Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson have been in an unlabeled relationship for close to a year now.
Admittedly, the pair has been through an unspeakable amount of things together in the time they’d known each other.
From enemies (if brainwashed Bucky trying to kill Sam counted as being enemies), to guys with a mutual friend, to guys that disappeared from existence for 5 years together, guys with a dead mutual friend, co-workers, a killer hero duo, a boat fixer-upper pair, roommates, friends, and whatever the hell they were now (they’d say lovers, if they weren’t too coward).
After Bucky tried to kill Sam (in his defense, he was brainwashed), Steve had been the only link to connect the two. Neither could recall what happened during their time in the soul stone, but whatever it was, they returned to the land of the living as a more cohesive duo than before, Steve’s choice to stay in the past and his eventual death only managed to bring them closer. They’d worked together on countless missions (against the Flag Smashers and others), before Bucky invited himself to Delacroix to help the Wilsons with their family boat. Somehow, this turned into the two getting a shared apartment in Delacroix (Sarah insisted Bucky was family now and she fully intended on keeping her favorite white boy close to home). This is what made the pair become friends-- no, family.
It was the sleepless nights that had turned the pair into something more (although neither would admit it, as they both are incredibly stubborn and don’t wanna risk the nice things they have).
A few weeks into living with each other, both Bucky and Sam became deftly aware of the other man’s nightmares. Bucky’s PTSD cursed him with being the lightest sleeper in existence, meaning that the slightest shift in sleep that came from Sam the next room over, woke him.
At first, Bucky wouldn’t let on to Sam that he knew. Bucky struggled with nightmares, too, and he didn’t want Sam to feel self conscious of his sleeping habits (or lack thereof). But then, Bucky’s own nightmares caught up to him and he couldn’t stay holed up in his own room anymore. Between the soft as a cloud bed and the entire space that was so distinctly Bucky’s, well, the man wasn’t used to having things that were his and his alone. Some nights he’d take walks to get air, sleep on the floor, grab food or a drink from the kitchen, sleep on the couch or watch a movie or read in the living room.
He didn’t know Sam had caught onto his patterns until Sam met him in the kitchen. Bucky typically got a glass of cold water or warm milk, depending on how he was feeling that night, before attempting to go back to sleep or do something else. That night had been different.
Sam entered their shared kitchen, not so quietly that he scared Bucky, but not loud enough to disturb the older man. He took out the kettle and some tea leaves, brewing enough for the two of them, offering Bucky a soothing cup of chamomile tea, before they sat together on the couch. No words were exchanged that first night, they just enjoyed the tea and the other’s company, before falling asleep on their respective sides of the couch.
From that night on, that’s how their nightmares went. Some nights, they’d switch who brewed the tea (Sam’s was always better, but he wouldn’t dare insult a supersoldier’s ability to make tea), whilst the other picked a show, movie or book for them to fall asleep to.
Their favorites were family shows, chick-flick movies, or fantasy books, which they’d take turns reading chapters to the other till they both fell asleep.
As the nights passed, they’d gotten more and more comfortably intimate, neither mentioning it or seeming to care.
The first time they’d woken up in each other's arms was mildly awkward but not at all uncomfortable. Sam was the first to wake up, their couch was quite large, but not exactly big enough to fit two grown men sleeping together, so he let his grip tighten on Bucky, cautiously holding his breath. In his efforts to not wake Bucky, he’d gotten so comfortable he ended up falling back to sleep for what he could’ve only assumed was for hours longer, as when he woke again it was well past sunrise. Bucky sat at one edge of the couch, Sam’s legs on his lap, delving into the avocado toast and eggs he’d made, an obnoxious milk mustache painted his upper lip as he grinned like a cheshire cat down at Sam.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. I made us breakfast.” Bucky ushered a second plate of avocado toast and eggs on the coffee table towards Sam. The only difference in Sam’s plate was that he had turkey bacon (which Bucky hated) and orange juice over milk. The fact that Bucky had made turkey bacon just for Sam, even though he didn’t like it and wouldn’t eat it himself made his heart flutter in unmentionable ways.
“Thanks.” Sam smiled warmly, letting out a satisfied noise as he stretched, before getting up and enjoying his breakfast. “So, how’d you sleep?”
Bucky’s cheeks lit up at the thought of exactly how great he slept and how refreshed he felt when he woke up, bundled up safe and tight in Sam’s arms. “Um,” Bucky cleared his throat, averting his gaze, “like a baby.”
Now it was Sam’s turn to grin exhaderatedly, batting his lashes with innocence. “Like a baby? I wonder why that was.”
Bucky teasingly threw a piece of his toast’s crust at Sam. “Don’t get too cocky there, punk, I always slept better with someone at my side.”
Memories of Sam’s late partner, Riley, plagued his thoughts. Sleeping with someone always made him feel better, too. He admitted as much to Bucky, then the topic was never spoken of again.
Some more nightmare nights went exactly the same way. Tea, show/movie/book/quality time, falling asleep in each other's arms, waking up pretending nothing happened, repeat. This same cycle went on for upwards of two months, neither of them questioning it or showing any displeasure. That was, until, they started straight up sleeping on the couch together, without even attempting to go to their own rooms. Neither really knew when that exactly started, but what they both did know was that they only seemed to sleep through the night, almost completely nightmare-less, together.
Soon after that started, Sarah’s house was undergoing emergency renovations for a few nights. They’d made arrangements for Aj and Cass to sleep over a friend’s home for a few nights, but Sarah had nowhere else to go but to Bucky and Sam’s place. Bucky offered up his room for Sarah to sleep in, but she insisted she’d be fine taking the couch. They didn’t have a guest room and she felt like she was imposing too much if she’d kick Bucky out of his own room during the duration of her stay with them. Bucky didn’t want to be too obvious and let on why exactly he wanted Sarah to take his room while he took the couch, so he begrudgingly accepted it.
The first night of Sarah’s stay was okay. Neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to have any nightmares. Maybe, Bucky thought to himself, he didn’t need to rely on Sam to sleep peacefully through the night.
Boy, was Bucky proven entirely wrong by Sarah’s third night spent with them. He woke up to possibly the worst nightmare he’s had since moving in with the other man. He was shaking, crying even, the memories of his fall-- off the train and into the hands of HYDRA, it shook him to his core. He remembered all of their faces, every last person he’d ever killed. Their names, last words and cries haunted him. He felt sick to his stomach. He’d do anything to stop feeling like this.
All he could think of to feel better was Sam.
Like a child, Bucky clutched onto his favorite blanket, wrapping himself in it. He stepped out of his room, stopping in front of Sam’s door, he heard the steady, sleep heavy breathing coming from Sam and immediately regretted his decision to get up. A wrecked sob escaped his lips without him meaning it to and the sound must’ve woken Sam.
“Buck?” He called out, concern laced in his voice. Bucky’s knuckles rapped lightly at the solid wood door, Sam welcoming him in.
The way Bucky stepped into Sam’s room resembled a child who had a nightmare and was going to ask their parents if they could sleep with them. Wordlessly, Sam lifted his covers, the motion being all the permission Bucky needed before shuffling his way into Sam’s bed.
Sam’s bed was so warm and it smelled of Sam. Fresh honeysuckle, burnt caramel, all things sweet, warm and clean. Sam’s arms wrapped themselves around Bucky, who was still burrito-ed in his own blanket. Sam’s eyes fixated on studying Bucky’s features; from his tear stained cheeks and his lips bloodied, no doubt from his teeth worrying them. Sam felt the overwhelming urge to kiss the man in his arms. He pulled Bucky impossibly closer, the fingers of one hand carding into Bucky’s slowly growing hair, the other hand soothingly rubbing his back. All Bucky could remember before falling asleep was those calming feelings, in addition to Sam’s balmy lips pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
The next morning, Bucky woke up disoriented, his mind in a haze. His surroundings were mildly unfamiliar, he wasn’t in his room or the living room, but the familiar scent of Sam washed over him, taking notice of the arms wrapped firmly around him.
“Mornin’, what time is it?” Bucky’s voice was extremely husky from having just woken up.
“I’m not sure, late enough that Sarah already made breakfast and stepped out for work though.” Sam answered.
“Oh..” Bucky’s voice trailed away with his thoughts, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You seemed so tired and something was clearly bothering you when you fell asleep last night, it wouldn’t’ve been right for me to wake you when you finally fell asleep so peacefully.”
“And you decided to stay with me?”
Sam blushed darkly at Bucky’s words, averting his eyes, “Well.. I mean.. I didn’t want to risk waking you up by getting up myself. Not everyone can be a stealthy ex-assassin.”
“What’s on the agenda for the day?” Bucky asked, his voice still sounded so tired and Sam responded with a simple “Nothing.”
Clearly, that was the wrong answer, as Bucky decided to snuggle back in, nice and close to Sam, tucking his head under Sam’s chin, taking a deep inhale. His breath steadied before long, falling back to sleep, trapping Sam in the same position they’d already been in for countless hours.
Sam scoffed lightheartedly, Bucky had indeed trapped him.
-
After Sarah’s home was finished renovating and she moved back home, Bucky wasn’t sure how he and Sam’s sleeping arrangements would go.
They had gone from sleeping on the couch together occasionally, to nightly, to not at all while Sarah was visiting, to Bucky occasionally popping up in Sam’s room to spend the night.
He anxiously bit his bottom in contemplation. It was already decently late and he couldn’t sleep, even despite his best efforts. He’d been so self absorbed that he didn’t hear the telltale signs of Sam waking up, until there was a light beat at his bedroom door. His head perked up, seeing the familiar silhouette that was Sam.
“Mind if I spend the night?” Sam croaked out and Bucky allowed it.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” The meaning behind Bucky’s barely there words were explicit. He and Sam fell into their usual close huddle, only this time, it was Sam’s turn to hide his head timidly in the crook of Bucky’s neck.
“It wasn’t anything major.. It was a little different from all of the other ones.” Sam’s voice was breathy, Bucky didn’t push for details, letting Sam mumble at his own pace.
“It was about Steve. ‘Tasha too, a bit.” Sam got a little choked up but continued nonetheless. “I dream about them all sometimes. I know they did what was best for them or the greater good, but they left me. I loved them both so much. We were a family for so long and they just left us. Why would they leave us?” Sam was just about in full breakdown mode, borderline weeping. “Everyone I love leaves me. My real family, my chosen family.. You’re the only one who’s been a constant.”
Bucky could feel the growing wet spot at the neckline of his sleep shirt, but that didn’t matter. He tightened his grip around Sam until neither knew where Bucky’s body ended and Sam’s began.
“P-please.. Please promise me you’ll never leave me.”
Bucky’s heart broke. He heartily nodded his head, soothing hands running along Sam’s back.
“Samuel Wilson, in this moment, I promise you that you’re absolutely, positively, unquestionably stuck with me. Even if you decide one day that you hate me and never want to see me again, you know how relentless I am. You’ll never be rid of me. Not even ‘til the end of time.” Bucky’s admission pacified Sam quite significantly.
“I hope you know, I could never hate you, Buck.”
“You did once.” Bucky reminded him, thinking back to lesser times.
“That wasn’t you. That was an undeniably crazy and brainwashed Winter Soldier. You’re only a moderately crazy White Wolf now.”
Bucky was glad that Sam was feeling better, or at least well enough to joke around with him. It brought a bashful smile to his lips.
The air of the room was serene and the pair finally entered their respective content sleep.
-
Sleeping in Sam’s room had become their new normal in their ‘not-a-relationship’ relationship. It was the larger of the two rooms and had an ensuite bathroom. Bucky still kept his things in his own room, though he rarely even spent time in there. Moving his things in with Sam’s somehow seemed more intimate than sleeping together.
Truthfully, they’d spent most of their time in Sam’s room. Sam got small outlet nightlights that had a dim glow that lit up the floors so neither he nor Bucky stumbled when they woke up at night. He even put a TV up on the wall across from his bed so he and Bucky could watch shows and movies when they couldn’t sleep, like they had during the times they’d slept in the living room.
Being that both men were still, in fact, Avengers, sometimes they’d get separated for missions and spend lengthy times apart. This was why Bucky kept his Brooklyn apartment and Sam kept his DC apartment.
Bucky had currently been stationed in New York, helping the Spider-kid or whatever his name was, while Sam was who knows where, doing who knows what.
He’d been sleeping the minimum amount of enough during his time away from Sam, but as the nights passed he grew more and more restless, wanting to see, hear and sleep next to the other.
Not too long ago, Bucky was introduced to the marvelous technology that was a smartphone and he’d made the transition from grandpa flip phone to iphone. It took him longer than he’s willing to admit to figure out how to work it, but he nearly had it down now. The Spider-kid even showed him the wonders of instant, face-to-face video calling; Facetime, as the kids called it. He’d been shocked the first time he used it alone and he didn’t use it often, preferring voice calls or instant messages (texts), but he used video calls occasionally.
It was 10:30 pm, not too early and not too late, when he found himself genuinely missing Sam. Ignoring his nerves, he bit the bullet and hit the facetime call button. After a few rings, Sam answered. His skin shone, just short of dripping wet as he smiled seeing Bucky.
“Hey, grandpa! Did Peter show you how to work facetime?” Sam’s tone was entirely joking, but Bucky was still a little embarrassed.
“I can’t help the fact that I’m over 100 years old and technologically impared. We didn’t have smartphones or facetime back in my day.”
“Please never say ‘back in my day’ ever again.”
Bucky scoffed in mock offense. “Back in my day, if we wanted to see a person, we’d go ‘head and look ‘em up in the yellow pages.”
“Good god, you’re ancient.”
“Hey, if we’re being biologically accurate, I think you’re older than me, old man.” Bucky teased back, heart fluttering at the sound of Sam’s laugh (he missed that laugh more than he’s willing to admit).
“When are you coming home, Buck?”
“Why, you miss me already?”
“Yeah, actually, I do.” Sam confessed, before retracting it, “Uh, I mean, duh, I miss pissing you off old man.”
There was a comfortable silence as Sam angled the phone camera towards the ceiling, fully dressed in his sleep clothes and a little drier, nearly ready for bed. He grabbed his phone, setting it next to him as he bundled himself up in his blankets. Bucky did the same, pulling his blankets all the way up to his chin, holding his phone a decent distance from his face, smiling happily at the sight of a sleepy Sam.
A chill raked through Bucky’s body and it didn’t go unnoticed by Sam. He knew how cold Bucky always got and how much the cold affected the other man.
Sam mellowly let out a question for small talk, “Is it chilly up in New York?”
“Mhm, I think so. Could jus’ be me though.” Bucky declared. “I’d be warmer if I had some body heat.”
“The sooner you come back home, the sooner you can have all of my body heat.”
Bucky smiled uncontrollably, his eyes getting slightly misty, but he was inexplicably happy.
“What’s got you cheesin’?” Sam pestered, likely knowing the answer.
As if it were the most obvious thing, “You said ‘home’.”
“Well, yeah.” Sam shifted, unsure if he overstepped with his choice of words. “Do you not think Delacroix is your home?”
“No,” Bucky still grinned from ear to ear, “It’s our home.”
“You bet it is, Buck.”
They engaged in a few more short minutes of small talk before one followed the other into a peaceful sleep.
Sam was the first to wake up the next morning, heart pounding at the familiar sound of Bucky’s faint breathing (snoring, if you will).
He unplugged his phone from it’s charger, taking it to the kitchen with him to make breakfast, admiring Bucky’s sleeping face. If you asked him why he stopped to take a screenshot of Bucky, he’d say it was for blackmail, though there wouldn’t be any heat behind that. He couldn’t help the way Bucky’s innocent, sleeping face made him feel.
Not long after, Bucky woke up, “Sam?” he called out as if on instinct.
“Right here, Buck.”
In mild confusion, he looked down at his phone. Realization hit him that he’d fallen asleep on the video call with Sam last night. Had this still been the same call?
“Oh, you're already up? Why didn’t you hang up the call, Sam?”
“Umm.. I didn’t wanna wake you.” This always seemed to be Sam’s answer, though Bucky knew Sam hanging up the call wouldn’t have made a noise loud enough to wake him. He decided to feign ignorance, not letting Sam know he knew the truth.
“Thanks, Sammy.” Bucky smiled. “I gotta start my day.. I’ll probably be back home in another week or so.”
It was Sam’s turn to smile inexplicably, hearing Bucky call Delacroix ‘home’.
“Alrighty, I’ll see you when you’re back, then. Try not to give Peter too much of a hard time while you’re still working together.” Sam baited him.
“Samuel!” Bucky exclaimed in mock offence. “How dare you insinuate that I give the kid a hard time! He is the one that gives me a hard time and you know it.”
“Hmm, if you say so.” Sam dismissed, playfully. “Bye, Buck.”
“Bye, Sam.”
-
When Bucky arrived back in Delacroix, Sam hadn’t expected him to be home (blame Bucky’s awful communication skills), so Sam had been spending the night at Sarah’s.
Bucky hadn’t seen Sam’s truck in the driveway, but he checked the place out for good measure, making sure he was well and truly alone. He was.
He dropped his bags and tact gear off in his own room, then decided to make a quick meal for himself in the kitchen, boxing up the leftovers. He knew Sam always ate well at Sarah’s, but living with someone else engrained the habit of cooking for two in Bucky.
Bucky cleaned his mess, making his way to his room to sleep, skipping over it in favor of sleeping in Sam’s. He knew the other wouldn’t mind.
When he entered Sam’s room for the first time in what felt like forever (which was only a few weeks), Bucky noticed Sam upgraded his bed size. Bucky blushed, deep down, he knew Sam did that because of/for him. Sam’s bed had already been quite large (Queen sized), but fitting two tall men with large builds was quite the task. This bed was much larger, longer even (California King) and Bucky laughed a little as he let his mind run wild imagining Sam building the new bedframe (which Sarah probably helped him with, as she was handier than he was). He couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of how awkward Sam probably was dragging the mattress in.
Bucky stalked over to Sam’s closet, grabbing one of Sam’s crewnecks (his favorite crewneck Sam owned). It was deep red and soft on the outside and warmly lined on the inside. It looked absolutely sinful in the best way on Sam. Though the facetime calls happened quite frequently while he was away, he really missed Sam. His smile, his voice, his scent, his warmth..
He curled up in Sam’s bed (which had honestly been their bed at this point), pulling the covers onto himself, falling into a deep sleep.
-
When morning came, Bucky was woken up by the blanket lifting and a familiar set of arms snaking around his waist.
“Sam?”
“Yeah, now shh, go back to sleep.”
Bucky couldn’t argue with Sam, especially not when the other man was spooning him, muscular chest pressed against Bucky’s back, comfortably heating him. Bucky didn’t know if he was so tired he was imagining things, but he swears he felt Sam kiss the back of his neck as he drifted back to sleep.
-
With living together and sleeping together, the two gained an undeniable closeness with every other aspect of their lives.
While cooking together, Bucky chopped veggies while Sam fried the chicken. They had a strong, wordless communication, fitting around each other with ease. Bucky stepped away from where he stood at the island counter, carding behind where Sam stood in front of the stove. It wasn’t all that tight of a squeeze but he’d unconsciously do anything to be close to Sam. He gently placed both hands on either side of Sam’s waist, unintentionally ghosting a hand over the sweet spot on the small of Sam’s back, trying to pass to his side to get a second knife from the knife block. He pressed his chest into Sam before sliding gracefully away with his new, clean kitchen knife.
Sam looked over to watch Bucky go to town mincing an onion. He thought he was being discreet with his eye-stalking but realized there was no such thing as being discreet around an ex-assassin. Bucky smirked cockily, flipping the chef's knife the way he did with his combat daggers. He knew Bucky was just doing it to show off but Sam still found it hot.
Outside of their domestic lives, their Captain America and White Wolf teamwork was at an all time high. So much so that magazine articles and news stations considered their relationship to be a hot topic.
When they’d go through their post-mission interviews, their interviewers seemed to care more about asking them questions regarding the nature of their relationship over actually useful questions.
Interviewing Bucky had been next to hopeless. That man was like a locked door no one could find the key to. He also didn’t quite care about his perception, so when interviewers would push too far or too personal with their questions, he’d do anything short of telling them to fuck off. Sam, on the other hand, was an open book. Sometimes, that was his fault. He allowed interviewers to ask him all kinds of questions, Avengers related or personal. The media got a kick out of this, using his lack of a filter to print all kinds of cover stories on “Captain America and the Winter Soldier’s Gay Relationship”.
Bucky and Sam were shocked when they first heard people saw them as a couple.. They didn’t act like a couple, did they? Soon though, the rumors of their relationship fizzled out when the media realized they wouldn’t get any confessions or couple content from the two, so a new hot couple made headlines and replaced Bucky and Sam.
When the two would visit Sarah’s, they knew they could be themselves. Sure, they still bickered, argued and teased each other until they were both red in the face, but there was absolutely no malice behind any of it. Bucky had even taken to ditching the couch and sleeping with Sam in his old bedroom when they’d spend the night.
Bucky and Sam had been spending the night. They’d both helped Sarah cook and she obviously knew something was going on between the two of them when she’d seen them together.
Currently, they sat at the dinner table, Bucky and Sam next to one another, Sam’s nephews across from them and Sarah at the head of the table.
“Uncle Sam, are you and Uncle Bucky married?” Aj asked and Sam’s soul nearly left his body as he choked on his sweet tea.
Sam could feel Bucky and Sarah staring at him but he avoided both sets of eyes in favor of picking at the food on his plate. “No, buddy. Uncle Buck and I aren’t married.”
“When are you and Uncle Bucky gonna get married?”
“Yeah, Uncle Sam! We wanna see you and Uncle Bucky dressed up in fairytale clothes.”
Sam internally facepalmed at his nephews ganging up on him over this.
“Aj, Cass, Bucky and I aren’t--”
Bucky cut Sam off before he could finish his sentence, “We aren’t getting married any time soon you guys. But when we do, you guys’ll get to wear fairytale clothes with us! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Bucky was so good with Sam’s nephews. It made his heart ache seeing them together in all of the best ways. But, Bucky’s words echoed in Sam’s head “but when we do”. Did Bucky want to marry Sam? Did Sam want to marry Bucky?
He excused himself from the dinner table, throwing in his shoes and deciding to go on a run before anyone could question it. Bucky and Sarah exchanged confused glances, before her sons started to clear the table from dinner. Doing the dishes after dinner was part of their list of chores, so they played a mildly competitive round of rock-paper-scissors to determine who’d do the washing and who’d do the drying. Bucky watched them fondly.
“Seein’ your boys together makes me miss my sisters.” Bucky admitted, Sarah pitied him and all of his loss.
“I’m sorry, Bucky. It really seems like you’ve lost everyone.”
“Well, not everyone.” Bucky smiled, recalling the promise he’d made to Sam a few months ago. “I still have Sam. I have you and the boys, too. You guys are the best chosen family I could’ve ever asked for.”
When the boys finished the dishes, Bucky herded them outside, hoping to tire them out a little before bedtime. He loved playing with Sam’s nephews. They were the kids he never got to have. He played a little bit of basketball with them, staying out until just after sunset before ordering them inside and into bed.
During the time Bucky had been outside with the boys, Sam had returned from his run.
“I thought we were closer, Sam.” Sarah spoke, gearing up to grill her brother.
“What do you mean? We are close?”
“How long have you and Bucky been dating? Did you think you’d be able to get away with not telling your own sister?”
Sam stopped in his tracks, his facial expression frozen in shock. “D-dating? Bucky? We aren’t dating.”
“Don’t you lie to me in my own house, Samuel.” Sarah poked fun. “I’ve seen the way y’all looked at each other from the start. That man looks at you like you single handedly hung the moon, stars and sun.”
Sam was embarrassed that Sarah picked up on all of that. Surely he and Bucky hadn’t been dating.
“Sarah, I assure you, if I had anything going on in my love life, you’d be the first to know.”
“That’s rich coming from the man who’s ‘not-boyfriend’ gave my sons hope of a fancy wedding in the near future.”
Sam knew he couldn’t hide his feelings from his sister, “I think I love him, Sarah. But, he’s from a different time. I don’t think he feels the same, I think he’s just gentlemanly.” Sam sighed, “We’re close and I don’t want to ruin it.”
Sarah shook her head, playfully punching her brother’s arm.
“You’re a complete dumbass, I hope you know that.”
With that, Sarah corralled the boys and Bucky back inside, ready for bed.
-
Sam thought about it. He’d been trying to ignore his feelings for Bucky for months (if not longer) now. He couldn’t be in love with his straight best friend. He’d fallen into that same narrative one too many times and it always ended up with him being the one to get hurt. Bucky didn’t love Sam in the same way; they used each other for solace, not entirely knowing what the other struggled with but using their own struggles to know how to offer comfort. That’s all he was for Bucky, comfort and he didn’t know exactly if that was okay with him or not, but it meant he got to keep Bucky close.. Maybe that alone was worth it in the end.
Without a second thought, Sam’s feet carried him up into his childhood bedroom. He pulled on his pajamas and settled into the full sized bed, admiring how plush Bucky looked already in his bed. The covers were pulled up, night light on the bedside table on, and Bucky held the newest book he’d been reading. Sam draped his arm over Bucky’s lap, looking up at the former assassin who was fixated on the text. Bucky’s hair was still short but long enough to pull into a small man-bun. It spilled out of the hair tie, messy pieces drooped around his face, a particularly large cheek settled on his cheekbone.
Sam reached up, tucking the piece behind Bucky’s ear. Bucky airly let out a small smile, stealing a glance down at Sam.
“Will you read to me?” the younger man asked, and who was Bucky to say no to such an adorable request?
-
Nearing the year mark of Bucky and Sam falling asleep together, they’d almost assumed both of their nightmares had finally stopped. Sure, it’d be foolish to think that men that had this crazy amount of PTSD wouldn’t have night terrors, but being by each other’s side was comforting in ways they both couldn’t describe. Some nights were still hard to get past, but those nights didn’t hold a candle at all to the good ones.
That’s why, Bucky waking up to an extreme manic episode one night caught them both dangerously off guard.
They’d fallen asleep on Sam’s bed (see also: their bed), and Bucky didn’t take Sam’s advice of pulling on an extra sweater when they’d laid down. He thought that he would be fine, but Sam noticed pretty early on that Bucky being too cold at night was a surefire way to trigger his bad dreams.
Sam briefly woke up to Bucky shivering, so he pulled the blankets up higher and cuddled the other man impossibly closer to his chest. Apparently that hadn’t helped anything in the long run.
Bucky woke, his features were just borderline berserk, before his eyes switched to a cold, deadpan look that Sam prayed he would never have the displeasure of seeing again in his life.
“Bucky?” Sam called out, breath picking up. He was getting more and more scared as the seconds passed, Bucky didn’t seem to recognize him.. he didn’t seem like his Bucky.
Calling his name was a mistake as it triggered the wrong response from the frantic man. A glowing vibranium arm snapped up, compressing almost fatally on Sam’s neck. Sam didn’t care for his own life or safety, all he cared about was Bucky.. His Bucky who was currently so triggered that he attacked Sam. Bucky’s body was shaking; it seemed to be a mixture of cold and fear.
“Bucky, p-please.. You-you’re safe. It’s me, it’s Sam. I’m with you. You’re okay.” Sam didn’t know if the words reached Bucky through his choked sobs, but he had to try.
Sam’s hands coasted along Bucky’s strong vibranium arm. He knew better than to try to pry off the hand that was choking him, so he only loosely soothed his own hand over the other’s, his second hand gently touching Bucky’s face. The pad of his thumb ran along the hollow of Bucky’s cheekbone. Sam was getting lightheaded at the lack of air, but he’d be damned if he didn’t exhaust all resources in his efforts to ground Bucky.
“Buck, I love you. You’re going to be okay.”
Sam’s eyes rolled, head tipping back, nearly losing consciousness when Bucky’s grip finally relented.
“S-sam?” Bucky’s words were more of a mangled sob, his flesh hand moving to check Sam’s pulse, holding his own breath waiting to feel the familiar beat. “Sam? Sam, I’m sorry. Please, you can’t leave me. I-I didn’t.. I didn’t mean it.”
Sam’s pulse was so faint it was nearly undetectable.
Bucky bawled, arms sliding under Sam to clutch the man tightly to his chest.
Bucky whispered all types of things along the lines of “I love you,” “Don’t leave me,” and “I’m sorry.”
Bucky doesn’t know how long it took Sam to come to, but it felt like the longest moment in his extended life. He was caught up in his own sniffing and weeping when Sam started choking in deep breaths.
Bucky’s voice was wrecked as he called out for Sam like a mantra. Sam clung to Bucky with equal fervor, reassuring mumbles escaping his lips to let the other know he was okay.
Sitting like this with Bucky was calm, a stark contrast to the way he’d freaked out earlier.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to.. I-I couldn’t stop myself. I could’ve killed you Sam.” Bucky disentangled from Sam as if his skin burned like lava. He was torn. He felt like he needed to put as much space between himself and Sam as fast as possible before he hurt the man he loved again, yet he also couldn’t bring himself to leave Sam.. being with Sam meant he knew if Sam was okay or not.
“Hey, hey, hey now. Buck, look at me.” He spoke in a leery way, as if Bucky was a frightened animal that would scamper off at any moment. Taking his chances, he reached out heeding any warning signs before placing his warm palm on Bucky’s cheek; the same way he’d done it earlier. “Hey, it’s okay baby, look at me.” Bucky hated hearing how horace and wrecked Sam’s voice was.. because of him..
“I’m fine, you see?” Sam took Bucky’s flesh hand in his own, bringing it to his chest, flatly laying his warm hand atop Bucky’s cold one. “Still beating. I’m still alive and I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Sam. We can’t do this anymore. I have to go. I can’t keep putting you in danger. I can’t lose you.”
Bucky made a movement to get up, intending to leave Sam alone; Sam wasn’t having that, though. He grabbed Bucky’s wrist, stopping the other from leaving.
“I know the risks I’m taking by being with you. You aren’t him anymore. You have to believe that. I knew what I signed up for the day I helped Steve search for your ass. Recovery isn’t easy; stuff like this happens. I trust you. That you won’t ever hurt me intentionally. But, you don’t get to go, Bucky. You don’t get to make that decision for me. I would’ve thought you of all people should know a thing or two about respecting my choices.” It was a low blow for Sam to say that and they both knew it. His grip on Bucky’s wrist loosened, wanting to give Bucky the freedom of his own choice.
“I love you, Bucky. I trust you more than anyone. As you’ve told me before, I promise you that you’re absolutely, positively, unquestionably stuck with me. Even if you decide one day that you hate me and never want to see me again, you’ll never be rid of me. Not even ‘til the end of time.” Sam dropped his hand from Bucky’s altogether now, as if Bucky was something Sam was forbidden from touching; forbidden from loving. “But, I need you to know, if you chose to walk out that door, this can’t happen anymore. I can’t be burdened with loving someone that’s too scared to love me back.”
That was it though. Bucky was scared. He was scared of hurting Sam. He was scared of losing Sam. He was scared of loving Sam.
Bucky was frozen. He knew if he took another step, he’d walk away without looking back, shutting his emotions off, without caring how it made Sam feel. He could hear Sam’s heartbeat though, thanks to his damn supersoldier hearing. He could tell how much this meant to Sam-- how much he meant to Sam. He’d be foolish to let that go.
He squeezed his eyes tightly, letting the remaining moisture in his eyes drop a few more tears, inhaling shakily. He turned around where he stood, eyes meeting Sam’s from where the smaller sat. From that look alone, he knew he couldn’t walk out on Sam. Not like this.
He strode over, falling into Sam with a practiced grace. Bucky found himself with his knees on either side of Sam, straddling him. Intensely, Bucky looked over the body beneath him. He took notice of Sam’s own tear stained cheeks, eyes trailing to Sam’s neck. A bruise was already starting to form where Bucky’s vibranium arm had death gripped him; cold metal fingers ghosted over the marks, soft and with care this time. Their eyes met again, before Bucky’s eyes dropped down to Sam’s lips, then back up.
“I said you’d never get rid of me.” Bucky whispered, their lips so close they could feel the tickle of each other’s breath.
Bucky’s lips finally staked a claim on Sam’s. Bucky’s senses were easily overloaded by the plush feel of Sam’s lips against his own. It’s been longer since Bucky cared to admit since he shared a kiss with anyone, probably even longer since he’d kissed another man. He was a romantic killer back in his day and judging by Sam’s pliant reactions, even out of practice, he wasn’t half bad.
The kiss escalated, nearly becoming sexual. The passion behind it was undeniable, though neither of them were in a rush to do anything aside from this kiss.
Bucky’s tongue swiped along Sam’s lower lip, asking for entrance, which was eagerly granted. Their tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance until Bucky pulled out the big guns of tickling the roof of Sam’s mouth with his tongue, successfully keeping control of the kiss. He sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth, drinking down the sinful noises Sam made. Sam swore Bucky’s tongue would be the death of him as it plunged into his mouth once more, perfectly welcoming the violation.
Sam was in a daze by the time Bucky pulled away.
Bucky really knew how to make Sam feel flustered, as he took his time littering kisses on every inch of exposed skin. He pecked Sam’s lips, down his jawline, stopping to nibble at his ear, his cheekbones, forehead, the tip of his nose, and all the way down his neck. Bucky paid extra close attention to where the bruises on his neck had been forming, leaving the most kisses there.
When their breathing finally evened out, Sam found himself crying once more.
Bucky pulled away, worried he’d done something wrong.. That he’d made another mistake.. But Sam smiled while his tears glistened on his cheeks.
“Is everything alright?” Bucky asked.
“Beyond perfect.”
Bucky took that answer (and Sam’s smile) as a sign it was okay to delve in on his lips once more. When they’d pulled away from the second kiss, Bucky found himself kissing up Sam’s beautiful tear lines.
“How have we gone this long without doing that?” Bucky asked, voice barely there.
Sam chuckled, voice airy, “I have no clue, but now that it’s happened, and I know you can kiss like that, I don’t plan to go a single day without it.”
“Oh no, what’ve I gotten myself into?”
Sam smirked devilishly before pulling Bucky’s face back down to meet his lips.
“Kiss me like that again and you might find out.”