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Steam whistled out of the joint that connects two pipes. The damn thing hadn't been moved in probably twenty years and it was putting up a fight.
Bucky came up behind Sam and patted his waist. Two soft, but firm pats to his side, just above his hip, wordlessly asking him to move aside. In the moment, Sam didn't think twice about it. He stepped to the side and watched Bucky muscle through the rusted pipe fitting, wrenching it closed. The whistling finally ceasing.
After a moment of silence, he rose the question on his mind. "Why didn't you just use the arm?" Sam let the touch slide away like it was the most normal thing in the world for them.
Bucky paused and looked down at his vibranium limb. "I don't always think of it immediately." He was staring at his hand, raised between them as he explained. He lifted his head to see Sam. "I'm right-handed." He looked off at nothing, like he usually does when he verbalises facts about himself. Speaks his true personality and traits into existence, not the ones that were forced on him.
The interaction ended and Bucky went back to what he was doing on the other side of the boat. It wasn't until Sam had been left to his thoughts for a few minutes, when he started dwelling on something he'd just now realised.
Bucky touches him a lot.
He never used to. Bucky seemed generally adverse to human contact, even with Steve. It was obvious enough to Sam to the degree that he made an active effort to not casually touch Bucky. He kept his hands to himself, with the exception of a shoulder touch every now and then. But recently Sam's been on the receiving end of every variation of casual, familiar touching. Often too.
He only ever did it in Sam's childhood neighbourhood. On mission, Bucky is all business. He only comes into contact with Sam when he's manhandling him to get him out of the way of gunfire. Nothing soft or intimate about it.
But back home? After all the Flag Smasher business had been taken care of? It's a hand ghosting over Sam's back as Bucky scoots past him, it's spreading his legs and resting his thigh against Sam's when they sit next to each other on the couch, it's a hand in the middle of Sam's back, guiding him through a door that he'd opened for him. That's not even half of it.
Even after all of it. Sam didn't take it as an excuse to reciprocate the touching. He felt like he wasn't allowed to. There was something in his brain stopping him from breaching that boundary. Surely Bucky wouldn't be comfortable with someone touching him without warning after everything he's been through.
He wasn't gonna stop Bucky from doing it though.
The most embarrassing part is that Sam didn't even clock it until recently. Sam's always been touchy-feely around his friends. Physical touch love language and all that. It didn't even occur it him that it was odd until his brain caught up with the fact that it was Bucky doing all the touching.
Sitting at his desk tinkering with his wing suit, a hand firmly clamped over the nape of his neck, thumb brushing the skin, squeezing gently. "You're hunching." Sam knows it was not Bucky's intention to sound so sensual but it's the early morning and he's just woken up, so his voice is all husky and the first words he's decided to say were aimed at Sam. He's not sure whether to be thankful or not.
He kept his hand in place, giving his nape another squeeze before sliding his hand along Sam's shoulder. "If you don't straighten up, I'm not gonna feel sorry for you later when you're complaining about a crick in your neck."
Sam feigned annoyance and set his tools to the side. He sat up, fixing his posture, all while Bucky's hand stayed put, like he was guiding the adjustment. Sam rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension that had admittedly started to build without him noticing and Bucky gently, dug his fingertips into his muscles one more time. The hand being taken away left a cold pool of shivers behind. Bucky strolled past him to go make himself some coffee. "You want some?"
They had made lunch and sat in front of the TV and Sam got caught up thinking about how gently Bucky used that vibranium hand to nonchalantly wipe sauce off the corner of Sam's lip, half way through telling Sam about some baseball player who got suspended for whatever reason. Sam's brain stopped working when Bucky licked the sauce off his thumb and kept talking, not stopping at any point.
Sam paid even less attention to the game than usual, sitting next to a captivated Bucky, clapping when his team did something impressive. Sam's never been a baseball guy but he's become one indirectly through Bucky's enthusiasm.
"You zonin' out on me Sammy?" A hand softly pat his face twice, lingering for a painfully long second as he stood up, fingers grazing down his chin like he accidentally left his hand behind. Bucky scooped up their plates and walked away towards the kitchen. Sam's brain lagged trying to reply, getting his legs moving as a consolation. Sam wondered if Bucky even noticed he was doing it or if it was absent minded. Now that Sam's noticed it. Well, he can't think of anything else.
He gathered his thoughts. "You in a rush to help Sarah with the dishes?"
Bucky whipped around to wink at him. "She likes a man who shows initiative."
As Bucky turned back around, Sam skipped forward and hooked his foot in front of Bucky's. He knew he'd catch himself but watching him stumble was the fun part. Bucky let out an honestly, adorable yelp, taking a quick step and slamming his other foot down to steady himself and avoid falling on his face. Sam was chuckling before Bucky slowly turned on a dime, back towards him.
Bucky stared him down for two long seconds, calmly placed the plates on the ground, lazily lifting an arm to flick his fingers in a beckon. "Ok. C'mere."
Sam pressed his lips tight to stop himself from giggling. "Wait, truce." He took half a step back, raising a hand.
"You don't get to call a truce--" Bucky had already grabbed Sam's wrist in a playfully loose grip, tight enough that Sam couldn't pull free without a little effort. Effort that Sam had no intention of making. In one swift movement, Bucky stepped forward, ducked under Sam's arm and lifted Sam's muscular frame up over his shoulder.
Sam was upright one second and hanging upside down the next, since Bucky had grabbed low on his hips around his legs. One of Bucky's hands held the back of his knee, the other gave that same double pat to his ass.
"Buck! Fuckin'--" he acted annoyed but goddamn it, he was blushing. He hoped he could blame the heat in his face on the blood rushing to his head.
As Bucky walked them through the house, Cass and AJ started laughing joyfully. "Bucky! Bucky! Are you and Uncle Sam playing wrestling?"
"Sure are! Where should I throw him?" Hearing his cheerful voice with the boys just made Sam's face warmer. He's not even trying to wriggle out of his hold, putting up the most meager of resistance.
"Over there!"
The betrayal from his nephews was overshadowed by Bucky's strong hands shifting their grip, getting ready to throw him.
A mild panic shot through Sam, knocking him out of his fluster. "Ok hold up--" too late. Bucky flung him off his shoulder, he was airborne for a good second before landing and bouncing on the couch, flat on his back. He braced himself to avoid bouncing off the couch, clamping his hands down on either side of him.
Cass and AJ were cheering but it was muffled, like it were underwater as Sam looked up at Bucky. Standing over him with his lips slightly parted, barely noticing the two boys pulling at him, asking for a turn. His eyes casually dragged down Sam's body until Bucky turned and gave all his attention to the boys, picking AJ up and tossing him low and gently beside Sam.
Sam sat up and made room for Bucky to toss Cass in the space, the boys giggled with delight the whole time. Sam needed to take a walk.
"What do ya' think?"
Sam spoke to the presence behind him as he heard Bucky approaching. The rhythm of his stride something Sam was attuned to at this point. Bucky walked up beside him, examining the brightly decorated cake. It was Cass's birthday tomorrow and Sam was on cake duty. Usually not a problem, but Cass has been spending too much time on Tiktok and wanted a themed cake. Sam is determined and stubborn enough to make it work, despite never doing anything like it before.
Bucky clapped a hand on his shoulder, sliding it over Sam's shoulder blade oh so casually. "You're a modern day artist."
"Not bad right?" Sam gave him half a glance, not taking his attention off his creation. Bucky was being sarcastic since he didn't understand the references but Sam was genuinely proud that it looked good. It was his first time decorating a cake that wasn't just slapping on icing and sprinkles. He thinks he stuck to the Minecraft and Lego theme pretty solidly. Sam picked up one of the little Lego men he bought specifically for the cake and moved it to a different spot on the cake. Bucky side eyed him.
"Careful. Or you're gonna keep perfecting it until you hate it." Bucky said knowingly.
Sam waved him off flippantly. "I'm just fixing the ugly bits." He grabbed a knife and iced over "Cass" and rewrote it in the glittery black icing. Better the second time.
Bucky was looking from Sam, to the cake with tired, narrowed eyes. "You're nitpicking. You never know when to stop."
Sam scoffed out a chuckle, picking up the icing bag filled with yellow buttercream. "Oh don't I?" Knowing he was proving his point with every passing second.
"No." Bucky deadpanned. "Literally never. You have to fix everything. Even if it's not broken" Bucky was essentially leaning over Sam's shoulder as he voiced his opinions.
"Ya' got something to say Barnes?" Sam brandished the piping bag between their chins like a dagger. "You're in buttercream radius."
Bucky raised his hands in surrender "Mercy." The look in Bucky's eye was dangerous, sharp and playful, the tone of his voice even more so.
Sam bit back a smile he knew he couldn't control.
"I do not have to fix everything." He tried to keep the defensiveness out of his voice and turned his face back to the cake, his eyes zeroing in on all the things he could have done better. "Can't a guy have some preferences?"
Bucky sighed, leaning a hand on the counter cluttered with bowls half filled with variously coloured icing. "Well when someone like you who's used to being good at everything. Having everything under control. Ya' can't handle not being perfect."
Sam gave him a pointed side-eye. "You make me sound like a brat."
"You are a brat." He barely flinched when Sam jabbed him with the piping bag, leaving a glob of yellow icing on the side of his nose. He grinned wiping his nose with his thumb. "You're good at everything because you work at it. But you can't allow yourself to just be okay at something. You've gotta be an expert." He summarised Sam like it was tiring just talking about his traits. Traits that Sam couldn't tell Bucky found annoying or endearing.
Sam returned his attention to the cake, which definitely needed a row of buttercream swirls on the base. "You sure have a lot of critiques."
"You could learn to relax."
That made him drop his hands to the counter. "Oh I know the Winter Soldier is not telling me to relax." The smile on his lips was met with a lazily smug grin in return. "You analyse everyone you meet, you memorise an exit for every building you enter, you can pinpoint blind spots in security cameras." He rolled his wrist in a "shall I go on?" gesture.
Bucky shrugged. "That's just being prepared. Totally different."
"Oh I'm sure. Totally different." Sam mocked. He took another glance at the cake and adjusted the piping bag in his hands, twisting the end, seeing a part that he could fill in. Tidy up a little.
"Sam. Okay--" Bucky stepped forward and put his hands on Sam's hips, pulling him backwards away from the counter and the cake. Sam's back was gently welcomed by Bucky's chest, a stubbled chin over his shoulder, lips by his ear. "It looks great. He's gonna love it. You're done." Hands settled firmer on his hips, then that same pat, just on one side, the other hand sliding up, such a minimal distance, Sam likely only noticed because it's his skin that's tingling under the touch.
And then it was over. Bucky pushed himself away, stuck his finger in the cake batter bowl and hummed happily at the taste.
Sam remembered breathing is helpful. "Fine." He muttered, opening the piping bag and removing the plastic wrapped roll of icing from inside. "You wanna clean this up too?" He didn't know what to do with the leftover icing and if he left it out, Cass and AJ would be complaining about stomach aches later. He pointed Bucky towards the chunks of cake cut-offs and Bucky made a face like it was the only option.
"Can't let the boys have it right?" Like he read Sam's mind. Completely at home in Delacroix, well aware of how Sarah and Sam raise the boys. He took the icing bag and went to work.
Sam put the cake in the fridge, returning to the counter and accepting the chunk of cake smothered in icing, gently pinched between metal fingers.
"Tastes better than it looks."
"Oh fuck you."
Sam had been feeling things out. By this point he'd accepted there was an attraction. If he's being honest with himself, he realised that about a year ago but Sam's gonna take that one to his grave. He didn't wanna go firing on all cylinders, showing Bucky his peak game performance. How he acts when he's trying to date someone. But he also didn't want to imply he wasn't interested. Keeping a healthy middle ground here.
There was stuff to consider. The main one being if whatever this was between them could even work in the long run. Sam's not looking for anything casual, especially not with Bucky. If he's putting in the effort to break through his boundaries and get that close to him, he's going the whole nine yards. Either they stay platonic, or they get married and die old together. Those are the two options.
They were finally making visible progress on the boat. The parts Sam ordered came in and Bucky was installing them. Sam could do the plumbing, metalwork and the electrics but he knew basically nothing about engines. Not big ones anyway. Never needed to. Good for Sam that a mechanic followed him home one day.
The mechanic in question was growing his hair out again. It had gotten to a length where he needed to swoop it back over this head to keep it from flopping over his eyes. Something Bucky had to keep doing as he leaned over the engine, metal arm elbow deep in the thing.
Sam was leaning on a low angle, elbow propped up on one of the metal brackets holding the engine where it was. "Want me to get you a hat?"
"Huh?" Bucky's mind was set on his task, half turning his head to the sound of Sam's voice. Sam felt the urge to rake his fingers through his hair to sweep it back for him. He didn't.
Sam nodded to him, eyes on his hair. "Not long enough for a ponytail yet. So a hat is all I can offer."
Bucky removed his arm from the engine, shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, covered in grease, a shimmer of sweat on his brow. Sam pretended not to notice all of it. Bucky sat back, a hand on his thigh. "Actually yeah, thanks."
Sam pushed himself to his feet and went to the bag he'd brought out from inside. It had water, some snacks, sunscreen for Bucky's pale ass and a baseball cap. He pulled it out and handed it to Bucky, who took it gratefully, immediately swooping his hair back one final time and trapped his hair underneath the cap.
Bucky made quick work of it after Sam fixed the minor problem for him. Sam sat there and watched him. He didn't even bother hiding his staring. Bucky was focused. Too focused to notice Sam's eyes tracing down Bucky's biceps, the muscles on his back visible even through his shirt. Sam found himself unconsciously clenching his fists, cracking his knuckles as his eyes dragged down his body.
It was hard to deny that Sam is whipped. He's pretty sure if Bucky told him to go make him a sandwich right now, he would do it. Any bitching would be purely for show, just to rile Bucky up. The man had become not just the star but the sole inhabitant of his dreams. He can't escape that face, or the thought of his hands on Sam's skin, even when he's unconscious.
He waits for Bucky to touch him. He positions himself in spaces around Bucky where he knows he'll reach out, close the gap. Sam orchestrates moments for the two of them and he's always rewarded with those hands finding their way to some part of Sam's body. It's never anything more than a lingering hand. Always played off as a casual thing between good friends. Forgotten about as soon as the moment is gone. But Sam's become accustomed to it.
Removing his arm from the engine, Bucky sat back for the final time, letting out a huff of relief. "There." He smiled to himself, wiping his hands off on a rag that was more grease than rag. "Just gonna clean it and then maybe we can finally see this thing move."
Sam grimaced at the suggestion. He had about eight bottles of grease and rust remover and he's certain that wasn't going to be enough to clean the build up of about fifteen years of grease and dirt and grease-caked dirt. It was the most daunting task hanging over them in Sam's opinion. Probably due to the tedious nature. Bucky on the other hand, wasn't bothered by the task. He kind of thrived doing one thing for hours. He said it relaxed him and helped him think. Who was Sam to bitch about Bucky getting to think clearly and not support that completely.
"Something for another day. C'mon, I owe you drinks for wrestling that monster." That ancient engine had been one of the major hurdles for them to overcome on the renovations. Thankfully he had an ancient man who knew how to fix it.
"Mind if I steal the shower first? I can feel the joints in this thing getting tacky." He rolled his metal wrist, making a face at the unnatural clicking noise.
Sam glared at him warningly, raising a pointed finger to his left arm. "If you put that thing in the dishwasher again, I will tie your ankles to my car and drive it into the river."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's not as gross as you make it sound."
"It's pretty gross Barnes." Sam said sharply, his eyes staying trained on Bucky as he turned to walk away. "And don't pretend you even understand how a dishwasher works."
Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, Bucky clutched at his own chest. "Ouch. I'm Barnes today huh? I thought I was your engine fixing hero." The way his voice so easily turned sultry to Sam's ears needed to be studied.
"You're a man of many talents." Sam could feel a moment arriving. He stopped in his tracks, waiting for Bucky to catch up. A single step beside him, joined with a hand sliding over the middle of Sam's back. Sam loved that he could predict it. Not so mysterious now, are you Bucky.
"I don't suppose one of those talents includes the replacing the awning that you've been pointedly ignoring." Firm, gentle hand pushing Sam through the doorway to the deck of the boat first, fingers sliding down to his lower back in a feather light touch once they were on the other side.
Sam's thoughts were moving in bullet time. He could play it off like always. Keep his eyes forward, act like Bucky isn't sending waves of shivers down to his toes.
Sam wants him. Plain and simple. He could probably stay in this comfortable dynamic for a while longer but he also wanted Bucky's hands on him all the time and he knew that feeling wasn't going away. Sooner or later his pining would turn to yearning and Sam outright refuses to let himself stoop to that level. His body made the choice without much thought from Sam's brain.
Instead of letting the moment roll into the next. Instead of letting it brush off into obscurity, casually letting it exist, as if it was nothing worth mentioning. He looked at Bucky. Sam tilted his head back to meet his eyes while Bucky's hand slid over Sam's lower back, faces a few inches apart. "Are you offering?"
Bucky's eyes fell on Sam's and for just a few seconds, a soft look of yearning flashed over the blue, lips parting to take a sudden breath. Right when Sam's eyes unconsciously drifted down his face, to his lips. The look drained from his face, overwhelmed, Bucky freezing in place, his fingers twitching on Sam's back. He blinked, retracting his hand and turned his head. All perfectly casual. The whole moment lasted no longer than eight seconds but boy, was Sam feeling those eight seconds long after Bucky's hand left his back.
"Well if you aren't gonna do it, I may as well." He half murmured, his mind elsewhere. And that was it. Leaving Sam wondering what the hell just happened. He didn't say anything else until he was out of the shower, and that was just to inform Sam that they were running low on shampoo, offering to go pick up more.
He started doing a lot of things that got him out of the house. Offering to drive, to pick something up, to deliver. Suddenly staying put wasn't an option.
Sam felt a tightness in his chest. He's brought attention to it now. It's no longer a series of aimless, absent minded actions. Something to be played off, nothing more than idle fancy. Now it's had a light shined on it. Open for scrutiny. For direct analysis. Something they might need to talk about. Sam couldn't help but feel like he'd ruined something.
Bucky stopped touching him.
It was so glaringly obvious now it was gone. Sam would anticipate it. A preemptive shiver up his spine when Bucky walked close, the absence of contact hanging heavily between them. The worst part was that Bucky would go to do it. Sam would see his hand raise in his peripherals, then it would still and drop back to his side. Or suddenly find something else to pick up or play with. And it left Sam aching.
His lower back twinged with discomfort at the denial of warmth from Bucky's palm when the man was close enough to touch him. Rolling his shoulders was the only way to try and dismiss the longing in his core. Shake away the nerves that yearned for contact.
Bucky didn't act any different beside from that, but there were moments that were jarring now. When there should have been a soft, familiar touch but it was restrained, replaced with something forced, unnatural. Sam tried to think about literally anything else.
Sam fidgeted at the dinner table, picking at his thumb nail. Bucky was in the yard playing catch with Cass. AJ was next to Sam, drawing.
"Uncle Sam?" AJ's light voice was aimed at his book, not raising his head.
"Yeah buddy?" Automatically responding to his nephews voice though his mind was somewhere else.
He kept drawing. "When are we buying Bucky a bed?"
Sam stilled, pausing his fidgeting and slowly raised his head towards his nephew. "One more time bud?"
AJ was very focused on colouring in the wolf he had drawn. "The couch smells like him now."
Sam let a fond smile slip onto his face. "Is that a bad thing?"
AJ grimaced "Smells like Bucky..." That was a suitable answer in AJ's mind. Sam held back a laugh. Bucky's far more hygienic than he used to be but he does sometimes forget. His mind gets away from him, he gets distracted, loses track of time...and days. Sam doesn't blame him.
It was a little hard to explain to the kids though.
AJ's innocent question raised quite a few good points. Bucky's been here for over a week straight with no hard plans to leave. So much for separate holidays and never seeing each other again. There's just always another reason to stay a little longer. Moving the checkpoint a little further every passing day.
"When's he movin' in?"
Sam did laugh at that, just a short chuckle, shaking his head. "He's not moving in AJ."
For the first time, AJ's head snapped up, big eyes staring pleadingly at Sam. "What?! Why? What happened?"
Sam raised his hands placating. "Nothing happened--"
AJ was basically standing in his chair, his hands planted on the table. "Did you have a fight?"
"AJ." Sam nodded for him to sit down. "He was never moving in. It was always temporary." He waited until AJ was seated again before huffing, his hand flopping into the table. "Why'd you think he was?"
AJ pouted, shrugging. "My friends mom has a boyfriend who started sleeping over and now he's there all the time. He buys them pokemon cards."
Oh of course. He's at that age where he's gonna start questioning his friends family dynamics being different form his. Then trying to find similarities wherever he can.
Sam scooted his chair closer to AJ's. "Bucky isn't your mom's boyfriend."
AJ looked a little confused. "Is he yours?"
Sam resisted a more honest reaction to that question, staying unbothered instead. "No, he's not."
He looked even more confused. "Then why's he here so much?" AJ was getting frustrated. He wasn't getting the answers that lined up with his questions.
Sam reached out and patted his hand. "Because. Bucky needed a place to stay for a while. Complicated adult stuff. Now it's just nice having him around, dontcha think?." he watched AJ's face to see if that quelled his concerns.
"Why did he need a place to stay?"
Sam considered a PG friendly version of Bucky's life story but decided against it. "I'll tell you when you're older."
AJ groaned loudly and Sam, poked his shoulder. "Hey, None of that. Quit your wailing." He did not quit his wailing.
It was getting late. Sarah had gone to bed hours ago, leaving Sam and Bucky to take care of Cass and AJ. Now Sam was putting them to bed and was left to anticipate being alone with Bucky and their unresolved issues. Not that them being alone had been an issue since that little incident. They'd gone on acting like they used to before Bucky started getting touchy-feely. It was probably just Sam who was stuck on what he now realized he missed.
After the boys were asleep or pretending to be, Sam went back down to the front room. Bucky was on the couch, not ready for bed, just leaning back with a bottle in his hand. The TV was on but he wasn't watching it. His eyes fell somewhere in the air between the screen and him. When Sam entered the room, Bucky acknowledged him with a nod, raising his bottle and nodding his head to the side at another bottle sitting in the corner of the couch cushions beside him. "Welcome to join. I'm on my fourth, so you've got some catching up to do."
"It won't take me as long to get to where you're at." He walked over and sat on the next cushion over, picking up the bottle and holding it in Bucky's direction. Bucky didn't even look, he just pinched his metal hand over the cap and popped it off, tossing the cap to join the four on the coffee table.
Bucky can actually get drunk. It just takes a while and he's immune to hangovers because by morning, the serum's handled it. Sam's made a point to not get drunk around Bucky before. He absolutely would not control where his hands wandered.
He brought the bottle to his lips and paused. He didn't want to just sit here and ignore it. He didn't know if that's what Bucky wanted but Sam knew he didn't. What he wanted, was to sort this out. Clear the air if that's all that was necessary. Or maybe get some more insight into what's going on in that beautiful head of Bucky's.
Without much of a warning, besides the tension in the air, Sam leaned his elbows on his knees. "Aiight Buck. I'm gonna need you to sit there while I talk at you, okay?"
Bucky immediately got hit with a pang of nervousness, growing tense beside him but nodded. Everything about his body language said he knew what was coming. He stayed looking forward.
The ends of Sam's nerves sparked like fire crackers. Just looking at Bucky made every inch of him that Bucky's ever touched, twinge with want. He turned his head just enough to glance at Bucky out of the corner of his eyes. That handsome face taking on a familiar hint of a sullen expression. A deep sadness in his bones that never seemed to go away completely. A complacency that this is just how he is and he can't change it. It's all par for the course. He can be determined to heal one day and then wonder what's the point the next. It's all apart of the process.
Knowing all of this just made Sam unsure if he wanted to burden Bucky with his feelings. He has enough to deal with without having to think about Sam's crush on him.
But he's not gonna make that choice for him. Bucky deserves to have all the information so he can make decisions on his own. He can't do that if Sam keeps secrets.
Taking a breath, he put the bottle on the table in front of him. "I don't know where to start so let's skip to the part where I embarrass myself." He shifted in his seat, angling ever so slightly towards Bucky but still not facing him.
"Don't know when it happened but at some point I caught feelings." He just came right out with it. No point beating around the bush. He raised a hand just enough to flick it to the side dismissively. "No pressure. I'm a big boy..." Even if the rejection will send him running back to DC to escape his feelings, he'd rather know for sure. He's never been one to settle with unanswered questions. He's stubborn like that.
"I thought maybe that you--" felt the same. The words didn't make it out of his throat. Sam thumped his palm against thigh while he thought of what to say next. "I don't know if you were just being playful and I misread it, so you backed off--"
"No--" Bucky basically bolted up, wide eyes going through all five stages of grief since the moment Sam confessed his feelings. His hearts hammering was visible in his pulse on his neck. He had fully turned to face Sam, one leg folded in front of him on the couch. "Sam, I swear-- I wasn't messing with you, or anything like that." His shoulders heaved with a sigh. "I'm not here to play with your feelings."
"I didn't think you were." Sam was looking at him now, elbows still indenting his thighs, head tilted to see Bucky's face contorted in worry. "I figured the worst of it was a miscommunication." He'd never assume Bucky would be cruel. It's not who he is. That gentle man, forced to fight, to hurt. Bucky was allowing himself to be vulnerable again. Just in front of Sam. Only ever in front of Sam. How could he not give that his complete and utter attention?
"Yeah.." Bucky agreed. Inhaling and gripping at both his knees. Bucky seemed to be bracing himself before he spoke. When he did speak it was a lot softer than Sam was expecting. "I gotta be honest Sammy. A part of me still thinks it can't...want things." His eyes were on the air between them, not focused on anything in particular. It helped him think.
"The second I consider wanting something, my brain-- dismisses it...as something not important." He swallowed hard. "Not a priority." Leftover programming making itself known. The Wakandan's could remove the activation words but not the decades of personal and social conditioning. Bucky had to get past that on his own.
His hands moved to his lap, right hand thumbing the grooves on the left. "And I don't always fight it because I... because I'm used to it." He furrowed his brow. "I'm not making excuses. You deserve to be upset."
Sam sighed, shifting in his seat again, turning just a little more. "I'm not upset Buck.." he wasn't just saying that to comfort him, he tried to make it clear that he meant it with the tone of his voice. "Just the not knowing part was eating me alive or whatever."
Sam isn't an anxious person. He's proactive to a fault. He doesn't let himself relax enough to potentially feel it. He's always been a 'just do it' type of guy. Never one to dwell and wait. Something about Bucky sure makes him feel something close to it though. "Look, I've spent basically the past forty eight hours, purely just trying to figure out if we could work, hypothetically." He forced himself to stop fidgeting, letting his hands hang between his legs. "I'm not trying to get us on the cover of one of those trashy celebrity magazines. I just...wanted to know if it was possible."
A hesitant hand reached forward but pulled back instantly, falling into his lap. "...I care about you Sam." Something about the look on Sam's face made Bucky let out a chuckle that felt warm and genuine. "Yeah I get it, it feels so damn obvious saying it out loud. Of course I do. No matter what fractured orders the corners of my brain try to feed me."
Bucky was staring at Sam's hands. "I was kinda doing the same thing." He admitted. "Testing the water. I sorta started...treating you like we were already together. To see how it felt." He hung his head, painfully embarrassed in a very Bucky manner. Which meant he looked kind of angry. Cringing at his own behaviour in retrospect. "It was fun to skirt the edge y'know? To pretend, to imagine having...that with-- you." His face fell into something less angry, more shameful. "But then it--"
"Got real?" Sam finished for him and Bucky nodded ruefully.
"Yeah."
He went back to fiddling with the metal plates of his hand. "I had an opportunity to reach for something that I really wanted and I got scared." He spoke like he was confessing a sin, sitting up straighter, taking a deep breath to puff out his chest. Laying it bare for Sam. "I convinced myself I wasn't allowed to have...this. I'm still not sure I was wrong to think that way."
Sam scooted back on the couch cushions until he was leaning against the back of the couch. If this conversation was gonna go on for any longer, he may as well get comfortable. "What do ya' mean by...this... exactly?"
Bucky let his body lean to the side, his shoulder sinking into the back cushions. "A home. A--" he paused, hanging his head, lowering his voice like he was saying something illegal. "...family."
Sam had so much he wanted to say, but not anything he hasn't said before. He's been recycling advice with Bucky for months now. He only needs reminding every now and then.
Bucky's fists clenched loosely in his lap. "I know I can't keep going like this. I've gotta...try to be something else. Maybe I need to be somewhere else to do that."
Sam reached out at that. His hand closing over Bucky's fist. Bucky stared down at the hand. "Hey, as long as you keep helping out, you can stay as long as you want. I won't be heading back to DC for a while." He shifted his hand so he could run his hand over Bucky's knuckles. "So don't go running off. If there's no where else you gotta be, you're wanted here."
Bucky was damn near mesmerised just by Sam's hand on his. He'd stilled under the touch, like you do when a cat comes to sit on you and you know if you breathe wrong, they'll run away. He gave a tight lipped smile at Sam's words. "Are you sure Sarah would be okay with the permanent me-shaped indent on this thing?"
"Well." Sam started, rubbing his free palm down his own thigh. Thinking back to his conversation with AJ. "The couch is a...temporary guest thing. For people stayin' longer we-- usually sort something else out."
Bucky waited for an explanation. "Like...?" Bucky's eyes found Sam's and Sam's eyes were anywhere but.
Sam shrugged nonchalantly, leaning his head right back over the top of the couch, talking to the ceiling. "I'm just sayin'. There's other options."
Bucky looked at him, knowing full well that this is a three bedroom home and Sam is not implying he bunks with his nephews or his sister.
Sam huffed, fingers twitching on the back of Bucky's hand. "Ya' gonna make me say it?"
Bucky looked from their hands to Sam's face with a shrug. "Ya' gonna keep being coy?"
Lips curved upwards, Sam finally let his head tilt to the side, his eyes looking to meet Bucky's.
Bucky thinks he stopped breathing. All because Sam was looking at him through his eyelashes, lazy lidded, relaxed against the couch pillows. Sam watched Bucky's throat work, swallowing hard.
Bucky made a point. Why not be direct. It's what got him here after all.
"If there's something you want, you should go for it."
Sam's hand reached up, brushing his knuckles up Bucky's chest, curling his fingers loosely around the front of his shirt collar. The hint of a grip was more than enough for Bucky to follow like a dog on a leash, as Sam gently tugged him closer.
Sam kept his voice soft, yet with an air of command. "Is there something you want Bucky?"
The blue had all but disappeared behind his pupils as he inched forward.
"Yes."
Sam barely tilted his head up, Bucky taking the initiative to lean over him, hovering with their faces close before pressing their lips together like he couldn't wait any longer. A slow, savoring motion, eyes closing as their lips touched.
They parted, not opening their eyes, not leaning back, just staying in the moment, Bucky reached up to cup Sam's jaw, cautious and experimental. Sam wishes he could say his entire body didn't melt the second Bucky touched his face.
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Bucky leaned back in, sucking Sam's top lip between his own. Pressing their faces together, desperately trying to be closer than what was physically possible
Sam parted his lips at the eagerness and Bucky responded by deepening the kiss. His tongue flicking under Sam's top lip before diving into his waiting mouth. Sam sighed out his nose, reaching his hand that had been sitting at his side, threading his fingers through Bucky's hair, gently tugging the soft hair on the back of his head. Bucky shuddered, almost violently. A full body shiver that broke the kiss. Forehead to forehead, Bucky kept his eyes closed, Sam let his fingers graze down to his neck, then back up, spreading his fingers out over the back of his head. "Is this okay?" Sam asked after the second wave of shudders.
"God yes." Bucky was breathless, picking up where they left off, dipping his tongue past Sam's lips. Diving deeper when he dragged a moan out of the back of Sam's throat.
Bucky was pressing into him so fervently, Sam had started sliding back. He leaned into it, angling himself so soon, he was on his back, pulling Bucky down with him. Bucky wasting no time climbing on top. He put a knee between Sam's legs, staying as close as he could, chasing Sam's lips on the way down.
Bucky's hands were hovering over Sam's body, like he wasn't allowed to touch him too much. Either planted on the couch or touching him for a second but denying himself anything that lingered. Sam put that to rest real fast, grabbing Bucky's wrist, sliding his hand over the back of Bucky's to guide him, and planted that hand in the middle of Sam's chest as they kissed. He tightened his hold, slowly dragging Bucky's hand down his chest, his abdomen, keeping a firm pressure, making sure Bucky felt Sam's body reacting to the touch. He guided him to the waistband of his pants, then lead the hand to the side to settle on his waist. He gave a final squeeze of encouragement for Bucky as his hand held his waist and Bucky took it from there.
Like he'd been invigorated, Bucky's hands swept between Sam and the couch cushions, sliding up his shirt, feeling all the muscles on his back as he arched away from the couch. Sam's lower back twitched when the two hands, one warm and one cold came into contact with it, a mildly confusing sensation but certainly not unwelcome.
Sam let his hand that wasn't in Bucky's hair, trace down his chest, making a trail with his fingertips over his waist before coming to a stop at his hip. Sam slid a finger into the belt loop of Bucky's jeans and tugged his hips down. Sam raised a knee between Bucky's thighs and god, the way Bucky ground down on him. Like he'd been waiting for the opportunity, hips rolling against Sam's thigh.
Bucky was breathing heavily against Sam, deep, hurried breaths through his nose as he got lost in the kiss. Sam knew it wasn't exertion, so the only other option besides from a panic attack, was that Bucky was trying to get his body under control. Breathe through the building pressure, tamp it down, resist sinking into the temptation.
Sam gently tugged Bucky's hair, making him tilt his head. The keen moan it pulled from him was gonna repeat in Sam's head all night. Sam guided Bucky's hips into another roll, tugging his hair again at the right moment to make Bucky gasp, another shudder rippling through him.
Bucky gulped, breaking the kiss and taking a semi desperate inhale through his mouth. "We should uh--" his eyes dragged over Sam's face and a flicker of indecision flashed over his eyes. Forcing himself to blink to break the spell Sam's eyes had on him, he cleared his throat. "I need to stop." Bucky slowly, reluctantly pushed himself away hips first, moving with a degree of discomfort until he was kneeling, sitting on his heels, tugging the crotch of his jeans for a hint of relief.
Sam's eyes followed the movement, biting back a grin, ignoring the twinge of excitement that spurred in his stomach. Sam sat up leaning back on his arms, their legs still interlocked. He looked Bucky up and down, taking in how flustered he was. Pale skin flushed. "Is making out like a couple of teenagers too much for you?" He said with a light chuckle. Bucky instinctively narrowed his eyes at the teasing before a tiny smile crept onto his lips.
"A little bit, yeah." He shrugged, rolling his shoulders and sitting back on the couch, taking another deep breath to calm himself down. "It's been a while, okay?"
"I get the feeling that's a giant understatement?" It's been a while for Sam, but he only means a year. Who knows how many decades it's been since Bucky wanted to touch someone.
A short, huff of a chuckle with no humour behind it. Bucky took a final deep breath to cool himself off after nearly coming undone over a bit of kissing and dry humping. "You have no idea."
Sam sat up properly, swinging his legs off the couch and sitting right beside Bucky. He bumped Bucky's thighs with his own to get his attention.
"Did you wanna go to bed?"
It was such a simple question but the implications between the words was what made Bucky's heart start hammering all over again. "Yeah."
Pushing himself up off the couch, Sam held his hand out to Bucky. He took it immediately, letting Sam pull him to his feet and Sam didn't let go of his hand until they were walking through the door to Sam's room. He grabbed a pair of soft shorts for Bucky to sleep in. Sam knew the man runs hot at night. Whenever Sam's up early enough to catch Bucky still asleep on the couch, his shirt is always off and the blankets have been kicked to the floor.
Bucky changed and only thought twice about his attire when Sam put on a thin shirt and pants. "Uh, is this okay?"
Sam stared at him blankly. "Oh no, you being half naked in my bed sounds like a nightmare. Please don't do it." Monotonous and unblinking, his mocking ended by Bucky throwing his balled up shirt at Sam's face. Sam caught it and tossed it onto his desk chair. He bit his lip, face breaking into an endeared grin.
"Would it make you feel better if I took my shirt off too?"
Bucky's jaw tightened. He spent a few seconds on his answer. Not subtley staring at Sam's pecs. "Nah you should probably leave it on." His voice ever so slightly strained.
Pulling back the covers and getting in, Sam smiled to himself. "Yes Sir."
Bucky gave him a pointed glare as he pulled the covers back, Sam grinning at him, already laying against the pillow. Bucky climbed in, immediately overwhelmed by Sam's scent surrounding him.
Sam reached over to turn the bedside lamp off, craning his neck back to see Bucky. "You settled?"
Bucky didn't have to reply for Sam to know the answer to that. Warmth pooled in his chest seeing Bucky tucked under his covers. Bucky nodded with a small yeah and Sam turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. When he tucked himself back in, he shuffled closer to Bucky. Not too much but enough that their skin brushed as Sam settled back in.
Barely five seconds of being in the dark, Bucky leaned over and kissed him. Like he was double checking nothing had changed in the time it took them to climb the stairs and get into bed. Using his hand to slide up Sam's chest, to his neck, finding his chin so he could guess when his lips were. Sam pulled him closer, holding the kiss, breathing him in.
Bucky pulled back, only to kiss him again, soft and short. Separating to lean in again, over and over, a pepper of kisses that made Sam smile at the sweetness of it all.
Bucky pulled back for good and lay his head on Sam's chest, letting out a sigh more content than anything Sam had ever heard from the man. His body truly just melting, sliding a hand over Sam's waist, Sam's hand in his hair.
It wasn't long before they were both asleep. In the morning, they were in basically the same position. The only difference was how Bucky had tucked himself even closer if that were possible. His hand having crept under Sam's shirt during the night.
Sam blinked his eyes open, warm and comfortable, he reached up to pet Bucky's head, lazily scratching his scalp. Maybe Sam was still half asleep but Bucky's groan sounded more like a purr.
"Sleep well?" Sam kept scratching his scalp, combing Bucky's hair off his forehead with his fingers.
He took a second to respond, favoring nuzzling Sam's pecs. "I didn't dream." Bucky sounded mildly shocked, slowly moving his hand over Sam's waist, tracing the warm skin. "I can't remember the last time I didn't dream."
Sam knew that "dream" was an umbrella term that included his horrible nightmares. As well as his confusing dreams that were always on the border of unsettling, if not outright strange.
"Is that a yes?" He tilted his head, looking down at the top of Bucky's head. Bucky sighed, pushing himself up to lean over Sam, bringing them nose to nose. He leaned in and kissed him.
He pulled back just far enough to speak. "Yes. Better than I have in years." Morning voice all low and husky. Sam tried to ignore the way his face heat up.
"Well, good. Happy to help." Sam craned his neck to look at his alarm clock. It was later than he usually slept in. Meaning Sarah was probably already awake and noting that Sam's bedroom door is closed and Bucky did not sleep on the couch. He'd deal with her interrogation later.
Bucky hummed, putting two fingers to Sam's chin so he was facing Bucky, kissing him again. He subtly asserted himself, tucking a leg between Sam's and pressing Sam into the mattress, controlling how much Sam could move underneath him. He deepened the kiss and instantly had Sam sighing a moan into his mouth. Bucky swallowed it down, hands spreading over his waist, holding him against the bed. Slowly dragging his nose down Sam face, to his jaw, lips latching onto the soft skin of his neck and sucking down hard.
Sam gasped and jolted, hands snapping to Bucky's shoulders, pushing him back a little. When their eyes met, Sam was blushing and Bucky was smirking. "Sorry." He said innocently "Just double checking I remembered my old tricks." He whispered close to Sam's lips.
Sam's teeth clamped down on the inside of his lip, meeting the blue eyes like a challenge. "I'm more than happy to help jog your memory." He tilted his head like he was about to lean in and stopped, with a single finger raised between their lips. "When there are no children in the house." Sam said pointedly and Bucky nodded once.
"Noted." He rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms above his head, rolling out his half metal shoulder. He let his arm flop onto Sam's chest with no purpose, just for the contact. Sam smiled, gently picking up the hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing his knuckles. When he turned his head to look at Bucky, his blue eyes were so soft, almost glossy.
The feeling that overwhelms you after getting something you wanted so badly. There's as much relief as there is euphoria. Easing every muscle and calming the nerves. He could read it clearly on Bucky's face because Sam was feeling the exact same thing.
"You ready to spend all day cleaning grease stains off the boat?" Bucky smiled softly, getting wider when Sam groaned quietly in his throat.
"I shoulda' let Sarah sell it." He mocked pure dread that pulled the most beautiful giggle out of Bucky, closing his eyes to giggle more.
Bucky nodded his head to the side. "Then we're gonna have to add new grease to lube everything up." The engine, steering linkages, any electrical connections. All to prevent corrosion and water damage. Regardless of how necessary it was, Sam just wanted to get to the painting part. Then Cass and AJ could join in.
Sam groaned, adding everything to his mental list. "I get it. I'm gonna be sticky and slimy all day and not in a fun way."
Bucky hummed. "It could end in a fun way if you play your cards right." Bucky swung his legs out of bed and went to put on his same clothes from yesterday. Sam was smiling through his confusion.
"What does that even mean?" Sam was chuckling while he spoke. "Are ya' gonna jack me off if I clean the boat really good?"
Bucky laughed like a kid trying to laugh quietly in the back of the classroom, putting a fist over his mouth, breathing through his giggles.
If Sarah hadn't caught on already, then she definitely did after the times she came outside to the boat, bringing them drinks and snacks, and both Sam and Bucky had clear black grease hand prints, all over each others clothes.