It starts one night when Sam comes back home, and he hears muffled noises coming from the living room. He notices the halo of a light on the floor so he grabs his gun, holds it up and proceeds to walk slowly.
He carefully approaches the source of the noise, valuing all the possible ways out in case there is more than one person waiting for him.
He slams the door open, and he’s already about to yell at the intruder when he’s met by a perplexed and tired face.
“Take that thing off my face, Wilson” Bucky says with an annoyed voice.
It takes Sam a couple of seconds to realise what is going on, taking in the image before his eyes. Bucky is sprawled on the couch, shoes kicked off, his metal arm swaying from the arm-rest, the other hand grabbing at the remote. He has a confused face, and Sam would really like to ask what the hell is he confused about.
“I-“ Sam stutters. “I can’t do this tonight, man” he exhales, while putting his gun back on his belt. “What does this mean?” he asks, still trying to hide his bafflement.
“You left the window open” Bucky replies, as if this answers the fact that he’s lying on Sam’s couch, uninvited, at two in the morning.
After saying so, he turns his eyes back to the tv. He’s watching a documentary on hummingbirds, Sam realises at that moment.
“Did you know hummingbirds eat spiders? You might want to warn that Queens kid” Bucky snorts at his own joke.
Sam looks at the tv screen, where flocks of colorful birds are flying in clear skies. “Barnes” he tries. “What the hell is going on.”
“I think it’s because it’s winter time, so they are migrating to warmer parts of the world-“
Sam sighs loudly. “You know what, forget it.”
He turns around, turning his back to the other man. “It’s two in the morning and I’m fucking tired. I’m going to bed.”
Then, before he steps out of the room he adds: “I’d tell you to make yourself at home but you clearly already did.”
“I just wanted to pay you a visit” Bucky interrupts him.
Sam shakes his head as he tries to stay calm. “And I really appreciate it,” he confesses. “But it’s two in the morning, I repeat, and you barged through the window-”
Bucky opens his mouth in outrage. “I didn’t barge! I told you, the window was open-“
“That’s not an excuse!” Sam claps back.
“I can’t sleep, okay?!” Bucky says with a slightly creaked voice. “I just- I can’t sleep. I’m trying, but it’s more difficult lately and I don’t know why.”
He sounds in pain, and Sam would expect him to look down, maybe worry at his lip, but Bucky doesn’t. He keeps his head up, staring into Sam’s eyes, his jaw set, not even slightly clenching.
It ends up making Sam uncomfortable, and he hides his bother by rolling his eyes. “It’s okay, man” he settles for eventually. “You can stay here for the night.”
“Thanks” Bucky claps back immediately, not even trying to sound grateful.
It makes Sam almost laugh, the way this man is so straightforward. “Okay, now I really need to sleep” he repeats, mostly because Bucky doesn’t seem to be intentioned to look away, and Sam is not in the mood for a staring contest.
“You should try sleeping too” he adds, and doesn’t wait for Bucky’s answer, he just heads out of the room, before Bucky’s eyes can lay on him another time.
*
The morning after Bucky is nowhere to be found, so Sam assumes he left early. He gets his breakfast on the go, heading to spend the day at his sister’s place, helping her run errands and spend some time with the kids.
It’s always nice to go to Delacroix, where he can pretend there isn’t a single thing to worry about, and just enjoy the country life with the only family he has left. He helps Cass and AJ with their homework, fixes what’s broken around the house, sorts the mail and updates Sarah on how his life is going.
“It’s going great” he says. Except that it’s not, but she doesn’t need to know. When it starts to get dark he says goodbye and heads back home, feeling somewhat less distressed, even though not exactly relaxed.
He’s getting ready to go to bed when he hears a loud noise coming from the living room, and he knows what’s going on before he even gets there.
“What are you doing here?” he asks with an exhausted tone when he sees Bucky standing in the middle of the room. He’s still wearing his combat gear, heavy boots leaving muddy footprints over Sam’s carpet.
“You left the window open” he says, repeating the same wack excuse of the night before, and Sam huffs.
“The open window is not an invitation for you to come in” he replies harshly, and hurt flashes through Bucky’s eyes, but it’s only a moment, gone before he can pin it.
“Can’t I say hi?” Bucky keeps on dodging the question, and Sam snorts again, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. Bucky’s eyes run to his flexing muscles, and Sam suddenly remembers he’s shirtless, considering he was heading to bed a moment before. He’s quietly pleased by Bucky accidentally checking him out, but the other man immediately diverts his eyes, acting unbothered.
They both remain silent, Bucky’s fake question hanging between them, and Bucky very deliberately keeps staring at him, and Sam knows he’s forcing himself not to glance over his still crossed arms.
“It’s like last night, right?” Sam breaks the silence at last, knowing Bucky will never admit of needing someone else’s help.
For another long moment Bucky stares at him wordlessly, narrowing his eyes, probably looking for mock in Sam’s face. Then he most likely doesn’t find it, because he says “yes” so clear and not hesitant and it almost sounds robotic.
The staring moment stretches on, both of them standing in the middle of the room, Bucky fully covered from head to toe, Sam only wearing light pyjama pants, and he suddenly feels underdressed.
Can I stay for the night? Bucky doesn’t ask. Yes Sam doesn’t reply, yet they both understand each other.
“I’m taking the couch” Bucky says indeed.
Sam nods. “Go ahead.”
That night he struggles to fall asleep, but at least he knows he’s not the only one.
*
The third night it happens, Sam is prepared. He’s doing the dishes, having had dinner late at night what with constant calls and inspections.
He hears noises coming from the living room and he immediately knows it’s deliberate: he’s sure that if Bucky didn’t want to be heard, he could actually manage to move in in his apartment without Sam ever finding out.
“That couch has to be my best investment, since it seems like you can’t stay away from it” he says jokingly once he gets to the living room, meeting Bucky’s eyes.
“Hi Sam” Bucky greets. “How are you?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “What are you doing here again?”
Bucky looks strangely uncomfortable, aiming at the couch with his eyes, his face pale and his eyes wide. He points at the window behind him. “You left-“ he starts.
“Yeah, I know I left the window open” Sam interrupts him right away. He actually pondered the idea of closing it before leaving his house that morning. For a moment the thought of coming back home and finding Bucky there had bothered him. Then he realised that Bucky could get inside his house regardless of the state of the window, and Sam thought that closing it would actually sound like a statement, implying that Bucky wasn’t welcome anymore. And a part of him did want to make that statement, because they’re not friends, and it’s weird, but the image of Bucky seeing the closed window and feeling unwanted upset Sam more than he is willing to admit. So he indeed left the window open, and a part of him is regretting it now.
“I can go” Bucky replies. He stands up tall with pride, not even trying to gain some pity to convince Sam to let him stay.
Sam exhales loudly. “You know I got no real problem with it” he confesses. “Just sleep on my damn couch.”
Bucky doesn’t move from where he’s standing: he’s now eyeing at the couch like he’s going to incenerate it with his stare, but he still doesn’t approach it.
“What’s the matter?” Sam asks, suddenly feeling guilty of having been too mean. Perhaps Bucky doesn’t want to stay there anymore, now that he has proof that Sam doesn’t want him.
Bucky’s mouth twitches but it’s gone before it can be noticed. He’s scarily good at concealing his body language. It seems like there is something trying to push out of his chest, as if he really wants to say something, but can’t quite decide if it’s the right thing to say.
He shrugs frowning. “Nothing” he states, then he finally moves. He tentatively sits on the couch and brings his hands to his knees, before raising his head and looking at Sam.
His gaze is achingly piercing and Sam feels uncomfortable after a brief moment. He looks at his feet to avoid Bucky’s eyes, and when he looks at him again, Bucky is still staring.
“Well” he mutters. “Guess we’re good then.”
Bucky nods, still sitting straight on Sam’s couch.
“Good night” Sam says eventually, having no idea how else to carry the conversation on.
“Night” Bucky replies.
*
And so it goes the night after, and the one after that, and the other one too. It’s not a habit, Sam knows it. He’s learning not to take anything for granted with Bucky. He’s still moody, sometimes he disappears out of nowhere, he turns his phone off and doesn't say a word. Therefore Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show up in his living room anymore.
Yet he does show up.
Always uninvited, fully dressed, with a scowl that Sam doesn't even know what is caused by. For a couple of times he still blubbers that the window was open and that’s why he’s there, when Sam peers at him with a raised eyebrow. Then the joke gets outdated, and Bucky just nods at him when their eyes meet. He always asks for the couch, but Sam has a feeling he doesn't really sleep on it, since it always looks put together.
Bucky arrives late at night, around one or two in the morning, probably when he’s sure that he can’t sleep, and always leaves before Sam wakes up.
They say an amount of three sentences to each other.
“Hey man.”
“Hey.”
“There’s the couch.”
Sometimes it’s just two, since Bucky doesn’t even bother to say hi. It should annoy Sam, the way Bucky assumes he can stay for the night without even asking first, yet it weirdly doesn’t.
After all, Sam thinks, Bucky is not really bothering him in any way: he isn't obnoxious nor does he actually use his couch, so if he feels like spending the night in an empty living room can help him sleep, then who is Sam to deny him such a simple pleasure.
Plus, Sam knows how tiring insomnia can be. He went through that phase many times in his life, and he would have given anything to actually find a way to make it easier, like Bucky probably has.
They see each other during the day, sometimes. After some mission, or just to say hi. It’s Sam who actually reaches out, but sometimes Bucky does too, and Sam can see the effort of it: he still doesn't want to push. He knows there has been some progress, but their relationship is still so hard to define.
He avoids addressing Bucky in any way when he's not around because what should he say? My partner? My mate? Buddy? Certainly not friend.
It’s not like he doesn’t think they’re friends. He’s at the point of accepting the fact their bond has developed, but would he call Bucky to ask for advice? He would if he was in danger, he knows Bucky would come right away, but what if he just needed some company? Maybe go to the movies, grab a beer - not Bucky. He’s not the friendly type.
Their chats revolve around work related stuff only, combat skills, gear improvements, leads, suspects- sometimes Sam slips some joke in, but Bucky slightly snorts and that’s all, no room for a good laugh.
And he accepted it, some people are just like that, and he wouldn't want anyone to change just to accomodate his needs, so Sam goes on with his life and whatever he is given he takes, without asking for anything more.
Then one night Bucky shows up a little earlier, with Sam still watching tv sprawled on the couch, and he can see the exact moment in which Bucky gets in through the window, a swift movement, like a cat silent on his paws.
“Hey Buck” he greets yawning.
Bucky gives him some sort of a smile, just a fine line of his lips, standing tall by the window, looking around the room like he’s evaluating possible dangers. “Sorry, I’m early” he says.
“I’ve noticed” Sam claps back. They stare at each other for a moment, and when Bucky still doesn't resolve to say anything else, Sam turns back to the tv, pretending to be interested in the basketball play he was absently watching.
Bucky doesn't move from where he’s standing, nor does he turn to watch the screen: his eyes remain fixated on Sam, to the point of looking a little threatening.
“Man, the staring thing is getting kinda creepy” Sam comments without averting his eyes from the tv. To his delight he catches the tiniest jolt from Bucky.
“I’m sorry” Bucky says back, without any real guilt seeping through the tone of his voice.
At this point Sam looks up, meeting Bucky’s still pointed look, and he tries a smile. “You know you can sit down, right?” he encourages.
Bucky keeps his stare on him for a moment still, then he looks around confusedly, attempts at squatting and sitting on the floor.
“On the couch” Sam supplies before he actually sits down. “Next to me.” He fails to suppress a chuckle that he hopes doesn't come off as mean, it’s just that Bucky’s awkwardness is pretty funny.
Bucky lets out a small oh, before approaching the couch like it’s the last thing he’d like to do, and gingerly takes a seat, carefully leaving a huge gap between his and Sam’s thigh. Sam doesn’t comment.
They watch the play for a while, the voice of the commentator of the match the only sound filling the room. It is not supposed to be awkward, to be honest, they’re just two guys watching basketball, yet Sam can feel the silence heavy in his bones, Bucky’s presence so loud in its quietness.
“You cut your hair” he eventually decides to say, and can feel Bucky's eyes immediately setting on him.
“You sure have eyes like a falcon.”
The clap back makes Sam roll his eyes, as he tries to hide a laughter by clearing his voice. “I’m serious” he states.
Bucky raises one eyebrow. “I think it’s obvious that I cut my hair.”
It is obvious, and Sam has noticed it months ago, as soon as he met Bucky again: a change like that could not possibly go unnoticed. But he never had the chance to comment on it, not wanting to sound shallow while having to deal with terrorism attacks. But as they’re watching tv together, it seems like a pretty reasonable thing to chat about.
“I love how there is no difference between talking with you or the wall. Actually, I almost think I could get two words out of the concrete” Sam huffs, keeping his eyes on the tv, still pretending to be greatly invested in the game.
Bucky doesn’t really react to his teasing. Like Sam, he doesn’t avert his eyes from the object of his interest, and in this case it is Sam himself. Sam can feel Bucky’s stare on him, but there is no way he’ll voice his annoyance out loud.
“Why did you cut it?” he asks.
There is a moment of silence, then Bucky shrugs. “Kept gettin’ in my face” he replies.
Sam knows damn well that is not the real reason, but Bucky doesn’t even make it seem like he wants to elaborate any further, so he pretends to accept that answer.
“Yeah, I think the long hair didn’t suit you anymore” he says casually. “It gave you such a brooding look, man, while now you’re so lively and approachable.” He’s sure the mocking tone will reward him with a scowl from Bucky, but the man actually surprises him with a small chuckle.
“Shut up” he says in annoyance, but there is the hint of a smile playing on his lips.
It gets better after that: the joke seems to break the ever-present tension between the two of them, and Bucky sprawls a little on the couch, letting go of his usual stiff posture.
“So, how’s the game goin’?” Bucky asks, finally turning his look toward the tv instead of Sam, leaving him feeling somehow empty.
Sam stretches half-yawning. “I have no idea” he confesses. “I lost half of it because of your dramatic entrance.” He looks at Bucky in annoyance.
Bucky shakes his head hiding a chuckle. “Now who’s the dramatic one.”
They look at each other and lock eyes. It’s not exactly staring, Sam wouldn’t call it that way. He’s glad Bucky is being sassy, it means he doesn’t feel like he has to keep his guard up.
A player scores on the tv and their silence is broken by the bleachers cheering.
Bucky clears his throat. “I think it’s over” he points out.
Sam looks back at the screen. “Yep.” He looks at the time. “Wanna watch a movie?”
Bucky groans and hides his face with his hands. “I don’t know man.”
“Oh, come on!” Sam insists. “I got the perfect movie for you Barnes, I bet you’re gonna love it.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You said the same thing at Sarah’s place before making me watch Titanic.”
“And you loved it.”
“It was a traumatic experience.”
“I already apologised for that.”
Bucky chuckles loudly and Sam gloats at the sound. Whenever he succeeds in making the grumpiest man alive laugh he gives himself a high five.
Sam stands up. “I’ll play it then.”
Bucky leans back on the couch. “Fine, whatever.”
“It’s my house, I reckon” Sam notes while putting the DVD on. He turns around just in time to see Bucky shaking his head in disbelief.
“Oh, okay, fair enough.”
Sam sits down and makes a shit-eating grin. “Enjoy the show.”
Dirty Dancing starts playing. He doesn’t really love the movie that much. It was his mama’s favorite when he and Sarah were kids and it’s been a while since the last time he watched it. But nothing is funnier than forcing Bucky to watch old romcoms and seeing him get all flustered and uncomfortable.
Mid movie Bucky turns toward him, as Baby and Patrick Swayze are rolling all over the floor.
“I hate you Wilson” he says rolling his eyes.
“I love you too buddy” Sam claps back.
It’s fun. Although Sam didn’t want to admit it, it was getting lonely in the flat all by himself. He would have loved some company, and of course, Bucky is a little bit shy and reserved, but Sam knows what buttons to push and what to avoid.
It’s clear to him by now. Bucky never voiced it out loud, but Sam understood what bothered the other man. People are either scared of him, or they treat him like a fragile little boy. Bucky is none of that. Sure, he was hurt, he’s still suffering and still has things to figure out, but Sam wants to put all of that aside. He wants to scratch the surface of him and delve deeper.
Sam catches a glimpse of him as Bucky watches the screen, and he makes a private smile when he spots Bucky’s expression changing from worried to relieved when the couple gets their happy ending.
That night, when they go to sleep after the movie ends, Sam wanders around the kitchen and decides to take a peek at the living room as well. He feels a sharp ache to his chest when he spots Bucky sleeping on the floor, barely covered by a light sheet. Sam pretends it’s none of his business and goes back to his room.
*
When they get the call to action they’re together, so Bucky hops in the car in the seat next to him. Sam drives surely although he’s worried about what the issue might be.
He’d like to small talk just to keep his nerves at bay, but Bucky doesn’t seem in the mood.
“You see that big building there?” Sam asks pointing outside the window. It was a movie theatre many years before. Now it looks like no one stepped foot in it in ages.
Bucky follows with his eyes.
“I had my very first date with a girl there” Sam recounts. “I was fourteen and she was the daughter of a family friend. They lived here and my mama had to drive me all the way from Delacroix to meet with her” he laughs at the memory.
Bucky doesn’t reply. Sam doesn’t give up just yet.
“You never told me anything about your love conquests. How was your first lady?” Sam asks.
“She was nice” Bucky says.
“And?”
“And what?”
Sam snorts in annoyance. “Did you take her somewhere? Did you have to ask her father? Oh! Did you have to promise to marry her? I know it was a true commitment back in the day.”
Bucky shrugs. “I don’t remember that much about her. She was pretty. I told Steve to ask her out but he freaked out and she thought I was into her. So we dated.”
Sam laughs. Bucky looks at him and chuckles as well. “That’s pretty much it” he says.
“You’re really boring, Barnes. Steve couldn’t shut up about you being a heartthrob but I’m starting to think it was all bullshit” he shakes his head in disbelief, exaggerating a disappointment that isn’t really there.
Indeed Steve had told him stories. Loads of them. Always with that grim and nostalgic expression of his, talking about ladies giggling when Bucky passed by, wearing his uniform and sporting a cocky grin. There was never jealousy in Steve’s tone, not even a sting of annoyance: he sounded almost proud, saying: “I promise Sam, one time one of them almost swooned.”
It’s not that Sam doesn’t believe him. It is more than probable that Bucky would indeed make all girls get their panties in a twist, what with that smile and eyes, but the man sitting next to him now just looks like he would probably cry if someone gave him a hug.
Bucky scoffs, brings a hand to his chest pretending to get offended. “How dare you” he says. “I’d like to let you know it was an experience to see me in action: I was a real flirt back in the day.”
The remark makes Sam laugh. “A real flirt?” he asks. “Then I must be really unlucky since you seem like the farthest thing from flirty, man” he laughs again, and steals a glance at Bucky, who’s watching him.
He’s sitting more at ease now, like he’s really into the conversation, and Sam finds himself weirdly pleased at the thought. He takes his eyes back on the road, but looks to his side from time to time.
Bucky notices it, and he sprawls even more in his seat, stretching his arm over the window sill and he looks at Sam with a very much deliberate smirk.
“Am I getting it right, Wilson? You’re upset I’m not flirting with you?”
For a brief moment Bucky’s teasing tone startles him, even though Sam hates to admit it. But he’s not the type to blush, and there is no way he’s gonna let him see his words actually affect him.
“What, you think I’m that easy? You’ll never catch me beggin’ for it.”
He can’t resist to looking next to him. To his surprise, it is Bucky who actually blushes, crimson patches spreading high on his cheeks: he probably didn’t see it coming. He looks very flustered as he rolls his eyes, before trying to hide his face faking nonchalance, probably regretting having hair so short not to hide behind now.
Sam would like to tease him some more. It’s very uncommon to get such a reaction out of him, but they get to their destination in that moment, so their back and forth ends like that.
*
“Here you go” Sam puts a plate in front of Bucky and sits down.
Bucky grabs a slice of pizza. “I’m starving” he says.
They just came back home after the mission. They thwarted a terrorist attempt but it nonetheless resulted in a fire. Luckily, they didn’t report any fatality, but for a moment it seemed like the place would blow up. They were still debriefing with the police when Bucky tried to catch Sam’s eye and mouthed: “Should we go?”
And that’s how it ended with them at Sam’s place eating a cold pizza at two in the morning. Sam wasn’t expecting Bucky to follow him home, yet he didn’t even ask to be invited. Lately he’s acting like he lives there too. Sam doesn’t really know if he likes the idea or not.
He still sleeps on the sofa, but he does the dishes, sorts the laundry, buys groceries. He doesn’t even ask Sam where he keeps the clean sheets, he wanders around the house like he owns the place.
Sam can’t pretend he’s not amused.
He looks at Bucky eating and wonders if there was a time before the serum when this was the norm. When Bucky was just a guy, full of hopes and dreams.
“A penny for your thoughts” Bucky jokes. He’s in a good mood, Sam can tell. It probably has to do with their successful outcome.
“So why did you cut your hair?” Sam asks unprompted. Bucky immediately looks up, the slice of pizza he’s holding in his hand is on the verge of falling.
“Told ya. Kept getting in my face” he replies with no expression. A moment of silence follows his words.
“We both know that’s not true” Sam says. He attentively watches Bucky’s face, trying to find some emotion in the blank expression he puts on.
He doesn’t exactly want to push, but he feels like he earned to advance levels in their friendship. He’s had enough of yes or no answers and one liners. He stares at Bucky.
“I used to keep it short” Bucky ponders after a while. “Before.”
Sam doesn’t ask before what. He already knows. Before Hydra. Before the arm. Before the ice. Before the fall. Before. Before. Before. When he probably used to think there could be an after.
Somehow that’s enough: Bucky needed something to feel like himself again.
He tries to imagine it, Bucky cutting his own hair. Alone in a dimly lit bathroom, standing in front of a mirror while holding a big pair of scissors with his metal fingers. Maybe he cut it with his knife, Sam ponders, and the image of Bucky messily chopping his hair with a blade makes his chest tight with ache.
“I like it” he hears himself saying without even realising it. He asks himself if he really thinks so. He liked the long hair too, he thinks, and surprises himself by even having an opinion on Bucky’s hair.
Maybe it’s not that he liked it, he was just used to it: Bucky’s hair falling all over his eyes when he first saw him wearing that black face mask; Bucky’s hair plastered to his sweaty forehead while kept prisoner by him and Steve; Bucky’s hair combed behind his ears under that ridiculous baseball cap. He realises he has lots of thoughts concerning Bucky’s hair. There is a sudden disappointment in the realisation that he’s never going to be able to run his fingers through those long strands, but it’s over before he can even dwell on it.
Bucky makes a funny face, struck by Sam’s words, before tightening his lips in what should probably be a smile, but actually seems a contrite face. “Thanks” he mutters like he doesn’t care, but there is a subtle blush over his cheeks.
This hair makes him look younger, Sam thinks. He looks like he could be in his mid twenties, late at most, his blue eyes bright as the clearest skies. Sam diverts his look.
“We all need a change, sometimes” he comments. He kept his hair short his whole life, the beard a neat goatee since he started growing hairs on his chin: nothing in his appearance has ever really changed, and he likes it that way, because every couple of years he doesn’t recognise the person he was before, so at least his face will always be a safe sight.
“We do” Bucky nods as if they’re discussing some really important matter, and the fact he agrees with Sam will settle things for good.
“You eat that?” Sam asks pointing at a slice of pizza left in the box.
Bucky pushes the box toward him. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks buddy” Sam says. He would like to add something. He would like to say you’re safe with me here, but they’re not that close. So he eats in silence and lets Bucky stare at him while pretending not to notice.
*
So now they’re apparently roommates. Sam doesn’t remember when it was established. To be honest, he hadn’t even really realised.
It’s Sarah who asks: “So you live together now?” when Bucky answers the phone and says: “He just got out of the shower” before passing the phone to Sam.
“What? No. I mean, sort of? Did you need something?” Sam asks Sarah back. He’s flustered.
Sarah stays silent on the other side of the phone. Then she chuckles. “It’s sweet.”
Sam groans. “It’s not- Hey man, you can use the shower if you want” he tells Bucky, in the hopes he can leave the room and let him speak to his sister privately.
Bucky nods and follows his orders.
Sam waits for him to leave. “We- Sarah. We do not live together.”
“Okay, sure” Sarah says. “I just thought- I mean, he does spend the night like- every night.”
Sam snorts. “Well, yeah. We didn’t talk about it, okay? He sleeps on the sofa anyway.”
Sarah laughs. “Oh, okay. Poor guy.”
“What’d you expect me to do? Share the bed?”
“Why are you being so defensive? I’m not accusing you of anything, Sammy.”
“Don’t call me Sammy.”
Sarah laughs again. “I’m glad to hear you’re not alone.”
Sam stays silent. He hears the sound of the water running from the shower and smiles. “Yeah, I’m glad too. Did you need something?”
“I just called to say hi” Sarah says. “I heard about the fire and saw you on the news. I was expecting a call the past week but you never bother to call your sister.”
“I know, sorry, it’s just-“
“Well, now I know you’ve been busy with some better company” Sarah cuts him off.
Sam rolls his eyes but laughs. “Okay, my bad, you’re right.”
Sarah giggles. “I’ll leave you now. Come visit sometimes, the kids keep asking me about Uncle Bucky, so…”
“Unbelievable” Sam shakes his head. “I will. Bye, Sarah. Love you.”
“Love you too” Sarah says, before hanging up.
Sam puts the phone down. He should definitely visit more often. He sighs and in that moment Bucky comes back in the room.
“Is everything okay?” he asks with a worried face. His hair is still a bit wet from the shower. His face looks soft.
Sam nods as he sits on the couch. “Sarah. She heard about the fire.”
“Oh” Bucky says, joining him and sitting next to him. “She didn’t know?”
“She watched the news. But I forgot to ring her to let her know I was doing fine.”
“It did look bad on the news” Bucky points out.
“Really? I didn’t see it.”
Bucky shrugs. “I watched it while you were taking a shower when we got home that night.”
Sam laughs and Bucky frowns at the sound. “What?” he asks in a serious voice.
“Nothing” Sam replies. He finds it funny. This man who tried to kill him the very first time they met who is now taking showers in his house.
Bucky ignores him. He seems to think about something. “I think it’s nice that you have someone worrying about you.”
Sam looks at him but Bucky ignores his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but Sam knows what Bucky is implying: that no one worries about him.
“She said the kids miss you” he confesses.
Bucky flinches very subtly, but Sam notices it. He feels powerless. There is nothing he could say or do to make Bucky feel like someone cares about him. Sam thought he had by now made it clear. He let him sleepover night after night, they spend time together, they chat, they laugh. Yet there is something else, a wall he can’t demolish around Bucky. The funny thing is that Bucky built the wall. Should Sam run into it?
“I was quite surprised” Sam adds. “I mean, who would want to spend their time with a grumpy old man? But apparently they say you’re cool and fun.”
Bucky snorts. “Okay” he concedes.
“Yeah, can you believe it?” Sam goes on and Bucky tries to hide a smile. “They want Uncle Bucky. Back in my day uncles were supposed to be all about dirty jokes and pranks, now they let everyone be an uncle. Even bummed guys.”
Bucky laughs loudly, then he gets serious. “Why d’you keep saying so? I know how to have fun” he says.
“Yeah, okay” Sam claps back condescendingly, and he knows Bucky is annoyed by his tone, but there is something quite entertaining about him trying so hard to prove Sam wrong. “If your definition of having fun is moping your way to my couch every night then yeah, of course you know how to have fun” Sam mocks shrugging, still pleased by Bucky slowly getting offended.
“So what? You expect me to dance and sing here in front of you? There are places and moments to have fun that are appropriate” he replies pissed off, and even though Sam is on the verge of bursting out laughing at his outrage, he gives him a blank stare. “Yes” he says.
Bucky interrupts his rant and raises an eyebrow mildly confused. “Yes what?” he asks.
Sam represses the grin that is starting to make its way on his face. “Yes, I expect you to dance and sing here in front of me.”
The silence that follows his words is the funniest gig he has ever found himself in: Bucky is for the first time caught by surprise, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. “What?” he stutters again.
At this point Sam just gives him a smug smile, unable to hold it in any longer. “You think you’re fun? Then show me you’re fun. Put up a little karaoke show, perform for me.” He leans back on the couch, like he’s waiting for Bucky’s next move, which he actually is.
A series of emotions make their appearance on Bucky’s face, and Sam knows he’s silently cursing him, probably even in Russian, but this is too funny to let go, so he patiently waits for him to reply.
“Fine” Bucky finally says, pretending the situation doesn't bother him in the slightest. “You want a show? I’ll give you a show, Wilson.”
If his tone wasn’t so clearly that of a challenge, maybe his promise would give Sam something to think about, but Bucky looks like he’s on a mission, and his goal is now to prove Sam wrong. “What you want me to sing? You’re gonna love Ella Fitzgerald” he grins like he thinks he found a loophole, that there is no way Sam is going to enjoy him singing along jazz music.
“Oh no, you’re not playing any 40’s shit” Sam claps back immediately, still smiling extremely pleased. “I’ve got the perfect song for you” he says, and puts on some music with his phone without missing a beat.
He’s still expecting Bucky to back away, to confess that he has indeed gotten kinda boring. But even though Sam would love to hear Bucky admitting he was wrong, he’s sort of enjoying the idea of him making a fool of himself because of his stubbornness.
Bucky recognises the song by the first few notes, and his face completely falls. “No, you didn't” he murmurs rolling his eyes.
“Oh yeah, I absolutely did” Sam replies, showing his phone-screen where the soundtrack of Dirty Dancing is playing from. “You can always accept the fact you don't know how to have fun and we can move on” he concedes, and from painfully annoyed Bucky's face gets suddenly firm.
“No” he states with determination, and Sam scoffs entertained. “Turn that shit up” he orders and then, without missing a beat, he adds: “I’ve been meaning to tell you-”
His voice tries to accomodate the note, and Sam’s mouth falls open. “No way, I can’t believe you're doing this-“
“I’ve got this feeling that won’t subside.”
“Oh dear lord” Sam laughs and realises he actually wasn’t expecting it. He was sure Bucky was going to give up eventually.
“I look at you and I fantasise” Bucky sings. He’s not exactly off-key, even though it’s nothing special. He seems like a different person, all the tightness in his shoulders suddenly gone, replaced by a slack posture while he acts like he's performing on stage.
Sam laughs at his funny face, still in disbelief in front of what is happening.
“You’re mine tonight” Bucky keeps on singing, and Sam’s breath catches but it’s just because he did not expect that, he thinks.
Bucky looks at him, now he’s starting to laugh too, probably enjoying Sam’s sudden discomfort. “Now I’ve got you in my sights. With. These-” he stops singing for a fraction of a second, before bringing a hand to his chest like he’s acting. “Hungry eyes” he sings passionately.
He frowns like he’s really feeling the tune and keeps singing. “One look at you and I can’t disguise I’ve got-“ he looks at Sam again, a smile still playing on his lips. “Hungry eyes” he repeats.
Then he gets closer to the couch, where Sam is now cowering, almost intimidated by Bucky’s sudden cockiness.
“I feel the magic between you and I” Bucky sings, and he stretches one hand pointing at Sam and then at his own chest, still making a passionate face, and Sam knows it’s a song and he’s just acting like a fool but he feels kinda dizzy anyway.
“This is stupid” he comments. “You’re stupid.” He shakes his head and Bucky smirks and half laughs.
“Why? You’re the one who wanted the show” he reminds him. Then he grabs Sam’s hand as he sings: “I want to hold you so hear me out-“ forcing him to stand up.
“What the-“ Sam exclaims, and he’s actually following Bucky’s orders because he’s stronger than him, definitely not because he wants to.
Bucky pulls him by the hand. “I want to show you what love’s all about-”
They’re pretty close, too close, Sam thinks. And what the hell is Bucky talking about.
“Darlin’ tonight” Bucky sings, and this close Sam can really hear his voice over the song, and the way he drawls the world ‘darling’ with a Brooklyn accent.
“Now I’ve got you in my sights-” he repeats. “With. These- Hungry eyes.”
To his sudden surprise, Bucky makes him swirl, and Sam almost trips over his own feet.
“One look at you and I can’t disguise I’ve got-“
“Bucky-!” Sam yelps, holding onto Bucky’s arms, trying to keep his balance.
“Hungry eyes” Bucky doesn’t stop singing, he closes his eyes with that same dumb expression he put up the whole bit, like he’s actually performing on stage. “I feel the magic between you and I.”
Sam laughs at this point, pretends it’s because of Bucky’s little show, and not because of his own embarrassment. Having Bucky so close, crossing every subtle boundary about physical contact they have established through the last months, his rough voice sultry whispering in his ear.
Bucky keeps on singing, keeps on swirling Sam around, holding him close to his chest and then pushing him away before Sam can even fully process the moment of it.
“Now did I take you by surprise?” he sings, and Sam would like to say yes, yes you did, and it’s beautiful seeing Bucky like this, without a care in the world, just a young man enjoying himself, fooling around, living in the moment.
“I need you to see, this love was meant to be.”
Bucky has stopped singing, and the original singer’s voice fills the living room. Sam looks at him, and he finds him smiling softly, but he doesn't have the time to say anything, before Bucky makes him twirl again, as the refrain plays another time, and he laughs out loud, clear in the late night.
“You’re out of your mind” Sam comments when the song is over, and Bucky backs three steps away, suddenly aware of their previous closeness.
“Did I convince you?” he asks.
Sam frowns. “Of what?”
“That I know how to have fun” Bucky supplies with a smirk.
Sam genuinely laughs, even though for a moment he forgot Bucky was just trying to prove his point. “I don’t know man” he pretends to think about it. “You should probably sing another two or three songs first.”
Bucky laughs too, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get my revenge” he threatens.
“I’m waiting for it, baby” Sam claps back, the sweet word slipping out before he can stop himself. Bucky doesn't even seem to notice it.
“I think it’s late” he says instead. He looks down at his feet, makes his eyes wander around the room, over the couch, and then back at his feet again.
“Yeah” Sam mumbles, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips. “I think it is.”
Bucky looks up at that moment, and they stare at each other for an instant. “Alright then” Bucky clears his throat.
Sam knows it’s up to him to put an end to the night, since Bucky is going to sleep in that room, so he backs away nodding awkwardly. “Night man” he says.
“Night” Bucky replies.
*
When he’s in bed, Sam can’t fall asleep. He’s not at ease. He keeps tossing and grumbling and he can’t make up his mind on what the issue is. He’s not worried about anything in particular. Sure, he’s feeling kinda guilty about Sarah and the kids, and there are many other situations that he still can’t put a finger on. He’s nervous and the faint noise of someone breathing in the other room is somehow related to it.
This makes no sense, Sam thinks. Why would he be nervous about not being alone? Plus he’s used to having company by now. Bucky’s company. His stomach churns.
He thinks about Bucky singing in such a silly way and he fails to suppress a smile in the darkness of the room. He snorts in annoyance. What the hell is happening?
He doesn’t come to an answer because he startles and sits up when he notices a shadow in the feeble light of the entryway to his bedroom.
“Fuck man, you scared the shit out of me.”
Bucky hides a smile by turning away. “I’m sorry” he says. “You left the door open.”
Sam stays quiet and waits for him to go on, but Bucky doesn’t say anything else. He stands there and stares at him. Sam can’t really see his eyes in the darkness but it’s one of those moments where the conversation between him and Bucky doesn’t need to be voiced out loud for them both to get each other.
“You wanna-“ he offers. He doesn’t even know what exactly he’s offering, yet whatever it is Bucky seems to accept it.
He gets into the room and slowly vanishes in the darkness as he gets closer to the bed. He lies on the mattress next to Sam.
“Thanks” he says.
Sam doesn’t reply. He turns his back to Bucky and closes his eyes. His heart is racing for god knows why but he has the feeling he will finally fall asleep now.
He forces his body to relax, tries to shoo away whatever is worrying him at the moment. His heartbeat slows down and Sam yawns.
“Sam-?” Bucky calls. He doesn’t whisper, it’s more like a low tone.
Sam turns around. Now that he’s used to the dark, he’s able to trace some outlines. He’s met by Bucky’s eyes. They’re glowing, reflecting the tiniest bit of light that gets into the room. Sam looks at him in confusion, Bucky seems deeply scared, his pupils are wide and piercing.
“Buck-?” Sam tentatively calls back, and that seems to trigger something in the man by his side, because Bucky reaches out and kisses him.
Sam stays still for a moment, trying to articulate an explanation for what is happening. Then, because Bucky seems to be drawing away scared by the lack of participation, he reciprocates the kiss with plenty of zeal.
That eases something in Bucky’s posture: he stretches out with desperation and grabs Sam’s face to deepen the kiss. Sam moans under his touch, he pulls Bucky toward him clinging to his neck, and Bucky gets on top of him without ending the kiss.
Sam tries to formulate a coherent thought, he wonders how they went from barely saying a word to each other to this, to Bucky leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses along his neck.
He’s not complaining, obviously. But he asks himself, did he want this? Was this actually a fantasy he ever had?
Bucky rolls his hips on top of him and Sam arches his back, and he suddenly doesn’t care if he wanted all of this or if it’s unexpected. It doesn’t matter. What matters is Bucky lowering his and Sam’s pants down enough to get them both to feel each other, as they thrust and keep kissing.
Bucky parts for a moment as he spits in his own hand before taking them both and starts pulling and drawing back at their skin. Sam moans loudly. In any other situation he would be deeply ashamed of his desperate behaviour, but right now he’s willing to let Bucky do anything to him.
Bucky looks at him and his eyes are even wider now, and Sam realises it wasn’t fear before, it was lust. Bucky keeps thrusting, and with every movement the dog-tags he wears around his neck swing in front of Sam’s face. Sam arches up to kiss him, and as he does so Bucky whimpers and comes.
He shudders over Sam and the feeling of it makes Sam follow him and finish too.
Bucky lies on top of him for a moment, then he probably remembers he could crush Sam with his weight and rolls over.
They both lie there, eyes facing the ceiling. After a while, Bucky breaks the silence. “I needed that” he drawls.
“Yeah” Sam agrees, before letting out a chuckle. Bucky looks at him.
“What?” he asks.
Sam shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Another moment passes by.
“Night Wilson” Bucky says eventually.
“Night buddy.”
*
When Sam wakes up, the bed is empty. He slowly registers what happened the night before and he covers his face with his hands.
“Fuck” he mutters. Now what?
He gets up in confusion as he tries to ignore the weird feeling in his chest, focusing on the day ahead of him. He gets to the kitchen and makes breakfast.
It’s okay, he thinks to himself. They did adult things, and they’re both adults, and it shouldn’t interfere with the way he deals with his professional life. He wasn’t exactly expecting Bucky to serve him breakfast in bed. And the thought of them holding hands and making out like lovebirds is the farthest thing he’d imagine Bucky Barnes to do. Yet Sam hadn’t considered this painful option: that Bucky would leave from the very window he came in through.
Although stating he doesn’t care that much, when the third day passes by since that night, Sam starts to worry. And it’s not really about what’s the status of their relationship now, it’s more about whether Bucky is doing alright.
They don’t talk every single day, but in the past few months they basically became flatmates, and Bucky’s silence is getting suspicious. Sam tries to ignore the unsettling feeling, but he would like to reach out. Is this the end of their- friendship? Buddyship? Somethingship?
Sam goes on with his life. He resolves to intervene if or when the silence hits the week-long mark. It’s too soon now. The last thing he wants is Bucky to think he got attached. Attached to what, anyway?
He’s quite tired when he gets home that night. Things are going well. He’s starting to get the hang of his role as Captain America. It’s a heavy duty, but it’s better to do it than not to do it.
As he steps inside, he’s met by the feeble noise of the tv coming from the living room. A smile appears on his face, but he hides it as he gets in the room.
“Hey” Bucky exhales when he sees him. He’s sitting on the couch, he looks nervous, Sam can tell. Bucky hints a smile and he brings his eyes back to the screen.
“You-“ Sam starts, and he’s cut off by Bucky.
“The window-“ Bucky says.
Sam stares at him. “I left it closed” he says. He didn’t exactly do it on purpose. He just thought they were past that point of the acquaintance. He thought that Bucky would come back after making a phone call or ringing the bell. He wasn’t expecting him to force open the window.
“You did” Bucky nods. “Why?”
Sam shrugs. “I wasn’t expecting any visits.”
He gets close to the couch and he senses Bucky tensing up but he doesn’t say a word. He sits down next to him.
On the tv a documentary is playing. It’s about the life of animals in the savannah. Bucky seems to be obsessed with this sort of shows. He doesn’t enjoy movies that much, but documentaries- he loves them. Sam has noticed. It’s probably bewildering to Bucky to be able to look at animals in their habitat so closely.
Sam is quiet for the rest of the night, still trying to decide how he should act from now on. Should he mention what happened between the two of them? Should he ask why he left with no explanation?
Bucky doesn’t tear his eyes off the screen, he doesn’t look at Sam, and it doesn’t bother Sam at all, he tells himself.
Sam doesn’t initiate a conversation. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s not watching the show, he’s just staring at the back of Bucky’s head as he leans forward to look at the screen.
At this point Sam realises he should let it go. The night they shared will remain the elephant in the room and the memory of it will slowly fade in his mind.
Maybe Bucky regrets it and prefers not to talk about it. Sam can let him have this. Maybe that’s what they did back in the day: rub one out with your buddy and then forget about it.
Sam exhales at his own resolution and Bucky’s head snaps in his direction. He stares at Sam, and Sam stares back.
They decided to let go of staring contests a while ago. It was never outspoken, but Sam has stated in various occasions he hates them, and Bucky learnt to voice his thoughts out loud instead of trying to communicate them telepathically.
Yet he’s being petty and seems committed not to speak. Sam looks at him intently. They can both play this game: if Bucky wants to stare, Sam will comply.
He’s mildly confused when Bucky gets closer and pulls him in by the shirt.
“Wha-“ Sam stutters, but Bucky silences him with a rough kiss. It goes like it already did before, Bucky leaning forward and deepening the kiss, and Sam wonders if he should put an end to it and ask what is going on.
He parts, and looks at Bucky. His lips are swollen and red, his eyes are wild with desire.
“Buck-“ Sam moans at the sight.
Bucky smirks. “Yeah?” he asks, but doesn’t look like he’s looking for an answer.
He takes his shirt off and Sam stares at his naked chest. He leans forward and kisses Bucky, while trying to simultaneously take his own shirt off and not ending the kiss.
Bucky helps him. He throws the shirt away and pushes Sam back in his seat, and as he kisses him deep and hot he fumbles to unbelt Sam’s pants. Sam unbuttons them and his fingers brush against Bucky’s. Shivers run down his spine as he meets Bucky’s eyes.
Bucky hints a smile, then he gets serious and drops to his knees. Sam’s heart starts racing when he understands what’s about to happen.
He never actually questioned his sexuality. He experimented a little bit with some guy when he was younger, yet he only ever dated girls. He always was attracted to men and growing up with his sister and mom he felt safe and comfortable in expressing his sexuality however he wanted.
He never thought about Bucky like that, not because Bucky’s a man, but because Bucky’s Bucky. He’s just a friend. Mate. Buddy. Whatever.
Had he noticed he’s handsome? Yes, he had. Had he thought about him in a sexual way before? Sort of, but pretended like he never did. Forced himself not to ever do that. So what is happening right now feels like a forbidden fantasy coming true.
Bucky looks up at him as he lowers Sam’s briefs and takes him in his hand. He licks him and fills his mouth with its heaviness. They lock eyes and Sam’s breath catches.
“Good God” he lets out with a breathy voice.
Bucky starts moving his head up and down, his mouth is sloppy and wet and hot. The feeling is painfully delicious, and Sam arches up as he brings a hand to Bucky’s head and guides him in his movement.
Bucky hums and fastens his pace, tightening his lips along the shaft and dragging spit on it. Sam looks down, and Bucky’s baby blues take him to the edge. He comes with a muffled yelp and backs away from Bucky.
He leans back on the sofa as he tries to get his breath back to normal. He’s feeling dizzy. After a moment he looks down: Bucky is still on his knees in front of him, resting on his heels.
He has a weird expression on his face, both satisfied and pained.
Sam looks at him, his chin is messed with spit, his big blue eyes look almost cartoonish on his face. He’s panting, his chest rising up and down, prettily stained with red patches around the neck and nipples.
“Hey buddy” Sam mutters. “You need help with that?” he points at Bucky’s crotch, where a line of hair leads to his bulge throbbing through the dark slacks.
Bucky looks down. He whimpers.
“I’m okay” he says, looking away.
Sam frowns. “Really?”
Bucky nods but doesn’t seem so sure. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Sam tries to make eye contact but Bucky deliberately looks away. “You don’t look fine” he comments. “C’mon man.”
He doesn’t wait for Bucky to talk back, Sam leans in and kisses him again. It’s a sweet kiss, slow, and he parts his lips to properly taste Bucky. Bucky gives in right away, and a small noise gets caught by Sam’s mouth.
Sam pulls Bucky up. The sight of him on his knees on the floor, whimpering and complying to his orders, is hot enough to make him come a second time. But it’s not about him now, Sam thinks. It’s about Bucky. Sam makes him lie down on the couch and gets on top of him, as he keeps kissing him slowly and firmly.
Bucky seems about to shatter under Sam’s touch. He lets Sam take the lead, keeps quiet as Sam takes his slacks off, spits in his hand and closes his fist around his length, tightening just the right amount.
Bucky doesn’t moan. It looks like he wants to but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. He’s shaking in Sam’s grip, he arches his back as he thrusts into Sam’s fingers.
Sam lets him do it. He kisses him on the lips, on the neck, then he gets to Bucky’s chest and he leaves a trail of open-mouth kisses on the scars around the metal arm.
“Sam-?” Bucky cries softly. He closes his eyes and Sam drags his hand up and down on Bucky’s shaft, working on the head and Bucky comes silently. He spills himself over Sam’s grip, as Sam keeps his movement steady.
“Yeah” Sam murmurs watching Bucky. “That’s good.”
Bucky groans and falls back on the couch, his eyes closed and a small smile playing on his lips.
Sam looks at him. He’s happy to see Bucky like this, relaxed and off-guarded. He’s mostly proud he’s the one putting Bucky in a good mood.
“Who’s staring now?” Bucky asks, and he opens his eyes.
Sam chuckles and looks away. “You’re welcome, by the way” he claps back. He wonders what exactly he’s hinting at. The handjob, the hospitality, his company- all of this. He’d just like Bucky to acknowledge what just happened.
Bucky looks down. “Yeah, sorry, I can go if you want.”
Not exactly the answer he was looking for. Sam waits a couple of seconds before saying something. There is a part of him that would like to scream and ask what’s the reason behind Bucky’s behaviour, if they’re friends with benefits now, and are they even friends? They never established that.
On the other hand he would never kick Bucky out like that. He would be willing to let him sleep in his bed, but at this point Sam has no idea if it has to do with his courtesy or his new-born attraction to Bucky.
Sam shakes his head. “It’s okay buddy. The couch is yours.”
He sits up and notices Bucky’s private smile.
“Thanks man” Bucky nods.
“Anytime” Sam leaves the room and pretends everything’s okay.
*
Once again, Bucky leaves in the early morning, and when Sam wakes up he’s already gone. But this time he can’t hide again, because they’re scheduled for a debrief and as Sam gets in the meeting room, Bucky is already there.
Sam nods at him, the memory of the last time they saw each other flashes before his eyes, but Bucky doesn’t seem to be fazed by it. He gets closer to Sam and pats him on the back.
“Hey man” he greets. Sam makes a contrite smile and Bucky frowns at his expression. He seems confused but he doesn’t have the time to ask any question because the report begins. They keep quiet and listen, but Sam is elsewhere with his mind. He tries focusing on the meeting, yet from time to time he can’t help but looking toward Bucky before averting his eyes not to get caught.
He decides he’s gonna ask for an explanation. He doesn’t mind sharing his flat, and he obviously doesn’t mind getting laid by Bucky. But there are some lines that need to be defined. If it’s just sex, Sam is okay with it, but he’s starting to get annoyed by the way Bucky flees as soon as the sun rises.
He spends the meeting rehearsing the speech he’s gonna make, yet when the debrief is over and Bucky walks toward him, Sam suddenly forgets what he wanted to say.
Bucky smiles. “How’s it going?” he asks.
“I thought you disappeared for good this time” Sam claps back sarcastically. They head out of the room.
Bucky makes a nervous laugh. “Yeah sorry. I’ve been busy.”
“Sure.” Sam wouldn’t want to sound pissed. It’s not like he’s mad, especially because Bucky is not exactly ignoring him. Maybe he’s mad at himself for not being brave enough to be respected.
Is it even about respect?
“Are you going home?” Bucky asks. Sam is sprinting, and Bucky tries to keep up with his pace. It mustn’t be difficult for him to walk faster, still he’s probably taken aback by Sam’s attitude.
Sam shakes his head. “Nope. Not yet” he has some work to do, furthermore he has the feeling Bucky probably wants to tag along.
“Oh, okay” Bucky says. “Will I see you tonight?”
Sam stops in his tracks. Bucky bumps into him and Sam turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow. “Where?” he asks. He’s being an asshole, he knows it. Like he knows what Bucky meant with his question. Of course he’s talking about Sam’s flat, but Sam wants him to say it out loud.
“I-“ Bucky clears his throat. He looks around trying to find a way out. “I don’t know. I just thought-“ Bucky trails off and doesn’t talk any further. He looks at Sam silently begging to have mercy on him.
Sam can’t help but being mean. He’s annoyed and Bucky’s puppy eyes make him even more frustrated. He’d like to push him against the wall and kiss him right there but thankfully he still got some dignity left in him.
“Aight. I gotta go now” he states blankly. Then he deals the final blow. “See you around buddy.”
Sam walks away leaving Bucky there. He gets out the building in a quick pace, afraid he’s gonna change his mind and go back to the man he left in the hallway.
He drives to his sister. It wasn’t his original plan. He wanted to get some work done but he can’t think straight at the moment and he needs Sarah to help him put some order in his mind.
When he parks and gets out the car, the kids come running to him.
“Uncle Sam!” they scream in unison, and Sam immediately feels better. He smiles and hugs his nephews.
“Here are my men!” he greets. He tousles AJ’s hair and the kid makes a face. Sam laughs.
“Where’s Uncle Bucky?” Cass asks.
Sam is taken by surprise. “Uhu-“
“Sam?” Sarah gets out the house that very moment, lured by the noise in the courtyard. “I had no idea you’d visit.”
She comes closer and Sam hugs her. “Surprise!” he says.
Cass pulls at Sam’s jacket. “So? Where is he?”
Sam laughs with no real amusement. “He was busy, champ.”
Cass makes an upset face, but runs after AJ to get to the tv first. Sarah looks at Sam.
“That’s a shame” she says. “We could use some company.”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Is your brother’s company not enough?”
Sarah rolls her eyes but chuckles at his joke. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
They have lunch together, and once they’re done eating, Sam plays video-games with the kids.
They’re both wildly excited at the idea, and AJ keeps sprinting around the room and jumping on the sofa.
Sarah looks at her son and squints at Sam. “Did you give him sugar? He definitely had too much sugar.”
Sam makes an innocent face. “I would never” he assures, and hides the wrapping of the Sneakers bar he just shared with AJ.
He turns to look at the kid and whispers: “don’t get me in trouble.”
AJ giggles and brings a finger in front of his mouth before making a shh noise.
“I never snitched on Uncle Bucky either” AJ whispers in Sam’s ear.
Sam smiles but gets hit by a wave of guilt. He ignores it and goes back to the game.
When he’s lost five rounds in a row, he gives up and lets the kids play on their own. He joins Sarah in the kitchen.
“Hey there” he greets. She smiles. “Need help?”
“I’m good” she says. She pours tea in a mug and turns to Sam. “Want some?”
Sam nods and she gives him a cup of tea as well. They sit down at the table and drink their tea in silence.
Sam taps with his fingers on the hot porcelain of the mug, wondering if he should give voice to his thoughts or just let it be.
Sarah decides for him.
“Alright Sammy what’s going on” she is extremely straightforward.
Sam worries at his lip. It’s stupid he would like to say. But to be honest it’s not that stupid.
“It’s stupid” he says anyway.
“Is it really stupid or do you just not want to talk about your feelings?”
Sam laughs loudly. “Oh my god, Sarah, did you just hit me with therapy talk? That’s supposed to be my job.”
“I’m serious!” Sarah plays along. She laughs as well. “I know how you get when feelings are involved.”
“Who said feeling are involved?” he claps back.
Sarah raises an eyebrow. “That’s fair” she concedes. “No feelings then.” She keeps quiet for a moment. “Is this about- someone?” she tries eventually.
Sam snorts. “You mean Barnes?”
“You said it, not me” Sarah points out. Then she makes a sweet face. “Did you guys fight?”
“Worse.”
Sarah frowns. “You- did you come to blows?”
Sam looks at her and purses his lips. “Not that kind of worse. Actually, the opposite type of worse.”
Sarah stares at him a moment longer. She’s still confused. Then realisation hits her like a truck and she widens her eyes before covering her open mouth with a hand. “No you didn’t” she whispers.
Sam looks down.
“With Barnes?” she asks baffled. She giggles. “Oh my god. I mean- wow. I-“
Sam snorts again as he grabs his cup of tea as a lifeline to salvation. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction” he mutters.
“And he just- let you do it? Wow.”
Sam makes an outraged sound. “Excuse me! He was the one initiating it. I was minding my business.”
Sarah is even more bewildered. “He made the first move?”
“Can you stop with that surprised tone? Good god.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. You’re right” Sarah concedes. “I’m sorry. That’s a lot to take in. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything” Sam shrugs. “It doesn’t seem like it will last any longer.”
Sarah gets serious. “Why? Was it just one time?”
“Nope. But I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t even know how I should bring the topic up so-“
“Do you like him?”
“Mh?” Sam stays there, his cup of tea is now lukewarm. He wasn’t ready for this question. Actually, he asked himself the same thing over and over again but he doesn’t want to come to a conclusion about it.
What’s not to like? he would like to clap back. Of course he likes him! What kind of question is that?
He thinks about AJ confessing that Bucky gives him candies, or how Cass begged to see Uncle Bucky. He thinks about Bucky bashfully flirting back, how he has to fight against all the trauma he endured to let the guy he once was shine through his pain.
“Well-“ he says, clearing his throat. “He’s a nice fella.”
Sarah smiles silently. “He is” she agrees. Then she tries: “I think you like him.”
Sam stays silent as well. “He’s likeable. Yeah” he says eventually.
“Not what I meant but sure” Sarah concludes. “Then maybe you should keep in mind this the next time you fight.”
“We didn’t fight” Sam explains. He sighs and looks at his sister. He lets go of his stiff posture. “I don’t know how to act with him.”
“You shouldn’t. Just be honest. He seems like a blunt guy” she states. She takes a sip of her tea and makes a disgusted face. “It’s cold.”
Sam laughs. “My bad, I’ll make you another one.” He grabs both their cups and drains the cold tea. He’s feeling weirdly relieved but ignores the reason behind it.
When Sam gets home that night he no longer lies to himself. He regrets being so harsh to Bucky. Now he’s in an empty flat and his ego is not big enough to fill it. Maybe it wasn’t worth it.
To be fair, he shouldn’t blame Bucky for not being clear with his intentions. He wasn’t clear either. Maybe it was up to him to invite Bucky to move in, of course Bucky doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask. Maybe Sam did everything wrong. He didn’t do relationships in so long to the point he doesn’t even remember how they’re supposed to work.
And he didn’t even consider that Bucky might feel like he can’t talk about his feelings out loud. Not only did he grow up in a different century, he was also brainwashed into thinking every human bond was beyond his reach.
Sam looks at the living room. On a chair, Bucky left one of his shirts. There are some of his things scattered around the table. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Sam’s stomach churn with guilt.
He gets close to the window and opens it. Just in case.
He leaves the room and heads to bed. A couple of hours later, when he’s ruminating on his own decisions, he hears the muffled sound of someone coming in through the window. Sam smiles and finally falls asleep.
*
The next morning Bucky’s there, still sleeping on the couch. Sam stares at him from the doorframe.
“Back at it with that creepy stare” Bucky mumbles as he opens his eyes. Sam startles but doesn’t look away. “Morning” Bucky greets before yawning and arching like a cat.
Sam bites his lip in thought. He doesn’t get closer. Bucky sits up. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me back here” he points out. His voice doesn’t sound hurt, it’s like he’s stating facts.
“You’re right” Sam agrees.
“But you-“
“I left the window open, yeah. I did.”
“You did.”
They stare at each other. Bucky doesn’t ask why, and Sam on the other hand doesn’t ask why Bucky came to check the state of the window despite being told not to come back.
Bucky hints a smile, and they go along with their day.
Then that night, when they get back home together, it happens out of nowhere. They’re both in the kitchen, having just finished dinner.
Bucky is sitting in front of him, leaning backward on the chair, his left arm stretched over the back of the chair next to him. He looks happy, satisfied by the food they ate, a small smile on his lips. Sam stands up, he grabs both their empty plates and gets to the sink. He’s not even thinking about it, he turns on the water, waits for it to get warm enough to rinse the cutlery.
He hears a ruffled noise behind him but he imagines Bucky is making his way to the living room, maybe choosing what movie they should watch later. Instead Bucky approaches the sink too and leans against the counter.
“Here, let me help you” he says, taking the soaking wet plate from Sam’s hands to dry it with a towel.
“Thank you” Sam manages to reply, taken aback by Bucky’s gesture. It’s nothing extraordinary, it should not leave him this weirded out, yet it is such a soft and lovely act in its smallness, and Sam stops in his tracks, dirty plates dripping water in his hands.
“You’re okay?” Bucky asks. He frowns a little bit, and his face looks worried, blue eyes staring at him in confusion and I’m in love with you Sam’s mind supplies, and isn’t it an unexpected turn of events.
“Yeah, I’m just-” Sam stutters. ”Thank you” he says again, because his mind is completely blank, vision blurred and buzzing noises messing with his head.
“You already said that” Bucky states and he chuckles lightly. His laugh sounds so genuine and almost raw that Sam is torn between asking him to shut up immediately and never stop making that sound at the same time.
He turns back to the sink and goes back to cleaning the dishes. Bucky brushes his arm from time to time, as he dries the cutlery with intent.
He tries analysing his sudden revelation, tries to make sense of it, but there is nothing to rationalise, it’s just a statement, he is in love, that’s all.
They keep quiet for a moment longer, until the last plate is clean. Sam turns to the sink to turn it off and he feels Bucky’s hand around his wrist pulling him to make him turn around. Sam doesn’t fight against it and he finds himself pressed in between the sink and Bucky’s firm body, as the man kisses him in a rush.
Sam gives in to the kiss and Bucky presses against him, and as he starts getting hot at the frenzy of it all, Sam suddenly comes to his senses. He places a hand on Bucky’s chest and firmly pushes him away.
Bucky immediately parts and looks at him. He already looks far gone. His eyes are wild and his cheeks are red, but he makes a confused face.
Sam has to summon all his strength not to fall to his knees at the sight.
“You can’t-“ he stutters. “Man, you need to stop.”
Bucky takes a step back. “I’m sorry” he says with a terrified expression. “I’m-“
“I can’t do it anymore” Sam manages to state. “It’s okay if you just want to fuck but you should make it clear.” There he goes. He said it. He did it. Sam feels a sudden relief: he was direct and firm on his statement. Now it’s up to Bucky.
“I- uhm” Bucky stutters again. “Sam-“
“I’m not asking for anything serious, okay? I get it. You need to scratch one out, it’s okay. It’s just- please. Let me know if it’s nothing more than this. It’s not that I want more-“ Sam trails off. But he does want more. But how should he say it.
Bucky clears his throat. “I thought you were okay with it.”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “About being friends with benefits?”
“We’re friends?”
Sam laughs and it’s not even ironic, he’s genuinely amused by the lack of Bucky’s emotional intelligence. “I thought we got to that base by now, is it too much to ask?”
Bucky frowns. “Sam, I- I love you, buddy.” He makes a contrite face, like he wants to throw up at the mere thought of what he just confessed.
Sam stares at him. “What.”
“I thought I made it clear.”
“How?”
“We fucked” Bucky shrugs.
“That’s not how it works” Sam tries.
At that Bucky sighs. “Then forget about it. I’m not having sex with anyone else so it was obvious to me that we had something going on, but I’m still learning about dating culture in this new century, so-“
Sam pulls him in by the shirt and kisses him. He holds Bucky’s face and deepens the kiss, until he hears Bucky make a muffled noise.
“I love you too, Barnes” he confesses. “But you need to speak your mind, you brooding idiot.”
Bucky smiles with embarrassment. “Fair enough.”
They stare at each other one more time, then they both lean in and kiss. They fuck on the kitchen counter, and it’s messy and a little bit gross but Sam wouldn’t want it any other way.
He lets Bucky strip him of his shirt before reciprocating. Sam kisses him on the shoulder, where the metal arm is embedded in his flesh, and he can tell Bucky likes it by the way he sighs silently.
Bucky takes his pants off and he looks with amusement at the way Sam hardens under his touch. He takes him into his left arm and Sam whimpers at the feeling. The cold metal makes him shiver. Bucky drags his closed hand up and down, while kissing Sam deep with his tongue, as Sam thrusts with no restraint.
“Buck-“ he calls, and Bucky tightens his fist, and he flicks his finger over the head. Sam yelps.
“You like that?” Bucky asks with a husky voice. Sam nods and Bucky gets closer, so that Sam can lie his head on his chest as he keeps moving back and forth into Bucky’s grip.
“Tell me” Bucky orders. Sam moans at his commanding voice. “I do” he nods. “I like it, I love it” he looks at Bucky and lets him kiss him deeply and hot. “I love you” he mutters, before crying out as he comes. He shudders in Bucky’s arms, pressing his forehead to his chest.
Bucky shivers as well, and he lets out a muffled noise. Sam looks up. “What’s that?” he asks with a panting voice, still trying to get his breath back to normal.
“I’m fine” Bucky says, but Sam thrusts up and feels Bucky’s crotch against his thigh. Bucky makes another noise.
“Aight. Your turn now” Sam prompts. He notices Bucky’s hesitation so he jumps off the counter and pushes him with his back turned to it. Then he drops to his knees.
“Sam-“ Bucky murmurs, and it’s both begging and wavering. Sam ignores it. He sees by the pulse in Bucky’s slack that he wants it, he’s just scared to admit it.
Sam takes them off and gets to work. He’s not an expert and it’s been a while, but he shouldn’t be too bad about it.
He takes Bucky in his mouth and accommodates his movement to its size. He starts slowly, up and down, just to test Bucky’s reaction.
But Bucky falls in shambles. He closes his eyes and looks like he’s regulating his breaths. The sight of it hits Sam, and he starts wondering why he doesn’t feel like he can let himself go.
Sam slowly drags away his lips and Bucky looks at him in confusion.
“Let me hear ya” Sam says. He’d like to order it, to make it hotter, but he wants to make Bucky feel safe. He’s not going to break him. He leaves a loud smack on Bucky’s groin and this makes him chuckle.
The sound of Bucky’s laugh warms his chest, and Sam goes back to his task. He moves a little faster this time, working his tongue when he draws his mouth away and gets to the head.
Bucky is still quite rigid under his touch, but Sam can tell he’s trying to relax.
Sam brings an hand to it as well to help him and that seems to do the trick. Bucky starts grumbling, and Sam can feel himself getting harder again when the other man lets out a whimper.
Sam nods and moves faster. He takes it all in his mouth, and Bucky makes subtle thrusts, keeping his balance by grabbing the kitchen counter where he’s leaning on.
Sam makes some noises, the sloppy sound of Bucky thrusting in his mouth making him hard as Bucky gets close to the edge.
At last, Bucky comes and a sweet and prolongated moan escapes his lips, and Sam closes his eyes and moves his head back and forth as the wave of Bucky’s pleasure hits him. He waits a moment for Bucky to be finished, then he gets on his feet with some difficulty.
“Man I’m too old for this” he complains.
Bucky helps him up and kisses him deeply. It’s hot and Bucky seems firm on wanting to taste him. Sam relaxes in his arms. “Okay Buck” he says patting his chest. He smiles broadly.
“We’re good then?” Bucky asks.
Sam pretends to think about it. “I don’t know. Are you still going to flee through the window?”
Bucky hides his head in the crook of Sam’s neck but Sam sees his smile. “Nope” he reassures. “You should close it, though. Just in case.”
Sam chuckles. “Come sleep in my bed, enough with that dumb coach.” He grabs Bucky’s hand and leads him to his bedroom.
Bucky shrugs but follows him. “I wouldn’t call it dumb. It worked for me.”