this. And he especially doesn't know why Sam feels the need to inform him. They've never really been, well, friends. So on the list of people Sam would personally and individually inform about his pregnancy, he certainly wasn't meant to be on the list. At least, that's what he'd thought.
“So, um… how?” He asks, curiosity overpowering his common sense.
Sam blinks at him incredulously. “Fuck you mean, ‘how?’ I fucked a guy and now I'm carrying his fucking baby.”
Bucky’s cheeks colour as indignation rises. “First of all, fuck you. Second, I didn't know you were seeing anyone. So forgive me for being surprised.”
It's Sam's turn to look bashful and Bucky gets a sinking feeling he knows what Sam's going to say next.
“Sam.” He says in a reprimanding tone.
“Fuck off, I am a grown man who can do hookups.” Sam responds, sitting up from his slouched position and planting his hands firmly on the table. His eyes are narrowed in a way Bucky is all too familiar with and his nose is scrunched up in a way Bucky will never admit he's always found endearing.
This is familiar. He can do the arguments and banter. He can deal with Sam being aggravated by him. He cannot deal with a meek Sam being vulnerable with him.
“You're grown alright, but clearly not mature enough to use protection.” Bucky retorts. And he may be pushing too hard. But he's always had a tendency for going too far in their verbal spars, and they've both learned to grow thicker skin for their interactions with one another. And Bucky is still trying to come to terms with the fact that Sam, his Sam (well, not his, but he knows the guy) is pregnant. Like actually pregnant and not a prank. It just… it doesn't track.
Not that he thinks Sam would be a bad father or anything, in fact, Sam would be a great father. Bucky’s seen the way he talks about his younger sister's son, Cass or something, only a baby but still already one of Sam's favourite people in the world.
But, that's beside the point. Because his statement makes Sam splutter in outrage.
“Fuck you, Barnes. Of course I fucking used protection. News flash: it's not full-proof and every mature adult knows that.” Sam
“Okay, fine, sorry. So… why are you telling me?” He asks. Sam snorts.
“You're… the easiest,” he says with a lopsided grin aimed at Bucky.
Bucky pulls a face. “How?” They barely even liked each other.
“Well, your opinion kind of matters least to me. And you kind of hate me so it's like, if you're disappointed in me it's expected because you're sort of always disappointed in me but if I told like Steve or something and he was disappointed in me that would matter because he actually likes me. You understand, right?” Sam explains, and wow, doesn't that make Bucky sound like a dick. But also… he kind of gets it.
“Ouch,” he murmurs half-playfully. “...also, I don't hate you.”
Sam snorts. “Wow, is the babying me because I'm pregnant starting already? I don't really care, Bucky.”
Bucky would argue with him, but he hasn't exactly given the guy any reason to believe he doesn't hate him. They just… don't get along. And that was okay. It had to be. Not everybody he met was going to be his best friend.
“Anyways, there's another reason I'm telling you.” Sam says slowly, stirring his drink with his straw.
“I knew you had an ulterior motive.” Bucky retorts triumphantly, maybe a little too gleeful. He just… isn’t used to all the vulnerability from Sam Wilson.
“Shut the fuck up, James.” Sam snaps. Bucky’s grin widens. Sam's just about the only person he knows who calls him that ( “only my friends call me Bucky, Wilson.”) and he only ever does when he's truly annoyed with him. Otherwise he sticks with Barnes. “As I was saying, I kind of need your car.”
“Why? I need my car.” Bucky retorts. Mostly to be difficult, partially because he actually does need it.
“Shut the fuck up and let me finish speaking. Anyways, I only need it like once or twice a month for my checkups.” Sam says.
“So you're keeping it?” Bucky asks. He knows Sam loves kids and wants to have kids, he just hadn't expected Sam to be willing to have one right now.
Sam chews on his bottom lip and Bucky’s eyes are drawn towards it.
“I think so,” Sam says, and Bucky’s eyes fly up as an odd sense of shame fills him, making him sit up straighter. “I… I've always wanted kids. And I… sort of assumed I'd have at least one at this age already and I know there's still time but I've got zero romantic prospects and likely won't be getting into anything serious for a while because I'm so busy all the time so… why not?”
“Well. That's a lot more about you than I ever needed to know,” he cannot help but resort to sarcasm. It is the safest and most familiar way of dealing with Sam he knows. “But… It's not really my decision. And you're a grown man. I'm sure you can figure out how to raise a tiny person.”
Sam rolls his eyes at that. “Don't talk about my baby like that.”
Bucky rolls his eyes right back because what the fuck did he even do wrong? It's like he can never win with Sam.
“I didn't even say anything wrong!”
“Well, I didn't like your tone.” Sam responds with a haughty sniff.
“Fuck off,” He responds with an incredulous laugh. “Are mood swings supposed to start this early into the pregnancy?”
Sam's face scrunches in indignation and before he can respond, another question comes to Bucky.
“Hold up, how far along are you?” He asks, squinting at Sam's midsection as though it would give him the answer. Sam's hands instinctively wrap around his belly.
“Stop looking at my stomach. And I'm not more than a few weeks along. Depends on when I took the test, really.”
“So you haven't been to a clinic yet? Don't they give you like precise dates and stuff?”
“Well I don't have a car now do I, Barnes?” Sam snarks.
“Don't sass me, I'm the one you need help from.”
“Well stop being such a fucking dick.” Sam groans. “God, I hate you.”
“Aw, birdie, don't say that. You'll break my heart.” Bucky responds sarcastically, grin widening as Sam scowls at the obnoxious nickname. But the back and forth is getting stale, and he wouldn't put it past Wilson to just get up and leave him here to seek help from someone else. Seeing he clearly wasn't ready to tell the rest of their friend group yet, he couldn't in good conscience let him leave.
And… he also… sort of liked that Sam had thought of him first, regardless of his reason for doing so. He didn't want to make Sam regret it.
“Alright, I'm just messing with you. I can drive you to your sessions.”
Sam begins to pack up his things and Bucky jerks up in a panic, not wanting the conversation to be over for an odd reason, “What are you-”
Sam finishes packing up and stands, determined. “Alright let's go.”
“Ri- right now?” Bucky asks, even as he scrambles to pick up his phone from the table and jacket from its place draped over the back of the chair.
“Well, I've put it off too long so why not?” Sam says as he walks away briskly.
Bucky has to hurry to put on his jacket and chase after Sam.
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In the car, Sam keeps fiddling with his radio, lamenting at the music playing.
“This is all so terrible.” He groans.
“What, you'd rather they played Marvin Gaye?” Bucky says, lip twitching in amusement. Sam turns to look at him, eyebrows raised with his surprise.
“How do you know I like Marvin Gaye?” He asks suspiciously.
“Steve does talk about you, you know. We share many mutual friends in fact. I'm going to pick up knowledge about you.” Sam still eyes him suspiciously despite his perfectly reasonable explanation.
“Sure.” He says, letting his tone tell just how little he believed Bucky’s words.
“Why are you like this?” Bucky asks, exasperated.
Sam glares at him. “Like what?”
“Nevermind.” Bucky mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Can you play Marvin Gaye?” Sam asks after a moment of silence, fiddling with his hands.
Bucky snorts, and has to suppress a smile. Because he's trying to be annoyed at Sam over here, but also it's not a serious fight and certainly not the worst one they've had. But Sam can't see that he's made Bucky laugh, because that's not something they do, making each other laugh. No, actually, they simply sniped at each other with sarcastic and sometimes hurtful remarks.
“No.” He says simply.
“Boo!” Sam protests, holding out a thumbs down symbol at Bucky. “You fucking suck, man.” He says, but he quickly gets distracted poking around Bucky’s car.
He opens the gloves compartment and yelps, startling Bucky which nearly leads to the car swerving. “What the fuck, man?” Bucky yells.
“You have a gun in your car!” Sam exclaims. “I wasn't expecting to see that!” He grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Maybe next time don't go snooping in people's cars.” Bucky snaps.
“Next time don't just carry guns in your glove compartment.” He retorts.
“We're here.” Bucky snaps, pulling up in front of the clinic. Carter Maternal & Fetal Medicine.
Sam hums, looking at the clinic. He stays rooted in his seat through, fiddling with his fingers in increasing amounts. Bucky observes him for a few moments, expecting him to leave the car soon. But he just… doesn't. He stays in place, gnawing on his bottom lip and glaring at the clinic as though it had personally offended him.
Bucky opens his mouth, a sarcastic question prepped, but then he takes a closer look at Sam, sees the anxiety brewing beneath the surface and shuts it, rethinking his words. Normally, he would have said: “So are you going to leave?” in a rather callous tone. But now, as he sees Sam's brows furrow in thought and his frame get tenser by the minute, he decides on a gentler route.
“You good?” He asks quietly, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. It felt weird, speaking to Sam like this.
“Yeah,” Sam responds brightly, voice obviously strained. He finally undoes his seat belt and opens the door. “I'm great.”
Bucky knows he's lying, but he also knows he's not exactly the guy who can comfort Sam, so he lets it go. Eventually Sam would tell Steve, and then he would have someone to talk to, and Bucky wouldn't have to care.
“You better not leave me here,” Sam warns, still lingering at the door. “If you do I'll hunt you down and gut you.”
His poor attempts at starting an argument are very obvious to Bucky, but Bucky obliges him, because he's a good person.
He smirks, one just as fabricated as Sam's, but unlike the other man, he knows how to sell a lie. “We'll see,” he says casually, chuckling at the dark look Sam responds with before stomping off in a huff.
And then, the wait begins. Bucky decides to finally respond to the texts that had gone unanswered for days now, seeing as he had nothing else to do. He responds to Natasha's text about meeting up, ignores Clint's eightieth text in the span of three days, and also manages to respond to some work emails too. But he's done with them before Sam's check up is done, ao he switches to social media, trying not to think about Sam had been behaving the way he did before entering the clinic, trying to tell himself not to worry. Sam didn't need Bucky’s worry. He was perfectly capable of handling himself. Besides, what would go wrong in a clinic?
Still, Bucky wonders. Did they do ultrasounds so early? What sort of tests were they running on him? How long would Bucky have to wait for him? It felt like hours had already passed by with him seated here.
He thinks maybe he should have denied Sam's request, but then he feels like a total dick because Sam's pregnant. And refusing to help out pregnant people was an assholish move, even for him. So he resolves himself to having to wait however long Sam needs him to.
He's contemplating going to sleep when Sam walks out of the clinic, a nylon bag with stuff in it clutched in his hands. Bucky’s curiosity is piqued at the sight, and he finds himself sitting up straighter.
Sam clambers into the car, a small smile on his face. He was in a brighter mood than he'd been in earlier it seemed.
“So, how'd it go?” Bucky asks as he starts up the car.
Sam shrugs. “They took my blood, told me I was three weeks along, ran some tests, took my history and gave me some pamphlets about pregnancies.”
“That's what took so long?” He asks incredulously.
“They ran a lot of tests, James.” Sam retorts, exasperated.
“Sorry I'm not informed about pregnancy tests, Samuel.”
“Fuck off,” Sam says with no heat behind it.
“So, where to? Am I dropping you off at your place?” He asks, expecting the man to say yes.
“I want ice cream,” Sam says instead, surprising him.
“You're wasting my gas.” Bucky says with a scowl. “And we just left a cafe, Sam. You just ate.”
Sam rubs a hand over his belly and sends Bucky a pitiful look, wide eyes and exaggerated pout and all. “But I’m eating for two now.” He whines, and Bucky knows he’s doing it on purpose, but also accusing a pregnant person of lying about their symptoms was a dick move, right? Bucky internally curses the man for getting pregnant and making him overthink things because how was he even supposed to behave around a pregnant Sam? The man now had an advantage he could use whenever they got into another verbal spat.
“Just this one time.” Bucky grumbles.
It’s only when they’re ordering their ice creams that a thought occurs to Bucky.
“Why didn’t you just take the train or something?” He asks suspiciously.
“But then I’d still have to walk and trains suck and I don’t wanna use them.” Sam says simply, using his spoon to mix all the ice cream flavours he’d gotten into a soupy mess.
Bucky scrunches up his nose at the sight of it. “Why do you do that? It’s disgusting.” He says, forgetting about the question he’d previously asked at the sight of the monstrosity before him.
Sam shoots him a scowl before returning to his activities, paying Bucky’s criticisms no mind. Not one to be ignored, Bucky can’t help but shoot out his leg to kick Sam’s beneath the table, smiling innocently at the affronted look Sam sends him in response.
“Are you crazy?” Sam hisses.
“You’re the one making ice cream soup.” Bucky says in defense of himself. He would not be accused of insanity by the kind of person who did things like that.
“Leave me alone.” Sam whines, taking a spoonful of his concoction. Bucky cringes at the sight.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Is it because I’m black?” Sam asks, deadpan. Bucky splutters in surprise, nearly choking on ice cream of all things because of Sam’s statement.
“What the fuck?” He asks, completely caught off guard.
Sam responds with an innocent shrug, changing the subject before Bucky can get his bearings. “What colour do you think I should paint the nursery?”
Bucky blinks at him, an odd feeling stirring up at the question. “Uh, shouldn’t you wait to know the gender of the baby?” He asks, because that’s what people did, wasn’t it? He realises suddenly that he hasn’t been around many pregnant couples, and most of his friends likely weren’t starting families any time soon. Sam would be the first.
“Well, I don’t subscribe to the idea that certain colours are for certain genders, Barnes.” Sam snarks. Bucky winces, realising that Sam is right. “Anyways, isn’t there like a psychology behind colours? Do darker tones depress babies, is that something that happens? Should I google it?”
“Why are you asking me this?” Bucky asks helplessly. He’s just as lost as Sam. He doesn’t know jackshit about babies or what they needed.
“You're the worst.” Sam says, pulling out his phone and scrolling obsessively. “Blue is a very calming colour, isn't it? What about cerulean, do you think that works for a nursery?”
“What does cerulean even look like?” Bucky asks, exasperated.
Sam holds out his screen to Bucky and he immediately shakes his head. “Hell no. That's an ugly ass colour.”
Sam looks at the picture once more and hims in agreement. “You're right, it is ugly as hell.” He says before pocketing his phone. “Whatever, I still have time to choose.”
At the end of their little ice cream date, Bucky feels more tired than even his workouts make him, and he resolves not to let Sam lead him astray the next time he has to drive him to a checkup.
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Getting home after participating in a super secret trip with Sam Wilson is an odd experience for Bucky, and he finds himself wondering what he's supposed to even tell Steve. Because he's known Steve since he was eight and the man was eleven, and Steve knew him better than anyone else. He knew Bucky’s tells, he could sniff out a lie from a mile away, no matter how good Bucky’s poker face was.
However, when he gets home, he finds that Steve isn't in the apartment they shared.
where are you?? He texts him, opening his fridge and squinting at the meager contents. pick up some food for me on your way back. He adds, disappointed by their total lack of appealing food.
out with tony.
okay👍🏻
Bucky rolls his eyes at the mention of Steve's on-again off-again situationship. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure what they were. He just knew that they always fell out dramatically and got together as though nothing had happened afterwards. Oh, and Tony was also one of the most aggravating people he'd had the displeasure of meeting in his life. He ranked even lower than Sam on the list of people Bucky was able to tolerate.
He then settles on his couch and resigns himself to watching TV until Steve returns home with something for him to eat.
He's deeply invested in his rewatch of Friends when he hears the deep rumble of Steve's laughter outside their apartment. He scoffs, realising that it's probably Tony who had made him laugh. In his defense, unlike with Sam, he wasn't the reason they didn't get along. Tony just seemed to hold a deep dislike for him that he didn't understand, and eventually he'd stopped trying to mend things with him for Steve's sake. Steve would just have to deal with the fact that they hated each other–he handled the whole Sam thing well enough. Were he a weaker man, Bucky would probably think it was he was the common denominator and problem, but Bucky had a great deal of self-respect and refused to believe such things.
“Hey, Buck.” Steve says when he finally walks in. “I brought you some takeout from the restaurant we went to.”
“Hey, Steve. What sort of takeout?” He asks curiously.
“Thai.” Steve calls out from the fridge he'd stuck his head in. Bucky doesn't understand what he's hoping to find there seeing as none of them had gone on a grocery run in forever. They really needed to get better at taking care of themselves.
“I love you.” Bucky says, getting up and wandering over to the kitchen, where Steve had placed the food on a counter.
“Don't let Tony hear that,” Steve teases, pulling away from the fridge with a pout. “We really need to go shopping soon.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says through a mouthful of food. “I can't believe you got back together with that jackass.”
Steve's face colours. “He said he was sorry for losing his temper that time and that he'd be better.”
“You can't honestly believe that.” He retorts incredulously, wondering how he'd befriended such a clueless man. There was once a time he'd looked up to him even. Oh, how the mighty fell. All for love.
“Just shut up and eat your food.” Steve grumbles petulantly.
“You're so pathetic.”
“One day you're going to fall in love too and you'll be even more pathetic than me, just wait.” Steve threatens.
Bucky laughs at the thought. “I highly doubt that, but keep believing it if it makes you feel better.” He says mockingly.
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too.” Bucky responds, holding up his middle finger as he walks away. Steve's laughter follows him into his bedroom.
Hours later, as he scrolls through social media posts on his phone, he's surprised to see a text pop up from the last person he'd expected. He opens the text and sees that the last time they'd sent each other anything had been months ago, and it had ended in some sort of competition to see who could send the most middle finger emojis? Bucky wasn't too sure what exactly was going on.
Bucky can't help but laugh at Sam's antics, not feeling a spark of anger in the way he'd expected to.
‘Huh.’ He thinks, wondering why that was. Usually even the littlest thing was enough to set him off when it came to Sam. It was like the man was aware of just the right button to push to send Bucky flying off the handles, or he had his own special button reserved just for him, capable of making Bucky lose his cool. Whatever. The bottom line was that he was a unique brand of annoying, but only to Bucky it seemed, but right now? Bucky couldn't really be mad at him.
Chapter 2: powder blue
Notes:
this wasn't supposed to be out so late but i got sick for over a week and didn't have the energy to write for a bit after I got better sawry. this will be edited later but i really wanted to get it out since y'all waited so long :(
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
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Bucky’s no stranger to leaving his room and encountering Sam in his apartment, so it comes as no surprise to him to see Sam laid across his couch, head in Steve's lap as they talk about something. He wants to scoff in the way he usually does at their touchy nature, but something about the sight gives him pause this time. Perhaps it's the fact that he's the only person that knows Sam's situation. That even though Sam and Steve were attached at the hip and shared such a deep bond, he was still the only one privy to the fact that Sam was carrying a child. He feels oddly smug about it.
He watches them for a few moments, thinking of how he'd once thought that maybe they'd get together before Steve fell into his whirlwind relationship with Tony, and how back then, even though he hated Sam, he'd known he was clearly the better choice. Hell, he'd silently begged for Steve to ditch Tony for Sam. But now, as he observes them, he feels oddly disturbed at the idea of them getting together. Of Steve being even more affectionate with Sam, of them kissing. Or worse, sleeping together. He doesn't know why he has such a problem with it, but he does. It makes him uncomfortable. He looks away from the display and retreats back to his room, the feeling still lingering. He tries and fails to understand why it disturbs him so much, but finds no explanation.
He's eventually drawn out by an ache in his stomach too strong for him to ignore, and he trudges out of his room to find Sam and Steve still wrapped around each other like some clingy octopi (seriously how many hours had they been laying there like that? Weren't they tired?). “Hey.” He says flatly, making Sam lift up his head from behind Steve. Steve barely even moves, he just makes a sound of acknowledgement that irks Bucky for some reason.
“James.” Sam says, just as flat. Bucky rolls his eyes. One would think he hadn't been texting Bucky nonstop for weeks now. He won't admit it, but Bucky finds that he almost likes seeing those messages. Because Sam is always going off about something ridiculous that's bound to make him laugh of course, no other reason. He was just using him for entertainment.
“No fighting boys.” Steve says half-heartedly. It couldn't be more obvious that he quite literally didn't care. He was probably tired of their antics by now. Bucky finds himself smiling at the thought.
Good. He thinks. He likes getting on Steve's nerves.
“We didn't even do anything this time.” Sam pouts at Steve.
“Yeah, but I could tell you were going to.” Steve mumbles back. “It's what you two always do. Honestly, you've grown predictable.”
“I'm hungry.” Bucky cuts in, already tired of the direction the conversation was headed.
“What does that have to do with us?” Sam asks, laying his head against Steve's side. Bucky gave up on trying to guess what position they were even in and where Sam began and Steve ended ages ago.
“I'm gonna order in. Do you guys want something?” Bucky asks.
“Let's get pizza.” Steve says, eyes lighting up.
Bucky shrugs, he couldn't care less what they got so long as he got something to eat. “Sure, I'll go order.”
“I want a–”
“Plain pepperoni, I know.” Bucky says instinctively, cutting Sam off. He's too busy typing away on his phone to notice the odd look Sam gives him at his words but when he realises how silent it is and looks up, he finds Sam and Steve giving him matching odd looks.
“What?” He asks.
“How do you even know that?” Steve asks, lips twitching like he's fighting off a smile.
Bucky’s starting to feel odd about something he'd thought was normal. Yeah, he knows a bunch of stuff about Sam, but that's only because he's Steve's other best friend. Of course he was going to pick up information about him over the years.
“It's just pizza,” he says instead. He doesn't think his explanation would go over well.
“Sure.” Steve says, though he makes it very obvious in his tone that he doesn't believe him.
Feeling extremely unsettled, Bucky walks away to place the order. He doesn't know why such a simple statement had made them look at him like he'd grown two heads. He doesn't know when he'd learned so much about Sam either.
When the pizza arrives, Steve heads over to the kitchen for drinks.
“Do you want a beer, Sam?” Steve calls and Bucky’s head flies to Sam, still seated on the couch to see his expression. The previously relaxed man has tensed up and the corners of his mouth are tight.
“No thanks.” Sam calls back, eyes flitting to Bucky for a moment. “Just water is fine.”
Steve returns with a bottle of water for Sam and two beers for him and Bucky. “I can't remember the last time you declined a beer. Especially after a stressful week at work.” Steve remarks casually.
Bucky snorts and ignores the dirty look Sam shoots him.
“Just… trying something new. Trying to be healthier.” Sam says, and Bucky wonders how Steve cannot see that he is lying so blatantly, especially since they were best friends. Even he could see Sam's dishonesty. But maybe it was because Sam hardly ever lied to him that he didn't realise.
“Really?” Steve asks, tone teasing. “Well, good luck. Hopefully it won't be like when you said you'd go on a diet.”
Sam punches his shoulder playfully. “Shut the hell up, Steve.”
They both dissolve into quiet laughter while Bucky watches, a strange yet familiar feeling of jealousy stirring up within him. He's always felt a bit weird about their interactions, about the closeness they shared.
He blinks and averts his eyes. Whatever Sam and Steve got up to shouldn't be his business. He's survived so far ignoring their friendship for the most part. He didn't own Steve or anything, so he couldn't control who he hung out with. He suddenly hates that Sam had told him about the baby, because now it's throwing their dynamic out of sorts, and he doesn't know how to act anymore. He realises suddenly that normally he would have carried his pizza to his room and holed away to a pointed and disapproving stare from Steve. He shouldn't even be here, sitting with them.
That's why I feel so weird, he thinks. He simply wasn't used to hanging out with them. With Sam.
He stands and walks into his room, ignoring the inquiry from Steve. He shuts his door and feels himself settle a bit, smiling to himself. This was good, familiar.
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The next time Sam's in his car is for the next visit to the clinic. Bucky watches as Sam enters his passenger seat and pulls his seat belt on with the authority of someone who owned it and fights back a scoff.
“Hey, Bucky. Sorry I'm a bit late.” Sam says, though he doesn't sound apologetic at all.
“Somehow I doubt you're sorry at all.” Bucky snarks back.
“Be nice to me. I had to stay back with one of my kids who just wouldn't stop throwing up while her dad ran late.” Sam whines.
Oh yeah, Sam's a teacher. Bucky thinks. It made sense given how much he loved kids. He has vague memories of Steve casually saying that he was going to give a presentation to Sam's kids for career day, and being roped in to help Steve make cookies for Sam's kids. He also recalls the days Sam showed up at their place after a long day of work with paint or other mysterious fluids on him, seeking out Steve to de-stress.
Bucky scrunches his nose. “That sounds gross.” He comments. He doesn't hate kids, but he's never particularly liked them either, and he couldn't imagine having to interact with a whole classroom of them, especially kids as young as the ones Sam taught. The thought of their grabby hands, and their dependence on him has him gripping his steering wheel a bit tighter.
“It was. I can't believe that's going to be my future.” Sam wails, but Bucky knows he isn't being serious. There's a fondness in his eyes at the mention of his future, at the thought of his precious baby. It's the softest Bucky has ever seen Sam, and he has averts his eyes from the sight.
“Don't you have morning sickness? You can familiarise yourself with the sight of puke before your kid comes along.” Bucky teases.
“Actually, I haven't gotten morning sickness yet. I asked my sister Sarah and she told me hers didn't start until the third or fourth month.” Sam responds, shocking Bucky.
“She knows?” He asks incredulously. He'd sort of been operating under the assumption that nobody knew. He'd thought he was the only one.
“Of course she knows, why wouldn't she?” Sam asks back, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Then why doesn't Steve?” Bucky asks.
“I'm working up to that. I just have to find a way to justify telling you before him.” Sam huffs.
“What do you mean by 'me’?” Okay, well, he knows what Sam means by that, but he's still going to be offended by it.
“Well it's a known fact that I don't fuck with you, so how will I explain telling you before, you know, my best friend.” Sam retorts.
“I'm Steve's best friend too, he's not going to give a fuck!” He exclaims, fed up. “You're just using me as a shield because you're still scared of telling him for some reason.”
Sam's eyes narrow as his anger rises. Bucky’s jaw snaps shut. He doesn't want to spend the whole ride and wait angry at Sam.
“This is why I fucking hate you.” Sam mutters, folding his arms across his chest. But there's something more to his anger. The thing is, Bucky doesn't know him well enough to decode the emotions he's clearly battling.
Bucky feels like a dick now. He should be nicer to Sam. Or at least get off his back about telling Steve. He doesn't know what it's like, making the decision to bring a whole new life into the world, to dedicate the rest of your life to raising said new life. Knowing that however they turned out was on you, that your life would be changed forever because of them. It certainly wasn't an easy decision, and Sam was clearly going through something. Bucky couldn't imagine having to make that choice.
“Feeling's mutual.” Bucky mutters back instead, because he doesn't know how to be anything but abrasive to Sam. His delivery doesn't come out with nearly as much conviction as he'd usually feel.
They spend the rest of the drive in uncomfortable silence, much different from their first meeting. The wait for Sam once they get to the clinic passes by even slower than the last one if that was even possible, and Bucky finds himself regretting agreeing to this. He didn't even like Sam, why would he shackle himself to him for the foreseeable future?
But he's not so much of a dick that he'd refuse to help make this at least a little easier.
Bucky is so engrossed in his thoughts he almost doesn't notice Sam exiting the clinic, much earlier than the previous one. Sam clambers into his car, quieter than he'd done earlier when Bucky picked him up. He's got a mask of nonchalance on his face, but Bucky can tell how forced it is.
“Um… how was it?” He asks, hesitant, unsure if he should even try to bridge the awkwardness between them. They don't do this… talk to each other, communicate their grievances. Usually they let their spats fizzle out and ignored each other for a while until they finally decided to play nice for Steve. It was how they got here in the first place, they'd let unspoken words fester and grievances pile up and build into a sea of resentment that was hard to navigate but they tried to anyway because they wanted Steve to be happy.
Should I apologise? Bucky thinks, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.
“It was okay.” Sam says monotonously. “Nothing new, no complications.” He's got his hand against the door and his cheek leaning on his hand, and Bucky wonders what that means. He feels useless like this, bad. He usually doesn't feel this shitty after making Sam angry. It's usually mostly fun to banter with him.
He watches Sam out of the corner of his eye as he drives, feeling his unease build with each second they don't speak to each other, not even to argue. Sam doesn't move from where he leans against the door, eyes turned to the cars around them.
“Do… do you want something to eat?” Bucky forces himself to ask, an olive branch. He licks his lips as he awaits a response from Sam. He carefully avoids looking at him, at the expression on his face.
“I thought you said last time was a one-time thing.” Sam says monotonously. And, well, he had. But he was trying to be nice here, to maybe earn some goodwill with Sam.
“Are you hungry or not? We don't have to get anything.” Bucky says instead, fingers tightening around the wheel. He wants Sam to say yes desperately. He doesn't know what else to do to diffuse the situation. He and Steve didn't fight like he and Sam did, and the few truly bad fights they'd had had ended with Steve making the first move to end the conflict (which, thinking about it right now sounded really dick-ish) so he wasn't sure how to approach things like this. ‘Steve would know’, he thinks with no small amount of bitterness. He rarely got jealous of Steve, that was something his teenage self had long outgrown, but right now he longed for his people skills and conflict resolution.
“...fine.” Sam says, making no effort to hide his apprehension. Bucky wonders why the acceptance only makes him more anxious.
Just because he fed Sam didn't mean he'd be automatically forgiven after all.
“Okay. Okay.” Bucky says. Twice for some reason. Because after so many years of being a human he somehow still doesn't know how to behave with people. This was why Steve always said he needed to leave the house more.
“Okay…” Sam says slowly.
💙🍼💙🍼💙
So here Bucky is, seated across Sam with a burger he's barely eaten on his plate and an urge to speak but the strange inability to make any words leave his mouth. Not for the first time, and probably not the last time, he wishes Sam had never approached him about this. Had never told him and only him about this.
“So, are you gonna say anything?” Sam asks, leaning away from the food he's been toying with just as much as Bucky and crossing his arms.
Bucky itches with the need to retort with something sarcastic or maybe even mean, but he reigns in the impulse. Just because he's used to being like that with Sam didn't mean he had to. Especially not when he was trying to make it up to him or whatever. “I… I shouldn't have snapped at you earlier.” He says. He should say sorry. But while he's feeling nice today, he was still James Buchanan Barnes. And he didn't say sorry to Sam Wilson.
“Yeah, you shouldn't have.” Sam says, tone bitter.
“It's just… I don't get it.” Bucky says, though he doesn't mean to. But he wants Sam to understand where he's coming from at least a little.
“It's not for you to get, James. If you don't want to do this, that's fine. Just tell me to fuck off. But I don't need you judging me for choices I make surrounding my pregnancy.” Sam snaps.
Bucky gets that, he does, but it only makes his curiosity rise. He needs to know why Sam won't tell Steve, needs to know what makes Steve so different from everyone else. “Okay. Fine. I won't do that again. I just-” Bucky would continue, except Sam sends him a really nasty stink eye, and he's already messed up once today. Even he knows when to stop (most times).
“Okay, okay.” Bucky says, raising his arms in surrender. “I won't say anything about Steve again. Happy?”
Sam scrunches up his nose in annoyance. “You're just so annoying, you know that, right?”
“Hey, I'm buying you food. Be a little nice to me.” Bucky protests.
“You offered.” San retorts with an eyeroll. He goes back to his food and they are left with awkward silence once more.
Bucky realises he hasn't fixed anything like he wanted to. “Yes, I did offer. It… it was to make it up to you. For what I said.” He says lamely, still not quite able to make himself say sorry. It's stupid and obnoxious of him maybe, but he's always been like this around him. When he's around Sam it's like he reverts mentally into some annoying preschooler, always poking and prodding and never knowing quite when to stop. He knows everyone around them finds it annoying, but he doesn't know how to stop it.
“Yeah, I kind of figured that out.” Sam snaps instinctively before wincing, seemingly to realise how caustic he was being. And maybe Bucky kind of deserved it. “Sorry. I shouldn't be like that.” Sam adds on, because he's nice like that, even (on occasion) to Bucky. And he's a normal person who doesn't get weird about saying sorry.
“It's okay.” Bucky says placidly. He'd rather put this behind them, and the longer they speak, the more awkward it gets.
“I want to tell Steve.” Sam says hesitantly. “I don't particularly like keeping this from him. It's just- I don't know how to go about it. And the longer I go without telling him, the harder it is to do so.”
“Hey, it's cool. You don't have to explain yourself. I shouldn't have pushed you.” Bucky responds haltingly. It's clear Sam doesn't want to tell him this, and he'd rather Sam tell him of his own volition or not at all rather than doing so because he felt guilty or pressured.
“No I… if I'm gonna use you as an excuse you should know.” Sam says, stabbing his food a little forcefully.
Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but finds he doesn't really know what to say.
“Do you want to see an ultrasound?” Sam asks suddenly, placing both hands on the table and making his cutlery rattle.
“I–” to be honest, Bucky doesn't know if he wants to or not, and he also hadn't known that they did ultrasounds so early (but then again this was the second month so maybe it wasn't exactly early and also Bucky knows nothing about pregnancies so it was probably best to let go of all his previous assumptions about them).
Sam is rustling through his bag before he can finish his statement and sliding it across.
Okay, Bucky can't really tell what he's looking at, but he finds a small smile tugging at his lips regardless, feeling an odd fondness at the sight, no doubt nothing compared to how Sam had felt when he'd seen it for the first time.
“They say the baby should be around the size of a raspberry or grape right now.” Sam says softly, and Bucky finds his eyes flitting up. There's a little smile on his face, and not for the first time (though he loathes to admit it) he finds himself thinking that it's a pretty smile.
Stupidly, he finds himself thinking that he hopes the baby inherits Sam's smile. Especially the little gap between his teeth. They would look cute with it, he thinks. A tiny version of Sam, and no doubt a more agreeable version of him too.
“That's so small.” Bucky says, just as soft. There's a calmer air around them now, and Bucky finds he likes it like this. He's more familiar with the bickering, yes, but this quiet calm is far more enjoyable.
“Yeah, they're so little. It kind of makes me scared, you know. How small they are. How hard it will be to keep them safe…” Sam trails off, looking almost embarrassed to have admitted that. “Ah, whatever. That's far into the future for now.”
“Hey,” Bucky says. “I may not like you, but even I can tell you're gonna be a great dad. And you won't willingly let anything happen to the kid.”
Sam snorts and averts his eyes, bashful. “Thanks, I think.”
“I meant that in a good way.” Bucky says, kicking at Sam's feet underneath the table.
Sam laughs, and Bucky finally feels accomplished. “Okay then, I'll take your word for it.” He says, reaching across the table for the ultrasound, fingers brushing against Bucky’s as he slides it back towards himself and tucks it into his bag.
The touch lingers for so long afterwards, and Bucky wonders why.
Notes:
sorry for not responding to comments i get rlly anxious about them when i'm in a better headspace i will
MidnightVine30400 on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Jul 2025 02:41AM UTC
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wishywashyahhbytch on Chapter 1 Thu 10 Jul 2025 02:22AM UTC
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kekeh on Chapter 1 Fri 11 Jul 2025 04:42AM UTC
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