Chapter Text
Louisiana was nice.
It was the first place in ages that Bucky had felt like a normal person. Where he felt safe. Being around Sam’s family felt like a breath of fresh air after the shit they had been dealing with over the past few days.
Sam was noticeably tense. Probably for multiple reasons. With how sore Bucky’s body was after the fight with Walker, he couldn’t imagine how Sam’s body felt without the serum working to repair the wounds. But on top of physical bruises, he watched as Sam’s eyes scanned crowds, as he checked his phone for updates. He watched him sit silently, contemplating. Bucky couldn’t blame him. There was a lot on their minds.
He was surprised Sam invited him to stay after he showed up uninvited and spent the day purposefully being a pain in Sam’s ass as they worked on the Wilsons’ boat.
They didn’t talk about the hotel in Baltimore. Or Zemo’s safe house. Sam had tried before they left Latvia, but they were interrupted. What are we doing? Sam had asked. He couldn’t bring himself to answer then, and he still couldn’t two days later.
It’s not like he expected to have sex with Sam. Twice. Sure, he’d thought about it in the past; he wasn’t blind. Even though he and Sam had started off on the wrong foot, Sam had been one of the only people besides Steve to consistently check in with him in Wakanda. Their once wary relationship turned relatively friendly until Steve left and they both started to lash out at each other – which was mostly Bucky’s fault. He was grieving and resentful of the world around him.
Sam would text. Bucky would ignore him. Sam called and Bucky answered with annoyance, if he didn’t send the call to voicemail. Eventually, Sam stopped telling him things, which is why he found out about the shield from the news instead of from Sam himself.
Despite it all, they had become friends. Albeit, friends who pissed each other off, but friends nonetheless But clearly, they had become something more than that. It was no wonder Sam asked what they were doing. He was content to keep avoiding the question, but he found it difficult as he sat at the dinner table with Sam’s family.
Later that night, he had a nightmare. He woke up drenched in sweat. He didn’t remember the exact mission or date, but he remembered the faces. The faces were always what haunted him the most.
He sat up from the couch, glancing around at the unfamiliar room in an attempt to rid his mind of the ghosts that lurked in the corners of his mind. He rubbed his temples, where a headache was blossoming. He was amazed by his body’s ability to find a type of pain that the serum couldn’t prevent. He knew it’d go away within the hour.
“Hey,” A low voice from the kitchen caught his attention.
He looked over to find Sam standing at the counter, pouring boiling water from a kettle into two mugs.
“Hey,” He echoed, trying to avoid Sam’s eyes. But they were on him; concerned and curious.“What time is it?”
“Half past eleven.” Sam paused. “Sorry that couch isn’t more comfortable,”
“Better than what I’m used to.” Bucky shrugged, recalling the cold hardwood floor of his apartment.
Sam approached him, mugs in hand. From the smell, it was an herbal tea with hints of chamomile and lavender. He held it out to Bucky, who stared at it. “I figured you might wake up. This helps me on tough nights. Take it.”
“I don’t need it,”
“Just take the damn tea,”
Bucky glared up at Sam before taking the mug from his hand. “Thanks,”
He shifted, making space for Sam next to him. In the quiet of the sleeping house, the jingle of the dog tags around his neck rang in his ears.
Sam quietly settled next to him, staring down at the mug in his hands. “I went to see Isaiah.”
“Was it more productive than our visit?”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “He told me everything. The serum. His imprisonment. I can’t believe they erased him from history.”
“Unfortunately, that’s pretty common for our government.” Bucky sighed, turning his head back to Sam.
“No shit,” Sam chuckled ruefully. He glanced at the doorway, where the shield sat. “He also said that no Black man in their right mind would want to be Captain America.”
“Well, since when have you been in your right mind?”
Sam laughed. He looked at Bucky, concern etched in his brow. “It’s a lot of responsibility. Lots of eyes on me.”
“You can handle it.”
“Can I?”
“Just don’t violently kill anyone in a fit of rage while there are cameras on you and you’ll be golden.”
Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff.
Bucky leaned to place the mug down, then turned his body to Sam, keeping his voice down. “Seriously, Sam. I think you can handle it. There are always going to be bigots, but who gives a shit what they think? What’s important is that you’ll do it for the right reasons. I know that. Steve knew that. There’s a reason he gave you the shield.”
Sam just stared at him, eyes shifting over his face. Bucky felt himself flush under the attention. He wasn’t used to the quiet, or the soft light on Sam’s skin that reflected in deep brown eyes. Something so still and comfortable felt unnatural, in the midst of the constant chaos of their lives; especially after that night in the hotel, fueled by their built up resentment, and after the afternoon in Zemo’s kitchen, fueled by Bucky’s desire to forget Madripoor and the Winter Soldier by losing himself in Sam’s touch.
But there was nothing negative fueling them as they sat on that couch. And that was terrifying. Bucky had to look away to avoid confronting the feeling.
“Speaking of,” He muttered. “I’m sorry for being such a dick about the shield.”
“You were a dick,” Sam nodded with a chuckle. “I wasn’t helping, though.”
Bucky pressed on. He owed an explanation to Sam after everything.
“I was pissed when Steve left. After everything he and I had been through – especially after the Accords and Zemo – seeing him go back to live the life he lost without a single consideration for everything I’ve lost…” He sighed, resentment bubbling up in his chest, deep and painful. “He was all I had. Then he left. I couldn’t take that out on him, so I took it out on you. And that wasn’t fair.”
“Hey, I get it. He left me, too, you know,” Sam reminded.
“I know,”
“I think I also took that out on you,” Sam went quiet for a beat. “He left me with the shield and I didn’t know what to do. I think I half wanted you to take it instead, just to save me the headache.”
“He asked me,” Bucky recalled the night before Steve left.
“He did?”
Bucky nodded. “He wondered if I’d take it if he offered, but we both already knew the answer. I think it was one last attempt to see if the Bucky he knew was still there. I knew that’s who he wanted to answer, I saw it every time he came to see me in Wakanda. But that Bucky, his Bucky… he died a long time ago.”
They sat with those words. Bucky wondered if he’d said too much; he hadn’t talked about Steve in months. It wasn’t exactly his favorite topic.
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Sam eventually exhaled. “This Bucky ain’t so bad. Even though he’s a grumpy old man.”
Bucky scoffed, looking down at his lap. He clenched his left hand, listening to the quiet whir of the Wakandan technology within his arm. He glanced at Sam with a skeptical look.
“And if you don’t believe me,” Sam put his mug down. “I’ll prove it to you.”
Bucky furrowed his brow, a question on his lips when Sam leaned forward and kissed him.
It was gentle. No anger, no irritation, no desperation like the first two. Bucky kissed him back with hesitance.
When Sam pulled away, Bucky almost didn’t let him.
He waited for the inevitable repeat of the question: What are we doing? He could practically feel it waiting on Sam’s breath.
So he kissed Sam back, deeper than the first. Even if he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer that, he could still enjoy Sam’s touch until he was. He kissed Sam breathlessly until he was being dragged onto the other man’s lap.
“My room?” Sam murmured, dragging his lips along Bucky’s jaw.
“What about your sister?” Bucky breathed. He wasn’t scared of much, but the possibility of being yelled at by Sarah was up there.
“She’ll never know, you can’t hear anything from the second floor.”
“Sam,” Bucky warned. There were warm hands under his shirt, fingers tracing the muscles around his ribs. “I think she’d kill us.”
“Nah. She’d just beat my ass. Yours too, probably.”
Bucky sat back on Sam’s lap, a hand on Sam’s chest as he snickered. “And you’d let her?”
“Hell yeah. I know better than to fight my own sister.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, scanning the playful look on Sam’s face. “You’ve lost to her before, haven’t you?”
“I never said that,”
“You implied it.”
“Is that so?”
Bucky shrugged, stepping off him.
“Hey, where are you going?” Sam caught him by the wrist, sitting forward.
“Your room, dumbass. Unless you’re too scared of Sarah.”
“I think you’re the one who’s scared of her,”
Bucky laughed sarcastically and helped Sam up from the couch. He left the tea to cool as Sam led him down the adjoining hallway.
The walls were lined with pictures of Sam’s family. Bucky’s eyes wandered over them as he passed, leaning in to make features clearer in the dim light. The walls of Sam’s room were slightly more well lit by a lamp that didn’t illuminate all corners.
Bucky stood, staring at the memorabilia from Sam’s childhood; pictures, awards, and posters. The door clicked closed behind him. He felt out of place in a room that held so much of Sam's life, an annoyingly accurate metaphor for his situation.
A hand met the small of his back, warm and reassuring. He turned to meet Sam’s eyes.
“If you made fun of anything in this room, I’m kicking you out,” Sam pointed at him.
“I can’t make any promises,” Bucky took a step towards to close the gap between them. Sam’s hand ran up his back. “Some of this stuff looks pretty laughable.”
“I’m serious, Barnes,” Sam’s hands slid to Bucky’s hips as he slowly walked them back towards the bed. “I’ll make you sleep in that hotel.”
Bucky hummed, letting Sam lay him down. “I’d like to see you try, Wilson.”
Sam laughed into their kiss, crawling on top of him.
Bucky’s hands were all over Sam. He no longer worried about the metal of his arm, even though Sam still shivered at the cool touch when his hands found their way under his shirt. He ran his hands along Sam’s abs, feeling them contract and relax with each breath, feeling the shudder and the gasp when his fingers dipped below Sam’s navel.
He pulled back to tug Sam’s shirt off, tossing it into a corner of the room. The dark eyes above him didn’t leave him as he ran his hands down Sam's muscular back.
The heat radiating from Sam’s skin was exhilarating. Bucky shivered as lips met his neck and hips rolled into his. Those lips traveled, agonizingly slow, down to his collarbone, down his chest. By the time those lips were just above his navel, Bucky’s chest was heaving and his erection was aching to be freed.
“Sam,” He panted, meeting Sam’s eyes with annoyance.
He received a cocky grin in response. Annoyingly, it made him throb.
Sam continued on a path all the way down to his hips. Bucky bit back a whine as Sam dragged his fingers down his waist. He felt Sam’s grin that time.
Bucky, refusing to be teased for the rest of the night, tugged Sam back up toward him to catch his lips in a kiss before hooking a leg over his thigh to roll them over. He straddled Sam, who took the opportunity to wrestle Bucky out of his shirt.
“Still wanna kick me out?” Bucky hovered over Sam, kissing the spot on his neck that he knew made him squirm.
“Haven’t made up my mind yet,” Sam’s hands were reaching for the zipper on his jeans.
It was a struggle to get his pants off while refusing to part their lips, but they somehow managed. Sam palmed Bucky’s erection through his underwear, drawing out a breathy moan.
“Though, I think I’ll let you stay if you keep making those sounds,” Sam grinned into his ear. Bucky’s breath caught as a hand slipped into his underwear and around his aching boner. He groaned into Sam's shoulder, making sure to muffle the sound as best he could.
Sam’s free hand wandered down his back, lightly dancing over his skin. He shuddered into the touch, his mouth on Sam’s collarbone. The strokes were slow, not agonizingly so, but enough to cause Bucky to thrust into Sam’s hand, biting his lip as he craved more friction.
Of course, Sam didn’t give it to him. He kept his pace consistent, eyes on Bucky the whole time.
“God, Buck,” He breathed.
Something dangerous burned in Bucky’s chest. He tried to ignore it by kissing Sam again. But the way Sam kissed him back only fueled it; fervent and desperate.
He whined into Sam’s mouth when the hand around him finally sped up.
“Do you want to finish like this, or do you want me to fuck you again?” Sam murmured, free hand now on Bucky’s waist. The tone alone almost made him finish in Sam’s hand.
“Fuck me again,” Bucky nodded, heat flooding through his body as he remembered the sensation of Sam inside him.
“Only if you stay quiet,”
“I can be quiet,” Bucky rolled his eyes.
Sam made an unconvinced sound, not letting go of him just yet. Bucky was too fixated on the sensation to do anything about it. He exhaled heavily when Sam finally did let him go, gently guiding him to sit back onto the bed.
His eyes followed Sam around the room as he searched for the necessary items, fixated on the way his skin looked in the light and the way his muscles flexed. He flushed when Sam noticed his stare, quickly busying himself with pulling off his remaining clothes.
Sam climbed back onto the bed, lube and a cloth in hand. “You can keep staring, you know.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I never said that,” Sam straddled him, running his fingers along Bucky’s jaw. “And now I know you’re checking me out.”
Bucky’s face was burning. Sam grinned, thumb stroking his cheek.
“Shut up,” Bucky pulled him into him, crashing their lips back together.
He received another unconvinced hum in response. They managed to get Sam’s pants off, lips connected, chests heaving against each other. He let Sam guide him down once again, this time onto the pillows at the head of the bed.
He was so intoxicated by Sam, so overwhelmed at every little touch. It was different from the first time; Sam’s eyes hardly left him, observing every little reaction. Bucky knew he was flushed and wrecked by the time Sam was pressing a finger into him.
Part of Bucky wanted to hide, embarrassed by his body’s sensitivities. The other part enjoyed that Sam clearly took so much pleasure in watching him. He held Sam’s gaze, blue eyes searching brown eyes as Sam worked him open, until his eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as Sam’s fingers pressed deeper. He heard Sam's breath shudder.
The intimacy of the moment had Bucky reeling. Sure, they’d gone through these motions before, only a few days prior. But they hadn’t been in Sam’s room, nor did Sam take nearly as much time with him while staring at him as though he were the only thing in the world.
And Bucky didn’t realize there was a feeling deep in his chest that he wanted Sam to look at him like that forever.
Suddenly, he realized that the reason he couldn’t bring himself to think about Sam’s question was because he was terrified that the answer Sam wanted was different from the answer he knew he would give. He’d been down that road before.
He didn’t allow himself to think of that as Sam lined himself up and slowly pressed into him. Instead, he focused on the slow roll of Sam’s hips into him and the heat of the breath on his neck as they moved their hips together. Bucky’s arms were wrapped around Sam’s back, holding their bodies as close together as he could in case this was all he would ever have of Sam.
Sam kissed him, slowly and deeply. Bucky arched his back with a low moan into Sam’s mouth with the faint thought that this didn’t feel like just another hook up, especially when Sam breathed his name against his lips.
But he could’ve been wrong. He’d been wrong about it before, made assumptions that only led to him getting hurt when it was finally discussed.
In a desperate attempt to focus on the present, Bucky threw his head back on the pillow, mouth open with a quiet whimper as he watched Sam above him. He drank in the sight of Sam’s hips rocking into his, pushing deeper and deeper into him. He ran his hands along Sam’s waist, feeling the adept muscles move beneath the skin. When he brought his eyes back up, Sam was looking at him again, something unreadable in his eyes.
To ignore the dangerous heat in his chest, he leaned back up to kiss Sam and bucked his hips into Sam’s. The sound of their groans harmonizing fueled the building sensation in his lower abdomen.
Sam took the hint without being told and increased the speed of his hips. The whine that Bucky had to bite back would’ve been mortifying if Sam hadn’t shuddered with pleasure against him.
“Sam,” He gasped, voice wrecked.
“You enjoying yourself, baby?” Sam murmured against his lips.
That damn nickname. Bucky stammered out a sentence, “Touch me, please, Sam,”
Sam had to stabilize himself on one arm before reaching between them, stroking Bucky in time with his thrusts. “You know, I love hearing you say my name like that,”
The low rasp in Sam’s voice drove Bucky crazy. Sam clearly picked up on this and kept talking, whispering praises that Bucky couldn’t fully register through the haze, until Sam had to shush him and connect their lips to muffle the crescendo of whimpers.
They were both getting close; Bucky could feel the way Sam’s thrusts grew deeper and his breathing more erratic. The hand around Bucky’s erection faltered.
“Buck, I’m gonna,” Sam panted against his lips, “Should I, ah–”
Bucky shook his head, knowing what Sam meant despite his inability to form the question. “Don’t,”
“But the mess,”
“I don’t care,” Bucky growled, pulling Sam into a kiss.
That sent Sam over the edge. He gasped into Bucky’s mouth, hips stuttering as he came. The sensation of Sam pulsing inside him had Bucky thrusting his hips into Sam’s hand, his orgasm spilling onto both of their stomachs.
As their hips slowed and breathing evened, Bucky wrapped his arms over Sam’s neck, eyes closed. He felt lips on his neck, traveling down to his shoulder as Sam continued to leisurely fuck him despite the mess on their skin. He savored the gentle trembling of Sam’s body against his, tracing his fingers along the back of Sam’s neck.
When Sam looked up at him, they held each other’s gaze. Neither said a thing, but Bucky knew the question was running through their heads.
“You know,” Sam pressed a lingering kiss to Bucky’s lips, before pulling back. “You’re cleaning this up.”
“Fuck off,” Bucky laughed, shoving Sam off him.
Despite his claim, Sam was the one to clean Bucky up first, swatting Bucky’s hand away when he tried to grab the cloth from him. Bucky laughed at the gesture, meeting Sam’s brown eyes that sparkled with amusement.
After being pointed to Sam’s connected bathroom to deal with what couldn’t be wiped down by a cloth, Bucky returned to the room and began to search for his clothes. Sam sat on the bed, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. His eyes followed Bucky as he plucked his pants from the floor, then reached across the bed for his shirt.
“Buck,” Sam put a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
Blue eyes met brown. Bucky could hear his heartbeat in his ears.
“What is this? What are we doing?” Sam whispered.
Bucky had to fight all of his instincts telling him to shrug and walk away, to leave the conversation for another day so he didn’t have to confront the feeling in his chest. The words were heavy on his tongue. “I don’t know.”
“I think we need to know, Buck. Before we get in too deep. Because once was one thing, but three times?”
“I know.”
Sam shifted towards him. “Do you want more?”
“More?” Bucky echoed, grabbing his shirt.
“You know. More than just continuing to hook up at random. Something real.”
Bucky held his gaze, trying to read his expression for any sign of what Sam wanted.
If Sam wanted something real, the risks that came with that were too great. The thought of all his shit getting in the way of actually being in a relationship with Sam filled him with panic. Sam had seen bits and pieces of his brokenness throughout the years, but he hadn’t been there for the nights he spent trying (and failing) to drink himself to sleep, or when he would wake up screaming, or when he would curl up in a corner sobbing so hard he could barely breathe when all the trauma bubbled up again on a random afternoon. A relationship would mean hurting Sam unintentionally, over and over again.
And if Sam was only asking so he could put a stop to whatever they were, Bucky felt even more panicked. He’d prefer to keep pretending it was just a way to blow off steam, if it meant keeping Sam with him in some way.
“You wouldn’t want something real with me,” Bucky’s voice was tight as he straightened up, pulling his shirt on.
“And how do you know that?” Sam retorted as he stood up, following Bucky as he stepped towards the door.
“Because,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his forehead, even though there was no ache there anymore.
“Because of the nightmares? I get them, too.”
“It’s not just the nightmares, Sam.” Bucky turned to him, keeping his voice at a harsh whisper. “It’s everything. I don’t know who I am. Don’t know what the hell I'm going to do after this. I haven’t had anything real with anyone in seventy years, and I don’t think I’m in any place to do so now. You don’t want this. You don’t want me.”
“And what if I do?” Sam hissed, catching him by the wrist before he could walk away.
“Sam,” Bucky’s whisper broke. It was meant to come out as a warning, a reminder of everything that had led up to this moment, a reminder of everything that Bucky had done, but the emotion in his throat got the better of him. He let Sam pull him back.
“I know you’ve been through hell. I have too. But we’re here. You can’t keep punishing yourself for your past.”
Bucky scoffed. “It’s not that easy.”
“I never said it was easy. I’m saying I care about you. ”
Bucky glanced away with a heavy exhale, shifting his weight on his feet. Bucky bit the insides of his cheeks, tightening his jaw. He stared down at his arm, where Sam was gripping him as though his life depended on it. The thought of someone needing him and trusting him when he could barely trust himself was frightening. The rest of the world looked at him as though he were minutes away from snapping again, so he kept his head down. He didn’t let anyone get too close; sex with Sam kept him far enough away that if he were to explode like the time bomb everyone feared he was, Sam would be safe from his shrapnel.
Sam’s hand gently traveled up his arm. Bucky glanced back at Sam’s face. The patient, understanding, and overwhelmingly handsome face that just wanted to help him. And that was too close.
“I,” Bucky whispered, the words right there on his tongue. His body ached to stay in the comfort of Sam’s presence, in the warmth of Sam’s room. But the constant ache of who and what he was overcame that. “I should…”
Sam’s expression shifted, brow furrowing. He let go of Bucky’s arm and crossed his arms over his chest. He dragged a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, alright. Go.”
Bucky nodded, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he stepped back. He knew Sam’s eyes were on him, just as they had been all night, but neither said another word as Bucky let himself out of the room. Sam didn’t try to stop him.
He stood outside of Sam’s door for a few seconds too long before forcing himself back to the couch. He didn’t hear Sam move until he was at the end of the hallway.
On the couch, he knew he wouldn’t be a burden that needed fixing. He could drink the tea Sam so thoughtfully made him, trying to force down the raw, muddled sensation in his chest.
He fell asleep alone, wishing he was strong enough to allow himself to fall asleep next to Sam.
***
The world was buzzing about Sam’s debut as Captain America.
Bucky was buzzing with pride after seeing Sam step into the role so comfortably and use the power that the shield represented to speak about the injustice the world was facing. The days after the fight at the GRC council were a blur of press conferences, cleaning up the messes that had resulted, and coordinating with various organizations about future safeguards.
At the end of it all, Sam looked at him with a smile, eyes exhausted in the dim light of a New York City alleyway. They were trying to avoid the press teams that had been after them, who apparently didn’t rest when the rest of the city did.
Even though Bucky had an apartment in New York City, he didn’t invite Sam to stay with him. He had no furniture for Sam to sleep on. He was willing to sleep on the hardwood floor, but Sam didn’t deserve that. So, they were on their way back to the hotel Sam had found for himself at the last minute. When they walked into the quiet lobby, all eyes were on them. Bucky stood back as a group of young adults asked Sam for a picture. They glanced at him warily, but he didn’t mind. He was focused on Sam’s easy smile and confident laugh as they took the photo.
“Are you prepared to deal with that wherever you go?” Bucky smiled, putting his hands in his jacket pockets as they stepped onto the elevator.
“Hell yeah,” Sam grinned, tone light and teasing. “Having doting fans? I’m living the dream.”
Bucky rolled his eyes.
Sam’s floor was quiet with elegant, dimly lit hallways. The government had offered to pay for his accommodation for however long he needed to stay in New York, which is no doubt why Sam was willing to stay in such a nice place. Bucky would also be willing to spend more if it were on the government’s dime.
Bucky watched Sam search for the key to the room as they stopped in front of a door. He tightened his jaw. He had agreed to walk Sam up to the room, then say his goodbyes. This would be their last night before heading their separate ways. Back to texts and rarely answered phone calls; back to a less tumultuous friendship than they’d started with, complicated by sleeping together three times and a conversation that tried to open the door to a relationship. Something real, as Sam had said.
Bucky didn’t want to leave things that way.
He wanted Sam. He knew Sam wanted him, too. But want was superseded by the looming fears in his head. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t let Sam get too close. But that resolve was chipping away as each moment passed, knowing he had to bid Sam goodbye for the night. His chest was swirling with that same raw, dangerous sensation he felt when he was under Sam.
“Well,” Bucky found himself saying, clearing his throat as he looked down to the floor. “I’ll see you around, Cap.”
Sam smiled at him, a strange expression on his face. It was bittersweet. “Yeah. See you around, Buck,”
Neither of them moved. They stared at each other, silence thick and heavy. Sam’s fingers fidgeted with the keycard in his hand. Bucky wasn’t sure if either of them was breathing.
“You’re doing the staring thing again, Buck,” Sam teased, voice barely above a whisper.
“Sam,” Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion.
And suddenly, his resolve to keep Sam from getting too close cracked. The feeling in his chest made him step forward, hand cupping Sam’s jaw to pull him into a kiss. Sam kissed him back, deep and long, pulling him closer.
He’d denied himself good things for so long, denying himself Sam would’ve been a mistake he regretted forever.
“Come home with me,” Sam breathed against his lips.
Bucky knew there was more behind the offer. Their conversation from the other night still hung over them; they didn’t discuss it before Bucky left. All they did was exchange glances while working on the boat. Sam’s hand would linger on the small of Bucky’s back when he had to brush past him in the cramped space. And once they went their separate ways, they had other things to focus on. Their lives, while about to get more complex with Sam’s duties as Captain America, could make space to figure out what this was.
“Are you sure?” Bucky pulled back to look at him, making sure he understood the implication correctly.
Sam set his hands on his waist with a playful smile on his face. “Well, unless you have someone else waiting on you at home,”
Bucky huffed a laugh, eyes roaming over Sam’s face. “There’s no one else,”
“Good,” Sam kissed him.
When Sam fucked him that night, Bucky allowed himself to acknowledge the dangerous heat in his chest, the heat that told him he wanted Sam forever– or as long as their lives would allow. And as Sam held his gaze, slowly rolling his hips into him with a gentle smile as Bucky held him in place with his legs, he didn’t have to be told Sam felt the same. He could feel it in the way Sam kissed him as they came.
When they were done, Sam cleaned them up. Bucky didn’t leave. When Sam climbed back into bed, he pulled Bucky back towards him, kissing him gently.
“You’re sure you want this?” Bucky asked into the darkness, head on Sam’s chest.
Sam pressed a kiss to his forehead and said without hesitation, “Yes. Just don’t run away from me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,”
“Good. Because I will find your old ass if you do,”
Bucky laughed, shoving Sam away from him, only to be pulled back into a kiss.
With the gentle hum of the city from outside the window, Bucky fell asleep pressed to Sam’s side, face buried in his shoulder.
It was the best he’d slept in years.