all my life & all my days
Summary: Sometimes, you just gotta say what you mean, even if it’s been said before. (Featuring old married sambucky)
Author’s Note: After struggling to write for nearly 2 years and also struggling to finish any writing, somehow after a really, really crappy night and no sleep, I managed to write and finish a one shot in five minutes. This is extremely schmoopy and somehow wrote itself.
(Also technically my third finished sambucky fic)
Title is somewhat inspired by all my life by k-ci & jojo, so feel free to listen to that to capture some of the vibes.
“There’s not enough time in the world to say this but…” He takes his hand and squeezes, his eyes boring soft into his own. “…I love you.”
Sam laughs, head tossed back in a surprise, the wrinkles settling deep on his face, especially around his mouth and his eyes. He pats his hand before leaving it there, steady, warm.
“I know you do,” he says, moving his face closer. The greys and whites in his goatee and his hair make him glow, distinguished. “Not the first time you’ve said it.”
Bucky smiles back, much more spry in comparison, but he looks old, with his salt and pepper hair. No one would accuse his Sam of being a cradle robber.
“No, but I want to anyway, sweetheart.”
He leans into Sam’s warmth, his presence, his forehead touching Sam’s. The light glimmers into Sam’s eyes, as vivacious as it’s always been, captures the youth of his mind. He can see his reflection in its depths and his smile gazing back — this is the man that Bucky sought to be after coming out from under HYDRA’s clutches. He’s there and with the most beautiful and wondrous man in the world.
Sam tilts up and presses a kiss on his lips. A sweet, chaste thing, but full of love.
“Sentimental today, huh?”
His grin shaves the years off Sam’s face and a glimpse of his younger self shines for a moment.
“What can I say? I’m a hundred and fifty years old today. And you’re still here with me. It’s a blessing I can spend it with you.”
Sam graces with him another kiss.
“Ok, sap, I know it’s your birthday but my hips and knees aren’t as good as they used to be, so you’re gonna have to help me up.”
“Gladly, though you’re pretty spry for 80 something, don’t cut yourself short.”
Bucky’s hand is steady in Sam’s grip as he hoists him up, unwavering like an immovable island. The anchor in Sam’s shore.
“Just admit it,” once they’re both standing upright, “you just wanted an excuse to touch me.”
“Uh huh, keep dreaming,” Sam says as he moves their hands in a dancing position.
“Will do, if it means watching sunrises like this with you,” Bucky says back, swaying on the front porch of their house.
It’s quiet except for the breeze through the trees and the gentle lapping of waves on the water.
And of Sam: his breath, his heartbeat.
Steady, strong.
If Bucky could have the rest of his days like this, the end would be worth it.
If you like my writing, feel free to check out my writing tag!
