Sam: “And how’s my hot apple pie with vanilla ice cream?”
Bucky: *grumbling and holding an ice pack to his face*
Sam: *booping Bucky’s nose* “with a dollop of whipped cream on top”
Bucky: *removes ice pack to reveal his eye is purple and swollen shut*
Sam: *grimacing* “Oh, baby…” *pulling Bucky into his arms* “my blueberry crumble”
Bucky: *smiling despite himself* “Don’t make me laugh with your stupid pet names, my whole face hurts”
As most things with Bucky weirdly tend to do these days, it starts at the farmer’s market.
Bucky has fully embraced his role as a mostly retired house boyfriend, cozying up to all the old ladies in Delacroix, fixing up their porches or their cars or their kitchen sinks while they carry on about the old days, or, more often, while they flirt with him until he’s finished whatever handyman job they’ve cooked up for him. He spends his days carrying home other people’s groceries, getting cats out of trees, and helping Sarah out with the boat or with picking up Cass and AJ from school, baseball, and science bowl.
Sam just watches Bucky flourish under his new main role of friendly neighborhood super soldier, smiling all the while. He’s also not exactly complaining about all of the fresh fruits, veggies, and herbs Bucky brings home as thank yous from said old ladies in Delacroix, his little bunch of whatever he helps harvest from their gardens. They send him home with preserves, jams, pies, and brownies, and Sam is absolutely not going to turn down any of the literal fruits of Bucky’s labor whenever they’re offered, especially when Bucky looks so happy when he opens the fridge to see those seven pies, six jars of jam, and twelve other jars of preserves.
Sam does his best to keep Bucky off of missions, even when the higher ups push for him to come, and only takes him along when Sharon or Rhodey insist, usually fine to just work with Joaquin and whatever strike team might get dug up. Bucky hasn’t quite gotten the hang of cooking himself yet, but Sam usually comes home to a hot meal, a hot and ready casserole given in thanks for a handyman job well done or take out from their favorite crawdad place down by the docks. Sam tells Bucky about all the Captain America-ing he’s been up to, and Bucky details whatever old story Ms. Jackie from down the street had to tell him today.
read the rest on ao3 (7.5k words, rated T, complete)
Bucky reading his fantasy novels out loud while Sam is cooking. Sam might not be paying the most of attention (the world building usually goes into one ear and out of the other, and some words simply mean nothing to him) but he loves listening to Bucky's voice anyway.
Sam reads some beautiful poetry while they're sitting on their front porch like the old married couple they are and watching the sunset. One time, Bucky falls asleep in his chair (Sam's voice is so soothing ok?) so Sam stops reading, only for Bucky to nudge his foot with his own, and mumbles a sleepy "keep going".
They read to help the other fall asleep after a bad nightmare, their voice chasing away the remnants of the bad dream. Sometimes, Sam tries his best not to fall asleep, both because he's afraid the nightmare would come back, and because he doesn't want to stop listening to Bucky's voice. He only falls asleep peacefully after Bucky promises that he won't stop reading. And he doesn't.
They also record themselves reading for each other whenever they're apart. (Bucky won't ever admit it, but he's memorized every single word Sam reads by the sheer number of times he's listened to them. Sam isn't so different anyway. )
tagged by @whothehellisbuckles <3
as usual I despise long chains so I’m gonna be the asshole that breaks it lmao
pumpkin or apple // cocoa or cider // Halloween or Thanksgiving // leaf piles or apple picking // hay ride or corn maze // wooly sweater or furry slippers // pumpkin carving or knitting // squash or sweet potato // black cat or bat // skeletons or witches // fake blood or fake spiders // mashed potatoes or stuffing dressing // orange or black // apple pie or maple donuts // marshmallows or candy corn // vampire or werewolf // fireplace or cozy nook // spiced wine or craft beer // candied apples or s'mores // big scarf or oversized hoodie
Hi!! I just read your samsteve many the miles fic (SO BEAUTIFUL!!) and I wonder if you imagined what their conversation was like that first night once sarahs gone to bed and they’re cuddled in their room. if steve asks about that moment in the kitchen? if sam talks about how it makes him feel to hide their affection? if he talks about how much he loves sarah and doesn’t want to lose her? Whatever they end up saying, they’d be so gentle and supportive of each other and that just warms my heart :’) Thanks for writing them so sweet <3
Thanks so much for the kind words! I'm really glad you enjoyed the story! Also, I thought about this and started to reply and that reply turned into a long note and that note turned into an added scene 😅 I hope you like it!
Sam/Steve - missing scene from "many the miles". Mentions of homophobia, angst, domesticity and a little bit of fluff. Also, there's mention of Rumlow but the story takes place after TWS and before CACW, so as far as Steve knows, Rumlow is gone.
Steve shut the bedroom door quietly behind him. He studied Sam for a while before Sam looked up at him in question.
“What? Does Sarah need something else? Did she find the blankets okay?” He started to rise up from the bed, setting his tablet aside. “She always used to get so cold when we were kids. When we stayed over at our grandparents’ house, she’d crawl beneath my covers and her feet were like icicles.”
In listening, Steve fought a fond smile, still feeling rather off. “No, she didn’t ask for anything else.” Sam nodded and sat back down. Sighing, Steve rubbed the back of his neck as he moved in closer. “You want to tell me what that little dance was earlier?”
“Dance?”
“In the kitchen. When I tried to kiss you and you brushed me off? What was that about?”
Averting his gaze, Sam replied, “I must’ve missed that.”
“Sam, I know you know me better than that. What’s going on?”
Chewing on his lip, Sam went quiet for a long time before patting the space in front of him on the bed. Steve sat down, his heart beating fast at the grave look on his face. He hadn’t seen Sam that serious since he told Steve about Riley.
Bile rose in Steve’s throat as an idea set in. “Are you ashamed of me?” he rasped.
Sam’s eyes widened in pain, as he took Steve’s hand. Studying their fingers, he explained, “Sarah doesn’t… know about me.” He cleared his throat. “All that time we were kids, people in my neighborhood just didn’t talk about this kind of stuff. There were people that were different – that’s what my parents used to say. I didn’t even know there was a word for what I was growing up and when I learned it, it wasn’t associated with anything good.”
Steve turned Sam’s hand over, twining their fingers together as Sam continued, “My parents deep in the church. You can imagine what they used to say.” His lashes fluttered over his cheeks as he shook himself a bit. “I got older, I fell out of it, but when our parents passed, it gave Sarah comfort. I joined the service, spent all that time away from home, from her. The church was there for her. We kept in touch, but the more time went on, the harder it was to tell her.”
“You don’t think she’d accept you?”
Looking up Steve, his eyes were wet. “I don’t know.” Swallowing thickly, his voice grew soft. “I just really don’t want to lose her.”
A tear rolled down Sam’s cheek and Steve’s chest tightened. Reaching out, he pulled Sam into his arms, pressing a kiss to his temple. Sam’s breath caught, his hand twisted in Steve’s shirt as he closed his eyes. He smelled of Steve’s soap, the simple bar soap he always used. Not the fancy organic sandalwood soap Sam typically used. It cost a few more dollars than what Steve bought for himself, but he never minded because the scent always reminded him of Sam. He’d never tell Sam this, but he used to steal his shirts when he knew he’d be on Avengers business for longer than a few days because it made it easier trying to sleep in strange hotels without him.
Nosing into Sam’s throat, he didn’t ask why Sam had used his soap. He was also ignoring the strange warmth in his chest at the concept. Instead, he stroked Sam’s back, keeping him close. It was rare Sam let himself be vulnerable and Steve relished the chance to take care of him. It’d be rough keeping his hands to himself tomorrow, but he’d manage. He’d manage a lot for Sam.
If Sam couldn’t find the words to tell Sarah about his relationship with Steve on this visit, Steve would make his peace with it. It was Sam’s choice and it shouldn’t be rushed. If he told her and it didn’t go well, Steve would be there for him. As much as it would hurt to see Sam lose the last of his family. The third option, the one Steve was hoping for, Sam would tell her and she’d take it well. More than that, she’d be happy for them. Just being around her for a few moments, Steve could tell how much she loved her brother.
Of course, there was a fourth option – the one where Sam told her, she accepted him but she didn’t accept Steve. Wincing, he breathed Sam in, wondering what he’d do if Sarah didn’t like him dating her brother. She seemed just fine with him being Sam’s roommate, but that could change if she found out they were dating. Stilling, he narrowly refrained from cursing out loud.
He’s Captain America. Recently publicly condemned and arrested at gunpoint on the streets of D.C. for allegedly being a traitor. If ever there was a dangerous guy you wouldn’t want your brother dating, it was the guy that brought that kind of mess into their life. Even though his name got cleared, it would make total sense if Sarah didn’t want someone like that around Sam. Hell, Steve wasn’t always sure Sam shouldn’t have shut the door on him when he and Natasha showed up at his house that day.
“What is it?” Sam asked quietly, softly stroking Steve’s hip. “You’re clearly worried about something.”
Steve sighed, closing his eyes. His fears were easier to voice with Sam in his arms. “You know me, I’m always worried.”
“Cut that out,” Sam teased.
Steve laughed, wrapping his around Sam’s waist and pulling him in closer. “What if it’s me she has a problem with?” Sam hummed in question. “If it’s not my gender that’s the problem… just me.”
Sam made to pull back and Steve held on tight, not wanting Sam to see his face at the moment. Even having lived this many years with the serum, with this body, there were times he still felt like that awkward little guy no one wanted to look at. Triggered by insecurities, general discomfort and fear of rejection. If they hadn’t fled Hydra infested SHIELD agents together shortly after meeting, Steve was sure he would’ve never had the guts to ask Sam out in the first place. Let alone believe him when he’d said yes.
“Steve,” Sam tried, sighing and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.
“I’m not exactly the safe choice,” he replied, trying for a joke but it came out honest. “Within days of really meeting you, you were ambushed on the highway by Hydra agents. You got shot at on the streets of D.C. and got tossed off a helicarrier.”
“Sounds like I’m not exactly safe to be around either.”
“You jumped out of a collapsing building that was burning to the ground,” Steve recounted, his temper flaring. If Rumlow weren’t already dead…
“Is this just a recap of how bad ass I am?”
“Sam,” Steve chided, finally pulling back. Sam scanned his face worriedly, offering a small smile at the concern he saw there. Smoothing out the furrow in Steve’s brow, he listened as Steve explained. “I brought all of that into your life. You’ve been great for me, but can you say the same?”
Sam stared at him incredulously. “Sorry, I missed the part where you forced me into all of that. Where you showed up on my doorstep running from Nazis and barged your way in. Dragged me along into a fight I wanted no part of.” At Steve’s face he sighed, palming Steve’s cheek. “I chose to be a part of this fight. You gave me an out, remember? But I chose to get involved. I chose to let you guys in. I let Nat steal Sarah’s hair straightener that she’s apparently never going to get back and let you stretch out one of my favorite t-shirts,” Steve bit down a smile as Sam’s thumb traced over his cheek. “I chose this life. I chose you. And for someone that didn’t always have a lot of choices in life, I’d appreciate if you respected the ones I did make.”
His eyes were soft and warm, drawing Steve further in. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Yeah?” Steve asked, a knot in his throat. “You sure about that?”
“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve grown accustomed to a certain style of living and if I have to go back to a boring 9-5 job, I won’t make it.” Steve laughed, pressing a kiss to Sam’s palm. “This is home to me now.”
Darting in, Steve stole a kiss, his arms closing around Sam’s waist. “Guess I should take responsibility.” Pressing a kiss to Sam’s neck, he smiled as he felt Sam’s laugh rumble through his chest. “I love you, Sam. And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? For what?”
Steve pulled back, meeting his gaze. “I know what it’s like to worry about losing the few people you have left. And what it’s like to grow up like that. Worried that, if people knew, they might hate you. You must’ve been really lonely.”
It was quiet, just the sound of the aging heating system and their breathing. He watched Sam’s lashes flutter over his cheeks as he took Steve’s lips in a kiss so soft Steve almost thought he’d imagined it. Warming, he smiled as Sam rested his head against Steve’s.
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AHHHHH BEE THANK YOU!! ❤🧡💛💚💙💜 I've been feeling kind of bummed and over thinking my gif making confidence today coz I found out there's some kind of visual disparity from how dark I make gifs on my laptop vs when I see it on my other stuff and it's just...I dunno, it's making me reconsider all the things I've made lately thinking "does this actually look shittier than I thought" and it's just fsjlkasfjkldsjad so anyways, thank you for this, it's nice to know my blog is appreciated!
