There’s no mould for Captain America, for he is a symbol and not a person. Captain America can be white, black or any colour, but what they should be is good. Honest. A great person. And that? That’s what Sam Wilson is.
So, in the mind of Bucky Barnes, there is no conquest that Sam, his Sam, is the best option to follow in Steve Rogers’ (and Isaiah Bradley’s) footsteps. And it definitely helps that he looks so good in the suit.
Watching Sam save all those lives, as well as getting the recognition he deserves, made Bucky feel something in his chest. It wasn’t the same pride he had for Steve. Bucky loved Steve as a brother, he loves Sam as much more than just that.
As Sam caught the truck, lifting it up to safety, Bucky couldn’t help the wide grin that came over his face. He watched with his metal hand clenched, terrified that something would go wrong (terrified that Sam would end up dead). In his head he thought of all the terrible possibilities, but none of them happened. Sam was okay and, because of him, so were the people stuck in the back of the truck.
Pride is a feeling Bucky felt a lot during the war, or when he saw Steve in his element. But, still, there’s something different about it when he looks at Sam. For Sam is different. He’s fighting for something else, something that’s wider than just ideals. He’s fighting for every marginalised black man and woman, simply by being who he is. There’s just so much riding on his shoulders (or wings), that Steve never had to experience. So, yeah, the pride in Bucky’s stomach is a lot more expressive than it was for Steve.
Sam looked so strong, floating down to where Bucky was stood. Shield over his back, wings spread, Sam looked gorgeous and powerful. But it wasn’t just cosmetic. The way he smiled at Bucky said ‘I’m finally able to make a difference’, and Bucky knew how much that meant to him.
He is Captain America (Bucky would gladly be Cap’s ‘sidekick’ again, if it meant he got to hang about Sam Wilson’s place again).
And, damn, that speech. Bucky was sure that every Captain America had to go through training for that. Steve was good at it. Isaiah probably was too. John... not so much (but was he ever truly Captain America? Bucky didn’t think so). And Sam. Sam was amazing. The way he got his point across with zero anger. The way he helped Karli’s legacy, even if she wasn’t around to see it. The way he expressed how it felt to be hopeless, how he got into the minds of the people and got them to change their minds and listen.
God, Bucky was so proud (had he mentioned that yet?).
Finishing the book, Bucky felt a weight off his shoulders. He felt, may he say, indestructible. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long, long, time and he knew that it was finally his chance to let go of the Winter Solider and just be himself for the first time since, probably, 1943.
What he chose for his first step of freedom was the chance to express to his co-worker (they were more than that) that he was incredibly proud of him. And, as the days started to wrap up into one, he finally plucked up the courage to ask Sam if he wouldn’t mind getting the couch ready again. And, of course, Sam said yes.
When Bucky arrived, some spare food in his arm, he couldn’t stop the grin that etched onto his face as he saw the reception that Sam’s community gave him. He watched as people took photos with the new Cap, smiles all over their faces. The way Sam’s nephews watched with pride in their faces, finding it extremely cool that their Uncle was Captain America.
As the sun set, and people started to make their way home, Bucky found himself gravitating towards Sam. He stood behind him, watching the sun go, and smiled gently at him.
“You really couldn’t stay away, could you?” Sam joked, turning around to face Bucky. He looked him up and down, something Bucky pretended to ignore (but was that butterflies in his stomach?). “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Cap,” Bucky smiled, and the resulting grin that Sam gave him made him weak at the knees.
“Shut up, man. It’s just ‘Sam’ to you. Or- well- unless I’m in the suit. Which really shows off my abs, by the way,” Sam replied.
Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. He looked away for a second to see the beautiful red sky. He flinched slightly as Sam’s hand touched his, but he reciprocated by interlocking their fingers together. Bucky glanced back at Sam, who’s face was staring forward. He didn’t look as nervous as Bucky felt. He just looked content.
“I’m proud of you, Sam,” Bucky said, squeezing his hand. He bit his lip, looking at the side of Sam’s face. “Every time I look at you... it’s not Steve’s legacy I see. It’s Sam Wilson. The stubborn, pain in my ass, guy. The man who’s so much more than all of that. The man who’s loving, sweet, caring and, um- the man who dropped everything to save me and everyone else he meets. Even if they do him wrong- he’s always there to save them.”
“Buck,” Sam whispered, blinking gently. He smiled softly at him, the quiet sounds of people talking filtering through the background of their conversation. They looked into each other’s eyes, quiet and loving. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
The pet name hit Bucky in the chest. He didn’t know how to hold back. Bucky just wanted to step forward, to press his lips against Sam’s. After all they went through... Bucky felt at peace. It was his calm. Sam was his calm and he didn’t want to mess that up.
“Buck,” Sam whispered.
Bucky looked at Captain America, his Sam, and he felt his heart beating heavily in his chest. His hands felt clammy, especially the one that was holding onto Sam’s. There was a feeling in his lower stomach. Was it- attraction? Love?
He didn’t move, scared. Sam’s eyes blinked down to his lips. The noise of the nearby area was the only thing left, nothing coming from either party. And Sam was looking at him, and Bucky didn’t know what to do.
“Buck,” Sam tried again, stepping forward into Sam’s personal space.
“Sam,” Bucky responded. His eyes blinked close as if it was in a direct response. And, moments later, he felt lips on his. Sam’s lips.
Yeah, this felt like home. All Bucky searched for, since the moment he went to war, was a family. A person. A person to be the one for him, his soulmate. And after years, and years, of conquest... Sam started to feel like all he had been searching for.
Sam holding him was everything he ever wanted. His hands were on Bucky’s waist, then his hair and then everywhere. He was holding Bucky so tight that he just knew that Sam was feeling the same way.
Sam lips were a heaven for Bucky. They were wet, tasting like everything he had searched for. They were strong, hungry, and everything that Bucky knew Sam was. His hands were tugging on Bucky’s belt loops, pulling him close and tight.
If somebody had told Bucky that he’d be making out with Sam Wilson... he would’ve told them that it would never, ever, happen. And he wouldn’t have ever been happier to listen to someone say ‘I told you so’.
Sam pulled away, resting their foreheads together. “You know that I’m proud of you too, right?”
“I have no idea why,” Bucky whispered, lips curling up into a smile. When Sam laughed against his lips, Bucky leant in again to silence the other man.
They made out on that bit of ground for a long time, up until the point that Sarah coughed and forced them apart. She raised an eyebrow at them, laughing gently when Bucky started to blush.
“Go on, Cap,” she winked at her brother, giving him a high five. “You bagged a good one. You’re lucky.”
And as Bucky watched Sam laugh, his beautiful smile illuminated by the shine of the sun’s gentle rays, he stopped himself and thought ‘no, I’m the lucky one. Because, for him, there was no-one else. For Bucky Barnes- his life was now, and for as long as he’d have him, Sam Wilson and he was incredibly proud to say so.