Chapter Text
Bucky had never expected to find himself in politics. Hell, he trusted politicians as far as he could throw -
He grimaced, rubbing at aching temples. No. That was inaccurate, because he COULD do that, and if he could have his way, he’d toss half of these idiotic suits out the window of his congressional suite without a second's hesitation.
But he couldn’t do that, not anymore at least. After the events of the last few years, after everything he’d seen—after the power vacuum left behind by the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the revelation of corruption within the U.S. government—he’d realized that if he wanted things to change.
So here he was, stepping up to the plate.
And that was how he found himself here, on Capitol Hill, trying to fight the bureaucratic bullshit with all the patience of a man who had once punched Nazis for a living...
Bucky sighed again, sagging into the soft leather of his office chair.
Today had been one of THOSE days. He’d been forced to sit in on a long, grueling session where he had to listen to senators who had never lifted a finger in battle try to dictate policies that would affect the lives of millions. Of soldiers. Like Sam. Like HIM.
And now he had a fucking headache.
His office was a haven in the dumpster fire of madness- decorated sparsely, but with some pops of color and warmth. There was a bookshelf lined with history books (some of which he had lived through), a few framed photos, and a small potted plant that Sam had insisted he get to “liven up the place.”
“This place is sad, Barnes.” Sam had quipped in his usual pesky tone, eyes leering at the office when he’d been moving in. “I feel like I’m in a horror movie, man. Or a sad ass IKEA room model.”
Bucky snorted at the memory, eyes falling onto said potted plant currently basking in the late afternoon sun.
Fuck. What he wouldn’t give to be out of this office, in the sunlight, doing ANYTHING else-
He was rubbing his temples when his assistant, Lisa, poked her head in. “Congressman Barnes, Captain America is here to see you.”
Bucky immediately sat up straighter, his heart skipping a beat as he forced his expression to remain carefully neutral. “Send him in.”
Lisa gave her usual quiet nod and disappeared, and moments later, Sam Wilson walked into the office, looking every bit the part of Captain America. His suit, pristine and bright as ever, was a symbol of hope and resilience. But Bucky knew better. Beneath the cool, collected exterior, Sam was a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Captain America,” Bucky drawled out, leaning back in his chair with a sly smirk. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Sam smirked right back, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Bucky frowned, eyes narrowing slightly at the motion.
“Oh, you know. Just thought I’d stop by, check in on an old friend. See how democracy’s treatin’ ya.”
Bucky scoffed, a finger beginning to tap on the oak of his desk. “Democracy’s a pain in the ass.”
Sam took a seat across from him, crossing his arms as he sat with a grunt. “So I’ve heard. Lisa said you looked like you were about to throw a chair at someone earlier.”
Bucky hummed, clicking his tongue. “Lisa exaggerates.”
Sam gave him that unnerving stare and Bucky felt himself cave, rolling his eyes with a huff. “Okay, fine. I came close.”
Sam leaned forward, his voice quieter now. “What happened?”
Bucky hesitated, finger picking up its rhythm. This was the part that was difficult—having Sam here, knowing they couldn’t be as open as they wanted. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the desk, take Sam’s hand, let the stress of the day melt away for just a moment.
But here? In the lion's den, that wasn’t possible.
Instead, he settled for running a hand through his hair. “The usual. A bunch of out-of-touch suits arguing about things they don’t fucking understand. It was a bill about veterans’ support programs. They were trying to gut funding for mental health services, claiming it was ‘too expensive.’ Like they didn’t send people out to fight wars and then abandon them when they come home.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “You told them where they could stick it, right?”
“Oh, I gave ‘em an earful,” Bucky said, vibranium fingertips digging into the oak. “Might’ve scared a couple of them, too.”
Sam chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that.”
Bucky huffed, shaking his head. Then, after a pause, he said, “You didn’t just come here to check in, did you?”
Sam tilted his head, raising his brows in mock innocence. “What, I can’t visit a friend?”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, not missing the way Sam’s gaze darted from his to his fingers digging into his desk. He sighed, slowly retracting his hand from view. “You can. But I know you, Sam. And I know when you’re worried.”
Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lisa called me.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Lisa called you?”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “Said you looked like you were about to lose it today. Told me to get my ass down here before you actually decked a senator.”
Bucky snorted. “As tempting as that would be...”
Sam leaned in just slightly. “Are you? Okay, Buck?”
Bucky let out a slow breath, making an effort to unclench the muscles in his jaw. “I don’t know.” He admitted, voice going soft in resignation. “Some days it just feels like I’m fighting a war I can’t win.”
“You’ve been through worse.”
“I know,” Bucky said, his voice quieter now. “It’s just… I can’t punch my way out of this one, you know?”
Sam nodded, his expression softening. “No, you can’t. But you don’t have to do it alone.”
There was a beat of silence between them, charged with unspoken words, with the weight of everything they couldn’t say out loud in a room where anyone could walk in.
But then Sam smirked, trying to lighten the mood, warning bells starting to ring in Bucky’s head. He fucking knew that look. “So, Congressman Barnes, when’s the last time you took a break?”
Bucky pursed his lips, staring evenly back at Sam’s mischievous smirk. “Define ‘break.’”
Sam pointed at him, eyebrows raising as he motioned his way with a wild swing of his arms. “See? That right there? That’s a bad sign.”
“I don’t need a break, Samuel-” Bucky said, though even he didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Yes. You do,” Sam insisted. “And lucky for you, I know just the thing.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Too bad.” Sam stood up, stretching. “Because you and I are getting out of here. Right now.”
“I can’t just leave, Sam-”
“Nu-huh. No arguing. Don’t make me call Torres-”
Bucky groaned, leaning back into his chair with a grimace. “Where?” He whined, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation.
Sam just grinned, the asshole. “You’ll see.”
Bucky sighed, but there was already a part of him that was feeling lighter. Because despite everything, despite the stress and the secrecy and the insanity of it all—Sam was here. And that made everything just a little bit easier to bear.