Maybe We're Just Meant to Be

The Mission

~Shout out to my friend Gabi, aka the best damn trash can ever, who gave me a lot of inspiration for this chapter since I had serious writer's block and was super busy with school. So so sorry this took so long. I apologize. I hope it lives up to the hype, it's really awful and sad and I apologize in advance~

It was early the next morning when everyone stumbled out of bed. Although, it's not like any of them actually slept.

Bucky had a nightmare, which wasn't uncommon, but this one was worse than usually. It took Sam an hour to calm him down enough to stop shaking and to actually stay focused on Sam for more than a few seconds at a time. Bucky refused to talk about it and Sam wasn't going to push him to at 4 in the morning.

To say the least, neither of them could fall asleep after that. Bucky was too shaken up and Sam was too concerned about his boyfriend to even think about how tired he was.

So when the three of them piled into the kitchen at 6 in the morning, no one had to ask how little the others slept. It was written in the bags under their eyes and the way they each dove for the coffee pot.

It only took them another half hour to shower, dress, and gather all their gear.

They met back in the kitchen for what was Sam's third cup of coffee that morning. "Steve, I think Bucky should stay here. He had a bad nightmare last night and didn't get any sleep," he told Steve, refusing to look at either of his roommates.

Steve shot Bucky a concerned look, that Bucky returned pointedly. "I'm fine," Bucky spit out.

Steve glanced between Sam and Bucky before replying, "Bucky's a grown man. He can make up his own mind and if he says he's fine then he is."

Sam shook his head and looked up at the ceiling like he was praying for lightning to strike him before he turned his attention to the pair. "You both need to get over your egos. Steve, I know you still care about Bucky much more than your letting on, and Bucky...you know Steve's got your back no matter what's going on between you two. I was really trying to let you two work this out by yourselves, but enough is enough," he all but scolded them, like they were children and he was their mom.

Both of the soldiers huffed indignantly, staring at Sam.

A moment later, Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to face Steve. "You almost ready?" he asked casually.

Steve nodded. "We can leave as soon as Sam's ready," he replied evenly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Sam shook his head and downed the rest of his coffee. "Let's go," he said, putting his cup in the sink and picking up his gear.

The ride to the airport was silent. Not comfortable silence, either. The kind that gives you knots in your stomach. Like sitting in a room with complete strangers who clearly loathe eachother, rather than your best friends, Sam thought.

The flight wasn't much better but at least there was more room.

Sam was laying down on the couch, listening to music and trying to ignore Steve and Bucky when the assassin plopped himself down on the end of the couch, pushing Sam's feet over, and sighing loudly.

Sam looked up at Bucky and pushed aside his own issues, huffing, "What's wrong?"

Bucky leaned back on the couch and stretched his arms. "Nothing," he murmured.

Sam rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically, "Yeah sure. Try again." He sat up a bit, moving his feet into Bucky's lap, grinning. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Bucky just stared at him. "Nothing," he answered again, a hint of agitation in his voice.

Sam sighed and took Bucky's hand. "Come on, talk to me, baby," he urged.