Just start here by 28sunflowers(me)
Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson | 1384 words | General Audiences | Fix-It Of Sorts | Pining | Fluff | First Kiss
What if the scene of Sam telling Bucky to stay over ended a little differently?
Read on AO3 or under the cut.
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Bucky has been stalling. He knows he should just drink the last of his beer and say goodbye, but he can’t seem to make himself do it.
He wants to stay.
But that, right now, will implicate in too much, and he doesn’t know where Sam is at or where exactly they stand with each other. It’s one thing to get back from fighting, exhausted, and ending up on the same bed, usually to wake up alone and not to speak about the previous night at all. It’s a completely different one to explicitly make the decision to share the same sleeping space for comfort.
With a resigned sigh, Bucky drowns the rest of his beer and stands up. “Well, I should get going, get a hotel room for the night. Gotta catch my flight tomorrow.”
“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?” Sam gives him an unimpressed look.
“I don’t wanna make it weird,” Bucky says easily, before realizing what he just did. He tries to quickly amend things. “For your family.”
Sam rolls his eyes at him. “Just stay here. You can crash on the couch if you rather.”
Bucky watches him for a second. Sam looks so sure of his choice, the perfect picture of calm and collected. It’s a huge contrast to how much of a big deal this sounds to Bucky’s ears. He clenches his hands in repetitive motions to force some tension out, and then accepts the offer.
“Okay.”
––
Bucky stares at the ceiling of the living room, the shadows from the light post on the street hitting the window blinds make soothing patterns on the white pain. Bucky watches it like it’s a painting that holds all the answers to the questions running a mile a minute in his mind.
The night was great. Sarah cooked, Sam cleaned and Bucky helped them both. It was domestic and easy in a way Bucky hasn’t experienced in… so long. Too long. It both satisfied his desire for that type of routine in his life and made him long for it even more, now that he got to experience what he misses most for one night.
The two boys, Sam’s nephews, weren’t scared of him. They talked around him with no reservations, didn’t flinch or look skeptical at his vibranium arm even though it wasn’t covered up. They invited Bucky to play Uno with them after dinner. Sam made fun of him for being a pushover when he immediately agreed to it, but all it did was make Bucky smile at the teasing. He had always had a soft spot for kids.
But now that everyone is asleep and Bucky is left alone to his own thoughts, he realizes that this night wasn’t enough to fully satisfy his needs. There is still something missing, and he knows exactly what it is.
He has kept himself stuck to the couch for almost half an hour, but the more he stays, the more his body screams at him to get up and move, to be a little bit braver and ask for what he wants.
Bucky takes a deep breath and pushes himself up in an impromptu boost of courage. He doesn’t look back, because he knows how easily he would talk himself out of doing what he’s about to do. So he just moves, one foot in front of the other, until he reaches Sam’s bedroom door. He pushes it open slowly, careful not to make any loud noises, then closes it softly behind him. He tries to control his breathing so it doesn’t match the rapid beating of his heart and brings attention to himself inside the quiet and dark space. He blinks a few times to adjust his sight and then tiptoes around the room, moving towards the side of the bed with more space on it.
Sam has his back to him, which makes things easier. He climbs on the bed and under the covers before his brain starts telling him to get out because Sam is better off without him. He slowly pushes himself closer to Sam, until he is satisfied that he can feel his warmth against his front. His left arm hovers over Sam’s form as he realizes that, if Sam hasn’t woken up yet, the cold metal touching him most definitely will jolt him awake.
He stays like that for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do, until a hand takes his arm and pulls it tight around Sam’s waist.
And then Sam closes the last of the distance between them until he is plastered against Bucky’s front.
“Took you long enough,” Sam sounds smug even through the soft tiredness in his voice.
Bucky swallows. He fits his face on the space between Sam’s shoulder blades and lets out a heavy breath. His body immediately relaxes, tension leaving his muscles progressively as he molds himself more against Sam’s back.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, not knowing what else to say.
“It’s alright. Goodnight, Bucky.”
“Night, Sam.”
––
Bucky’s eyes open fast, something waking him up hastily. He tenses up but stays still, trying to account for what sent off warning bells inside his brain. The door creeks and he realizes it’s been opened. Bucky is almost pushing himself off the bed to close it when he hears a soft giggle followed by a shush.
He relaxes back down against the bed for a second, before realizing that’s not any better. Sam’s nephews have just caught them cuddling in bed. There is no platonic way to explain this.
He turns to look at them and his worries are only slightly calmed by the fact the boys are paying them no attention, whatsoever. They are focused on stealing Sam’s shield. He has to bite down a smile at the endearing scene. The feelings of longing and affection from last night come rushing back in and he hides his face on the pillow to try to contain them.
He only hears the two pairs of feet rushing out of the room and the door clicking behind them, not bothering to push his head up to watch the little menaces run off with something that most definitely isn’t theirs.
Sam doesn’t wait a second before speaking up. “Did they take the shield?”
“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.
“Is that why you’re so tense all of the sudden?”
Bucky appreciates the out in the question, as he is sure Sam worded it like that on purpose. It’s a chance for him to approach the topic, but without pushing. He could easily say “yes” because they both know how dangerous the shield can be when in the wrong hands, but that’s not what worries Bucky right now.
“No, I was just caught by surprise. Didn’t expect them to see us like this,” he admits.
Because the boys might’ve not paid close attention to them, but they could talk. And their position is pretty incriminating to anyone who is older than 8 years old. Bucky doesn’t want to overstep boundaries in Sarah’s house, especially in front of her children.
“They are good ones. They know about me since forever, Sarah always made sure of it.”
Oh.
“Oh. I didn’t –,”
“I know, we’ve never talked about it before.” Sam cuts him off. He turns around in Bucky’s arm so they’re facing each other. It’s intense, and so much more than what Bucky allows himself to have normally. They keep things to the dark, they keep talking to a minimum. This is a lot to handle at once, and Bucky’s head feels like it’s spinning. It doesn’t stop Sam, though. “I know we have this… rule, I guess, of not talking about these things, but I want to break it.”
“Okay,” Bucky rasps out.
“Sarah and the boys know about me. If you’re comfortable sharing that part of yourself, there will be no judgment from them. You’re safe, at least inside this house, alright?”
Bucky lets out a shaky breath. “Alright.”
“Alright,” Sam repeats after him, a smile growing on his face, both happy and mischievous. “Now, can I finally kiss you, or is that too much homo for you?”
God, Bucky hates him. But he may actually love him.
He doesn’t give him a verbal answer and just closes the space between them.
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