As soon as the door closes behind Sam, he slumps against it with a groan. It’s been a long few days. He’s tired, a little bruised and broken, and all he wants is to get in bed and sleep for a week straight. He knows that’s impossible, this job being really a full-time, 24/7 thing, so he’ll take any rest he can get. If he can get to his bedroom, that is – he feels like any energy left him as soon as he stepped foot in his apartment, only now the adrenaline leaving him, worry seeping out now that he knows Joaquin is okay, and all that’s left is pure exhaustion. He could fall asleep right here, at the front door, standing up.
With a deep, heavy sigh that feels like it comes from deep in his soul, he pushes away from the door and forces his legs to take him to the bathroom. He desperately needs a hot shower first.
The walk seems to take forever, and in between the front door and the bathroom, he manages to pull out his phone and shoot a quick text that just reads ‘ur full of shit, could’ve used that serum right about now.’
He doesn’t wait for a response, he doesn’t expect one anyway. They usually text, but at this hour there’s a bigger chance the old man would call instead. He doesn’t wait for that, either. Just tosses his phone on the bed when he walks through the bedroom, then strips out of his clothes and hauls his aching body into the shower. He stands under the hot water for as long as his legs let him, letting it soothe the strained muscles, but careful of all the stitches and wounds. He’s way too used to those by now.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he finally leaves the bathroom, just a towel around his waist, dragging his feet on his way to the bed – only to see an unexpected visitor sitting at the end of it.
“Hey,” Sam says, barely even phased. As unexpected as it is to see Bucky here, it’s not all that surprising at this point. “So we don’t knock anymore?”
“I don’t.” Bucky shrugs, a hint of a smile on his face, as he leans back on his hands, eyes scanning Sam’s half naked body up and down, worry carefully hidden, visible only in his eyes, only to Sam. He looks comfortable as if he was at his own place. He’s not dressed in a suit anymore, now wearing his usual black jeans, and a leather jacket, unzipped to reveal a plain black t-shirt. Some things never change – and not all should, he looks damn good like this. Sam thinks he prefers this version. “And you don’t mind.”
“Hm, well, as long as it’s you and not someone who tries to kill me, break into my place all you want.” Sam waves his hand, walking over to his closet to grab some sweats to sleep in.
“You don’t have to get dressed on my account.” Bucky says, that flirtatious tone in his voice that Sam hates and loves at the same time.
“If you want a show, you gotta earn it,” he throws back with a grin over his shoulder, that might come off more as a grimace, with the way his whole body aches. He feels Bucky’s eyes on himself as he shamelessly drops the towel on the floor, grabs some sweatpants and puts them on.
“Eh, you don’t look so good tonight, I’ll pass.” Bucky teases, the usual humor covering up what he’s not saying, the worry and concern at all the cuts and injuries and bruises all over Sam’s body, the regret about not being there to help. “Seriously, Sam,” Bucky adds, a complete change in tone, “you look awful.”
“Wow, thanks.” Sam rolls his eyes, turning to face Bucky again. He can feel his eyes analyzing all his wounds and bruises. The stab wound in his chest stings, but he ignores it. “I’m fine, Buck. Nothing new, nothing I haven’t survived before. It comes with the job,” he shrugs, one of his shoulders protesting and he can’t hide a wince.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Bucky adds quietly, blue eyes finding Sam’s.
“Me too.” Sam sighs. “Could’ve really used that super strength of yours,” he adds, trying to keep it light. The truth is, he misses being a team, out there, on the battlefield. He’s never been more in tune with anyone, especially now. They know each other inside out, they can communicate without words, it’s like Bucky lives in his head – which isn’t untrue.
“You did amazing without it. You can do it without it, without me. You know that, right? You don’t need me.”
“Yeah,” he takes a step towards the bed, then another. “Yeah, I know. I’m doing my best.” He might not need Bucky, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want him, as a partner, as a friend, in whatever way he can. But he also knows he’s capable by himself. He has to be. Steve chose him for a reason, and he needs to stop doubting that choice, doubting whether he deserves it. It’s easier said than done, but he’s trying. He did a damn good job today, though, if he says so himself.
“I’ll always have your back.” Buck promises, and Sam knows that. If he could, he’d be there, fighting by his side. He’ll be there if Sam ever needs him.
“I know.” Sam stops in front of Bucky, whose curious eyes look him up and down again.
“How’s Torres?”
“Awake. He’ll be okay. I just-”
“Feel guilty?” Bucky guesses. He really knows Sam so well. “Sam, none of what happened was your fault. Including him.”
“I know,” he repeats with a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Hard not to feel that way sometimes.”
“Yeah.” Bucky nods, understanding better than anyone. They don’t need a lot of words, not right now. They’ll talk, debrief, and discuss everything at some point. Tonight, Sam is just so damn tired.
He climbs into Bucky’s lap, straddling him – he wishes he could say he did it without wincing in pain, but alas. Bucky’s hands immediately rest gently on his hips, gripping lightly but firmly, careful not to hurt him further. Sam knows he’s dying to examine all his wounds and make sure he’s okay, but Sam’s been to the hospital, he’s fine, he doesn’t need him to fuss.
“Now, what did I do to deserve a visit from the future congressman James Buchanan Barnes? It’s a rare sight lately. And twice in two days?” He teases. Bucky rolls his eyes. They haven’t been seeing each other as often as they’d like, both busy with their new jobs, and keeping this relationship private, but they try. Sam would rather have those few moments once in a while than none at all.
“I meant it, I missed you,” Bucky shrugs, earnest and genuine as he smiles softly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fucking exhausted and beaten up, and I could sleep for a week.” Sam sighs, slumping against Bucky. Bucky’s right hand gently moves up his side, caresses his skin, mindful of his bruised and cracked ribs, until he cradles Sam’s cheek. Sam leans into the touch. “Can you stay the night?”
“Yeah, of course. I don’t have anywhere to be until morning.”
“Good.” Sam whispers, and finally presses his lips to Bucky’s, his hands finding his jacket and helping him out of it. All he wants is to fall asleep in his man’s arms right now, he wants to keep him here as long as he can, until they both need to go back to their roles and titles, and keep their personal life under wraps.
They kiss slowly, lazily, until Sam’s yawn breaks it, and Bucky chuckles, standing up with Sam still in his arms, then gently places him down on the bed – any other night, if Sam wasn’t half asleep and what feels like half-alive, it’d get him going immediately, his boyfriend’s strength always such a turn on. As it is, Sam forces his limbs to work a little bit longer to scoot up the bed and onto the pillow, then waits for Bucky to take off his jeans and join him.
He tries to wrap himself around Bucky, but he can’t breathe on his side, his ribs are not in the best state, cuts and bruises on the rest of his body are hurting. So he settles on his back, as comfortably as he can, and brings Buck as close as possible. Bucky slips his right arm under Sam’s head, the metal of the left one lightly pressing against his abdomen, as Bucky holds him.
“Can you promise me something?” Sam asks sleepily, already starting to nod off.
“What’s that?”
“Can you wake me up when you have to go, no matter what time?” He just wants to say goodbye, he doesn’t want Bucky to just disappear into the night. He could get out without waking Sam up, his stealth skills as impressive as always. But Sam wants to see him, kiss him one more time, watch him leave. Get one more second together.
“Of course, Sam. Now sleep, I’m right here.” Sam feels a soft kiss to his head.
“I love you, Buck.” Sam mutters, blinking as he tries to get one more look at his gorgeous blue eyes.
“I love you, too.” Bucky whispers with one more quick kiss to Sam’s lips.
Sam falls asleep to the sound of Bucky’s breathing, feeling his heartbeat where their chests are pressed together, familiar cool metal fingers drawing soothing patterns on his stomach. He’s out within seconds, feeling calm and safe and loved in the arms of his man, knowing that he’ll get woken up way before sunrise, and he’ll have to say goodbye to him again. That’s okay. He’ll have a busy day tomorrow, as well, back to Captain America duties, having to deal with the aftermath of… this whole mess. But for now, it’s just him and Bucky, in the quiet of the night, sleeping in one bed, like a regular couple. Maybe one day it’ll be the norm for them. If not, he’ll take what he can get.