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Sam’s fingers flexed nervously on the armchair of his cramped window seat on the plane ride to Madripoor.
Zemo had been up walking around and chatting with the pilot and first officer for the last hour and Bucky was sitting at the back of the plane with his knee up on the seat in front of him like an edgy teenager.
They were tired.
So fucking tired, Sam thought as he played with his window shade. The sun was bright which meant they were way above the clouds.
The light looked ethereal as it shined, filling the space with white beams. If Sam squinted hard enough, he could see the dust particles floating in front of him and dancing as they passed a nearby air vent.
Sam’s mind wandered to the conversation they had an hour ago. He flinched at the thought of Bucky having to act like The Winter Soldier in Madripoor. Sam’s fingers flexed nervously again on the seat.
Sam suddenly pulled the window shade down with a small thud and glanced back at his coworker...teammate…partner.
Whatever they are.
Bucky sensed the small movement and met the other man’s gaze.
“Now who has the staring problem?”
Sam rolled his eyes at that, “Oh, Icemans got jokes I see.”
Bucky scoffed and turned toward his window hiding the smallest hint of a smile. Normally Sam would take that small smile as a win but things have felt off since Bucky ambushed him at his work days ago.
That seemed to be the end of their conversation, but Sam wasn’t finished.
Sam stood up and made his way across the plane to the seat in front of Bucky’s. He pulled the metal lever and swung the chair around until it was facing him.
Bucky’s leg fell from where he had it propped up and he stumbled slightly forward. He glared at the other man and shifted in his seat.
“Can I help you?” Bucky said with a bit of sarcasm.
“We need to talk,” Sam said.
He didn’t know exactly where to go from there. In fact, he had been daydreaming about this very conversation for several minutes now and now that he actually moved over to Bucky to talk, he wasn’t sure where to go next.
Originally, in the alternative universe in his brain, Sam pictured him telling Bucky how concerned he was about him pretending to be The Winter Soldier and how everything about this situation is making him uneasy and he just wants to go back to the two of them walking around the German countryside trying to figure things out themselves.
Instead, Sam glared at Bucky and stated, “You really don’t like Marvin Gaye, do you?”
Bucky studied Sam’s eyes, first he squinted at him with confusion at the question and then he groaned in frustration once it registered.
“Really? That’s what this is about?”
Sam was flustered because it wasn’t. It had nothing to do with Marvin Gaye anymore. His brain was processing way faster than his mouth could keep up.
Bucky noticed the subtle distress emanating off of the other man and his face softened slightly, he was about to say something but Sam cut him off.
“You’re right… it’s not. It’s Isaiah,” Sam said, “I can’t stop thinking about it man.”
Sam could hear the shakiness in his voice as he continued, “What they did to him. He was a hero and they treated him like some science experiment.” Sam definitely did not expect himself to say all of this out loud, especially to Bucky.
“And then minutes after meeting a black man that was tortured by our government for years, I’m being harassed by white officers for being an angry black man standing in the hood.”
Bucky nodded and said, “I know,” quietly.
Sam saw the discomfort in Bucky as soon as he said the word ‘black’. Sam wasn’t ready to let this go.
“No, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you ‘know’, Bucky. Because, see, you say that but then you tell me to take the shield. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to be me! To be black.”
Bucky looked taken aback, he sank a little in his chair and his eyes widened at Sam’s sudden outburst.
Sam noticed and had that realization he always does when he’s shouting around white people. He’s falling into the role of 'loud angry black man' again. The thought of how even in the privacy of a private jet he feels the need to filter himself... it makes him sick to his stomach.
If Zemo hadn’t been paying attention to them talking before, he likely was now.
Sam took a deep breath to calm down before talking again.
“When I say I don’t want the shield, part of it is because I don’t think I deserve it. But there's more to it. I don’t want the shield because no one is going to want a black Captain America. Even if they did, why would I want it? Look what they did to Isaiah. They don’t care about us. They act like they do but they don’t.”
Bucky looked pale as he listened to Sam. Sam could feel his discomfort radiating throughout the entire plane.
Suddenly, Zemo plopped down in the seat across from them.
“He’s got a point, Bucky,” Zemo said. Of course he was listening.
Sam shot a glare at the Sokovian man. Sam didn’t like the idea of the world’s most notorious villain being on his side about something.
“Who is to say that the Americans won’t make your best friend into one of their little science experiments? Inject him with some fun stuff and watch what happens… lock him in a cell when he’s not of good use anymo--”
“They wouldn’t do that again. They wouldn’t do that to him,” Bucky said with half the confidence he had minutes earlier.
“Why? Because they didn’t do that to Steve?” Zemo cocked his head to the side as he rested his cocktail on the armchair.
Bucky didn't respond to that.
Sam sighed, “Look man, I’m not even saying they would do that. It’s just-- you missed out on a lot while you were in the ice. I know that’s not your fault, I never would think that it was.” Sam was trying to choose his words carefully, “You know… you know that if you were not there that day when the police stopped us that it could have been way worse for me. Even as an Avenger, it could have ended badly for me.”
Bucky looked down at his hands, he opened and closed his metallic one slowly.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” Bucky looked back up at Sam with tears filling his eyes, "I'm really sorry."
Sam didn’t fully understand why he did it, but he reached out and put his hand in Bucky’s. He squeezed the metal before resting his hand in his palm.
“Thank you,” Sam said quietly, then added, “Steve was right about the both of us, Buck. I just need more time. I need to think. I’m a little scared.”
Bucky squeezed Sam’s hand lightly, “I know you can take care of yourself, but just know I will kill anyone that tries to harm you.”
“Would you kill the entire American government?” Zemo asked, absolutely ruining the moment.
Both Sam and Bucky roll their eyes at Zemo in unison. They dropped their hands back into their respective laps.
“If they had ill intentions for Sam? Sure would,” Bucky replied. He thought about ‘Rule Number Two’ for a moment and decided that ‘Rule Number Two’ didn’t apply when it meant keeping Sam safe.
The pilot announced that they were beginning their descent to Madripoor and Zemo stood up again and went to go talk to the crew.
Sam stared at Bucky with a small smile on his face, Bucky scoffed before smiling back at him.
“What?” Bucky asked.
“You’re right. I don’t need you taking care of me.”
“Okay.”
“I do, however, like the thought though.”
“Of course you do.”
Sam smiled and reached out and took Bucky's hand again, he squeezed, "Of course I do."
***
~Epilogue~
Months later, Sam catching Bucky reading up on the Civil Rights movement while they’re in bed together relaxing before going to sleep.
Sam and Bucky spending time in D.C. going to museums and Bucky learning about how the country is deeply rooted in racism.
Bucky actually sticking up for Sam the next time an officer tries to ask for his license even though they were clearly going 45mph in a 50mph zone and Bucky is the one driving.
Bucky seeing confederate flags all over Sam’s hometown when they visit and Sam needing to actively hold him back from plucking the flags off people’s lawn and burning them.
***
End.