Sam noticed things about people. In fact he prided himself on how well he could read people. Tell their emotions by looking at their posture or how they’re talking. It makes him good at his job. However with Bucky it really depended. Sometimes he was the most subtle person in the world. Never showing real emotion on any of his features and keeping every thought to himself. Other times he was so easy to read Sam wondered if Bucky knew what he was letting the other man see. His expressions were so clear and oftentimes extremely amusing. The expression he pulled when talking to somewhen he didn’t like made Sam laugh out obnoxiously.
But this.
This definitely wasn't hard to see.
The touch.
This wasn't new. Not really anyways. Bucky and Sam making contact with each other. It was usually Sam that initiated it in the first place, a gentle hand on the other's waist or back. However Bucky and all of his traumatic glory had always been careful of touch.
Now Sam had his own share of trauma, why wouldn't he with all the shit he's gone through. But he didn't have the fear that every time he touched someone, or closed his eyes, or lost control, he would hurt someone without meaning to. That was a fear he hopefully would never understand to a full extent. He understood it from a therapist perspective, -having worked in the VA and all- like when someone says they understand but only on an empathetic level, only going so far as to know the pain a person feels and not what it truly feels like.
It took a while for Sam to wiggle his way into Bucky's life. Not that it wasn’t completely worth it, to see Bucky happy and at peace around him. It was a huge accomplishment when Bucky finally began initiating more and more contact. He did this one specific thing where he would rub his thumb back and forth over the junction where Sam’s shoulder met his neck. The small taps on the back or side just to get past him in the kitchen. And It was an even bigger accomplishment when Bucky finally allowed himself to be touchy with his left arm.
Just small, simple things.
This was different though.
This thing right now, somehow seemed so different.
Sam had been at home. Couped up in their brownstone, no superheroing needed to be done anyways. He could finally finish that book he’s been working on for the past two weeks. Bucky was at a therapy session, it was one of the last court mandated ones, with that god awful therapist lady, that, quite frankly, Sam didn’t like very much.
He had been reading long enough that his vision blurred and he let himself zone out and focus on dinner ideas. Take out sounded fine. Maybe that place down the street that had really good wontons.
The front door opened and closed and he heard the gentle click of two different locks. The absence of Bucky’s normal ‘I’m home’ greeting made Sam raise one of his eyebrows. Down the hallway he heard Bucky’s keys drop in the small bowl by the doorway -the one that Bucky had found at a garage sale one day, much like the rest of the furniture in the house. That was followed by the noise of Bucky slipping his shoes and jacket off. There was the dull thud of Bucky throwing his shoes down harder than necessary.
The whole thing was weirdly domestic. -Except when Bucky was focused on something else and he forgot to say his usual ‘honey I’m home’ message.
Sam went back to staring mindlessly at the book and contemplating dinner. Thai food sounded good. But wantons and Soy sauce also sounded good. He’s so spaced out he doesn’t notice when Bucky all but stomps into the room, looking more pissed off than normal and basically falls onto the couch. His head flops onto Sam’s lap so he’s facing the tv. The warmth of Bucky's body spread to Sam’s legs and it made something swirl in his stomach. Bucky doesn’t move, and Sam gets this feeling all of that was completely intentional and not just Bucky accidentally flopping on Sam instead of a pillow.
Sam instinctively hovers his hands over Bucky's upper body, doing a quick sweep to make sure he wasn’t bleeding to death. The amount of times he’s been severely injured and didn’t notice was impressive. But if you asked Bucky he would say Sam has the same problem. Then they would argue.
-That was how the arguments that mattered happened. Of course there were ones that didn’t matter. Like when Sam complained about how Bucky left his towels on the floor for the former to trip over. Or when Bucky complained about how Sam never got the right food from the grocery store. But the real arguments. Those were about those times where Bucky jumped off a 40 story building to catch a kid. He wasn’t mad about the reason. It was that he did it with little to no concern about what happened to him. There was also that time Sam took a bullet for someone that possibly didn’t deserve that much. In Bucky's opinion anyways.-
He looked fine. Physically anyways.
“Buck.” Sam muttered out, it was a weird middle between being a question and just a word to break the silence.
Bucky sucked in a breath and tensed. “This okay?”
Yes. Completely and entirely. Please stay like this for all eternity.
“Yeah man.” He let his hands settle on Bucky's figure. One hand, raking gently through his hair and the other placed softly on his shoulder. “You okay though?”
Bucky blew out at a piece of hair that fell in front of his face, which did little to actually move it. So Sam pulled it back with the rest of the hair he was attempting to braid with only one hand. “My therapist.”
Now that he got a look at Bucky he seemed tired and worn out. His eyes were tired and there was a wary look that he didn’t walk out of the house with in the morning.
Sam knew that, this happened all the time. But this was different, Bucky was always irritated when he got back from a session. This was a little extra though. “What happened?”
“She thinks I need to interact with more people.”
Sam snorted. “What’s new?”
Bucky huffed out a laugh. Then shook his head slightly so he didn’t mess up Sam’s braid he was still attempting to do. “But it was different. It's almost like she expects me to go back to how it used to be. Back in the 40s and 30s I was the social guy. The “Ladies man” even, it was just natural for me.” He sighed. “But now, the thing I’m most comfortable with is just being here. Alone or with you. I think I lost that part of me and I don’t think it's coming back.”
Sam gave up on the braid and just settled for untangling the soft shoulder length hair. “That's fine, if it makes you feel better and you’re comfortable.”
“I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Sam wants to Kick Bucky’s therapist and do more than a couple things to Hydra, but that wasn’t the current point. “Who would you disappoint that actually matters.”
“I-”
Sam cut him off. “No one. Because I sure as hell don’t expect you to go full 40s Bucky on me. And the nice tea lady down the street that likes to give you tea recommendations and eat sushi with you sure as hell doesn’t.”
“She thinks that I haven’t made enough progress.”
Sam scoffs and looks down at Bucky, he moved the hand from his hair to the side of his face, cupping it gently. “Sweetheart, you have made the most progress I have ever seen in a person. If you ever see that woman again I want you to tell her that. You went from sleeping on the floor and carrying five different types of weapons at all times. To sleeping in a bed, with pillows and blankets, and me. You only carry like one knife now. You babysit the kid next door for that mom who can’t be home all the time. You are incredible and I don’t care what that woman says. You are an emotional, beautiful, truly incredible human being who amazes me everyday.” Sam bites his lip. “And you will never stop amazing me. Please. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Bucky sucked in a breath. His eyes flickered back and forth over Sam’s face. They looked glazed over.
But not in the empty way Sam had seen so many times before. One of his hands came up to the back of Sam’s neck, soft and warm and it weighed him down in a sense of comfort.
Then Bucky kissed him.
He seemed far away for a second. Like he was leaving room for Sam to pull away. To reject him.
But why would Sam do that?
And Sam brought his other hand to wrap under Bucky's neck, giving him more support. And Sam kissed back with every ounce of emotion he had. Like he’s been wanting to do this. Like Bucky wanted the same thing.
But the thing was that he did want the same thing.
Bucky pulled back and smiled, soft and lopsided. “I think you’re pretty beautiful and amazing too.”
And Sam laughed.
Scrunched his nose.
And smiled back at Bucky.