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This was stupid. Bucky should have said no, but Sam had asked him, so how could he deny him? Now, here they were, at a damn ballroom undercover.
All because Bucky couldn't say no to those damn eyes.
Even if he knew Sam didn't feel the same way.
Bucky was pushing himself against one of the walls, in suit and tie as well as black gloves to hide his arm. Sam was out mingling, talking and socializing. Meanwhile, everyone seemed to be avoiding Bucky, most likely due to his staring out at anyone who began to approach him. Didn't want to talk to people. Didn't want to be here, though part of him wanted to drag Sam out onto the dance floor because for once they were doing a dance Bucky knew.
And he yearned to pretend he was back in the forties.
Back when things were easier.
He still didn't recognize the song playing, but the dance was one he was familiar with. Had he gone out here of his own volition and not for a mission, had he not been hopelessly in love with Sam Wilson, he'd be out on the floor with a pretty lady. But he wasn't here on his own, and he was in love with Sam.
That hurt even more.
That he was so in love with Sam when Sam never even gave him a look indicating he could feel the same about Bucky. Because why would Sam Wilson, such a perfect and good man, want Bucky that way?
When Bucky's eyes flicked back over to Sam, he had a hand in his pulling a man out to the dance floor.
And it stung.
Because it wasn't that Sam didn't like men, it was that Sam didn't like Bucky. Because if Bucky was someone else, if he was better and more deserving, then maybe Sam would consider him. But Bucky wasn't someone else, as much as he wanted to be. He was just the broken man, the one he needed to be helped and rebuilt, the ex assassin who Sam still looked at with fear every so often. When Sam is caught off guard by Bucky, he doesn't miss the flash of fear across Sam's face for a split second before hiding it.
Bucky knew that Sam wouldn't ever regard him as safe, as home.
And that was okay.
Bucky would deal with it.
Bucky would move on.
Bucky couldn't stay in love with Sam fucking Wilson forever, right?
But maybe he would. Because he was still in love with Steve, even after he'd left Bucky to go back to the forties and spend his life with Peggy instead of him. He was still in love with Steve, and now in love with Sam in addition. Each one hurt, because he knew neither would ever happen.
Because he was broken.
Because, maybe, he was undeserving of love after everything he did.
He accepted that, though. A long time ago, after Zemo showed him what he really was, what he was always going to be for the rest of his life. Since the man he had been died on that train when he fell.
And Sam deserved better. He deserves someone whole and good. Not broken. Not evil. Not a murderer. Someone good and pure just like Sam was.
So as Bucky watched Sam dance with a slightly shorter man, dirty blond hair and brown eyes, Bucky accepted his fate. It was okay, though. Even if he was doomed to love people who would never love him back that way, because he still got to be around them. Still get to see Sam almost everyday for work. So that was enough. Because it had to be. Because he couldn't dwell on what would never be. Because that wouldn't be productive. Because that would just hurt even more.