Imagine Bucky, Steve, and Sam all being Cap at the same time
“Hey, why are you up?” Bucky asks. Sam looks up from his coffee There’s a bit of powder from his jelly doughnut on his uniform.
“Getting ready for work,” he says. “It’s my day.”
“Isn’t it mine?” Bucky frowns, looking at their calendar. “I thought since Steve is taking a vacation this month we’re supposed to be alternating Sundays.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “We are. It’s a third Sunday, ya doof. I’m first and third Sundays of the month, you’re second and fourth. And March was long, so you were on last week.”
“Alternating Sundays of the month,” Bucky says with dawning realization. “Damn, I got up early for nothing.”
“Not for nothing,” Sam says with a little smile. “I get to see you, don’t I?”
He kisses Bucky and gets some doughnut powder on their chin.
Sometimes all three Captain Americas need to be on the scene, and those are always the weirdest, most stressed out missions because there’s usually HYDRA, there’s usually aliens, there’s sometimes experiments with sentience. Bucky still doesn’t understand how they, Sam and Steve can still find little cells of HYDRA adherents, but on a day where they’ve shut down three and had twenty-three people arrested, they’re just done.
Their left arm hurts bad and their ears are ringing with the words of someone… someone they recognized, from a subterranean cell long ago. Bucky sits down, feels like they could sit for quite a long time before they could get up again.
“Hey,” Steve says. He sets his shield down on Bucky’s, and sits down with Bucky. “Rough day.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Tomorrow will be better.”
Sam comes back from dealing with the authorities, and puts his shield down on the pile.
They all sit for a long while.
It’s best when they’re all not being Captain America, when they’re driving through countryside, or staying up late with dopey movies none of them have seen, when they’re burning pancakes first thing in the morning.
Bucky is happier than they’ve been in decades, watching Sam do a crossword, having Steve do their hair, ignoring the Avengers when it suits them. A quiet, comfortable home life balanced out by the action and retribution that they crave is ideal.
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