"Shaking his head, Bucky grabbed the stack of mail. Bill. Bill. Another bill. Spam. Avon catalog for the woman who lived there in the early 2000s and has since passed away. More bills. More spam. A letter for Bianca. Extremely early birthda...
At the sound of an exaggerated low whistle, Bucky turned to find none other than Sam Wilson. As though not a day had passed from the last time he had seen the man, Bucky teased, "If it isn't the man, the myth, the loser."
"Ha-fucking-ha," Sam narrowed his eyes, feigning offense. Bringing the brunet in for a hug, Sam claimed, "The only loser I see here is you."
"Ouch, I'm hurt," Bucky pulled back, theatrically holding his hand to his chest, "You wound me."
Laughing, Sam looked over Bucky, complimenting, "For real though, you're lookin' good. How've ya been?"
"I've been alright. Divorced, but I got three daughters out of it."
"No shit? I've got a daughter too," Sam smiled, reaching for his phone in his suit slacks pockets. Holding it up, he showed the screen to Bucky. "This is Sloane."
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"She's so cute," Bucky smiled at the picture of the teenager and their pet dog. But he couldn't let his childhood friend get away that easily, "She must get it from her mother."
"She does," Sam and a woman agreed in unison as she joined the two men. She smiled politely at Bucky as she handed Sam a drink and the Black man introduced them, "Bucky, this is my better half, Dr. Monica Rambeau. Babe, this is James Barnes."
"Bucky's fine," the brunet smiled, taking her offered hand, "It's a pleasure to meet the woman to put up with him."
"Hey!" Sam objected.
"I've heard a lot about you."
"That doesn't sound promising," Bucky chuckled.
Monica smiled, "I'm sure he exaggerated greatly."
"I really didn't," Sam grinned.
All the things that Sam could've shared from their past ran through Bucky's mind. Whether they were good or bad or somewhere in between and outside, there were so many memories. Sure, it wasn't as many as with Steve nor with Nattie, but there were plenty. And Bucky truly had to have his head so far up his own ass to not realize how much he missed Sam until this very moment.
"Is it true that you built a miniature model arc reactor from scraps around your house? And it worked?"
Not expecting the question about his tenth grade science fair project, Bucky was taken aback. He was certain that she was going to ask him about some embarrassing story. Like how at the eighth grade award ceremony, he passed out on the stage and peed himself. Or when they were seventeen and Bucky got stuck in a baby swing at the park and the firemen had to come and cut him out of it. Or –
Shaking his head in hopes of shaking the embarrassing thoughts away, Bucky confirmed, "Yeah. I, uh, used whatever I could find at my family's auto shop. But it wasn't anything impressive."
