"MR WILSON, MR BARNES."  With a solemn nod and two firm handshakes, the official and his team started to take their leave, cars filling with officers before a soft cacophony of roaring motors erupted at once through the mellow spring air, the vehicles then departing in a neat line.  The villain had been arrested, everything fell back into place.

With a contended sigh, Sam's allowed for his still tense muscles to loosen, even the weight of the Falcon's steel wings all of a sudden seeming a lot lighter than they were just minutes ago, under the strain of combat. All is well that ends well, after all.

"Look at that, our first official victory as a team," the man declared with a gush of regained enthusiasm, rubbing his hands together in a relieved manner.

"Colleagues. It's just a partnership," Bucky retorted, staring at the departing convoy in this way that Sam always teased the other man for. "It's not like we're a team. You do your thing, I do mine." He shrugged, moving to ease his drained body — they had had quite the fight, though both men had thankfully come out of it unscathed in spite of a few badly landed punches that would certainly leave their mark. Namely, another set of bruises. "But good work. Alright, I'll see you around."

"Wait that's it?"

It must be recognised that Sam and Bucky indeed weren't gifted with the greatest communication skills, especially when it came to dealing their blustery relationship. They had not had much chance to talk things through, after Bucky's outburst concerning the shield Sam had, according to the brunet, given up against Steve's wish, though the latter had accepted his friend's decision without a word of disapproval in spite of having been replaced by John Walker.

"Yeah." A slight frown reflected Bucky's lack of zealousness, the man stopping in his tracks to give Sam a dull glance. "What's left to do?"

"Nothing, nothing." The Falcon shook his head, another sigh, but this time small and resigned, breaking through his lips. If Bucky had no intention of making an effort to befriend him, then Sam wasn't going to either, especially after all the failed attempts already scattered in his wake.

How strange it was, fighting alongside so unreadable a partner. With Steve and Natasha, Sam had always known what to expect — when walking away from battles, there had always been a shoulder he could rely on walking beside him, the familiar sound of a teasing, but fond, voice commenting upon what had just happened, and he could almost picture the Captain rolling his eyes with a quiet smile. They had faced many hardships during those years on the run, neutralizing terrorist groups and striving to help people even outside of the law. But there was one thing Sam could certify without the shadow of a doubt: it had sealed their friendship with unbreakable bounds. His two fellow heroes had become the Falcon's second family, his touchstone through the best and worst times of that sometimes unfathomable existence they led. But now, Natasha was gone, Steve had retired. And this new partnership with Bucky, who had been assigned on missions with Sam in order to redeem himself in the view of the government, seemed like the herald of a tortuous journey.

"I'll see you around."

"Alright."

Bucky, on the other hand, had not experienced such comradeship since the war — since Steve was the one standing by his side, the only person Bucky had ever trusted so wholly that he would've marched with him not only to the end of the line, but to the end of the world. But things had changed, inescapably.

Even after Bucky's return to some semblance of normality after his retreat in Wakanda, which allowed the strained and tortured man to regain a bit of long-lost peace, nothing could've ever been the same as before. Nothing was easy anymore. Nightmares, flashbacks, realisations; Bucky's metal fingers were smeared with indelible crimsons stains that no tide seemed able to water down, accounting for the past crimes that still haunted his hollow nights. Like the memory of fated wives forever stained the key to Bluebeard's basement, in the cracks of Bucky's metallic limb the ghosts from lost years endlessly drew their last's breath. And, saddest of all, the profoundly etched solitude that had kept on devouring Bucky from the inside had even affected his friendship with Steve although the man had always believed it unbreakable — now that Steve had resolved to fully commit to the life he had long been denied, his friend didn't dare trouble his newly found serenity. Instead, he settled on secluding his pain and fears while working on the redemption he sought, on erasing the Winter Soldier's spectral reflection from the mirror, on being James Bucky Barnes. Maybe then, if he were forgiven, he would be able to forgive himself too.

The problem, in truth, wasn't Sam himself, though Bucky resented him for having surrendered the shield Steve had entrusted him with. The problem lay deep beneath the surface of Bucky's faked smiles and attempts to regain control over his destiny. Even after Wakanda, he still couldn't leave his past behind, not when it came back in blinding flashes, pulsing dangerously under his skin, vivd under his closed eyelids, pulling him back, tearing him apart, away... away...

Therapy. Guilt. Dark apartment, no bed. Occasional fights, the shuddering of the metal scales of his arm reminding him, even when he strived to do good, of the deaths he used to sow in his wake. Those were the pillars of the new existence Bucky had been trying to balance. To be fair, Steve called him frequently, giving him news with that uplifted voice of his, enthusiastically asking about Bucky and Sam, promising to come visit; but the brunet would always decline, reschedule, try to push the blond away and dismiss his worries in a heartbeat, assuring him with that flash of a smile Bucky had come to master that he was okay; that Steve ought to allay his concerns and rather focus on his own new occupations, doing memorial work and honouring his teammates' legacies. It was better that way, Bucky thought, all the former ties he could've had snapping one by one, thin strings giving in under the weight of the man's anguish.

So it was with nothing but a dry goodbye that Bucky left Sam on the spot, already bracing himself to confront his therapist yet another time as his thoughts fluttered towards what the rest of the day would be like. Another hour of subtle lies and tricks, wishing for the clock hung upon the wall to pace up, to get out of the office and wander off somewhere else. But at least, he was in Brooklyn again now. He had even made a friend, before realising that he himself was the one responsible for the murder of the old man's son, thus forever hampering Yori's life and causing him an amount of suffering that Bucky could never grasp. It looked as though the shadow of the killer he used to be — or still was, deep down? — trudged behind with each new step the man took forward. Even the fact that Steve believed in him, having always unyieldingly assured his friend that it wasn't his fault, but Hydra's, changed very little to the fact that it was Bucky, the Winter Soldier, who had done the deed, and had to live with it forever.

Bucky wondered whether it would always be like this. How does one like him build himself back up again?

          "BUCKY."

As the man stepped outside the building, a ray of spring sunlight brushing his slightly worn out features and tangling in his now short hair, Bucky barely had the time to get a lungful of fresh air before the sound of his own name shifted his focus from the therapy session, making his gaze land on the person calling out to him. Of course, Sam Wilson had to always get in the way.

"What are you doing here?" Bucky asked, repressing another sigh that almost dripped from his lips at the sight the Falcon's crossed arms. He certainly wasn't in the mood to argue with Sam, which was what usually tended to happen whenever the two of them were left alone with no mission to complete or assault to lead.

"We need to talk," was Sam's concise, yet resolute, reply.

"Come on," the man shook his head, frowning. "You came all the way here because we need to talk? There's nothing to say, Sam. We got the villain, now we go our separate ways until next time."

"Alright," rolling his eyes out of contained frustration, Sam opened the door of the car behind him. "Get in."

Trying to read the man, Bucky followed his invitation after a thoughtful, grumpy pause during which he tried to decide on a course of action, attempting to understand the Falcon's motivations, but no additional explanation came with Sam's request. Bucky thus settled beside the driver's seat, watching Sam bend to get inside beside him, then resolutely stared forward, the tension that had arisen from their last bickering having not dissipated on Bucky's part. He had finally poured his conflicted heart out to Sam, almost yelling, in a bitter whisper, that he should have never surrendered the shield, that he was responsible for John Walker assuming the mantle of Captain America — while that newly appointed hero was baffling the legacy of what Steve stood for and wanted, Bucky was aggrieved to see that Sam had just let things roll without putting his foot down, so betraying Steve's wishes. On the surface, this was the reason of Bucky's persistent irritation. But, deep down, there was something else, strongest of all. Something rooted in solitude, in Bucky's destructive inability to unbound himself from the chains of chastisement that he inflicted upon his own self.

"Well, where's the talk?" After a few minutes of driving, Bucky finally broke the silence first, casting an impatient glance at Sam. What could be so important that Sam went through the trouble of picking him up after his therapist appointment?

"It'll come." The other man echoed placidly. "I hope you don't have anything else to do today."

"No. Why? Where are we going?"

"Good. You'll see."

But an hour swept by, and Bucky still didn't.

"Sam, it's been an hour." Looking out the window, the man slightly craned his neck so he could take a swift look at Sam's composed grip on the wheel, guiding the car through roads that he apparently knew, but Bucky had never seen.

"Loosen up, I'm not kidnapping you," Sam almost smiled, eyes still focused on the road with the same sturdiness.

"It feels like it."

Hours later, they were in Delacroix, Louisiana.

As Bucky softly slammed the car door shut on his side while tracking Sam's movements — since the other man still hadn't uttered a word regarding his project —, an outpour of evening beams of sunlight flowed over them, washing the greenery behind their backs in warm golden tones and accompanying the cool breeze that made leaves flutter and shiver in announcing that the day was coming to an end. A maritime waft filled their lungs, the smell of sea food intertwined with the unbridled wind racing upon the waves that crashed on the shore a few feet ahead. Upon leaving the vehicle, Bucky's gaze instantly fell on the construction that stretched out on the pier they had parked in, and more specifically on the sign that read Wilson family sea food in bright red letters standing out against an orange background.

Frowning in a streak of surprise, Bucky followed Sam among stalls filled with fish, shrimp, oysters, the variety of sea products shaded from parched rays of sunlight by wooden planks perched upon solid wooden pillars that stood unshaken in spite of the ever-going ruffling of the maritime wind. As soon as the pair set foot upon the slippery ground of the harbour, which Sam navigated on dexterously out of habit, glances started to dart at them, immediately followed by an eruption of greetings and waving hands as Sam was recognised, the Falcon being welcomed with the joyous familiarness and warmth one expressed around a long-time-not-seen close friend or family member.

"Uncle Sam!"

Two boys, appearing from behind one of the stalls, ran up to the Falcon in excited strides, exchanging a handshake with the latter before he pulled them into a hug.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite troublemakers," Sam scoffed gently, patting his nephews on the back. "What mischief have you two been up to since the last time I came?"

But the two boys' attention was shortly drawn toward the figure they noticed planted behind their uncle's shoulder, having never met the newcomer in the flesh before. "Sam, is that... ?" AJ asked quietly, having a peep at the man whose short sleeves were revealing a metal arm streaked with long fissures of gold, therefore evidently shining a light upon his identity.

"AJ, Cass, this is Bucky Barnes," Sam dissipated the short seconds of suspense, gesturing toward the brunet, to which the boys shyly reacted by waving at Bucky. "We work together from time to time."

"Uhm, hi." The man awkwardly waved in return, attempting to smile at the two boys. Why the hell did Sam bring him all the way to his family's property?

"Look who's here." Another voice joined in, evidently belonging to the woman carrying a crate of fresh shrimp who came closer to them, an amused smile that she directed at Sam playing upon her lips and her eye twinkling with the malice of sisterly affection. Even though Sam and Sarah hadn't exactly said goodbye on a joyful note the last time the Falcon had come, a sense of relief and support could not be dissociated from his visits, regardless of their disagreements. "Came back to negotiate, did you?"

"Not this time, but I'm not dropping the matter either," the man explained, remembering well enough the precarious situation of the boat and the state of finances that he and Sarah had not yet finished discussing at length. However, he truly had not planned on quarreling about family matters on that day. "There's someone I want you to meet. Here, Sarah, this is Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is my sister Sarah, Cass and AJ's mother."

"Nice to meet you." Sarah nodded and shook the other man's hand, not a cloud of suspicion obscuring the same carefree friendliness that she had greeted Sam with as she appeared not in the least intimidated by Bucky. After all, the Wilson family had gotten somewhat used to meeting superheroes after Sam and Steve had visited them several times, so Sarah trusted Sam's acquaintances, seeing no reason to behave around them differently or any less hospitably than she would with any other newcomer.

"So what brought you all the way here?" the young woman's attention fixed itself upon Sam again, glancing at him as she dropped off her crate, continuing to work while the two men walked along with her.

"Don't worry, nothing bad," a hint of sheepishness echoed in Sam's chuckle, the Falcon aware of how much trouble it could sometimes be to be associated with Sam's more than peculiar work. "Just wanted to come back here for a bit. Show Bucky around. We had an eventful past week."

"It doesn't require an effort of imagination to picture that," Sarah shook her head, lips still forming a smile as a small sigh pierced through them. "Alright, you two go about your business, I still have some things on my plate. Don't hesitate to give us a hand if you get bored."

"You can count on us," Sam promised, embracing the harbour in a circular look as a soothing, unfettered feeling of relief came washing down on the man's nerves, which hadn't exactly had the occasion to rest lately; but the sight of this place, linked to so many childhood memories, interwoven with his life in the most intimate of ways, managed to alley the weight of responsibility that Sam had to shoulder.

"Why did you bring me here?" After Sarah's departure, Bucky finally gave in to his incomprehension, the small crease between his eyebrows deepening as he frowned slightly, looking around to the world Sam also belonged to, and Bucky had had no idea of.

"No questions. C'mon, I'm not done showing you around," was nonetheless all he got for a reply, the other man already taking a few steps forward toward the jetty where a boat, tranquilly floating upon the waves lapping the harbour, was gently rocking back and forth on the water.

Upon its calloused surface, whose slightly chipped blue and red paint-job shimmered under the mild beams of the declining sun, the inscription PAUL & DARLENE shone in capital letters, indicating the boat's name.

"This boat was my mom and dad's. It's been in our family for as long as I can remember," Sam finally entrusted Bucky with a piece of information, adroitly stepping upon the deck as the brunet followed, less accustomed to this new maritime environment that Sam navigated through with the effortlessness of habit. "Sarah," Sam continued upon making sure that Bucky had safely landed beside him, "wants to sell the boat. Seems like the bank isn't too enthusiastic about our finance problems, no matter how much Sarah tries. Look around, Buck. I didn't bring you here for pity, but I hope it helps you understand. Think about Isaiah. About the police stopping us. That shield... It's a lot. I told you I did what I thought was right, and I haven't changed my mind. I know how much it meant to you, but this is my decision. I thought bringing you hear might help you understand why I made it."

Doing as Sam suggested, Bucky's eyes slowly shifted from the inside of the boat to the mirroring surface of the sea, its murmurs swishing as faint waves crashed upon the hull, before his gaze fell upon the harbour, the people trotting and bustling about between the stalls, Sam's car he pictured parked right where they left it. And, for the first time, it hit Bucky that he himself came from so far away, having never truly pondered over what Sam had gone through before these missions they had been assigned ever since their fate had been entangled with that of the Avengers. Most of Bucky's existence, at least the snippets he considered truly belonging to him, had floated by in the haze of juvenile happiness and exuberant recklessness in 1920's and 1930's New York, by Steve's side, in a life of teenage discoveries, studies and the companionship of family. He had faced his own challenges, but his situation had been so much easier than that of so many at the same period; and, through thick and thin, Steve had always been walking beside him. Of course, the blond man had been at the front of his mind every time the topic of the shield was brought up — he had not, in the midst of his eagerness to honour his best friend's legacy, from the depths of his missing him so much more than any word could ever reflect, once tried to imagine what all of this was like for Sam. For the first time, Bucky saw Sam.

"I..." He turned toward the other man, catching a glimpse of Sam's melancholy, yet resolute, look. "I hadn't realised all of that."

"I know. Steve didn't realise it either when he gave me the shield. I know he meant well, I'm sure you do too. But this is my decision," Sam added empathetically, but unflinchingly.

Punctuating Sam's assertion with a quiet nod, Bucky tried processing all the pieces that composed the foundation of Sam's choice, understanding now that it had always been a lot more complex than what had Bucky believed it to be. He would try, he promised himself, to understand better. Because Sam, in his unbreakable resilience, in this righteousness that accompanied the whoosh of the Falcon's wings, in the imperishable kindness no hardship had been able to undermine, and which Bucky acknowledged and strongly felt in spite of their arguments, reminded him all too well of similar traits that hit home.

"Well, my job here is done," Sam broke the silence at last, his lighter, almost joking, tone alleviating the sadder echo of their conversation.

"No, not yet." Bucky's sudden answer surprised Sam, whose puzzled glance met the other man's features. "I think you promised Sarah that we'd give her a hand," Bucky clarified, a small smile finding its way over his lips.

"That's right." A grin broke out upon Sam's face, the surprise aroused by Bucky's unforeseen comment turning into a surge of sympathy as the brunet seemed to have acknowledged the point Sam made.

Leaving Bucky the time to thoroughly understand where he was coming from, Sam decided not to further dwell on the subject for the moment, so the two men regained the pier after a few minutes of additional contemplation from the boat, the fiercer sea wind brushing their skin and ruffling their clothes as they were immersed in an often-forgotten sense of natural peace.

But then, the teeming harbour swirled back to life as soon as they set foot upon the ground. It didn't take long for them to find Sarah and Sam's nephews, who Bucky this time took the time to friendlily chat with as the two boys' excitement to meet a new superhero hadn't grown any fainter. He even let them inspect the metal arm, lifting them into the air in a rush of giggles and enthusiastic shouting; Sam could only glance at them with discreet fondness, the sight of his nephews and Bucky getting along well warming his heart.

And, as the sun pursued its descent over the sky alit with crepuscular orange and lilac hues, the sea's murmurs persistently resounding within the harbour and even slipping into conversations, Sam couldn't have been gladder to have brought Bucky here.

Friends. Sam liked it much better than colleagues.

-

this is nowhere near as good as what ep5 of tfatws offered us, but i wrote this before watching it. but i did have the sambucky boat pictures i saw online in mind <3

this show is so incredible on so many levels and i couldn't be more grateful that we got this sam/bucky narrative. the tackling of issues such as racism and mental health are so important, i'm so glad that sam and bucky's struggles were acknowledged and openly discussed — it's such a good thing that a show like tfatws sheds a light on them, because in spite of superhero plots, seeing such characters struggle and overcome things that the audience can also deal with is so inspiring and such a beautiful message for all viewers who go through similar experiences

the only think making me really sad is that we didn't get to see steve, sam and bucky all together. what with sam and bucky being the centre characters, i was hit by how little time we actually saw of them with steve. although i found steve's ending beautiful in itself on the day i watched endgame, i'll forever be sad at the way it erased all his progression in the present and all the relationships he built up after he came out of the ice. i love sam and bucky with my entire heart, but i miss steve endlessly as well and i just wish we had the three of them together ): sam as captain america, bucky getting better and a retired steve doing memorial work and helping people? my ultimate headcanon