There are many people to blame for this, but mostly @woofgender and @sarsaparillaswords (and @sweet-coffee-jelly because they own rights to the powerpoint, and @neuromagpie for knowing many bird facts)
“I don’t want this,” Steve said, but it was too late--Sam already had his laptop hooked up to the TV screen.
WHY AMERICA’S MASCOT SHOULD BE A TURKEY by Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes (a picture accompanied the title of two hand-drawn turkeys, presumably one by Sam and one by Bucky)
Slide 2 was just a white background with size 48 font: “BALD EAGLES SUCK” - Benjamin Franklin
“I feel like this is not going to be very factual,” Steve groaned. He could have easily escaped the blanket and pillow pile that Bucky fashioned around him to “chain” him to the couch, but a massive eye roll would have to do for self defense.
“Wrong!” Sam barked. “We did our research.” He flipped to the next slide, which was about how Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be the national bird. “He actually thought bad eagles sucked. And I quote: ‘He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly.’ Dude hated eagles, man. Founding Father right there.”
“Next slide!” said Bucky. “Benny Franklin also said: ‘For in Truth the Turkey is ... a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on.’ That’s you, Steve.”
“Plus, turkeys are native to North America.”
Steve made a face.
“Turkeys will also imprint on humans during mating season, and have no regard for the human’s gender,” Sam said, showing the next slide.
“Which makes them bisexual. You’re a turkey, Steve,” Bucky concluded.
“But--turkeys can’t fly,” Steve said.
“Neither can you.” Sam exchanged a smirk with Bucky.
“Plus you’re a giant show off,” Bucky said.
“With huge breasts.” Sam busted out laughing and so did Bucky--it was those kinds of self masturbatory laughs where they both doubled over while smacking each other.
“I give up.” Steve threw his head back on the couch cushion.
This prompted Sam to go to the last slide of the power point presentation, which included a video of a herd of gobbling turkeys. “Listen! This is how Steve sounds all the time!” Bucky pretended he was throwing the shield and made gobbling sounds.
Sam ran in place and made his best Intense Captain America Face while gobbling.
So Steve grabbed two pillows and launched them at Sam and Bucky, hitting Bucky with a loud THUMP while Sam dodged it and it broke a lamp behind them.
“Jesus Christ! Barnes, we angered the turkey!”
“Run for it!”
So if you were a hired driver for Amazon and were about to walk up to the house to deliver a box containing the new flatware set, curtain rod, NERF Maverick blaster, and pack of 50 white ankle socks, you would have heard the muffled sounds of laughing, crashing, cursing, and gobbling that then ensued for about twenty minutes intermixed with proclamations of CAPTAIN AMERICA IS A TURKEY!
A nsfw request: steve and sam getting bucky readjusted to physical touch? Samstevebucky cuddles are best cuddles.
dear anon: I hope you haven’t moved on to another fandom or another galaxy or something, but I did write something that isn’t exactly nsfw because I didn’t think the mood called for it. I hope you see this and enjoy it and I’m sorry I’m a terrible writer that takes 10 months to finish a 500 word drabble. c:
Sometimes Steve is pretty damn sure Sam wants to watch a movie just as an excuse to make out on the couch, and he’s perfectly fine with that.
Something terrible is happening in the movie Alien as Sam has Steve pinned down on the couch, and their kissing is getting sloppier and their hands are roaming more and more.
That’s when the door opens and they both look up to see none other than Bucky Barnes, in full gear, with a gun bag slung over his shoulder.
“Buck!” Steve says, sitting up and attempting to realign his hair from mess to normal. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah. Mission got called off.”
Sam seems intent on continuing what they were doing before Bucky interrupted as he nuzzles into Steve’s neck and kisses him there. If Steve wasn’t blushing before, he certainly is now, but Bucky probably already figured out what they’d been doing before he came in.
Bucky watches them with hazy eyes for half a beat before he sets the gun bag on the counter and unzips it.
“Oh that’s–too bad,” Steve says with a hitch in his breath.
Bucky checks and starts disassembling the rifle, looking over occasionally at Steve, and at Sam, who is still kissing Steve’s neck. He pauses before putting the rifle back in the bag noiselessly and stowing it in the coat closet.
Sam glances up with a devilish smirk and catches Bucky’s eye before Bucky retreats into the bathroom. They hear the shower go on.
“Sam,” Steve whispers, holding him by the shoulders. “What are you–”
“Did you not see that look?”
“What look?”
“The look.” Sam pauses half a beat for Steve to get on his level, and when Steve fails that, Sam sighs. “That half-eyed longing gaze shit. Tell me you saw it.”
“Oh.” And Steve’s turning pink again.
Bucky had been a topic of conversation lately, mostly because he'd been acting cagey and withdrawn for a few days. Sam thought he needed some space, so they let Bucky sleep in, stay up late, only talk if he wanted to. But then they started noticing his lingering gazes at them when Sam would brush his hand across Steve’s back, or when Steve would press a kiss to Sam’s cheek. Bucky kept a physical space between himself and them, but he seemed more than interested when he caught them showing affection.
Steve scrunches up his face. “Yeah, but…”
“He was watching us, dude. Guy is all amped up for this mission and it gets cancelled.”
“Bucky isn’t…” Steve sighs and throws himself back on the couch (so dramatic, Sam thinks). “He’s not ready.”
“Man.” Sam gets up and looks down at Steve. Sam’s wearing what Steve can only describe as his “comfies”--a purple workout shirt and joggers, sitting low on his waist--and this ensemble happens to be just as sexy as wearing a three-piece suit. Steve takes in the sight of Sam and his mouth just hangs open in awe. “Give the guy a break,” Sam chides him. “I got an idea.”
Sam beckons for Steve to follow him into Bucky’s room. Steve hesitates as Sam throws himself on the bed like he lives there. Steve steps through the door and sits on the end of the bed while Sam lounges back, puts his hands behind his head and bends a knee. Steve has to admit he looks perfectly delectable like that, but he’s still not sure about all this.
They hear the shower go off, and Bucky appears with a towel around his waist. He should be surprised that he’s got two guys on his bed, but he isn’t. Instead his eyes blaze with intense interest. Bucky tosses the crumpled up pile of clothes into the corner of his room and folds his arms. “What’s this?”
“We didn’t want you to feel, y’know, left out,” Sam says coolly. Sam can be so smooth when he wants to be, and Bucky flushes.
“Huh,” says Bucky. He looks at Steve, then at Sam, a small smirk prying at his mouth. He’s not sure what’s so wrong and husky about his voice when he asks: “And what do you mean by that, Wilson?”
Sam sits up and curls his legs under him, moves so he’s behind Steve and drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. He takes Bucky’s use of his surname as a challenge to get him to call him something else. Bucky watches them with a quirk in his brow. Steve’s trying to hide his embarrassment while also melting easily into Sam’s embrace. The way their bodies mold together against Steve’s back and the tickle of Sam’s breath makes Steve forget all his doubts.
“We could show you,” Steve hears himself say.
Bucky’s mouth presses into a thin line and Steve wonders if they fucked this up. But then Bucky steps up and stands in front of Sam and Steve, his arms a little tense at his sides, but his eyes are searching them--trailing over the way Sam has his arms draped over Steve, and watching the way Sam starts mouthing Steve’s ear.
“Okay,” Bucky says. He inhales, then nods. “Show me.”
Sam lifts his head and Steve exchanges a look with him, Sam’s brow raised like he’s actually surprised his idea worked, and Steve equally as pleased. Slowly, Steve reaches for Bucky, his hands hovering over the skin of his stomach for half a beat while he watches Bucky’s face for any negative reaction. Bucky blinks with anticipation and nods again, and Steve’s fingertips graze Bucky’s stomach.
Bucky flinches. “Sorry.”
Steve folds in his lips, his touch still feather light, and Bucky lifts his right hand and lays a single finger on Sam’s arm.
“You’re doing great, Barnes,” Sam murmurs with a soft chuckle.
“Thanks, asshole.”
Sam reaches for Bucky, too, sliding his hand around Bucky’s side and gently tugging him forward. He crashes into Steve, braces himself against Sam’s arms and Steve’s shoulders. Bucky’s still tense, and Steve can feel his heart pounding inside his chest, with his face pressed up against Bucky’s sternum. Sam is cheek to cheek with Steve, and they both look up at Bucky to check on him. The cool touch of Bucky’s left hand on Sam’s skin sends a chill down his spine and he bites down on his lip, already thinking about that touch on other parts of him.
“Group hug,” Bucky says, swallows, a low chuckle rumbles through his chest. He’s not sure why he says it--maybe his heart feels like it’ll explode from his ribs and he doesn’t want to get blood all over Sam and Steve. Maybe his head is spinning from the sensation of being touched and any more will make him black out. He smiles in spite of it because even if all that happens, he feels, and he’s getting high off the feeling alone.
Sam snickers. “Stop.”
“Just a normal hug between guy friends,” Bucky continues, and his face has gone from pink to red. He grins in spite of Sam trying to shush him, how Steve is smirking at him and trying not to laugh.
“You’re killing me,” Sam says.
“Buck.” Steve presses a kiss into Bucky’s stomach and Bucky’s breath hitches. Steve’s eyes slide shut and he kisses him again. “Tell us what you want.”
“Can I lay down?”
Sam and Steve separate and Bucky climbs onto the bed between them. All three of them crash back onto the pillows--a snug fit for the size of the bed. Bucky looks between Sam and Steve and grabs each of their hands in his. Squeezes three times.
“Hey,” Bucky yawns. “Can we take a nap?”
Sam nods, and he giggles (which Steve and Bucky simultaneously find fucking adorable), then he settles down beside Bucky. His head rests on Bucky’s shoulder--his breath tickles Bucky’s skin. “Whatever you want.”
“Sam got the cuddly side,” Steve complains, his own face pressed against Bucky’s metal shoulder.
“Sam is cuddlier.” Bucky shuts his eyes and already seems half asleep, though his mind is still racing with the sensation of all of their bodies touching. Sam with his soft pants and tshirt, and Steve all hard muscle under a sweatshirt and gym shorts. Bucky memorizes the way this feels--a proper bed and pillows, and two men he loves on either side of him. It’s safe--it’s home. More than a guy like him deserves.
Maybe later, he thinks, he’ll let Sam and Steve show him more. He wants that more than anything, but he’s learned quickly to be patient with himself. Sam and Steve allow him to be patient and their understanding makes his heart ache for some reason.
Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and sleep comes a lot easier than he expects. As Bucky drifts off to sleep holding hands with Sam and Steve, he knows this is more than enough.
Prompt: Steve finally works up the courage to ask the man he loves to marry him in an unconventional but romantic way. The day before their wedding, a tragic event takes Sam away from Steve.
💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: I just got a delivery of cookies💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: What kind of weird ass gesture of love is this steve💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: ITS 2:51AMSteve Rogers: I knew you’d be up!Steve Rogers: Happy Birthday Sam!Steve Rogers: ❤️🎁🎂🎈💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: Steve…….💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: Are you tryin to kill me?Steve Rogers: What?💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: I’m allergic to macadamia nuts
Steve almost dropped his phone, gasped so loud he could have been a damsel in distress in a B horror film, and slapped his hand over his mouth. He called Sam.
Sam laughed as he picked up. “You’re so gullible, man! I told you two days ago macadamia nut cookies are my favorite.”
“Sam, don’t do that.”
“What? Fragile old man heart can’t take a joke?”
“Don’t get started with that. Just because you’re Captain America doesn’t mean you can call me old.”
Sam snorted and Steve imagined Sam dropping his head with that smile on his face like he was a little embarrassed. Steve’s chest swelled with a mix of adoration and that pang of pain when you miss somebody even though they’ve only been gone a couple days.
“I love you, Steve,” came Sam’s voice from the other end, as if reading his thoughts.
Steve shut his eyes, let out and inaudible sigh, and looked up at the ceiling of his apartment. “I love you too.” They said it the most when they were apart.
“Hey, I better g–” Sam said.
“Sam, when you get back–” Steve said at the same time.
“What?”
“Do you wanna get married?”
“Yes.”
There’s not even a second of hesitation, and the way Sam’s voice so emphatically replied sent a chill down Steve’s spine. He felt hot and cold all at once, and a big stupid grin crossed his face.
“I really do, Steve. We’ll talk more later, okay?”
CAAAAAAAAAT yo yo hello i'm having a shit day so i busted out your badass samsteve star wars au and if you wanna write another chapter sign me the fuck up (insert the 'good shit good shit emoji emoji emoji' meme here) BECAUSE WOW. i love Jedi Sam(al Wilso) and how his story is that he escaped the jedi temple slaughter, and the writing is, OF COURSE, really good -- "the force, or whatever was left of it." WOW!
2/2 you've gotta add wanda and nat in there somewhere ;)))) i'm KIDDING but seriously i hope you write more it's awesome!
THANK YOU MY GUY!! I am dragging my feet as usual on writing updates for things but this is giving me the motivation I need to pick it up again. I may or may not have a Bad Idea(tm) for Nat and Wanda for this AU so... BUCKLE UP!!
A: You're a DICK. B: Prompt - Sambucky + injury (doesn't matter who. or both. idk. Hurt my boys and then make them better.)
Bucky pressed on the wound and Sam yelped.
“Fuck! You’re a DICK.”
“You just told me to do that,” Bucky breathed, his voice fading. He blinked once, twice to clear his vision.
Sam’s eyes pressed shut and he lulled back, chest heaving with shallow breaths grinding down pain. Gunfire blazed over their heads, artillery blasting in the distance. “Barnes.”
Not looking up from the balled up cloth he held against Sam’s bullet wound, Bucky hissed: “What?”
Nothing, just the sound of Sam breathing.
“What, Sam?”
“I’m gonna pass out.”
“Please–don’t do that–”
“I think my ribs are broken.”
“SAM.”
“Bye.” And Sam passed out.
“For fuck’s sake.” Bucky risked moving one of his hands, slammed on the com, “where the fuck is my medevac?”
Static.
“Jesus.” Sam was gonna bleed out and Bucky did not have time to hide his body. “Shit.”
“Holy shhh–” ‘shit’ almost passed his lips but when Bucky saw a little kid with blue glasses staring at him, he caught himself. “Shoe strings!”
‘Casing the joint’ was not a proper answer to a seven year old, so Bucky, being the intelligent adult he was, turned the tables on the kid. “Where are your parents?”
The little kid pointed without taking his eyes off Bucky, and Bucky saw a couple buying street tacos across the street, seemingly unaware their small child had wandered off.
“Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk to strangers?”
The kid smiled. “You know Captain America.”
“No I don’t. I’m a scary homeless guy and I’m gonna steal all your pennies. Go away.”
“Where is Captain America? Is he here?”
“What? No. He’s…” Bucky flung his hand in the air dismissively, when he looked away he actually locked eyes with Sam, who was mouthing ‘what the fuck’ at him from a patio table at Starbucks. “Look, your parents are about to freak out if you don’t go back over there.”
“Okay…” The kid went from adorable smiling to ready to cry for three hours in less than half a second.
“Seriously. Go. They bought you tacos or something.”
Then the kid turned on his heels and went to cross the street. Bucky never moved so fast in his entire life as he flung himself at the kid and grabbed him before he walked straight out in front of traffic. “Look both ways, kid!” he scolded him.
Then the kid started wailing and Bucky took him by the hand and walked him safely across the street. It seemed his parents were too distracted by street tacos and hadn’t realized their child Steven had left.
(Warmup for sexy Ikea fic 😎) sambucky putting together an Ikea bookshelf and failing
“Oh, god, oh, shit–Barnes–take a look at this–” Sam holds up the instructions for Bucky as he gets up off the floor to look. The bookshelf was supposed to be simple and yet they spent an hour putting up two sides and three shelves, all the while sniping insults at each other and passing the allen wrench back and forth.
“Noooo no no no no,” Bucky grabs two handfuls of his own hair and really wants to pull, but controls himself. “It’s fucking–”
When any kind of contest starts with “I bet I can do more shots than you” then it’s best not to engage, especially in a public place.
Unfortunately, neither Sam Wilson nor Bucky Barnes have any self control whatsoever, so Bucky is splayed out lying down on the booth, and Sam is sitting next to him, holding Bucky’s legs in his lap.
And Sam is giggling: “Your face is all pink.”
“YOUR FACE IS ALL PINK!!”
Then they’re both giggling and the bar staff is dramatically and purposefully stacking stools and chairs on the tables because they just want these two asshole dorks to fucking leave already.
Send me characters/ships + a one word prompt and I’ll write a five sentence fic!
Sam’s gone quiet and he’s staring into the fire, orange light dancing over his features, barely concealing the thousand yard stare in his eyes.
Bucky swirls the whiskey in his mug and takes a sip, following Sam’s gaze into the fire and thinking he’s never loved a person’s honesty as much as he’s loved anything before, and his heart aches and his throat tightens.
“That’s not your fault, Sam.”
Sam shrugs, quirks a brow, won’t look at Bucky when he says: “Thanks, Barnes, but it doesn’t change what happened.”
Send me characters/ships + a one word prompt and I’ll write a five sentence fic!
“Uuuughhhhh,” Sam drags out the groan dramatically, for exactly 45 seconds, because a minute would be excessive. “That sounds like work.”
Steve flicks Sam’s ear without looking up from the console he’s working on, the smallest of smirks playing at his lips, and he knows he doesn’t have to say anything to drive the point home–Sam will get there all on his own.
“Okay, we do this–extra spy stuff–and then we get to go to the Chinese buffet.”
“Ohhh, no no no, that is not how this works!” Steve insists, but he already knows he’s lost this battle with the way Sam’s got his arms folded, so he frowns and nods his head and laments the inevitable damage to his stomach lining.
Send me characters/ships + a one word prompt and I’ll write a five sentence fic!
Sam’s voice is venom when he snipes back: “Why don’t you go eat a dick, Barnes?”
Sam’s tense and Bucky knows better than to touch the raw nerve, but he does it anyway, moving next to where Sam is standing in the kitchen, shrugging out of his tac gear. His teasing words had fallen flat on Sam’s frayed patience and Bucky moves cautiously, slowly, as he reaches out and places his fingers on Sam’s arm.
Sam’s eyes trail from where Bucky’s hand is, up the arm connected to it, then at his face, and his brow is furrowed with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sam.”
Send me characters/ships + a one word prompt and I’ll write a five sentence fic!
"Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic about it." Sam/Bucky, and your word is "chicken."
“What kinda chicken is that, Sam?”
“It’s a guinea fowl, not a chicken.”
“Oh,” Bucky reaches down into another pen and scoops up two chicks in the palms of his hands, then he looks back at Sam to see if he approved of his choices.
Sam nods, smirks, and watches Bucky pick out seven chicks and put them in a basket, then he says: “Steve’s gonna be pissed.”
Send me characters/ships + a one word prompt and I’ll write a five sentence fic!
A prompt for you: Sam finds out just how huge of a nerd Bucky really is. Cue some good ole mutual pining. :)
“I’m just saying, if hyper lightspeed technology exists out there, we need to be prepared.”
“We hear you, Barnes. But we have other matters to discuss, so we need to table this for another time.”
Bucky looked at Director Hill like he could have flipped the table, and both Sam and Steve got tense in their seats. When he shrugged and nodded, the meeting moved on.
Sam caught up with Bucky when they filed out of the SHIELD conference hall and touched him on the arm. “What’s with you, man?”
“Nothing.”
“The hell it’s nothing.”
Bucky yanked his arm out of Sam’s grip and stared at him. “They’re not thinking ahead. But there are worlds out there with technology we’ve never dreamed of. And some of those places aren’t so nice toward earth. Hill’s too short sighted to–she just doesn’t like that I’m not Fury.”
Sam scrunched up his face as Bucky stalked down the hallway. Bucky? Thinking ahead? That’s news to me.
sambucky & depression for ur fic prompt thing!! sam being depressed & bucky being supportive, everything is soft
“Need anything?”
Sam shakes his head, all nestled into the couch with the hood of his hoodie up, and The Price is Right on TV. Bucky presses his lips together and Sam is still as a statue with his arm wrapped around his stomach and his phone in his other hand. Bucky sits next to him, watches the TV for half a minute before snatching Sam’s phone out of his hand.
“Hey,” Sam says, but he’s got no fight in him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m ordering a pizza.”
“It’s not–it’s not even noon.”
“So? Look, I texted a pizza picture to them and they’re automatically going to send us your saved order. Which is… two… molten lava cakes and hot wings.”
Sam smiles, mostly to himself, and stifles back an amused snort.
Bucky drops the phone in Sam’s lap and slouches down into the couch with him. “What’s a lava cake anyway?”
“You like chocolate?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll like it. If I decide to share.” Sam tries to avoid Bucky prodding him in the side, but he fails, and it tickles so he laughs, surprising himself when he does so. Bucky smiles at him and he smiles back. Then they watch a guy grossly underestimate the price of a Nissan Altima on The Price Is Right, which is what everybody does when they take a sick day.
A samsteve Star Wars AU (post-Clone Wars/Early Empire era) because I’m trying to cope with real life politics. I’ve got a lot of twists and turns for this fic. I’m very excited! Hope you like it!
Breathe.
Samal Wilos pressed his eyes closed and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Centered himself. The Force was an open and aching wound, burning deep in his chest. What was once a comforting omniscient presence now served only to hurt him. He inhaled and felt the resistance of a thousand sharp blades, exhaled and felt the weight of drowning.
The Force has forsaken us.
Sam threw back his head and stared up at the hazy red lights of this Lower City back alley. He was in the heart of the galaxy and Coruscant swarmed with soldiers ready to kill him. But not down here. Safe passage to the Outer Rim would give him a chance (but for how long?). Staying here meant being hunted down and slaughtered. The Force would guide him--whatever was left of it.
Sam shrugged out of the plain beige robes of his trade and finally got to his feet. His legs protested and ached, but he couldn’t rest here any longer. Standing with the fistful of fabric, unsure what to do, he quickly tore it to shreds and stamped it in a puddle of grease and grime. Stowed it in a dumpster.
The symbolism of such a gesture was not lost on Sam as he scowled and stalked out of the alleyway in his thin undershirt. Force be damned.
“Back off!”
Shouting from the nearest skywalk drew Sam’s attention. The scuffle was far enough away that Sam was certain only the Force had guided his ears to hear it. He ground his teeth together, clenched his jaw, decided why not? and started for the direction of the scuffle.
A small near-human stood with a blue shield-generator in one hand and a hydrospanner in the other, facing off with two Nikto thugs. The Force swarmed with anger around the near-human, devoid of fear, which caught Sam’s attention. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to that Force imprint. He trusted his instincts--it’s why he was alive and not shot dead at the Jedi Temple.
“Give us the droid and nobody has to die today,” one of the Nikto hissed.
The Nikto had Black Sun gang written all over them, and the near-human stood between them and an R5 droid. Sam instantly had an idea.
“There you are!” Sam called to the near-human. “I’ve been waiting for you to bring me this unit. Republic surplus droid, right?”
All eyes turned to Sam and he stood tall with his hands on his hips, surprising even himself with a pleasant smile.
“Uhh, sure,” said the near-human. “Republic droid. Right.”
“What?” one of the Nikto snapped.
“You risked a lot going up against CSF to get your hands on that droid for me.” Sam knew he was practically reading a bad crime drama script, and all he had to do to add some weight to his words was direct his attention to the two weaker-minded Nikto thugs. It’s all true.
“Fierfek.”
“Forget it! This Hutt-spawn can keep his Republic-marked droid. Let’s get out of here.”
Sam let out a barely audible sigh of relief as the Nikto retreated off of the skywalk and disappeared into the Lower City crowd. The near-human turned toward Sam fully, and Sam heard the R5 unit chirp.
“Who the hell are you?”
Sam should have expected the question, but he didn’t have an answer. “Someone looking for a friend.”
The other man lifted his chin at Sam and squared him up with the kind of scrutinizing gaze Sam imagined came from a life on these Lower City streets. He noticed the blue and red facial tattoos on the man’s cheeks and recognized him immediately as a Kiffar.
“You’re a Jedi.”
The bottom of Sam’s gut dropped and, recognizing his own fear, he steeled himself against it and quirked a brow.
“There’s a bounty on Jedi.”
“Looking to collect?” Sam asked, his tone dark and devoid of any previous friendliness.
“No. I’m doing just fine without handouts.” The young man deactivated his shield generator and looked down at his droid, who turned and angled its face back up at him. “You need a ride, don’t you?”
“If I stay here, I’ll likely die. Or worse.”
The young man smirked and pointed his hydrospanner at Sam. “You’re gonna need to stop looking like and acting like a Jedi if you want a ride with me, pal.”
The rest of the team is safe and sound on the quinjet, exhausted and beat up but with their spirits intact. Steve brought enough supplies to get them properly fed and comfortable, then he asks for a little more time in the RAFT to collect intel. They needed all the intel they could get, being on their own from here on out. Clint gets to work disabling the alarm beacon for long enough to keep reinforcements from showing up.
Sam volunteers to help and Steve’s grateful for his company, even if he thinks Sam should be resting and recovering on the quinjet. But Steve would never insult Sam by telling him to stay behind, not after what they’d been through. Once they clear and secure the RAFT one last time, Sam helps drag all of the unconscious soldiers out of the control room.
“You okay?” Steve asks for about the eighteenth time. They're waiting for the datachip to upload its copy of the data from the main console.
“Yeah. I am.” Sam’s so good at putting on a brave face that he reminds Steve of himself. And that’s okay, for now, Steve thinks, because Sam won’t have to pretend for much longer. In a couple of hours, they’ll be safe and sound for a day or two. After that was anyone’s guess. “How long will the data copy take?”
“Twenty minutes or so.”
Steve lifts his eyes from the console he's leaned over. Sam is watching him with that unabashed longing in his eyes. He's had that glint of desire ever since they reunited by Sam’s holding cell. The look hadn't gone unnoticed by Steve, but the rescue mission came first. This is the first moment they'd had alone together since London and Steve feels that familiar pull in his gut, reaching toward his lower abdomen.
The way Sam is looking at him is already making him hard and Sam, knowing this, saunters up to Steve and slides a hand across the front of his shirt.
“Sam,” Steve says, barely a whisper. And if he was trying to chide the man for making him feel like this in a supermax government prison, then he'd done a poor job of it. “I missed you.”
Sam cups Steve’s chin and they kiss, sweet and tender, the gesture gentle and soft and in sharp contrast to the pulsing erection Steve can barely contain against the stiff fabric of his pants. When he inhales he smells Sam just as he is--the strong scent of stale sweat, the kind that only happens when they’ve been through a godawful fight. Steve wants to make all that go away for him, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He wants Sam so much that the fear of this place fades into the background, the pain of the past week a distant memory because he has Sam back--here, in front of him, touching him, and wanting him just as badly.
Sam doesn't have to tell Steve he missed him, too, he just has to slide his hands up Steve’s shirt and feel his way across the familiar muscles of Steve’s chest and back. His touch his possessive and his palms are rough, blunt nails scraping against Steve’s shoulder blades as he pulls Steve into him, deepens the kiss.
Steve’s still got his comlink in his ear, and he pulls it out, switches it off, and sets it aside. He’s used to being reckless and him and Sam deserve this. It's been since after Lagos when they arrived back at the compound that they got a private moment together. Just a quickie after the mission, a stressed out and quick fuck to get out the frustration.
Their time together after that had been marked with so many distractions and pain that Steve thought he'd never be able to let anybody in again. He already lost so much, and he couldn't lose Sam, either. Even the thought of it fills his head with that thick swell of grief that could make him cry at any second.
No, he's got Sam, right here and now. Steve wraps his arms around Sam and just hugs him, breaks off their kiss and holds him close with his nose nestled into Sam’s neck. Breathing in and out everything that Sam is.
“Steve? You all right?”
“Yeah.” No. Worse than pain or sadness or grief, Steve felt fear and it was so wholly terrible that he had to consciously push the dread away from the forefront of his mind. He hated fear more than anything, more than loneliness or sadness. Fear of losing Sam, fear of what he'd do without him.
“It's okay,” Sam says anyway. Steve’s heart aches because Sam sacrificed so much and somehow he's the one trying to comfort him.
Steve takes Sam’s waist into his hands and shifts them so Sam’s backed up against the console, and he kisses him hard, his tongue exploring into Sam’s mouth with lapping sweeps. Sam makes a muffled noise into the kiss just as Steve slides his fingers under the waistband of his pants.
“This okay?” Steve asks before he pulls down.
“Yeah,” Sam answers, breath hitching as the backs of Steve's fingers brush against his lower stomach. “Better make it quick though, Stevie.”
“I don't think I'll take very long,” Steve says with a shy grin.
Sam smirks and Steve pulls down the waistband of his pants, then Steve freezes. “What?” Sam demands.
“Oh, God. Sam. You’re--”
“It’s from the fight,” Sam insists.
Sam’s whole left side is black and blue from his rib cage to just past his hip. Steve’s eyes trail over the bruises and he makes a move to replace Sam’s pants where he found them, but Sam slaps his hands away. “Steve, please. We’ve fucked banged up worse before.”
“Most of those times were not my fault.”
Sam is quick to work off Steve’s belt and open up his pants, his hungry eyes full of delight when he uncovers Steve’s hard cock. “Oh, really?” He lets out a laugh. “There was not a single time I had to save your dumb ass from a situation and got hit?”
“Okay, point. But--not like--” Steve sucks in a breath of air between his teeth as Sam’s hand closes over his dick and gives him a stroke. “This.”
“Stop. Just let this happen.” Sam leans forward, murmurs in Steve's ear as he strokes him once, twice, harder, and his voice is smooth as silk and sends a shiver down Steve's spine. “Let us have this.”
Steve is torn by how much and how hard he wants to fuck Sam, but also how terribly relieved he is that Sam is safe. The two simultaneous thoughts collide and make him weak in the knees. He presses forward with his hips and pushes Sam so he's sitting on the console desk, and Steve gets Sam's pants pulled down the rest of the way.
“I promise I'll do it right for you soon, Sam.”
“What?”
Steve spreads Sam’s legs apart and bites down on his lip at the sight of him. “I---somewhere proper, you know, like a hotel or something with a bed and--”
“Just shut up and fuck me, Rogers.”
The rest of Steve’s promise dies on his lips as he reduced to a blushing mess at how rough Sam’s words are. Shit, Steve thinks, Sam must be feeling just as desperate as he is. Sam grabs Steve's hand and puts his fingers to his lips, kisses, then he sucks on Steve's first two fingers. Steve strokes Sam’s cock the way he knows Sam likes it, with a half twist over the head. They're both moaning at each other's touches, and for a split second Steve's afraid Sam is going to make him come just by sucking on his fingers.
The way Sam touches him is so unique and familiar that Steve almost forgets they’re in enemy territory. Sometimes Steve gets this feeling that the only place he knows he can call home is when he’s with Sam, and when they’re caring for each other in ways nobody else can. It makes Steve feel guilty because he’s the only one without a home, and for Sam it’s not like that. Steve bites down on the insides of his lips and staves off the thought that Sam means more to him than the other way around. All Steve knows is, he loves Sam, to the point that it scares him.
Once Sam's mouth has Steve’s fingers good and wet, Steve moves his hand down between Sam's legs and presses inside of his hole. He's so warm and tight around Steve's finger, Steve starts to pulse in and out of him, unable to control a jerk of his hips as he wants so badly to be inside of Sam--
“Hurry up,” Sam grits, his head rolling backward. Steve’s gotta remind himself this isn’t one of their marathon love making sessions, and he’s glad for Sam taking charge. Steve loves taking orders from Sam, anyway. Steve delays just a bit longer, capturing Sam’s moan in a kiss when he slides his second finger inside.
Sam braces his knees up against Steve's chest as if to say get on with it, and Steve spits into his palm and tries to get his dick as wet as possible (not so difficult, he finds out, with how much he’s already leaking). Then Steve positions his dick just touching the opening of Sam's hole. “God,” Sam swears as Steve pushes into him. “Oh--Steve--”
Steve meant to be gentle, he really did, but Sam’s got his fingers tangled in his hair and he's pulling and it hurts just a little, so Steve thrusts harder than he means to. Sam whimpers, that crease in his brow so damn pretty on his face as he concentrates on the pleasure of being fucked. Steve's nerves are sparked with the irrationally exquisite feeling of fucking into Sam steadily, like he's got all the time in the world.
“C’mon,” Sam says through his teeth. He scrapes his nails down the back of Steve’s head until he’s clinging to his neck. “Baby, please--harder.”
Steve stops holding back, and he fucks Sam in earnest, each thrust a little quicker and harder than the last. He gets into that quick and shallow rhythm that's causing their skin to clap together and he doesn't care who hears them. Fuck this place, it's theirs now.
“You like that, Sammy?” Steve asks.
Sam's gripping at Steve's shirt trying to grab purchase as his body is rocked up against the console. He's breathing hard and mouthing wordlessly and Steve just wants his pretty face to look the way he likes it when he comes. And Sam’s getting close, too, Steve is barely perceptive of the way Sam’s toes are curling where he’s got his feet planted on his shoulders.
“Sam… sweetheart… come for me. Please.” Steve leans down and kisses him, his hand messily searching for and finding Sam’s dick. He brushes his thumb over the tip and Sam’s reduced to moaning and whimpering so beautifully. Sam pulls back from Steve’s mouth, his eyes heavily lidded and mouth gaping open as his head swims, searching for his orgasm in Steve’s thrusts and touch.
“Oh--mm--” Sam gasps and presses his lips together.
“Sammy,” Steve pleads because he wants to hear Sam when he comes, but Sam’s kept it all to himself, moaning deep in his throat and chest as he spills out over Steve’s hand and his stomach. Damn if Sam still didn’t look so good and pretty when he came, though, and now Steve’s whole body is flushed and hotter than ever. Sam wets his lips, still coming down from his own orgasm, as he slips his hands up under Steve’s shirt.
Steve is panting and grunting as he fucks Sam, picking up the pace for half a minute until he can’t see straight and he has to grab onto Sam’s hips to steady himself.
“Jesus--” Sam swears, his back arching, and Steve finally finally releases. Steve’s always been the loud one and even if it’s irresponsible, he’s loud here, too. Sam tries to capture Steve’s come cry in a kiss and he’s more or less successful, shutting up Steve with their lips crushed together.
“Idiot,” Sam tells Steve when he’s done. His smirk is playful but he means it. “I should’ve known you couldn’t control yourself.”
Steve laughs, feeling like he’s walking on nothing but air, and he’s sure he’s blushing to the point of being comical. He doesn’t have a comeback for that, and Sam knows it. Steve’s starting to get that strange prickle crawling up the back of his neck as they disentangle from each other. It’s that uncomfortable feeling Steve often gets when he’s in an unfamiliar place with his guard down. Sam’s already putting up his guard again, his eyes losing their playful look, and his voice getting more cold and authoritative.
The data upload finishes with a chirp from the console.
“Get my pants, hot stuff,” Sam says with a snort, and Steve can’t help but grin as he obeys. “We gotta go.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
here’s your damn sambucky smut, ya filthy animals
WC: 5685
Summary: Sam is pissed off because Bucky has been eating all the food in the fridge at the Avengers compound. But Sam’s even more pissed that Bucky’s been quiet lately. AKA Sam and Bucky ignore their feelings and fuck in the back of a car in the Denny’s parking lot.
