Bucky didn't really want to go back into the Capitol and see Sam. It wasn't Wilson that was the problem, it was the fact that he knew Wilson was his watchdog. He was a nice one, and Bucky had the feeling it wasn't a job he wanted anymore than it was one Bucky wanted him to have. But he was still the guy watching to see if Bucky lost hold. Which meant he was the guy Bucky was probably going to have to come up with a way to explain the last few weeks to.
It wasn't that hard, in theory. Natasha's bruises had been consensual, just rough play. The party had just been some high emotions running high and they'd worked it out between the sheets. Simple. Easy lies. He could say he was fine, hand Sam the few other stupid books he'd rounded up for him, and then Bucky could show him pictures of his dumbass kitten falling off stuff, and go back to 8.
Except Bucky's track record for talking about this was shitty, and if he spaced out or got fucked up while Sam was staring at him, it could be ... bad. So Bucky got nervous. He didn't exactly blame Wilson - Sam had a job to do just like the rest of them did. His job was to be the guy who said Barnes needed a padded room and a lot of pills, was the thing. So Bucky couldn't just let down around him.
He really didn't want to go. But Bucky went anyway, because he wanted someone from the Capitol making him go even less. He walked into Sam's too-bland office, giving him a quick smile that didn't hide the wary eyes, even though Bucky gave it his best try. "Hey," he greeted. He walked over, dropping a little paper bag onto Sam's desk. "Brought you a present." There were three books inside. All personally certified as amazingly awful.