Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

November, 1929

Brooklyn, New York

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes thought he was a normal kid.

He liked bugging his folks, annoying his sister, playing with his friends – well, friend, since it was pretty much just Stevie and him, they weren’t exactly the most popular kids in school.

Bucky sure as hell didn’t like running away from those ugly fellas who messed with Stevie. But Stevie was his best pal and a though kid, and damn if he didn’t always go pickin’ fights with kids twice his size.

The thing was, Bucky was a normal kid.

Things were kinda weird in the city, though. He didn’t know why.

Brooklyn was always a mess, but lately it seemed worse. People looked… funny. He’d overhear his parents talking in low voices about a ‘crisis’, but he didn’t get it. What the hell was a crisis?

Didn’t make any sense.

But it sounded bad. No, it was bad.

Stevie’s Ma sat them down and explained, in that calm voice of hers, that things were gonna get harder for a while. That they’d have to save what they had, take real good care of their stuff, ‘cause it wouldn’t be so easy to get new things.

Huh? Bucky didn’t really understand.

He wasn’t stupid –he knew things were getting tougher. Stuff at the stores was disappearing and didn’t come back much.

There were way more folks begging on the streets than before. His Ma wouldn’t let him stay out after dark no more, said it wasn’t safe.

His sister wasn’t getting new dolls, and Bucky wasn’t getting toy cars either.

Guess this ‘crisis’ everyone talked about had finally hit them too.

“I hate him,” Stevie said, glaring at Jeff, the big jerk who was twice his size and loved to pick on him.

Bucky and Jeff were always fighting, ‘cause Jeff wouldn’t leave the girls or Stevie alone, and Bucky hated that.

His Da always told him he had to be a gentleman with the ladies and with folks who couldn’t defend themselves. Not that Stevie couldn’t defend himself –hell, the kid was small, but his spirit was three times bigger than he was.

“Me too, pal,” Bucky said, biting into a carrot.

Christ, when was this stupid crisis gonna be over? Bucky wanted chocolate. He loved chocolate, but his parents wouldn’t let him have it anymore, they couldn’t afford it. Shit.

Jeff, that stupid bastard, was eating chocolate. His chubby cheeks were smeared with it. Greedy son of a bitch.

Bucky hated him.

So, yeah. Bucky was a very normal kid.

Until–

Until the day he wasn’t. Not the way he was supposed to be, anyway.

It happened mid-November, when he was walking home after dropping Stevie off.

Stevie had, to Bucky’s horror and pride, cussed out Jeff the other day, and ever since then Jeff had been threatening to beat him up, so Bucky had to make sure his friend got home safe.

He walked Stevie home every day, and Mrs. Rogers always gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek for it.

‘Such a fine little gentleman!’ Mrs. Rogers would say, and Bucky would turn red as a tomato, while Stevie rolled his eyes, his ears burning as he whined, ‘Ma, c’mon!’

Bucky loved it. He loved being a good boy, especially for the ladies.

He was whistling, still grinning. It’d been a good day.

Dolores, the pretty gal two years older, had laughed at one of his jokes, and Bucky was in Heaven. Lord, she was gorgeous, with her long dark hair and those big green eyes.

Usually Bucky stayed clear of alleys, but the sound caught him by surprise.

Sounded like two folks kissing, and Bucky rolled his eyes. A couple, ew.

Then he heard a man’s voice.

“No, we can’t! Not here, it’s–” The voice stopped when the other person kissed him again.

Well, it looked like those two weren’t worried about no crisis.

Bucky was about to tease the couple, but when he turned his head, he saw it wasn’t a man and a woman.

It was… two men.

He froze.

They were about the same height, both wearing suits. Bucky couldn’t see too much –the alley was dark– but they were kissing. Like, really kissing.

The same gross way his folks kissed when they danced slow after dinner, and Bucky would make fake gagging noises just to make his sister laugh.

But… two men?

Nah. Couldn’t be. It wasn’t… normal.

Bucky knew they existed. Christ, every boy in school dreaded being called a… queer. Sure, he knew those queers were out there. But he– he’d never actually seen one.

He felt something funny in his tummy, his heart started beating fast, and he bolted, running down the street as quick as he could, just wanting to get home.

That night, Bucky didn’t sleep very well.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those two men kissing.

Disgusting.

Not right.

He tried to shove the memory away, but it kept coming back. And back.

It went on like that for days, for months, for years.

Always in the dark of night, Bucky dreamed of them.

Only the dream began to change. He couldn’t even remember their faces anymore – they were just shadows in the dark, nightmares chasing him.

He thought about girls too – and boy, they were pretty – but he hated how he noticed the guys as well.

Bucky hated it. It wasn’t normal. He had to be normal, he couldn’t be… that.

Queer.

He was horrified. But the dreams kept coming anyway.

Until the night he wasn’t just watching those two shadows kiss. Somehow, it got worse.

Bucky was one of the fellas now, wrapped up in a kiss with another… guy.

Oh, no.

He’d gone crazy, like ol’ Auntie Barbara.

He really was insane. He felt sick to his stomach.

And the worst part? He liked it.

Bucky woke up terrified, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it’d jump right out of his chest.

He stumbled to the mirror, blue eyes wide and scared staring back at him.

His whole face was red –like Stevie’s got whenever the pretty teacher patted him on the shoulder.

Bucky sighed, swallowing hard.

Christ. Like his life couldn’t get any worse.

(---)

August, 1943

107^th Infantry Regiment

Azzano

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, this was surreal. Seriously, out of this damn world.

“Christ, darlin’,” Bucky muttered, eyes squeezing shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Tommy locked eyes with him, then gave his cock one more wet suck before letting it slip free with a loud pop.

“Good, Sergeant Barnes?” he asked, his dark eyes shining with lust.

Bucky groaned, yanking him in for a kiss, all tongue and teeth.

Fuck, holy fuck.

His cock throbbed, and Tommy smirked, working him, milking him. Bucky fucked into his hand, nipping at his neck –Christ, it was right there, begging for him to bite.

“Shit, Tommy,” he shuddered, groaning as he spilled across Tommy’s hand. “Fuck.”

Tommy licked his lips, kissing Bucky again.

“Maybe next time, Sergeant,” he murmured, grinding his hard cock against Bucky’s thigh like a dog in heat.

Bucky’s dick gave a twitch of life, dragging another moan out of him.

“Want me to suck you, sweetheart?” he whispered, pressing messy kisses down Tommy’s collarbone.

God, he wanted to mark him, it was so fucking hot.

“Oh, Sergeant, it would be– fuck, it would be m-my pleasure.” Tommy shivered, moaning low.

Bucky grinned, already dropping to his knees.

When they were done, they sat on the floor, lighting a cigarette.

“You gonna visit me, when this is all over?” Tommy asked.

Bucky blew out the smoke, jaw tightening.

Tommy was a good guy – hell, a damn pretty one, with those big doe eyes and bronzed skin – but he always wanted to talk after they finished.

Like they were something, like this was more than it was. Two fellas helping each other. Simple.

Bucky hummed, hoping that’d be enough. But he should’ve known better.

Tommy gave a sharp laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” He plucked the cigarette from Bucky’s fingers, smirking. “You ever been in love, Sergeant?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Couldn’t a man just smoke in peace? It was too much to ask for?

“Wouldn’t you like to know, darlin’?” he shot back, flashing that grin – the one that made all the girls (and plenty of fellas) swoon after him.

Tommy studied him, like he was trying to read his soul.

“Huh.” He took a long drag. “That’s something I’d like to see.”

Bucky arched a brow. “What? Me in love?”

“Yes. Must be some formidable woman, the one who finally makes Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, insufferable ladies’ man, fall head over heels.” Tommy chuckled, sliding closer, straddling Bucky’s lap, arms circling his neck.

His breath was hot against Bucky’s ear, and Bucky groaned low.

“Or a formidable man,” Tommy finished.

Bucky laughed. Hell, Tommy was funny, he had to give him that.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, licking his lips. “Now, I got about an hour before I gotta be back. You wanna keep chatting about my future spouse, or do somethin’ a hell of a lot more pleasurable with our time?”

Tommy grinned, and Bucky kissed him. Again, and again.

(---)

March, 2015

Cairo

Silence had always been his most faithful companion. Always there, wrapping around him, shielding him.

Part of him hated how natural it felt, how comfortable it was to stay in the shadows, like he belonged there.

After all, for years, only the darkness had stayed with him. Always there, between the cryo, the shocks, the blood, and the orders.

Stop, he thought, shutting his eyes.

He drew in a deep breath, forcing his lungs to steady, and opened them again.

His heart hammered against his ribcage, the only deafening sound breaking the silence. In a way, it grounded him.

He dragged his tongue across his lips – the same lips still tingling from the ghost of Sam’s mouth.

Holy shit.

Bucky still couldn’t believe it. He’d kissed Sam.

No. Sam had kissed him.

Samuel Wilson. His pretty bird. Steve’s new best friend too –but Bucky didn’t want to think about that part.

Focus on Sam.

Sam, Sam, Sam.

Every time Bucky closed his eyes, the moment replayed in his mind. He could almost taste Sam’s mouth again – hot, intense, perfect like the man himself.

Addictive.

Bucky felt like he was breathing for the first time in… God, he didn’t even know how long. He felt alive. And holy Christ, it felt too good.

He wanted more. He needed more.

His body burned –ached– and it had been hours since that kiss. Hours, and Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about every sound Sam made pressed up against him.

Fuck, those sounds… he wanted to bottle them up, keep them, play them back whenever he wanted.

Always. Forever.

He wanted to hear Sam all the time. Even when Sam was being a smartass –especially when he was being a smartass.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the nightstand.

It was nearly nine, and Sam still wasn’t back.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He stood frozen in the armchair beside the bed, his hand hovering over his crotch.

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He licked his bottom lip, swallowing the moan that clawed up his throat.

He needed–

He wanted–

Sam.

Bucky buried his face in the henley he was wearing, the one he’d stolen from Sam back in Bucharest. It still carried that faint trace of Sam’s cologne, now mixed with his own scent – and if that wasn’t the most intoxicating thing in the goddamn world.

Bucky palmed his cock through the fabric, hips twitching. Christ, he’d never been this hard in his life.

Where was Sam? Where was his pretty bird?

Would Sam come? He had too. He wanted this, didn’t he?

Bucky had seen it, clear as day – that fire, that hunger burning in Sam’s eyes. He wanted it just as bad as Bucky.

So where the hell was he?

Bucky bit down on his lip, stifling the urge to shove his cock free and stroke himself raw right there on Sam’s bed. Pretend his hand was Sam – warm, tight, perfect.

But no. He stayed still, sitting in the dark, his own heartbeat pounding so loud it felt ridiculous.

Then, finally, he heard the sound of the elevator.

This was one of those discreet hotels where guests didn’t want to draw attention, exactly why Steve had chosen it for himself, Sam and the Widow, Natasha.

Two voices, not one.

Did Sam bring someone? No, it couldn’t be.

Sam’s single. And he’s not yours, a small, lucid voice whispered in his mind. Bucky ignored it.

Nonsense. Sam was his. His pretty bird.

“Are you sure, Sam? You gonna be alright alone?” Steve.

Bucky inhaled sharply, holding still. If not for the Winter Soldier training, Steve probably would’ve sensed him –but Bucky had decades of experience in being a ghost.

“Yeah, man. I’m glad Nat’s okay, she’ll need you tonight,” Sam replied.

Bucky’s tongue darted over his lips. That voice… God, he wanted to devour Sam.

“Yeah, she scared the hell out of me,” Steve admitted, and it hit Bucky hard.

For a crazy moment, he almost stood and walked out into the hall to show himself to Steve and Sam.

But he didn’t. He wasn’t the Bucky Steve remembered. He never would be.

“I really like her,” Steve murmured, and Sam chuckled.

Bucky almost smiled, picturing the scene – Steve with red cheeks, and Sam flashing a grin with his sweet little tooth gap.

“No shit, Rogers,” Sam said, laughing. “You two look good together. She really likes you, I can tell. It’s kinda adorable, actually.”

Steve laughed, warm and easy. It made Bucky’s heart ache, he missed his friend.

“Yeah, right.”

Their voices grew closer, stopping just outside the door.

Oh, fuck. Should he leave? He didn’t want to, not when his dick was straining against his pants, but he sure as hell didn’t want Steve to walk in on him hard for Sam.

What a fucking mess.

“What about you, Sam?” Steve asked. Bucky watched their shadows move beneath the crack of the door. “No one special?”

Yeah, Sam. What about you?

Sam chuckled, and Bucky saw him shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Ah, you know me. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Bucky caught the hint of nerves in his voice. Good answer, though.

“Night, man, I’m tired. You should get some rest too,” Sam added, faking a yawn.

Good for him he was a cute little thing, because he sure was a terrible liar.

A pause. Then Steve’s voice, “Night, Sam. See you tomorrow at breakfast.”

Bucky watched one of the shadows move away.

Sam lingered, waiting until Steve’s footsteps faded before finally opening the door.

Bucky stayed perfectly still, and Sam flicked on the light. He didn’t even flinch at finding Bucky in his room.

Their eyes locked, and something strange twisted inside Bucky’s chest.

It was weird, unfamiliar, as if someone was squeezing his heart, and it only grew the more he looked into Sam’s beautiful brown eyes.

“You don’t kiss and tell, Wilson?” Bucky asked, a wolfish grin on his face, breaking the silence. He spread his legs wider, watching Sam intently.

He could feel Sam’s gaze drop to his crotch, down to the obvious bulge straining there, and Bucky’s cock twitched with anticipation.

“Of course not,” Sam shot back in that bratty tone of his. God, Bucky wanted to kiss it right out of him, make him swallow every bit of that attitude. “Buy me a dinner first, then I’ll think about it.”

Bucky grinned, sharp and hungry, his eyes never leaving Sam as he let his hand hover dangerously close over his clothed dick.

“Your dinner’s right here, sweetheart.”

Sam’s eyes dropped, then he let out a laugh.

“Man, come on,” he said, laughing uncontrollably. “Seriously? That line worked back in the forties? That’s all you’ve got –your whole game?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Goddamn brat. He’d have to teach Sam some manners.

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” he teased, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes again, but Bucky caught the flicker of lust in his eyes.

“Debatable.” Sam replied, and his voice sounded steady, but his body betrayed him. “Come here, old man.”

Bucky closed the distance slowly, deliberately, until he was standing so close he could feel Sam’s heat against him.

Fuck.

“Good boy,” Sam murmured, and Bucky growled low in his throat, closing the last inches between them.

He kissed Sam like a starving man, because that’s what he was. Starving for Sam Wilson.

Sam’s mouth opened instantly, like a gift Bucky devoured without hesitation, tongue exploring every corner he was offered.

He pressed Sam against the wall, pining both of his wrists above his head, crowding into him, grinding their bodies together, hearing Sam letting out the most delicious little sounds.

Bucky swallowed them all, rolling his hips slow and steady, letting Sam feel the hard length pressed against him.

Sam’s lips found his pulse, and he kissed it painfully slow, worshiping Bucky's throat, his jaw, until he ghosted kisses along the corner of his mouth.

Christ.

Sweet Mother of Jesus.

Bucky shuddered, pushing him harder against the wall, their hips grinding, fingers curling, their breaths mingling in the air.

It was too much, too intoxicating, and Sam let out a growl deep in his chest, his head falling back against the wall with a thud.

Bucky sucked at his neck, teeth grazing, marking him, claiming him.

His pretty bird. Only his.

Every part of Bucky’s body screamed for more –fuck, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, and he definitely couldn’t stop.

Next thing he knew, Sam shoved him toward the bed, crashing into him with a kiss so deep it seemed to steal all the air from his lungs.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” Bucky muttered, letting Sam rip the henley off his shoulders and toss it aside.

“This is my henley,” Sam said, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

He was so fucking beautiful. Bucky wished there was more light in the room, he wanted to see all of Sam, every part of that perfect man.

“Not anymore, birdie,” he replied, dragging Sam into another kiss –hard and rough, endless.

“Yes, it is,” Sam muttered against his mouth, but Bucky swallowed the brat right out of him with another deep and filthy kiss.

They broke apart briefly, chests heaving, foreheads nearly touching. Bucky’s eyes roamed Sam’s body, and he brushed his thumb across Sam’s jaw.

“You think you can take me?” Sam whispered, teasing, daring.

“I don’t think, sweetheart,” Bucky rasped, pressing his hips closer. “I know.”

He held Sam's waist with one arm, turning him over in the bed, and Sam let out a needy sound. Bucky didn’t lose any time, pulling Sam's shirt off and working his mouth its way over Sam’s naked chest, tracing the outline of his ribs and stomach.

Sam shivered when Bucky licked his skin, tickling him –so he arched his back, moaning deep and hard.
Fuck.

“You drive me insane,” Bucky purred, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous, Sam. Fuck.”

Sam smiled, his body twitching as Bucky’s hand started kneading the ridge of his hips, his thumb pressing slowly but hard.

Bucky wanted to see Sam falling apart in his hands, in his mouth. He pressed his face closer to Sam’s crotch, to the big bulge over there.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you, birdie?” Bucky asked, his breath closer and closer to Sam’s jeans. “How many times I’ve shot my load all over myself, dick in hand, hard for you, imagining you spread beautiful just for me… All mine…”

Sam moaned loudly, pressing his hips up for friction, but Bucky stopped him with his metal hand.

“Eager, sweetheart?”

Sam whined –he fucking whined– and the sound was almost enough for Bucky to snap and fuck him senseless.

“Barnes,” Sam warned, gritting his teeth, “If you don’t shut up and fuck me within the next seconds, I’m swear to God I’m going to–”

Bucky licked Sam’s clothed cock, and Sam babbled, lost to pleasure.

His mouth watered, and he didn’t waste any time, unzipping Sam’s jeans and pulling down his underwear.

Of course his cock was beautiful. Big, dark, and flushed with pleasure, a pearly drop of pre-cum on the top.

Delicious.

Bucky wanted to swallow him whole, and that's what he did, making Sam let out a moan so loud the entire floor would undoubtedly hear it.

He felt Sam's cock fill his mouth, the delicious stretch driving him wild as he sucked and sucked.

The sounds Sam made were music in his ears. Sam’s hands tangled in Bucky’s hair for a moment before falling away, and Bucky grinned, feeling Sam's cock twitch in his mouth.

Yes, yes, fuck yes.

“Fuck, Barnes!” Sam gasped, and that only made Bucky suck him harder, his tongue gliding over the head, tasting the pre-cum pooling there. “Don’t –, fuck, I–, Barnes!”

Bucky pulled back just slightly, looking at Sam with a deranged smile on his lips. He knew he probably looked insane – pupils blown, face flushed – but he didn’t care.

Sam was… Christ.

Sam was panting, lips bitten, body hot and slick with sweat, every part alive under his touch.

“You have your dick in my mouth, birdie. Call me Bucky.” Bucky said, and went back to sucking Sam, who fisted his hands over the sheets as he chanted Bucky’s name.

“Fuck, Barn–Bucky, I’m close,” Sam warned, and that just encouraged Bucky to continue even more. “Shit, stop. I– fuck.”

Bucky paused, Sam’s dick still in his mouth, and looked up at him.

Sam returned the gaze, flushed and breathless, a smile of pure pleasure spreading across his face.

“I want to come with you inside me.” Sam whispered, voice trembling with need.

Holy shit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing Bucky had ever heard.

His breath hitched and he pulled off of Sam’s dick, moving closer, his body reacting even before his mind could even begin to catch up.

Bucky took off his pants and his underwear, pumping his own cock lazily, and Sam looked at him as if he were a feast, spreading his toned legs even more.

“See something you like?” Sam asked, a wicked grin on his face.

“Yes, darlin’,” Bucky licked his lips, fucking his own hand. “This pretty ass, goddamn. So round and meaty, I want to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for a week.”

Sam shivered, leaning into Bucky, hungry for more.

“So, what are you waiting for, then?”

Bucky didn’t waste another second. He pressed close, letting his hands roam, squeezing Sam’s ass roughly.

Holy shit, he could lose himself in that ass. Bucky could feel the heat radiating off him, and he wanted to bite it… so he did.

He was losing his mind, rubbing his dick in the crack of Sam’s ass. Sam’s body responded immediately, quivering under his touch, and Bucky groaned low in satisfaction.

“You wanna be tamed, Sam?” Bucky asked, one of his fingers hovering over Sam’s hole. “This ass of yours is begging to be fucked, isn’t it?”

Sam moaned, shuddering, and he pulled Bucky into a slow, challenging kiss.

“So, you gonna do something about it?” He asked, nibbling at Bucky’s bottom lip. “Or just talk?”

Bucky groaned, his hands firm on Sam’s hips, holding him steady.

“Lube on the counter,” Sam said, and Bucky moved without hesitation, opening the drawer and grabbing the small bottle Sam indicated.

Hell yeah, nnow they were talking.

“I love modernity,” Bucky said, and Sam snorted.

“You’re a little too experienced with this,” Sam mused, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose this isn’t your first time with a man.”

And it was Bucky's turn to snort.

“Sweetheart, I was in the army, did you forget?” He replied, putting a lot of lube on his hand before sliding a finger inside Sam.

Goddamn… it was so tight, so warm, fuck.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight, hon’,” Bucky praised, his eyes fluttering.

He moved slowly, willing to drive Sam mad, making him squirm against him.

“More!” Sam demanded, annoyed. “Fuck, Bucky, more!”

Bucky smiled, licking one of Sam’s nipples.

“So demanding,” was all he said.

“More!” Sam insisted, and, oh, it couldn’t go on like that.

Bucky pressed in another finger, teasing Sam, opening him slowly, preparing him for what was to come.

“My bratty bird,” Bucky whispered, pushing in a third slicked finger. “Mine.”

Sam moaned hard when Bucky touched his prostate, and he smiled, all smug.

“Give me your cock.” He demanded. “Now, Barnes!”

Bucky stopped, three fingers inside Sam.

“Call me Barnes again and I’ll spank this sweet ass of yours, Wilson.” He said in a low, threatening tone.

Sam smiled, licking his lips.

“Will you… Barnes?”

Oh, no.

Bucky growled, slapping Sam’s cheeks, making him arch beneath him. Fuck, it was so good.

He spread more lube on himself, looking at Sam with lidded eyes, pure and raw lust.

“I’m clean,” Sam said, eager. “Uh, unless you want to use a condom or whatever. Er, I know you super-soldiers can’t catch any disease.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “I’m clean too. Haven’t exactly had the time for this in the past seventy years.”

“So you’re practically a virgin, then,” Sam mocked. “The virgin Winter Soldier.”

“You are so fucking annoying.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Now fuck me, c’mon.”

Bucky kissed him, then positioned himself at Sam's entrance, breaching him so slowly it seemed maddening.

Sam pulled Bucky into a kiss as he pressed closer, until he was balls deep in Sam’s ass.

The sensation–

Fuck.

It was–

It was overwhelming, nothing Bucky had ever felt before. He felt like if he didn't concentrate, he would come right there on the spot, and he couldn't.

It was the best feeling in the world.

“Fuck, Sam,” Bucky whined, biting Sam’s shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight, hon’.”

Sam moaned, clenching around him, and it was all it took for Bucky to completely lose control.

He started slamming into Sam’s ass, fucking him hard, every thrust a whisper of something he had never felt before.

It was too much and it wasn’t enough. Bucky felt like he’d been deprived of the light for so long, and now there it was, burning against him, and oh, if it wasn’t delicious.

Sam’s grip tightened as Bucky pounded against his prostate again and again, the temptation almost suffocating.

He lost track of his thoughts, a helpless cry tearing from his throat as he felt Sam clenching around him.

“I’m going, fuck, I’m going–“

“Come, birdie.” Bucky urged, fucking him harder and harder. “Come for me, Sam.”

And Sam did.

It was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. Sam shivered and trembled against him, achieving his climax like an angel, and Bucky had the crazy idea of one day fucking Sam with his armor, wings spread just for him.

His pretty bird.

It didn't take long for Bucky to follow, just a few messy thrusts and he was coming inside Sam, filling him up.

“Fuck, Bucky–” Sam started, but Bucky continued.

He needed more, and his cock was still hard, knowing he could spend the whole night fucking Sam.

There was nothing else in the world he wanted more than to spend the whole night inside Sam, feeling him lose his mind, screaming Bucky’s name, lost to pleasure.

“You came, and damn– you’re still hard,” Sam said, amazed, mouth open, his chest a delicious mess of his own cum and sweat.

Bucky smiled, pulling him into a long kiss, devouring him completely.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, pounding into Sam again and again. “We’re just getting started.”

(---)

Sam smiled like a maniac, feeling so full – so stuffed with Bucky Barnes it felt almost impossible.

It was what? Their third round? Fourth? Fuck, Sam had lost count, his legs so shaky it was hard to believe he never skipped leg day –because he didn’t, okay? Sam fucking killed it on leg day.

But God, nothing compared to this.

Bucky Barnes, holding him tight from behind, fucking him steady and hard.

It was so, so good.

Sam couldn’t even form a thought, just murmuring nonsense while Bucky pounded into him, his teeth grazing Sam’s ear, his arms locked around his waist.

They were so close like that, moving in sync, like they were one. Sam wished they were.

He wanted–

Fuck, he wanted to mold himself to Bucky, to never leave him again.

Bucky hit his prostate again and again –relentless– and Sam felt the pleasure building, hot and sharp, making him shiver all over, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Fuck, B-Bucky, I’m gonna –I’m –shit,” Sam whined, forehead damp with sweat.

“Do it, sweetheart,” Bucky replied low against his ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s neck, so tender, a stark contrast to the way he was fucking him. “Come for me.”

And that was it.

Sam came so hard it left him dizzy, swearing he saw stars. Bucky let out a low sound behind him, and after a few messy thrusts, he came too, praising Sam’s name like it was something sacred.

“My pretty bird,” Bucky murmured, and it was the last thing Sam heard, almost a whisper, before sleep claimed him.

When he woke up – clean and tucked under clean sheets – the sunlight crept through the curtain.

And Bucky was gone.

Of course he’s gone, a voice in Sam’s head snapped. What? You wanted him to stay for breakfast?

Yeah, right.

What nonsense.

Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier, was a busy man, a fugitive in his own fucked-up and personal Crusade.

He wasn’t gonna stay and cuddle, c’mon. They’d fucked, they weren’t boyfriends.

They weren’t even friends. Damn it, Sam didn’t even liked Bucky.

Liar, his mind whispered, but he ignored it.

Still, Sam could feel the warmth lingering in the space beside him, like Bucky hadn’t been gone long.

He swallowed hard, deciding it was better not to think about it.

So, Sam got up, his body sore as if he had gone to battle, and he almost choked when he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

He looked like–

He looked like he’d been devoured.

Hickeys bloomed across his chest, trails of scratches lining his skin. When he turned and saw the state of his ass, his cheeks flushed hot.

Jesus Christ.

Was that… was that a bite mark on his right cheek? Yep, it sure was.

Sam showered, then ended up pulling on a turtleneck – in the middle of May, mind you –, praying no one would notice how desperate he was to cover his neck, which looked like it had been ravished by a wild animal.

In certain way, it had. Fucking Barnes.

Hell, Bucky had to be just as marked up as Sam – damn it, even more, with that pale complexion of his.

And what a vision that’d be, Sam thought, practically salivating, before shaking his head.

No, no, no.

No thinking about Buck–Barnes.

It was over.

Sam went down for breakfast, heading straight to the table near the window where Steve and Nat were talking in low voices.

“Sam!” Steve said, smiling, then he frowned when he took a good look at him. “Why the turtleneck? You good? You look like you had… a rough night.”

Sam wanted to die right there on the spot.

He’d had a rough night, but not in the way Steve meant.

“Yeah, huh, I’m good,” Sam replied, clearing his throat. “Slept funny, I guess. Figured I’d keep my neck warm.”

Utter bullshit. But Steve bought it, and that’s what mattered. Sam didn’t dare look at Nat, silent with her coffee cup.

They shifted to other topics quickly, agreeing to head back to the States and then figure out their next steps.

Steve invited Sam to spend some time at the Avengers’ tower so they could train together. Apparently, Tony Stark was building a whole new Avengers complex, supposed to be ready by the end of the year.

When Steve stood to grab more pancakes –damn that super-soldier metabolism– Sam took a deep breath and bit into a piece of his peanut-butter toast.

“Did he treat you right, or am I gonna have to have a little talk with him?” Nat asked quietly, and Sam nearly choked, eyes going wide.

How…?

What–

He opened his mouth to ask, but she just rolled her eyes, giving him a look that said ‘I’m a spy, Sam. Isn’t it obvious?’, and he pressed his mouth shut, cheeks burning hot. Damn it.

“Yeah, uh– it won’t happen again,” he said, staring at his coffee cup like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

The thing was, he couldn’t look at her. Because, if he looked, then he’d do something stupid, like spill everything to her.

Not that he didn’t want to –she was his friend, after all– but it was all so confusing, so messy. Why couldn’t Sam have fucked someone less… complicated? It would make his life easier, for a chance.

“Steve–”

“He doesn’t know,” she cut in smoothly. “And I won’t tell him. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, and she winked at him.

Soon, Steve returned with a stack of pancakes that could feed an entire army, and they ate in peaceful silence.

After, they checked out the hotel and headed straight to the airport.

Sam felt… strange. He tried his best not to think about last night, and at the same time, it was all he wanted to think about.

It had been a one-night stand. That was it. God knew he’d had his fair share of those.

It had started, and it had ended.

Now Sam could go home in peace. No way in hell Bucky Barnes was going to seek him out again.

Good. Yeah, it was better this way.

Sam wasn’t gonna look for him either.

So, it was time to go. This time, for real.

No more Bucky Barnes, it was time to get back to real life.

(---)

April, 2015

Washington D.C

By some miracle – Sam suspected Steve had something to do with it – he got his job at the VA back.

It was… fine. Being back.

In a way, he tried to focus on the routine, on the fact that he was helping other veterans (and himself) to adjust to civilian life.

But who he was kidding? Sam wasn’t made for civilian life.

He craved adrenaline, he ached to help people.

Every time he saw the Avengers on TV – out on a mission, saving lives – Sam wished he was there. He wanted to be part of it.

Sure, he knew he was helping at the VA, and yeah, it was a great job –decent pay, stable hours, safe.

But he was bored. Restless.

Every day he felt more on edge, itching to do something. Anything.

To feel that rush again, the kind of adrenaline he’d felt over the past few months.

He trained like he was expecting a fight at any moment. He and Nat sparred when she wasn’t on a mission; he and Steve ran in the mornings before sunrise –and Sam constantly had to reminder himself that he wasn’t a super-soldier, and he couldn’t run that fast. Still, it was annoying to lose all the time.

He visited Sarah, Marcus and the kids almost every weekend, trying desperately to keep his mind busy.

Trying not to think about… him. Barnes.

But it never worked.

When night came, so did the silence, the loneliness, the… memories.

Sure, Sam missed the sex – hell, it had been the best sex of his life – but that wasn’t all. There was something deeper, something he hadn’t expected to miss.

That kind of ache, of want that clung to him, something so deep inside that he wondered if he’d ever feel truly connected to anyone again.

One weekend, he was watching a terrible reality show and eating ice cream with Sarah when he felt her staring at him.

“What?” Sam asked, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “I have something on my face?”

“You should download Grindr,” Sarah said, so casually that it took Sam completely off guard and he choked.

He. Fucking. Choked.

What?

What?!

He coughed, sure his brain had frozen from too much ice cream. There was no way his sister had just said that, he’d officially lost his damn mind.

“What?!” he managed, and Sarah was still looking at him, completely serious. Oh God, that couldn’t be real.

“Yeah, isn’t that like, a romance app or something?” she asked, and Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words.

This was absolutely not a conversation he wanted to have with his sister.

“Kinda…” he muttered, then looked back ar her. “But it’s–it’s for, uh–”

“I know, Sam,” she said softly, placing a hand over his. “And I support you. We all do. We’re your family, you know that.”

His throat burned, and he nodded, blinking fast to keep the tears from falling.

“Thanks,” he replied, voice so low it was almost a whisper.

She sighed, leaning against him on the couch, then rested her head on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone, dumbass,” she said, and Sam rolled his eyes. “I give excellent advice! So, you should tell me your problems.”

Oh God, she was serious.

“Like right now,” Sarah continued, “you’re all miserable and moping and I know it’s because of some guy. So, spill it. Who is he?”

Sam snorted, shaking his head, but she was still looking at him, big brown eyes fixed on his damn soul.

“Look, it wasn’t anything serious.”

“Sam,” Sarah said, in that ‘that’s bullshit, let me decide that’ tone.

“Alright, alright,” he replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m so gonna regret telling you this.”

“Sam.”

He sighed again, closing his eyes for a moment.

You know what? Fuck it.

“So… his name is Bucky.”

(---)

Sam downloaded Grindr. And he hated it.

Yeah, it was great seeing all those gorgeous bodies and big dicks –some very, very big dicks– but it was all so… physical.

Just sex, nothing else.

The first three times were fun, though. Getting blowjobs and fucking was always nice, but afterwards, Sam just felt even more unsatisfied than before.

“Shit, Redwing,” he sighed, adjusting the control panels on his drone in the middle of the living room. “Guess I’m just meant to be alone.”

The next day, he went to New York to visit Nat and Steve at the Avengers Tower, and to train some new combat moves.

He deleted Grindr.

(---)

May, 2015

Istanbul

Istanbul was always a sea of people, languages and nationalities.

On one hand, it was good, because no one really paid attention to him. At least, not for long. He was just another face in the crowd.

Bucky felt awful, like he couldn’t breathe, and everything in his head was a fucking mess. He’d close his eyes only to be ambushed by memories – Sam’s smile, Sam’s kisses, Sam’s body, Sam.

And then Hydra would sneak in too, twisting it all up.

He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have dragged Sam into the disaster that was his life.

So he buried himself in the mission, focused on taking down one of Hydra’s biggest networks, the one smuggling weapons and funding terrorists through Turkey.

He’d been in Istanbul for almost a month now, and so far, no tails. No one had followed him. Sure, he kept up with the news – things were heating up in Sokovia, the Avengers running mission after mission, so Stevie wouldn’t have time to chase him anyway.

For one small, stupid –hopeful– moment, he wished Sam might show up. But he didn’t.

Of course he didn’t, his mind whispered, and Bucky swallowed hard.

Yeah… right.

So he stuck to his lonely routine, moving through the city like a ghost, unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

One sunny Wednesday afternoon, Bucky was buying some peaches from a street market when he felt eyes on him.

His hand went to the pocket where his gun rested, mind already working out how to cause a distraction and vanish.

Then he turned and saw who was watching him.

A cat.

A damn cat.

A beautiful little thing, all white fur and blue eyes. Blue as the sea, staring right at him.

Like mine, Bucky thought.

He relaxed a little, closing his eyes.

It’s just a cat, not a threat.

He went back to shopping and after started walking toward his apartment, a real dumb on the outskirts of the city.

The cat followed him. He took shortcuts, changed direction twice, and still, the cat followed.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“No, pal,” Bucky muttered, glaring down at it. “I don’t have food.”

The cat just stared, so Bucky rolled his eyes and kept walking. Maybe if he ignored it, it’d get bored and wander off.

When he got to the building – a sad, four-story thing that for sure had seen better decades – he climbed the stairs to apartment six and went inside.

And the damn cat slipped in right after him.

Bucky sat down, started cleaning his guns, and felt something brush against his leg.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, incredulous. “Why’d you follow me? I told you, I don’t have food.”

The cat meowed like it was saying, ‘I know, genius’. Then it curled up at his feet and started sleeping.

What the hell–

All right, then.

Bucky went back to cleaning, then to sharpening his knives one by one. He liked that kind of work –steady, quiet, something he could control. It helped to calm the storm inside his head.

The cat stayed close. Eventually he lost the battle and got up, searched for an old bowl and then poured some water.

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, but he was smiling. Faintly.

Around eleven that night, he geared up. Guns, knives, a lot of rage for Hydra, and an unstoppable thirst for revenge.

He came back around five in the morning with blood on his hands that wasn’t his. He expected the apartment to be empty, the cat probably figured out what kind of freak he was and left to find a real home with normal people.

How mistaken he was.

Bucky opened the door and found the cat. Not on the bed, but curled up on the floor, on top of the towel Bucky had laid down because he couldn’t sleep on that damn mattress.

It was too soft, too… domestic. Didn’t feel right.

Not for him. A soldier. An assassin.

Don’t think about it.

“No fucking way,” he said.

The cat looked up, meowed, then stretched like it was saying, ‘finally, man.’

Bucky showered, trying to relax his sore muscles, then opened the cabinets to look for something to eat.

God, what a pathetic sight – it was mostly empty. Still, he found two cans of sardines –not expired!– and cracked them open.

The cat watched him from the counter, blue eyes sharp, like it was judging him. And know what, it probably was.

“Here’s breakfast,” Bucky said, setting one can down for the cat.

The cat sniffed, then dug in, purring with satisfaction.

Can’t believe this is my life, Bucky thought, grabbing a spoon and eating straight from the other can.

‘Maybe adopt a cat, hell, I don’t know–’ Sam had said to him, back in that warehouse in Cairo.

Life’s funny that way, huh?

Yeah, birdie, Bucky thought, taking another bite from the can. It tasted terrible, but hey, it was food.

Looks like I adopted a cat. Or a cat adopted me.

And as if the cat had heard his thoughts, it looked at him and meowed. And Bucky would swear the little thing was smiling.

(---)

He named her Alpine.

Her, because when he took the cat to a vet – to check for diseases and fleas – he found out the damn cat was actually a she.

There was no way to tell her age, and Bucky figured that was fair enough. He had his own age problem, after all.

Once he got over the surprise, he made sure she got everything she needed.

She was adorable, the cutest cat in the whole damn world – and Bucky wasn’t exaggerating.

“I should probably drop you off at a shelter,” he said, scratching her ears while they both soaked up the sun on the roof of the new apartment he’d invaded.

This one was nice, a penthouse downtown Istanbul. Used to belong to some Hydra big shot who definitely hadn’t taken it too well when he found out Bucky was no longer on their leash. Let’s just say the guy’s future hadn’t looked too bright after that.

Anyway, the place was empty now.

Alpine meowed at him, rolling around on the tiles.

“Yeah, I’m no good at this,” Bucky went on. “Becky always wanted a cat. Shit, there was this one time she found a stray somewhere and stuffed it in her school bag. Ma lost her mind when she found out.”

Alpine looked up at him, straight into his eyes.

He snorted. “Yeah, I’ve officially lost it. Talking to a cat like she understands me.”

She meowed, offended, and bit his hand.

“Hey!” He murmured, startled. “Fuck, Alpine, you’ve got some bite on you. All right, sorry, I won’t say that again.”

She purred, apparently accepting his apology.

Days with Alpine were less lonely. Bucky still went out mostly at night, tailing Hydra rats and setting traps. During the day, he trained.

And petted Alpine. She was a hell of a bug hunter and a top-tier nap companion.

Nap, because Bucky didn’t sleep much. The nightmares always dragged him out of sleep, panting and sweating. He tried not to think about, keeping his hands busy, and his mind busier.

And he tried not to check up on Sam. And failed.

He’d always end up looking him up, scrolling through photos, wondering what Sam was doing, how he was. Who he was with.

Bucky opened their old chat more times than he could count. He’d type something, stare at it for a long time, and then chicken out at the last second.

Pathetic.

Sam was better off without him.

He was a damn mess, and he never should’ve dragged Sam into it. Guilt gnawed at him, and Bucky did everything he could not to think about it.

But he couldn’t help it.

It was impossible to forget Sam Wilson. And, deep down, he didn’t really want to.

(---)

That was, without a doubt, the most dangerous mission of Sam’s life.

Seriously.

Nothing compared to the EXO-7 program, or even the time he spent chasing Buck-Barnes across Europe, came close to this.

“I think I’m going to faint,” he muttered, and Sarah burst out laughing at his side.

“You’ll live,” she said, trying (and failing) to hold back her laughter.

Sam glared at her, shotting daggers. Then he took a long, deep breath.

You can do this. You can.

He took a step, then another.

He braced himself, grabbed all the necessary tools, and faced the mission.

Changing AJ’s diaper.

Oh God, the smell–

Sam would faint.

Little AJ seemed to know he was terrifying his poor, old uncle, so he let out an adorable baby sound right as he made the whole diaper situation even worse.

“Ah, man, come on,” Sam groaned, making a face, and Sarah laughed even harder.

Great. Just… great.

In the end, it wasn’t that hard, but it was excruciating. And slightly traumatizing.

It made Sam really thankful he was just the uncle and not one of the parents. He loved his nephews, but taking care of a baby was exhausting.

When he got back to Washington after a few days in Delacroix, he expected a normal, boring week, nothing out of the ordinary.

How wrong he was.

By Sunday night, every newspaper was already reporting the shit-show that went down in Johannesburg.

In an Avengers battle against a mysterious enemy, the Hulk had lost control.

Sam’s first instinct was to call Steve or Nat, but as soon as he grabbed his phone, there was already a message from Tony.

Holy shit.

A few hours later, he was on a helicopter headed to New York.

When the sun came up, he was sitting beside Nat’s hospital bed, with a very tense Steve sitting on his other side.

“It was horrible, Sam,” Steve said quietly, not wanting to wake Nat.

She looked… rough. Pale, with scratches all over her face. Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and internal bleeding from the fight.

“How did it happen?” Sam asked, his voice tight as he watched his friend.

She was out of danger – that was the first thing he asked when he got there – but still, it was horrible to see her like that. Always so strong, so badass, and now… so fragile.

Steve didn’t answer for a while, and when Sam looked at him, his heart clenched. He was holding back tears, his eyes locked on Nat.

“She–she was protecting me.” He managed, his voice strained. “I was trying to hold Bruce with Tony, to minimize the chaos, but then I got distracted, and didn’t –didn’t, fuck, Sam, it’s my fault.”

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, look at me. It’s not your fault. It sucked, but she’s gonna be okay now. You both are. How’s Bruce doing?”

Steve cleared his throat.

“He’s… good. It was weird, though. There are these two new kids, they’re so powerful.” He crossed his arms, letting out a heavy sigh. “Twins, raised by Hydra. We found them in Sokovia, but lost track of them. Found them again in South Africa. Turns out they don’t like us very much.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. Fuck.

“Do you think–” he started but couldn’t finish.

Steve looked at him, his eyes hard and sad.

“I hope not. We’re trying to find them. They know too many of Hydra’s secrets,” he said, his shoulders sagging. “I can’t– they’re too powerful, especially together. The girl, Wanda, she… she gets into your mind, it’s insane. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Sam nodded, his mind racing. Could there be a chance that Bucky…?

“I’m scared Bucky might go after them,” Steve said, and there was a tremor in his voice. Fear. “He might think they’re Hydra, and if Wanda gets into his head, she could trigger the Winter Soldier, and then– then we’ll lose him again. Shit, I haven’t even found him and I’ll lose him again.”

No, Sam thought. No, that couldn’t happen.

“No, no,” he said. “Steve, man, I– what can I do to help?”

He couldn’t quite understand the full magnitude of these twins’ powers, Hydra experiments or not, but he couldn’t let that happen.

Just the thought of finding Buck-Barnes again and seeing that empty look in his blue eyes – ice-cold instead of warm, flirty and annoyingly charming – made Sam’s chest ache.

“No, Sam,” Steve shook his head.

Sam huffed.

“Steve, I can find Barnes, make sure he’s doing... whatever he’s doing. If something looks off, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t go, you have to stay with Nat,” Sam argued, and Steve made a pained face. “I’m sure the Avengers won’t exactly be welcome in foreign countries right now, so if you go after Buc-Barnes, it’ll just make things worse. For both of you.”

Also, I really want to find him again, Sam thought but bit his tongue before saying it. I want to show him how good I am –and definitely not mad he ran off right after we fucked. I’m fine. Totally and perfectly fine.

Steve didn’t answer for a while, thinking.

“I don’t want you to risk your life, Sam,” he said. “You’re my friend, and I can’t– I can’t lose you.”

Sam squeezed his shoulder, and Steve leaned into it. He was such a baby, if babies were huge and made entirely of muscle.

“I love you, man,” Sam reassured. “You won’t lose me. Someone’s gotta be your best man at your and Nat’s wedding, right?”

That made Steve smile. He held Nat’s hand, her skin pale against his.

“I’d really love that. One day,” he admitted softly. “If she wants, of course.”

Sam smiled, then kissed Nat’s forehead and started getting ready to leave.

“I’ll check with Tony for all the things I’ll need, don’t worry,” he said to Steve. “Stay with her, and rest.”

He looked at them both,, then turned toward the door. His hand was on the doorknob when Steve called out to him.

“Sam?”

He turned, finding Steve watching him, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah?” Sam replied.

“If you find Bucky… you should really give him a chance,” Steve said, and he sounded so genuinely innocent that Sam didn’t even have time to react. He just froze. “You two are my best friends, and I think you’d really get along.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. So he just aimed for a smile –which probably came out more like a grimace– and got out of the room as fast as he could.

Oh, Steve, he thought, closing his eyes for a second. You have no fucking idea, man.

(---)

June, 2015

Karachi

Sam was in town. Looking for him.

Bucky’s heart was pounding, and the urge to go after Sam –to see him, to talk to him, to touch him– was so strong it left him dizzy.

He wanted it so, so bad.

Look, Bucky wasn’t stupid. As much as he stayed out of pretty much everything, he still followed the news. He’d seen the chaos the Avengers caused in South Africa and figured Steve would take a break from looking for him – especially since the Red Widow had been badly hurt.

He hoped she’d be okay, though. A Widow was trained for that kind of thing, but still, he didn’t want Steve to lose anyone else.

Stevie had already lost to much – his parents, Peggy, him… damn, the kid deserved happiness.

You deserve some happiness too, a voice whispered in the back of Bucky’s mind, but he shoved it away.

Nah, he really didn’t.

He should be grateful for what he had - control over himself, for the first time in more than half a century. And a cat. A very, very spoiled cat.

Alpine hadn’t liked Karachi much, and she would grumble every time Bucky came back from his hideout.

It’s just that he couldn’t resist.

The second he found Sam was in the city, that familiar chill hit his stomach. Nerves, anticipation.

Want.

The memories came rushing in, and he felt like a man dying of thirst finally spotting an oasis after crossing the desert.

Sam looked good. Real good. Flawless, even.

Gorgeous smile, a body that made Bucky’s mouth go dry, that roll of hips every time he moved, and of course, a terrible sense of espionage.

In a way, it was lucky Hydra was so weakened and terrified that they weren’t paying much attention to him, though Bucky couldn’t help but wonder why.

They wouldn’t just let the Winter Soldier go. No fucking way. There had to be something else. They had to be planning something, hiding somewhere in the dark corners they crawled out of.

All the Hydra bases he’d found in the city were dead ends, and the few agents left in Karachi were nobodies, bottom-of-the-barrel pawns.

So Bucky just... started following Sam. It was fascinating, and funny as hell.

Sometimes he’d almost let himself be seen –almost– but then, at the last second, he’d pull back and melt into the shadows again.

Sam would turn around, like he felt someone watching. Then he’d open his mouth –those plump lips, begging to be kissed– and close it again, huffing in frustration.

Adorable. Absolutely adorable.

(---)

Sam Wilson was the most irritating and stubborn man Bucky had ever met.

It’d been a week since Sam showed up in Karachi looking for him, and he was driving Bucky out of his damn mind.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” Bucky muttered, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “Swear to you, what the hell is he thinkin’?”

Sam was getting under his skin.

At first, it had been funny watching Sam wander around Karachi, asking questions, chasing ghosts.

But then it stopped being funny because Sam started flirting with people.

Granted, they flirted first. Women and men.

And yeah, Sam looked a little startled when it first happened, at some restaurant, when two women came over to talk to him.

Sure, Sam was a good-looking fella. Bucky had always known that, so it shouldn’t bother him that other people noticed too.

After all, Sam was a single man… right?

No.

He’s mine. Mine.

Bucky sighed, shaking the thought out of his head, trying to focus on the job. But the flirting didn’t stop, it only got worse.

He hated it.

Hated the idea of anyone else knowing the sounds Sam made, the way he melted under the right touch, how he shivered when Bucky touched his dick–

Stop. Stop it, he scolded himself.

“I hate him,” Bucky muttered, and Alpine blinked up at him, her blue eyes calm and knowing, like she saw right through his bullshit. “I really do.”

She meowed, stretched lazily across his lap, and he sighed again, rubbing her belly.

(---)

Barnes really thought Sam had no idea he was being followed, which was absolutely ridiculous.

Sometimes Sam would stop in the middle of the street, that familiar burn crawling up his back, like someone’s stare was hot enough to make a hole right through his clothes.

Only one person would be able to do that.

A shiver ran down his spine. For God’s sake.

You don’t do subtle, do you? Sam texted Barnes on the seventh day of this stupid cat-and-mouse game of theirs, breaking his own rule of never texting first.

But, well, Barnes was really pissing him off.

The reply came within seconds.

Don’t follow me, birdie. Go home to your fancy life.

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. He finished his coffee and waved for the check.

The day was beautiful, warm and bright, perfect for a walk. Apparently, everyone in Karachi had the same idea because the streets were crowded, full of chatter and color.

Sam smirked, already typing his reply.

I don’t like following orders.

He stared at screen, not blinking, watching those three little dots appear, his heart beating faster and faster, a wild rhythm hammering in his chest.

Oh, I know that, darlin’. I know it very well.

Sam swallowed hard, licking his lips.

Don’t do that, Barnes texted.

Sam’s head shot up, scanning the crowd.

Barnes was watching him. The freak was watching him. His skin prickled, heat spreading everywhere –and it sure as hell wasn’t from the weather.

Or what? Sam typed back. I doubt you’d have the guts to come here anyway. Would make my life easier, since, you know, your pal Steve’s worried about you.

Barnes started typing, then stopped. No reply.

Typical.

Sam shook his head, scoffing.

Then, finally–

Don’t follow me. I don’t want to go. Not yet.

Oh.

That– Sam hadn’t been expecting that.

Part of him understood, and he wanted to respect it. After everything Barnes had been through, the man deserved the right to decide when and how he’d deal with his demons.

But still–

Sam had made Steve a promise. And things were getting messy. Barnes had the right to know.

I understand, Barnes, Sam typed back. I really do. But things… changed, man. There’s something you need to know.

Truth be told, Sam didn’t think Barnes would reply.

He figured the man would vanish again like the infuriating ghost he was, forcing Sam to chase him across another damn continent.

But no.

A few minutes later, another message came through.

Told you to call me Bucky, angel. St. Patrick’s Cathedral. 6 p.m.

Angel?

Angel?!

Such an asshole, Sam thought –but, deep down (really, really deep) he was smiling.

(---)

Oh, birdie, you’re so damn beautiful, Bucky thought, stopping for a moment to watch Sam.

The cathedral wasn’t full, even though it was a very touristic spot. Some folks had come in for the 6 o’clock mass, so Bucky waited near the steps, leaning against a tree.

Sam was wearing a different henley than the one he’d had on earlier when he texted Bucky. This one was blue, and it suited him far too well.

Something inside Bucky fluttered when he realized Sam had changed for him, but he tried not to think too much about it.

Even with the sun starting to set, the sunlight still shimmered against Sam’s dark skin, making him look even more beautiful than he already was.

“Hey, man,” Sam said, and thank God he looked just as uncomfortable as Bucky felt.

It was one thing to flirt over messages, another entirely to meet face to face.

Look, he was trying. He really was. But what he could do, the memories wouldn’t stop coming.

Bucky cleared his throat, hoping Sam would think the flush on his cheeks was just from the heat.

“Hey, Samuel,” he said, and Sam made a face.

“Why are you calling me Samuel?” he asked, disbelief dripping all over his tone.

Bucky shrugged. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Or do you prefer birdie? Doll, maybe–”

“Oh, so I get to call you James, then?” Sam shot back, amused.

Bucky huffed. “No.”

“Alright. Barnes, then.”

“Fucking hell, swear to you, angel–”

“Old man, perhaps?”

“Sam.” Bucky said between gritted teeth, and Sam smiled, his brown eyes sparkling.

God damn, he lived to annoy Bucky. Really, if there were a contest for who could get under Bucky’s skin the fastest, Sam Wilson would, without a doubt, take the prize.

“Bucky.” Sam said, and it sounded so right in his mouth. Fuck.

They stared at each other for a moment, like they were both trying to memorize every detail.

“So, what’s this thing I need to know?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms.

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he was choosing his words. Finally, he sighed, eyes closing briefly.

“Hydra– Hydra did other experiments. With people.” Sam said, carefully, studying Bucky’s face.

But there was no reaction. Bucky had been trained not to show emotion, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. His heart was thundering in his chest, but Sam couldn’t know that.

“The Avengers are handling it,” Sam continued. “But Steve’s worried. There are these new kids, twins, they’ve got… powers.”

Bucky frowned. “Powers? They’re super-soldiers too?”

“No,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “It’s different. One of them is fast, like, really fast, and the girl– well, she’s got some kind of mind control thing going on.”

Bucky waited for Sam to smile, flash that cute little tooth gap of his, and say it was all a joke. But Sam didn’t smile.

“Holy shit, you’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious, Bucky. Why the hell would I joke about this?”

Bucky shrugged. “Dunno. Well, thanks for the update, birdie.”

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, adjusted his cap, and got ready to leave.

“Wait!” Sam called and instinctively grabbed Bucky’s arm.

Even through the jacket, Sam’s touch was warm –so warm it felt like it seared right through the fabric and onto his skin.

Fuck.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, pulling his hand back. “Uh, just– if you see anything weird in your Hydra hunt, call me. These people are dangerous, too dangerous to face alone.” He met Bucky’s eyes. “Even the Avengers are struggling to handle them–they’re just… too powerful. That mess in South Africa had to do with them.”

Shit, Bucky thought. The world just kept getting stranger.

He nodded and saw Sam’s shoulders relax a little.

“So does this mean you’ll stop following me?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms, and he was very amused to see Sam’s gaze flick down to his biceps.

“Of course not,” Sam said, lifting his chin and meeting Bucky’s eyes. “You could, however, make it easier. Like, you could tell me where you’re going next. That way I can plan for a proper city tour or something.”

Bucky laughed, the sound surprising them both. Damn, this kid– he was truly something else. There was something about Sam that made Bucky feel alive, maybe for the first time in seventy years.

Hell, maybe for the first time ever.

“So the mystery’s solved,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not following me, you just want free trips around the world.”

Sam raised his hands in false surrender. “You got me, man.”

They stood there for a moment, the air between them light, easy, and then Bucky felt it again. That warmth creeping up his back, making his skin prickle.

It was Sam’s eyes. Why the hell did he have eyes like that? So expressive. So… beautiful.

“Just this once, doll,” Bucky said, and Sam huffed at the nickname. “I hear Paris is lovely this time of the year.”

Sam nodded –a faint, almost shy nod– and Bucky winked before turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

(---)

July, 2015

Amsterdam

Obviously, he hadn’t gone to Paris. He wasn’t stupid to take Sam to a city crawling with potential Hydra agents.

He would never put Sam in danger. Never.

So when Sam followed the crumbs he left behind, it meant the city was already clean. Free from the cancer that was Hydra.

And then Sam could enjoy the city. And Bucky could enjoy Sam.

From a distance, of course.

He just… watched.

He wanted –God, how he wanted– to do everything and more with Sam, but no. Sam was better off without him.

So Bucky watched. And wanted.

(---)

July, 2015

Prague

The music was deafening, but Sam didn’t mind.

Maybe it was a little irresponsible for him to be at the club in the middle of the week in a foreign city, but fuck it.

He deserved it. He deserved to have a bit of fun.

This whole ‘searching for Bucky’ thing was a lonely business, and the bastard didn’t make it any easier by disappearing without a trace.

Fuck him, Sam thought, moving his body on the packed dance floor.

He was not thinking about Barnes, no way.

Electronic music was blasting on his ears, the party completely packed – as if everyone in Prague had the same brilliant idea as Sam to go out dancing on a Tuesday.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, just feeling the music.

Then, he felt it.

That familiar prickle at the nape of his neck, the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

Sam’s eyes snapped open, scanning the crowd.

And there he was.

Leaning against the opposite wall, dressed in leather – really? Really?! – and with his gaze fixed on him, was Bucky.

And he wasn’t smiling. He sure as hell didn’t look happy.

Well, Sam didn’t care. Sam was happy, Sam was enjoying the party.

A jolt, equal part irritation and pure, undoubtedly lust, shot through him.

Instead of looking away, Sam held his gaze. A defiant smirk crossed his face as he deliberately rolled his hips, a movement sure meant for an audience of one.

He saw Bucky’s jaw tighten from across the room, so he did it again.

That was all the invitation Bucky needed.

He began cutting through the crowd, people instinctively parting for him. He moved with purpose, a soldier’s precision, his eyes never leaving Sam.

He didn’t say a word when he reached him. Bucky simply stepped into Sam’s personal space, his body caging him in.

God, the scent of leather and gunpowder clung to him. Delicious and dangerous.

Perfect.

“Fancy seeing you here, Buck,” Sam said, closing his eyes and dancing with the crazy rhythm of the music.

Bucky glared at him. “Having fun?”

Sam made a face, fluttering his eyelashes, watching Bucky swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“Trying to,” he purred, his voice barely audible over the loud music. “But you’re interrupting.”

Bucky smirked, the corner of his mouth curving up as his hand slid to Sam’s hip. His grip was firm, heavy with heat, and Sam could almost feel the cold of his metal fingers, even with the glove. 

Shit, the pressure alone was enough to leave Sam out of air, his breath catching in the small - almost insignificant - space between them.

“Looks like you needed an interruption, sweetheart,” Bucky said, his lips approaching Sam’s ear.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Dancing like that for everyone to see,” he continued, and Sam shivered. “I don’t like it, angel.”

And then his lips were on Sam’s.

It wasn’t gentle, it was claiming. Bucky’s tongue was hot and demanding on Sam’s mouth, and he met him with equal fervor, his hands tangling on his jacket, pulling him closer.

They pressed their bodies, and it was so overwhelming it felt like nothing else mattered.

Bucky’s other hand slid down Sam’s back, cupping his ass and grinding their hips together. Holy shit, the friction was maddening, insane.

Sam groaned into Bucky’s mouth, and when he realized he was already rutting back, his own hardness pressing against Bucky’s.

Shit, Sam thought, then he pulled again, breaking the kiss.

They were in the middle of the dancing floor, for fuck’s sake.

“Not here,” Sam panted, his forehead resting against Bucky’s. “Not here.”

Bucky’s eyes were dark with want, the black of his pupils swallowing the blue. “Alright.”

Sam took Bucky’s hand and guided them, taking him out of the club. They didn’t talk, and Sam thanked God it was dark, or otherwise anyone would be able to see the… situation in his jeans.

They walked out of the club and entered an alley, and then Bucky took the control again and maneuvered them, turning Sam so his back was pressed against a cool, concrete wall.

He couldn’t think, all he needed was Bucky.

Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

Sam’s hand worked between them, fumbling with Bucky’s belt and then his own.

When Bucky’s bare, hard cock slid against his, Sam let out a choked moan.

Bucky wrapped one hand – the metal hand, now without his glove – around them both, his other arm braced against the wall above Sam’s head.

Fuck, this was so good.

It was rough, frantic, the slide of skin on skin, pre-cum already pooling on both of their dicks.

Sam’s mouth found Bucky’s neck, and he sucked a mark that would be impossible to hide.

Good.

He wanted Bucky to remember.

“Gonna make you come,” Bucky rasped against his ear, his breath hot. “Right here, where everyone can see.”

Sam let out a gasp, his eyes fluttering with pleasure.

“Yeah, Buck,” he replied, moaning low on Bucky’s ear, feeling Bucky shiver against him. “You’re so good. So good, Bucky, fuck–”

The friction, the words, Bucky… all sent Sam hurtling over the edge. He came with a stifled cry, his release hot and sticky between their stomachs.

He felt Bucky moan low near his neck as he followed, spilling all over his own fist and on Sam’s cock.

They stood there for a moment, panting, foreheads pressed together.

In the background, the party continued, music out loud.

Bucky pulled back slightly, tucking himself away, then did the same for Sam, his eyes never leaving him.

Ugh, it was gross. He needed a shower, urgently.

“I think we should go to your hotel,” Bucky said, his voice quiet but firm.

Sam, still breathless and boneless, just nodded.

“Yeah, I think we should.” He managed, and then a ghost of a smile touched Bucky’s lips before he claimed Sam’s mouth again.

(---)

Once they started, they simply couldn’t stop.

Every time they met in a new city, they were drawn to each other like magnets.

A part of Sam was slightly worried –it was getting way too intense way too fast.

But damn, it felt so, so good.

In Tunis, Bucky fucked Sam against the wall, on the table, in the shower. Practically everywhere. Sam hadn’t even known it was possible to come that many times.

Bucky didn’t stay after, but when Sam woke up alone, there was a little note on his bedside table. Short, but enough to make his stupid heart leap like a teen with a crush.

Had to leave, but I’ll find you again, birdie. I always do.

In Madrid, Bucky found Sam at the Museo Reina Sofía, standing in front of the Guernica painting.

“Sometimes I wonder if humanity will ever learn to live without war,” Sam murmured, eyes glued to the painting.

It was so vivid, so sad – it made him want to change the world, to take away all the suffering.

“All I know is war,” Bucky replied, and when Sam turned to look at him, his blue eyes were a storm. “And it’s worth it when there are good men like you to remind the rest of us there’s still some goodness left in the world.”

In Geneva, for the first time, Bucky didn’t leave right after they fucked. Instead, they sat in the armchairs by the window, watching the clean sky from the balcony, and Bucky lit a cigarette.

“These things will kill you,” Sam said, but he still took one too.

Bucky snorted, blowing out the smoke. “Harder things have tried and failed.”

In Belgrade, Sam had teased Bucky for behaving as a vampire, always showing up after sunset. Then Bucky appeared right in front of him while Sam was having lunch at a restaurant.

He was so chocked he actually froze mid-bite, jaw dropping, which made Bucky smile. And damn him, he was impossibly more handsome when he smiled.

In Florence, Sam discovered Bucky had a cat.

“A cat? Seriously? You?” Sam asked, unable to picture brooding, tall Bucky Barnes with a kitten on his lap.

Bucky rolled his eyes, pulling Sam by the waist a little closer. “Her name’s Alpine. She’s the most beautiful cat in the world.”

And she really was. Bucky had a bunch of photos of her on his phone – which, by the way, Sam still had no idea where he’d gotten, or how he even knew how to use it.

“She’s adorable,” Sam said, scrolling through the photos.

He had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to kiss Bucky senseless for being this stupid, sweet, broken man.

It was getting dangerous, all of it.

This… thing between them.

It was making Sam feel things, and he knew he shouldn’t. It was pointless.

But he couldn’t stop it.

The more he learned about Bucky, the more he wanted to know.

In Casablanca, Bucky told him about his family, his childhood, the things he and Steve used to do when they were kids, before the war.

He didn’t talk about Hydra, and Sam didn’t ask.

In return, Sam told him dumb stories from when he was a kid too, and Bucky listened closely, a small smile on his lips.

“So, obviously Sarah is the better Wilson,” Bucky said, and Sam elbowed him.

“Hey! That’s my sister you’re talking about,” he muttered, and Bucky laughed.

“No lady can resist me, Sam, y’know,” Bucky said, a wolfish grin spreading his stupid, perfect lips. “She’d totally like me.”

She would, Sam thought, but didn’t say it. She really would.

Because Sam knew, Sarah would love Bucky, with his awkward charm and brooding quietness.

Bucky was like the ocean, deep and endless, and all Sam wanted was to dive deeper. To drown in the blue of his eyes.

He was falling, and he knew it.

It had only happened once before, with Riley. It had been strange and intense with Riley.

They were young, reckless, closeted, and in the military. Sam had just lost his parents, and Riley didn’t get along with his.

Two lonely souls meeting under the worst circumstances, and Riley had shown Sam that there was still something worth fighting for.

Losing him, grieving him, had nearly broken Sam. He’d become a shell of himself, and it hurt so much that he swore he’d never let anyone get that close again. He’d never feel that kind of pain again.

But Bucky–

Bucky, like a ghost, had circled him slowly, quietly. And by the time Sam realized, he was already there, dangerously close to his heart.

With Bucky, Sam felt strangely calm. Maybe because they’d both been through so much. Maybe because they weren’t kids, far from it.

Ironically, Bucky made him feel safe. Sam felt… seen, for the first time in a long, long time.

They were two lonely souls who, by some stupid cosmic joke, had found each other.

He should put an end to this madness. For good.

But he couldn’t.

He was falling for Bucky Barnes, and he was completely helpless against it.

(---)

September, 2015

Bangkok

Sam was with Bucky when Sokovia practically fell apart.

They saw everything on the TV – the chaos, the panic, the destruction. It was horrible.

Sam couldn’t stop shaking. He kept trying to call Steve, Nat, Tony –anyone– but it was useless. Of course they weren’t going to pick up.

Bucky sat beside him in silence. When Sam saw the families running, trying to escape that horror, he sat on the edge of the bed, trembling hard.

Breathing felt impossible. He felt like something was pulling him under, dragging him into darkness, and the world was just… awful.

And then–

He felt a weight on his shoulder.

Sam looked over and saw Bucky’s metal hand resting there, grounding him. It helped, he could breathe again.

Bucky stayed with him while he tried to get news about the others, and when Sam finally reached them, Bucky let out a shaky breath of relief the moment he heard Steve’s voice on the phone.

They were alive, and they were safe.

That night, Bucky didn’t leave.

He held Sam the whole night, arms wrapped around him, soothing Sam every time he started crying in the dark.

At some point, Bucky pressed small, gentle kisses to his forehead.

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispered, his voice low, like he was trying to convince himself as much as Sam. “It’s okay, Sammy.”

(---)

October, 2015

New York

The invitation came not long after once the dust settled a bit.

Sam had gone back to the States to put his life back together and to see his family, Steve and Nat.

A part of him already knew. He’d known the exact moment he stepped foot in New York and saw Tony smirking at him.

Or maybe when he went to see the new Avengers compound and Nat, all casual and nonchalant, made sure to show him the suites each Avenger had, which honestly looked more like these huge apartments.

But the actual invitation came later that night, after he and Steve had shared pizza and beer and were sitting out in one of the gardens, just quietly enjoying the peaceful silence between them.

And it was peaceful, hard to believe they were right on the outskirts of New York’s chaos.

“We talked, you know,” Steve said, in that soft voice of his. “The world’s changing, Sam. Too fast for me, actually. And–and we saw, back in Sokovia, what we did wrong. What we could’ve done differently. There are so many good people out there, and the Avengers were meant to inspire them.”

Sam shifted, resting his head on his arms, truing not to look as nervous as he felt inside.

“So… we talked. All of us,” Steve continued, his gaze fixed on Sam’s. “And it’d be an honor, Sam, to have you on the team. Would you like to be an Avenger?”

And Sam smiled.

(---)

October, 2015

Montreal

You look good in that new suit, birdie. Bucky typed, eyes glued on the TV.

Montreal had been good to him. It was cosmopolitan, but quiet enough. Alpine liked it too, and with the cold creeping in faster every day, the apartment Bucky had broken into was starting to feel almost cozy.

The Avengers had new members now, and Sam was one of them. It suited him, all of it.

Sam was heroic, genuinely good. And Bucky was falling for him.

Correction –Bucky had fallen for him. Stupidly and embarrassingly fast.

When Sam first told him, through text, that he was going to be an Avenger, Bucky had smiled. Of course he was.

Sam was bright – a star, a hero. He had a whole future ahead of him, and Bucky should’ve stayed away.

He was a mess, not to mention wanted by the U.S government and about half the rest of the world.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Sam go, not again. Not after Sam stormed into his life and conquered his heart, slipping past every wall he’d ever built like it was nothing.

Damn him. Damn Sam Wilson.

I hate this press thing, Sam texted a while later.

Bucky had just showered and was trying to make some pasta, but there weren’t many options for sauce, so he simply melted some butter he’d bought a few days ago.

But you’re good at it, Bucky wrote back. You’re good at being a hero.

Sam’s reply came fast. You’re good at being a hero too, James.

Bucky huffed when he saw his full name on the screen.

In case you forgot, there’s a whole wing at the Smithsonian about how Sergeant Barnes is a national hero, Sam typed, and Bucky’s chest tightened.

He didn’t even know what to say to that.

Sergeant Barnes… that was a lifetime ago.

He wasn’t Sergeant Barnes anymore. But he wasn’t the Winter Soldier either. Who was he, anyway?

Hm, I hope I look good in the museum, Bucky finally typed, almost able to picture Sam rolling his eyes. Y’know, gotta look good for the ladies.

Fishing for compliments, Barnes? Sam shot back.

Always, birdie. You jealous?

You wish, Sam replied. Good night, Buck. Have sweet dreams of me ;)

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Alpine took the chance to curl up on his stomach.

You wish, angel, he typed back.

But who he was kidding? Of course he’d dream about Sam.

Sam was the angel who had appeared in his life, the one who brought light into the nightmare that was Bucky’s mind.

His angel. His birdie.

(---)

November, 2015

Washington

Bucky hadn’t thought the Smithsonian would be this crowded.

It was the middle of a very ordinary Wednesday afternoon, for God’s sake. But apparently some school had decided to take a field trip, and now there was a sea of kids running wild through the museum.

“Don’t I know you?” a kid with huge glasses asked, narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

Christ. He adjusted his cap and lowered his head, trying not to draw attention.

“Don’t think so, kid,” he said, hoping the boy would drop it and run off to do whatever it was kids did in museums these days.

The boy stared at him for a moment, then scratched his chin like he was trying to solve a mystery.

“You look like him,” the kid said, nodding toward Sergeant Barnes’ display up ahead, in the Captain America exhibit.

Bucky bit his tongue to keep from laughing at the irony of it all. “Really?”

The kid nodded, then shrugged.

“Yeah, but I know you’re not him,” the boy said, grinning. “You’re older. No offense.”

Bucky grinned back. These kids, man.

“Bye!” the boy shouted before running off to join his friends.

Bucky watched him go, feeling a sudden pang of nostalgia for a time when life was simple, when there was nothing to worry about.

He wandered through the Captain America exhibit, feeling… all kinds of things.

The memories of the Howling Commandos were bittersweet. Bucky missed those guys, but every memory was tangled with the war –and then Hydra– so suddenly all he wanted was to get away from there. To disappear somewhere far, far away.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

He couldn’t keep running forever, no matter how tempting it was. He could run and run, but he’d never escape his own mind.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? His mind was what was broken.

Bucky knew Sam wanted to ask – about Hydra, about everything – but God bless him, he never did.

Bucky didn’t want to tell him about the awful things he’d done. The things he’d been forced to do. But at the same time, he wanted Sam to know everything, because he knew Sam wouldn’t judge him.

His Sam, sweet darling Sam, with that big heart, he’d never judge him. But Bucky judged himself.

He stopped in front of a TV screen showing footage of Captain America during the World War Two.

When a photo of him and Stevie flashed on the screen – both of them smiling, right after Steve took the serum – it was too much.

He missed Steve so much it hurt. Physically hurt.

Steve was the only other person out of place in this world, someone from a different time. He missed his best friend, he missed their talks.

He wanted to tell Steve everything –hell, he wanted to tell Steve about Sam and ask him how to properly woo a man like Sam Wilson.

Perhaps it’s time, a voice said in his head.

Yeah, perhaps it was.

Bucky made up his mind as he left the museum some time later.

It was time to face his fear.

It was time to see Stevie again.

(---)

Bucky had been watching Steve and the Red Widow for a while, their quiet back-and-forth between Washington and New York.

They kept things discreet, spending their nights out for dinner with Sam or just walking around the neighborhood.

They were good at dodging the press to, which meant the apartment they shared in D.C. was far enough from the building where journalists camped out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Captain America’s personal life.

Smart, Bucky thought.

It was late at night when the Widow left the apartment. Before getting into the black SUV, she turned her head, straight toward where Bucky was hiding in the shadows.

And then she smiled. Just a brief, knowing little thing. And disappeared into the car.

Bucky waited a while longer, making sure Steve was completely alone before slipping into the apartment –only to find Steve in the middle of committing a culinary crime.

Somehow, he’d managed to burn a cake.

Yeah, cooking had never been one of Steve’s strong suits. Not Bucky’s either, for that matter.

“Nat? Did you forget something?” Steve called out, not turning around.

When there was no answer, he turned, and the moment his blue eyes met Bucky’s, he froze.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said tentatively, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I think you’re burning it.”

Steve didn’t say anything, his mouth open, eyes wide. Then, in a blink of an eye, he was right in front of Bucky.

“Buck?” Steve asked, his voice so small it made Bucky’s chest tighten. God, he’d missed him. “Are you real?”

“I am, pal,” Bucky said, and it was enough for Steve to wrap his arms around him. Bucky sank into the embrace, familiar and strong only Steve could give. “And I think we need to talk.”

(---)

Sam was just getting back from his morning run –without Steve, oddly enough. Steve hadn’t shown up to run with him, and Sam was trying really hard not to think that something major had happened.

He saw a figure standing outside his building, and when he caught a glimpse of red hair under a gray hoodie, Sam’s heart skipped a beat.

“Nat?” he called out.

She turned, her face unreadable. Oh, no.

“Is everything alright? Is… Steve alright?” Sam asked, because, well, considering the way the world had been lately, you never really knew.

Nat looked him up and down, assessing. Then she smirked.

“You didn’t know,” she said simply, and Sam frowned.

Didn’t know what, exactly?

“Something… happened?” he asked, holding the door open for her as she stepped inside the building.

She didn’t answer, just climbed the stairs all the way up to Sam’s apartment.

Meanwhile, his brain had already gone through at least ten possible scenarios, none of which were good. Hell, the best one was another alien invasion like the one in New York years ago.

Nat pulled off her hoodie and smoothed her hair before sitting down on Sam’s couch. She smiled, which did not help at all.

“Okay…” Sam said, swallowing hard. “You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“Your boy’s in town,” she said plainly.

Sam frowned. “My boy? Who–”

“Barnes,” Nat said, and Sam froze, his heartbeat going erratic. “Bucky Barnes is here.”

Oh.

Oh.

Holy Mother of Christ.

Sam felt his face heat up, and he opened his mouth, fully ready to protest that Bucky wasn’t ‘his boy’ (though God, he wished he was) but Nat let out a little laugh.

“He’s with Steve,” she continued, and Sam’s eyes went wide. What?! “I came before because I figured they’d be getting here right about…”

The intercom buzzed.

“… now,” she finished, settling back in the couch with a grin. “Oh, this is about to get good.”

Sam couldn’t think straight, his mind a turmoil.

What–

Bucky… here? In Washington?

With Steve?

What the hell was happening?

The intercom buzzed again, and Sam hurried to answer it, the world spinning around him.

“Sam, it’s me.” Steve’s voice. Oh, shit, he sounded serious.

“And me.” Bucky’s voice came through next, and Sam’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

Oh God.

He was really here.

Sam had just come back from his morning run. He was disgusting, sweaty, wearing nothing but a hoodie and shorts. No way he was seeing Bucky in person after months looking like this.

He barely had time to think before the knocking started. Fucking super-soldiers, man.

He tried to make himself look at least somewhat decent, which only made Nat snort with laughter, and then he opened the door and came face to face with Bucky’s blue eyes.

Bucky smiled – that crooked, devastating smile that never failed to make Sam blush like a high school girl.

Damn you, Bucky Barnes.

“Hey, angel,” Bucky said, his gaze sliding down Sam’s body and back up again, and suddenly it didn’t matter that it was November, Sam felt like he was burning hot.

The world seemed to fade away around them, like they were the last two people on Earth. Bucky looked so good, holy shit.

Sam wanted to kiss him until neither of them could breathe. God, he’d missed Bucky, and only now that he was standing there did Sam realize how much.

He was truly and utterly screwed.

“Oh my God,” Steve said, his eyes darting from Sam to Bucky like he was watching a tennis match. “It’s true, then.”

Bucky broke eye contact with Sam, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“Why would I lie about it, Stevie?”

Sam couldn’t even speak. He stepped aside to let them in, his brain barely catching up with all this morning chaos.

And Bucky wasn’t helping, the fucker. When he walked past, his gloved hand brushed against Sam’s bare thigh, and Sam’s knees almost buckled.

No, no, no.

He couldn’t get hard. God, no. Not in front of his friends, he’d never survive the humiliation.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Sam muttered, bolting for the kitchen to breathe, to not die of thirst for Bucky.

He barely managed to keep himself under control. He really needed to stay far, far away from Barnes. Easy… right?

Sam made coffee and carried it back to the living room, only to find Steve sitting in the couch, still a little dazed, while Nat and Bucky were… playing with knives?

What the fuck?

“Hm, this one’s good,” Nat said, handling a knife with natural ease. The thing looked sharp enough to cut anything, and she pointed it at Bucky. “If you break Wilson’s heart, I’ll stick this one in you.”

No one dared to breathe for a moment, and then Bucky burst out laughing.

“Noted, ma’am,” he said, moving over to make room for Sam beside him. “Oh, Stevie, she’s the one. I’m so proud of you, man.”

Steve immediately turned red.

They drank their coffee in silence after that, Sam doing his best not to notice Bucky’s leg brushing against his.

He really needed a shower. Urgently. Or he might just die. Right there, in front of everyone.

“So,” Steve said, looking between them. “Are you two… boyfriends?”

Sam choked on his coffee. Shit.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm, sipping his coffee like everything was normal.

“Not yet, Stevie,” he said, then turned to Sam and winked. “Gotta woo him first, y’know? Didn’t exactly have the time before.”

“Are you– Steve, are you… okay with this?” Sam asked carefully.

He didn’t think Steve was homophobic or anything, but Bucky was his best friend. And Sam… well, Sam hadn’t exactly told him everything, so he’d understand if Steve was upset.

But Steve nodded, a genuine and warm smile on his face.

“I mean, it’s a lot to process,” he admitted, his eyes sparkling as he looked between them. “But, you know… it makes sense. I always figured you two would either get along really well or absolutely hate each other. No in-between.”

“And who said I don’t hate him?” Sam retorted, and Bucky elbowed him.

“C’mon birdie, you’re not fooling anyone,” Bucky said, and Sam giggled.

“You two are disgusting,” Nat muttered, and Sam stuck his tongue out at her.

Steve’s smile got bigger and brighter.

“Well,” he said, glancing at them all, “now we can go on double dates! This is awesome, isn’t it?”

Sam and Bucky exchanged a look, identical grimaces on their faces.

Oh, Lord. It was truly going to be a long morning.

(---)

Sam finally managed to take a shower after Steve and Nat left, and although he and Bucky hadn’t exactly talked about it, Bucky stayed.

Sam took off his running clothes and then looked at himself in the mirror. He was… wrecked, there was no other way to describe it.

He took along shower, calming his muscles and wrapping his head around all the craziness from the morning. When he got out of the shower, steam still clung to his skin as he grabbed a towel. Calmer and with his head on straight, Sam found Bucky standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Bucky didn't say anything, he just shifter his weight like he wasn't sure if he should come in or leave.

“Shit, you scared me!” Sam said, putting a hand over his heart.

Bucky didn’t speak, staring at Sam’s chest as if it were the most delicious piece of steak. Christ.

“Bucky?” Sam called, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his lips. “My face is up here, you know.”

And before Sam could utter another word, Bucky closed the distance between them. His mouth crashed onto Sam’s, with so much fire and intensity it seemed out of this world.

It was different, this time.

They knew each other’s bodies so well – Sam had memorized the hard planes of Bucky’s stomach, every single one of his reactions, the exact whine he made when Sam’s teeth grazed his bottom lip.

But it was never enough. Sam craved more, deeper, everything.

Bucky fucked him slowly, Sam’s nails digging into his back.

“You take me so well, Sam,” Bucky murmured against his ear, his voice a filthy rasp that sent shivers down Sam’s spine. “So, so fucking good, darling.”

Each slow, rolling thrust was at the same time the biggest torture and the most delicious pleasure, designed uniquely to unravel Sam completely.

Later, Sam found himself on his knees, taking Bucky so deep into his throat he was sure his voice would be… raspy for a couple of days.

He swallowed every drop, claiming Bucky as his own.

Their kisses were frantic, desperate, as if this were their last night on Earth. And who knew, maybe it was. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was their fingers laced together, their bodies moving in the perfect sync, as if they were one.

When Sam came, his vision whited out, his entire body seizing with pleasure, so intense he felt like he was floating. A moment later, Bucky followed, groaning Sam’s name as he spilled inside him, so deep Sam knew he would feel for days.

It wasn’t even mid-afternoon, and they lay tangled in the sheets, with stupid, satisfied smiles on their faces as they simply looked at each other.

“Don’t go,” he said when Bucky got up and started gathering his clothes that were scattered on the floor.

Bucky looked back at him, his cheeks an adorable shade of pink.

“I have to feed Alpine, then I’ll be back.” He promised, pulling on his jeans.

“You’d better,” Sam murmured, stretching, his body still humming with pleasure.

“I don’t think I’m able to let you go, Sammy,” Bucky said, his expression so soft, so intimate and vulnerable, that it made Sam’s heart tighten.

Sam held Bucky’s gaze.

“I don’t want to let you go either,” Sam admitted, his voice wavering. “You’re not getting rid of me, Bucky Barnes.”

A smile broke across Bucky’s face. He came back to bed and leaned down, capturing Sam’s lip in a long, searing kiss.

“Good,” Bucky breathed against his mouth. “Because you’re mine, Sam Wilson. All mine.”

(---)

Sure enough, Bucky indeed came back later with Alpine.

She adjusted to Sam’s apartment almost immediately, claiming the couch and the big window in the living room as her own little kingdom.

He and Sam still had to talk –about everything, really.

Bucky didn’t want to overstep or assume anything, but Sam had already cleared out a corner of the closet for him, and his chest felt warm in a way he had never felt before.

“I’ll find a place,” Bucky said, even though Sam hadn’t brought it up.

They were having dinner, and God, Bucky hadn’t realized how much he missed seasoned food until he tasted Sam’s cooking.

It was perfect. Simply perfect.

“You can stay here, Buck,” Sam said, scratching Alpine’s ears, who’d curled upon one of the chairs.

“Just for a few days,” Bucky assured him, and Sam smiled.

It really was supposed to be just for a few days. He’d find a place for himself and Alpine soon enough.

Steve had promised to talk to some fancy psychiatrist who might be willing to take Bucky on, and he was also working with Avengers’ legal team to figure out how to get Bucky’s name cleared – to make sure he didn’t end up serving a life sentence in come cold cell.

So, yeah, things were changing, and he needed something solid to hold onto while everything shifted right under his feet.

Just for a few days, Bucky thought, then took another bite.

(---)

December, 2015

Washington

It turned out that Bucky and Alpine had sort of… moved in with Sam.

It just happened naturally, really. What was supposed to be a few days turned into a few weeks, and now snow was falling outside because it was already mid-December, and Steve had knitted horrible sweaters for both Bucky and Sam wear on Christmas.

Christmas, which Sam’s family was coming over to Washington to spend with them, since Bucky’s legal situation was still a little… complicated. So they figured out it was best to lay low for a bit.

Sometimes Bucky couldn’t quite believe how much his life had changed in just one year.

Last Christmas he hadn’t even celebrated. And now –now he had a cat, he had friends, he had Steve again, he had Sam, and holy shit, things were crazy. He couldn’t believe it.

“You ready?” Sam asked, and Bucky nodded.

They were standing in front of a discreet-looking building, and honestly, Bucky would’ve rather been anywhere else.  But, well, he’d promised Steve.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said with a small smile. “I’m good. Go save the world, Falcon.”

Sam rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, his hand closing around Bucky’s gloved one.

“This is good, Bucky,” Sam said softly. “Hell, maybe I’ll do it too.”

Bucky smiled, then said his goodbye and stepped inside the building, heading straight for the reception desk.

“Hello,” he said, and the receptionist smiled back.

“Hello, sir. What’s your name and appointment, please?” she asked, her fingers ready over the keyboard.

Bucky took a deep breath.

This is good, he tried to tell himself. You’ll get better. You will.

“James,” he said finally. “I’m here to see Dr. Edwards, the psychiatrist.”

(---)

(Almost) Christmas Eve, 2015

Sam, Bucky and Alpine’s apartment, Washington

He was exhausted, but at least the apartment was finally decorated.

The tree was standing –for the third time, since Alpine had knocked it over twice already– and Sam’s nephews’ gifts were all neatly wrapped under it.

“I think she’s bored,” Sam said, watching Alpine roll around the carpet, probably plotting her next violent attack against the poor Christmas tree. “Maybe she needs another cat.”

Bucky looked at him, incredulous. “You want to adopt another cat?”

Sam shrugged.

“Maybe… it’d be cute, wouldn’t it? I think Alpine would like it, a little brother. Just imagine– Figaro. That’s a cute name.”

“Oh, so the hypothetical cat already has a name?” Bucky asked, amused, and Sam groaned.

“Shut up.”

He smirked. “Make me, birdie.”

Later, they were both tucked into the bed, well-satisfied after a few enthusiastic sex sessions, enjoying their last quiet night in the apartment before Sam’s family arrived for the holidays.

Sam was watching him, and they were so close their noses almost touched.

“What’s your Christmas wish?” Sam asked, a bit sleepy.

Bucky brushed his hand against Sam’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“Well,” Bucky said softly. “I think my Christmas wish is you. Would you like to be my boyfriend, Samuel Wilson?”

Sam blinked, his mouth open in disbelief.

“I thought I already was your boyfriend, James Barnes,” he said. “You’re living here, for God’s sake.”

Bucky shrugged, smiling, his heart full of happiness. Christ, only Sam could turn him into this ridiculous, lovesick fool.

“I mean, can you blame me? How would I know how these things work nowadays? I’m a man from another time, c’mon.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t stand you.”

“You love it, birdie.”

Sam leaned in and kissed him, just a soft peck on the lips.

“You know what,” Sam murmured, “I think I do.”

Bucky’s grin was so wide it almost hurt his cheeks, and he pulled Sam in for a real kiss this time. Slow and intense, hot, full of everything he felt but couldn’t quite put into words.

A few hours later, Bucky drifted off to sleep, peacefully, his arms wrapped around Sam’s warm body.

And for once, there were no nightmares. After all, he was home.