sambucky | E | 3+1 | 6k | an epilogue to the princess diaries au | ao3
written for @sambuckylibrary valentine’s day bigo squares surprise date, proposal, and candlelit dinner and @winterfalconevents winterfalcon bingo round 2 free space
summary:
three times Bucky tries to propose to Sam, and one time Sam actually proposes instead
excerpt:
Bucky starts counting as soon as he hears the door open.
He makes it six heartbeats before his trashy sci fi/romance novel is unceremoniously plucked out of his hand and he finds himself with a lapful of exhausted royal.
“Rough day, princess?” he asks, dropping a kiss on the top of Sam’s head and smiling.
He groans into Bucky’s neck, wrapping his arms even tighter around his torso. “Can I get rid of Parliament? Is that something I have the power to do?”
Bucky pulls back enough for Sam to get the hint to sit up, and Bucky waits until he’s settled to bring him down for a kiss. “You know you can’t, princess. You can fantasize about it, though. I’m all ears.”
Title: I've been lookin' (part 1)/ meet me under the mistletoe (part 2)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson
Rating: Teen
Tags: FLUFF, Roommate AU/no powers,
Summary: It’s an ongoing thing in their group that Bucky and Sam are polar opposite ends and everyone got sandwiched between them.
But maybe, their friends have got it wrong.
Sam has never felt better, happier, than right now. Where he’s surrounded by his friends, and they’re all done school (finally, Clint!) and they’re all employed and happy. It’s great.
They’re relaxed. They’re having fun, god forbid.
Steve sits across from him, marker in hand and whiteboard at the ready. Natasha, sitting beside Steven, has dug up some partners quiz (“relax, it can mean work partners too!”) and her and Clint had crushed it. Obviously.
“What’s Sam’s favourite comfort food?” Natasha asks, just as the apartment door opens.
“Lobster mac and cheese, why? What happened now?” Bucky responds, kicking his shoes off and not even looking at them.
Sam’s back goes ramrod straight because what the fuck? Natasha has a smirk on her face, which Sam does not like, and she’s having a whole conversation with Clint using just her eyes.
“No reason, just settling a debate,” Natasha lies smoothly (thank you, Nat). Bucky snorts.
“There is no world where beer chili is better than gourmet seafood mac and cheese, anyway,” he says with all the confidence in the world.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” she plays along. “Thanks, Buck, I knew I could count on you.” Bucky squints at her for a second but then just shrugs because, honestly, weirder shit has happened and goes to his room, closing it behind him like he always does. Steve, who hasn’t moved a muscle this entire time, just looks flabbergasted.
“Really?” He asks Sam, looking almost offended.
“Um,” Sam says unintelligibly.
“Why? What’d you put down?” Natasha asks, leaning back to look. Steve flips the board around to reveal Chili (with beer).
“I mean, that’s also correct,” Sam says immediately, so Steve doesn’t feel bad about not knowing, since Steve feels bad about almost everything all the time.
“Nuh-uh,” Natasha wags a finger. “Pick one. Absolute comfort, which one do you go for?”
“Well,” Sam starts and then he thinks for a second. “I would’ve probably also said chili, you know my Ma makes it with beer, the whole damn house smells amazing…”
“But,” Clint waves his hand for him to continue.
“Lobster Mac and Cheese was… just not something we could have all the time. You seen the price of lobster these days? Absolute robbery,” Sam shakes his head. “So, I’d only get it if I was really looking for something to hit home…Ma saved it for the… special days. Days when I really needed it.” Like when dad passed away.
“Sorry Steve, but you don’t get that point,” Natasha jabs him in the bicep and Steve is already nodding along.
“You sure you don’t want Bucky as your partner instead?” Steve jokes and Sam rolls his eyes. It’s an ongoing thing in their group that Bucky and Sam are polar opposite ends and everyone got sandwiched between them.
When they finally wrap up their game ,Natasha, Sam and Clint leave Steve and Bucky to go across the hall into their own shared apartment and Clint takes his hearing aids out, says he’s going to sleep. Which leaves Sam wide open for attack by one Natasha Romanoff.
“So.”
“Can I help you?” He sasses back, reaching for orange juice in the fridge. It’s clearly got “SAM” scribbled on it in Sharpie, because she thinks drinking from the carton is gross, but Sam sees it as a win if he gets a whole carton to himself.
“Bucky is paying awfully close attention to you,” she singsongs. “Never thought I’d see the day he’d know your secrets better than me.”
“Okay, first off, mac and cheese is not some deep dark secret,” Sam snorts. “And secondly, it was a random instance. Lord knows his memory is crazy scary, he probably picked up a conversation I had one time.”
“And deemed that fact important enough to remember forever, gotcha,” she says nonchalantly before heading to her room, because she’s infuriating like that.
“I hate you!” Sam yells at her retreating figure, but he feels like the losing one. Even when Figaro saunters into the kitchen to rub up against Sam’s leg, which usually makes him feel infinitely better, seems judgey right now. Sam scoops him up to bring him to bed and when they pass by Lucky, who lifts his head off the couch, Sam just glares at him.
“Don’t even,” he squints at the dog, who flops back down on the cushions.
The thing is: Sam cannot stop thinking about it. He tries, with maximum effort, to recall the conversation where he would have mentioned it when Bucky would have been around, because he definitely didn’t mention it to Bucky. It literally gnaws at him. If he was the type to keep secret journals, he’d accuse Bucky of reading them to spite him or something.
Natasha, of course, picks up on it.
“Are you still upset over this macaroni and cheese thing? Jesus Christ.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Sure. Why does it bother you so much that he knows something about you?”
“I’m not bothered!”
“Sure,“ she repeats.
---
It takes a few days, but Sam eventually lets it go. He chalks it up to someone that he did have that conversation with telling Bucky offhand. There. Done. Everything is fine.
Then he gets a picture from Clint, who’s at Target, with four different Dove body washes.
What colour again??
He's about to write back, but his door opens and the man in question is hauling two alarmingly big bags and Sam realizes the text came in over two hours ago.
“Don’t worry about the body wash man,” he tells Clint easily. “Sorry I didn’t text back.”
Clint looks confused for a second before he sets down the bags.
“Oh! The body wash. Yeah, no problem, here,” he says, tossing a bottle at him. Thankfully Sam’s reflexes can keep up. “Bucky said it was this one.”
And, having no idea the impact of his words, Clint unpacks some other items from his shopping trip into the kitchen before carrying the rest to his room. Sam is still standing there looking at the blue label on the bottle in his hands wondering how and why Bucky would know that.
The next time they all hang out, Bucky’s not around (as usual). It’s dinner and games, which is their usual MO, but when it hits 11:30pm, Clint asks “where’s Bucky?”
“Working late,” Steve answers. “Some client in Russia, who doesn’t respect time zones.” Sam realizes he actually has no idea what Bucky does.
“What’s he do again?” He asks, going for casual.
“Uh, he’s a fancy translator, I guess is the best term,” Steve thinks.
“Contract interpreter,” Natasha corrects. “Translates in international meetings, mostly.” Steve nods along.
“Yeah. But translates documents too. Reports, meeting minutes, that sort of thing.”
“Transcribing shit,” Clint offers helpfully. “Sucks that he’s working so late though. Damn Russia and your five hundred time zones,” he says accusingly at Natasha, who just snorts.
“There are eleven,” she rolls her eyes. “Not as bad as that World Expo in Shanghai, at least.”
“God that was the worst week of my life,” Steve grumbles, recounting their opposite time schedules.
Okay, so, he's the only one who doesn’t know anything about Bucky apparently.
Why does it make him feel like shit? It’s not like he doesn’t hang out with Bucky, it’s just that everyone else seems to have a thing with him. Steve is his best friend and roommate, and Natasha is his ex-girlfriend for fuck’s sake. Clint had met him at the shooting range, and immediately became enamoured by the fact that Bucky knew sign language. Sam’s fairly certain Clint had a crush on Bucky, before Bucky introduced him to Nat. Bucky and him… they just don’t have a thing.
And even when they get to hang out as a group, Bucky is missing half the time, which Sam only just realized was due to his schedule and not that he hated people (though, Sam is pretty sure Bucky does hate people).
---
It takes him a few days to get over that feeling too.
Life carries on, and Sam finally makes his way to case worker status, instead of just a temp agent. The gang decides to celebrate with dinner, and to Sam’s horror/delight, Bucky is also coming. The five of them pile into Steve’s Volkswagen and it’s absolutely hell on earth because Sam can practically feel Bucky’s knees in his back from behind his seat and he tries to move up as far as he can but Bucky just taps him on the shoulder and says “don’t worry about it”.
They go to one of Sam’s favourite restaurants, The Fox and the Fiddle, where he’s dying to order the chocolate lava cake before they even get to entrees but he behaves himself. They start with drinks and appetizers, chatting as though they don’t talk every damn day. He’s across from Bucky with Natasha and Clint on his right, Steve beside Bucky. He tries not to stare at Bucky, because it makes him uncomfortable, but it’s hard when the sunset catches Bucky’s eyes just right, so he studies his menu intensely even though he practically lives at this restaurant. The alcohol catches up to him though, and he excused himself to go inside to use the bathroom.
Not a moment after Sam goes, the waitress appears to take their orders for their main course.
“Did Sam say what he was getting?” Clint asks, after ordering the home burger combo for himself. Natasha orders a curry bowl before she shrugs.
“Probably the fish and chips,” she guesses. “That man has an unhealthy obsession with fish and chips.”
“Only if they’re from Lenny’s or Duckworth's. It's the chicken and waffles here,” Bucky intervenes. “Not that it matters, he only came here for the cake.” He orders tacos for himself. Steve orders a grilled chicken wrap combo.
“Well? Waffles or fish or chips?” Steve tries to reach a consensus.
“Waffles,” Bucky says the same time Natasha says “fish and chips.” Bucky considers for a moment.
“Sorry, can I change my order? I’ll take the chicken and waffles, and our friend will take the fish and chips.”
“Sure thing,” the bubbly waitress smiles, obviously enamoured by their little group. Sam comes back a few minutes later and picks up the conversation again. Steve sees the waitress coming back with their order.
“Oh, forgot to tell you the waitress came by. What were you gonna order again?”
“Steve, man, I just want like ten lava cakes. But I guess if we’re doing real food I’ll order some chicken and waffles. Shit, they’re sauce is so good, I don’t know what it is about it.”
He doesn’t miss the way everyone's eyes dart around the table, except Bucky’s, who is firmly staring at a spot on the table.
The waitress comes with another server in tow, helping her carry everything, and hands everyone their order. “Alright, I’ve got the wrap for you, a curry bowl for you, burger combo here, the fish and chips-”
“Sorry, those were mine,” Bucky interrupts, and the waitress switches trajectory, puts the plate in front of Bucky instead.
“Oh, sorry about that! I could have sworn-“
“No, no, it’s - we probably just mixed it up,” Bucky brushes her apology away, and she smiles at him again, accepting the white lie, and maybe checking him out.
“And that leaves the chicken and waffles for you, then!” She says to Sam. “Enjoy your meal everyone, I’ll be back with your dessert menus after.”
“You guys are the best,” Sam smiles, digging into his plate with gusto. Steve, Natasha and Clint don’t miss the way Bucky’s mouth curves upward in a small smile before he tucks away into his-but-not-really-his order. Steve whispers something in Bucky’s ear and he shakes his head with some sort of look that only Steve can interpret. Whatever it is, Steve doesn’t press.
Sam does end up ordering his lava cake, and an extra one to go. Everyone is full and cheerful, and when they step out of the elevator, Bucky just makes it to the top of the stairs (he never takes the elevator). They say goodnight, Clint and Natasha heading in first and Steve ahead of Bucky.
“It’s the dill,” Bucky says to Sam in lieu of a goodnight before blinking and turning around to follow Steve.
It takes Sam almost an hour to figure out what the hell Bucky meant by that.
“… I’ll order some chicken and waffles. Shit, they’re sauce is so good, I don’t know what it is about it.”
Dill. Huh, he’d never really thought about it.
---
Sam comes home from work one day, feeling exhausted. He loves his job, and his vets, but hearing their stories overwhelmed him sometimes. He’s only seen half a tour and he’s been out of combat for years now, it shouldn’t be weighing on him so much anymore, and he starts to doubt his choice getting into his line of work. Can he hold himself together?
When he nears the door, he hears Steve laughing and realizes he forgot about the plans they’d made today. Not wanting to let his friends down, he took a few breaths, and rolled his shoulders, making sure he had a smile on his face.
“SAM! Oh, we’re just watching Jo Koy. Do you wanna start from the beginning?” Steve offers.
“Nah, I’m good, I’ve seen his specials at least half a dozen times, I’mma just get changed,” Sam waves him off and takes stock of his living room. Natasha is sitting in Clint’s lap on one of their recliners. Steve and his girlfriend, Sharon, are on the couch with Bucky sitting on the other side of Steve. He looks kind of miserable, but he looks like that pretty often so Sam can’t be sure. Sam sets his stuff down in his room, changes into a more comfortable shirt and heads back out to claim the other recliner. He’s still unwinding, so his friends are laughing away and he feels a little out of it. Tired. Bucky’s laugh is surprisingly light and it’s - shit, it’s kinda beautiful. Sam has to consciously not look in the direction of the couch but when Steve starts to choke as he’s laughing, Sam has an excuse to look over and Bucky’s face has lost some of its usual tension, an easy smile on his face.
He might’ve been staring a little too long, because Bucky looks over and they make direct eye contact and even as Sam tries to look at everyone else, he knows he’s caught. He looks back though, because he can’t help it, and Bucky just mouths at him, with a scrunch of his eyebrows, “you okay?”
He just nods and smiles, but maybe it’s not convincing enough. After a few minutes, Bucky picks up the empties on the table and wordlessly heads to the kitchen. Sam knows better than to think a beer would help, so he hasn’t bothered.
Bucky comes back and hands out his foraging - a cider for Sharon, a Guinness for Steve, Klinskoye for Nat and a hipster craft beer for Clint. He has to make a second trip apparently, and takes an awfully long time. He comes back with - tea?
Sam gives him an odd look, but accepts the steaming mug and instantly knows the calming scent of chamomile. It’s actually perfect, for the day he’d had.
“Really guys, tapping out?” Sharon ribs them. Bucky just chuckles and takes the attention off Sam.
“I’m an old man alright, and I’ve got a consult in two hours,” he says. “Sorry Sam, but since all our friends are alcoholics I’m going to need you to drink this with me in solidarity.” Sam has no idea if he’s lying or not, but he puts his mug up to salute Bucky and takes a sip, appreciating that Bucky put honey in it just how he likes. It’s… Sam’s sure that Bucky doesn’t actually need the tea, but the thought of Bucky putting on a front for him makes that squiggly cloud of confusion in his mind return.
“Midnight? Ew,” Clint makes a face and Sam remembers that there’s a conversation happening.
“Kazakhstan,” Bucky sighs, like that explains everything (and apparently it does because almost everyone else just nods solemnly).
Sam finds himself spending a little more time watching Bucky, but in his defence, he has seen this special a few times.
---
Unfortunately, someone must have had something because in the days following their hangout, Sharon and Steve are sick as dogs, and Clint starts to come down with it too. Natasha had quarantined him in their room while she took the couch but it was too late, and her fever caught up to her by morning. Nobody thought anything of it until Sam heard Clint throwing up at 2:00am one day and yeah, no thanks. Sam resolutely avoids the common areas and basically locks himself to his room.
The group chat is absolutely dismal with their primary chatters down for the count so he’s surprised when Bucky texts him separately. There’s no “hi” or “hello” which makes Sam kind of amused because it’s just like Bucky to cut to the chase.
Sam is kind of dying at the image though, and he knows he can’t just keep typing LOL but Bucky’s actually got a sense of humour that Sam’s not sure he’s seen before.
And Sam feels like a dick because he’s obviously taken too long to respond and making Bucky feel awkward about it. The thing is, it’s actually a really thoughtful proposition.
Has Bucky ever called him pal before? Sam can’t remember. He hears Bucky say it to Steve, a lot. And Clint, too. Sam kinda feels warm about it. He texts Steve anyway, even if Bucky’s probably already caught him up to speed.
He basically packs as soon as he can, blames it on the fact that he’s going a little stir crazy in his room. He’s knocking on Bucky’s door and Bucky opens it, sweating through the front of his t-shirt and a few shorter strands of hair loose in his face having escaped from his bun. His hair - a manbun -
His entire brain short circuits while Bucky is opening the door wider and apologizing so he misses half of what Bucky says but regardless, it is still unacceptable because wow.
“What, no! No, I mean, I kinda just popped in -“
“Well I did kind of invite you -“
“And I totally forgot to tell you I was coming like, right now, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“It’s okay, I was actually just finishing up,” Bucky shrugs, locking the door behind Sam. “Um, I’m gonna go shower, but you already know where everything is, so, make yourself at home?”
Bucky looks a little embarrassed and Sam really does bad for interrupting the man’s workout but the image of Bucky flushed and breathing heavily is now permanently stuck in Sam’s brain. He’s not sure if he’s grateful or if he’s doomed himself.
Objectively speaking, Sam knows that Bucky is a physically attractive individual. He’s pretty sure that he accidentally said so out loud to Rhodey at some party years ago when they were all still young enough to party without feeling like garbage the next day. Steve had been all “hey is it cool if my buddy comes for a run with us” and Sam said “sure” not thinking it’d be The Bucky.
Back then, Bucky had worn a plain baseball cap low on his head the whole time and didn’t talk.
Steve introduced them and Sam shook the man’s hand politely and then Steve pulled Sam ahead, striking up conversation like he always did and Sam couldn’t help feeling a little awkward knowing his friend was left out.
“It’s… he just got back,” Steve had explained and then suddenly Sam understood the feeling of being forced to do activities he didn’t really want to, and how the last thing Bucky probably wanted was idle chit chat. Sam just nodded and kept pace as best as he could, but he couldn’t help checking over his shoulder every now and then. When all his muscles were on fire and he tapped out, Steve had also plopped his ass on the grass while Sam sucked in air greedily, hands on his knees.
“If - you want - Buck, go for - another - lap. I’ll just - wait here,” Steve had panted out. Bucky’s chest was also rapidly rising and falling, his prosthetic gleaming in the sunlight. Sam remembered not knowing how Bucky could possibly physically manage but the man just nodded once and then took off on the same circuit, even faster.
“What the fuck,” Sam said, out of both jealousy and awe.
“Yeah, he’s been a bit restless since he got back, but doesn’t know how to burn all the energy. He comes with me to the gym sometimes but between the two of us, we’ve broken enough equipment that I think they’re seriously going to ban us.” Sam just laughed and shook his head while Steve laid down enjoying the shade from the trees.
“The arm, I’m guessing?”
“Yeah. I… they almost lost him. Saved him, but not the arm.” Sam didn’t want to pry. He knew of Bucky already, Steve had mentioned a lot of childhood stories but not in great detail.
“He’s back now,” Sam assures, because he knew sometimes people just needed to hear it.
“Yeah,” Steve closed his eyes. His breathing is starting to even out. Bucky comes around the corner again and slows his almost-run to a nice jog.
“Another?” Steve asked and that time, Bucky paused, hands on his waist as he breathed deeply. He gave a small shake of his head and Steve got up, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
“Good run, boys.”
Sam snaps out of his reverie when Bucky raps a knuckle on his doorframe; Sam hadn’t even heard the shower turn off. Bucky’s hair is still a bit damp despite his efforts to towel dry it and it’s kind of haphazardly strewn across his head which makes him look softer.
“Dinner?” Bucky asks and Sam realizes he hasn’t eaten all day. He tells Bucky as much and is disarmed by the charming grin on the other man’s face.
Bucky passes him some fresh sheets, offers to help him but then Sam orders him into the kitchen and Bucky leaves him to unpack, not that there’s much to it other than setting up a work desk with his laptop.
It doesn’t take long before the apartment starts to fill with the telltale sizzling of something being fried and Sam pops into the kitchen. On the other side of the island, Sam can definitely see chicken happening and there’s batter in a deep bowl, on the counter and on Bucky’s arm.
“Are you making what I think you’re making?” Sam asks, because he doesn’t want to presume but…
“I’m gonna beat The Fox and the Fiddle, mark my words,” Bucky states confidently and Sam’s stomach swoops at the cocky smirk on his face.
“Now that I can’t wait to see. Can I help with anything?” Bucky considers for a moment and then hands him the tongs.
“Take over? I’m gonna start on the sauce.”
“If you make a sauce better than the one at the Fox, I would eat my hat.” Bucky laughs, and Sam memorizes every tone.
“If we’re making bets here, I’m sure we can get more creative than eating a hat. Which you don’t wear. Ever.” And maybe Sam’s been spiralling lately because it sounds almost flirtatious but tries to just focus on not burning the chicken. Bucky alternates between the waffle iron and the sauce. Sam tries to peek at what Bucky’s sprinkling in but the damn bastard keeps blocking his view, almost as if he knew. He does smell the dill though when that comes into play, no hiding that.
When the chicken is done, Bucky boots Sam out of the kitchen back to the other side of the island and he plates everything like a damn chef.
“Beer?”
“Sure.”
Sam is thoroughly impressed, enough that the first bite literally leaves him speechless. Bucky swallows his bite and tilts his head to put his face in Sam’s direct line of sight.
“Sam?” And Jesus, Sam needs to get a grip on himself.
“This is sinful,” Sam finally finishes his first bite. “You’ve been holding out on us man, I didn’t know you could cook like this!” Bucky pretends to be offended.
“You guys thought Steve did the cooking? Are you nuts?!” And then he proceeds to launch into a story about how Steve once microwaved bowl noodles but forgot to add water first, and the time he forgot that he was boiling water, turning the pot black as coal. Which leads to Sam asking for more stories, and by the end of dinner, the two of them are laughing their asses off.
He learned a lot about Bucky, a lot of things he didn’t know or ever think of in the same breath as Bucky.
“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly says once they’ve stopped exchanging the funniest stories in their armoury trying to get the other to choke on their food.
“Sure?”
“How’d you know about the mac and cheese thing?” He thinks he kind of sounds like an idiot. “I just - even Steve didn’t know that.” Bucky takes a deep breath.
“Your sister - when she came that day,” Bucky says, like he’s carefully choosing his words. And Sam has to think about the last time Sarah had flown to visit him. It wasn’t that often - she had a business, kids, which meant she came up for the Big Stuff.
Like when Riley -
Oh. Oh. Despite the circumstances, Sam smiles at the memory. He was so relieved to see her, remembering how weak and exhausted he felt, clinging to his sister like she could save him. She kind of did, replicating Ma’s recipe, and they had the whole tray over the span of 6 hours with a white wine for her and (too many) beers for him. She couldn’t stay long, but he remembers that she came, for him.
“That… makes a lot of sense.”
“Was it buggin’ you that I knew or something?” Bucky asks, a little confused. Sam lets out a kind of bitter laugh.
“No, not like - it just surprised me, that you remembered,” Sam admits. “So, what’s your comfort food?” Bucky laughs again, and Sam loves how easy it is for Bucky now - that maybe he’s just always been this open, friendly guy one-on-one and Sam’s lost out on all of it because he was too much of a chickenshit to just ask Bucky to hang out, just the two of them.
“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” Bucky stares off into the distance. “There, uh, was a bit of time where I didn’t really… like eating? I ate of course, because I wasn’t trying to like, starve myself, or anything like that. Christ I thought Steve was going to get me committed. It’s just - I don’t know.”
“You had a complicated relationship with food.”
“Yeah, that. I mean, I was POW, they weren’t exactly feeding me gourmet meals, so anything kind of tastes great after,” he said a little dryly. Then he winces like he realized that his joke was distasteful. “Sorry.” Sam just shakes his head.
“The fact you can joke about it at all is an amazing feat, you know,” he says honestly. “And I’m sorry you went through that, I can’t imagine…” Bucky just smiles sadly.
“I’m home now,” Bucky just shrugs, and continues his meal. It reminds Sam of when he’d said that to Steve on their first run.
“Yeah, you are.” Sam realizes how strong Bucky truly is. To go through what he went through, not just with being captured but losing his arm and reintegrating, rehabilitating, and still functioning at such a high level. He tells Bucky as much, while they’re being open and all.
“It’s not - I’m really not,” Bucky stammers. “I still have bad days.”
“I think we all do,” Sam assures him.
“You never seem to,” Bucky blurts out. “I mean, like, you always seem - you smile, all the time. Help people. Talk to people. Everyone goes to you with their problems and you just fix ‘em like it’s nothing. Always knew you’d get the case worker position, it was a no-brainer.”
“I like helping people,” Sam shrugs, like it’s no big deal, even though he’s really surprised that Bucky was talking about him in such a light. “Helping people is what makes me happy.”
“Yeah, ‘course you’d say that,” Bucky grumbles with a smile before finishing his beer. “You just always seem to have it together, even after going through… well y’know. I always wished I was more like you in that sense.” Sam was a bit floored by the sudden admiration. Or… had he been a bit blind this whole time?
“That’s awfully nice of you to say, Buck.” The man doesn’t say anything, ducks his head instead and they finish the last few bites in a companionable silence.
He bullies Bucky into watching something on Netflix with him, since he’s been watching off his laptop for the past few days, not daring to even sit on the couch. It doesn’t take much, and Bucky one-ups him by cracking out ice cream and two spoons.
They sit close enough to share the tub between them, and Sam realizes how easily they’d spent the day together. Why hadn’t they done this before?
“Steve thinks it’s gross to eat ice cream straight from the tub,” Bucky grumbles.
“Uh, didn’t he sneeze on you?”
“Yeah, he fuckin’ did.” And the two of them laugh, easy and free, light and breezy.
“If it makes you feel any better, Nat writes my name on the orange juice because she thinks drinking from the carton is barbaric.” Bucky rolls his eyes.
“She thinks that way about a lot of things. You ever try to get a spoonful of peanut butter for yourself when she has the tub out?”
“Suicide,” Sam nods solemnly so he can see the crinkle of Bucky’s eyes as he laughs.
The show finishes and Netflix, bless, autoplays the next episode as they finish with the carton and chuck it on the table.
“I don’t know why he wouldn’t just do it himself,” Bucky complains about the protagonist.
“Right?” Sam practically yells. “I can’t stand it."
“Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah?” He turns to find Bucky facing him, his eyes a terribly beautiful shade of blue in the dim room, the lights from the TV flickering in them.
“Think maybe I could be reading this wrong but…” His voice and eyes trail off as he swallows thickly, his arm that’d been slung over the couch making its way to rest by Sam’s shoulder.
Sam’s heart thumps strongly against his chest, and the feelings he’s had these past few months just make sense. He can’t possibly think it’s anything else when Bucky leans in ever so slightly and Sam makes up the rest of the distance.
It’s slow and soft, vanilla-sweet and perfect as their bodies inch closer and closer until Sam’s able to get his arms around Bucky, the cool metal of Bucky’s hand cradling his face in return.
“Definitely not wrong,” Sam whispers when they break apart, foreheads resting against each other’s.
“Thank god.” Bucky’s thumb gently strokes across Sam’s cheek. “I’ve… I didn’t think you’d ever even look my way, to be honest.”
“You’re outta your damn mind,” Sam grunts before sliding his hands up Bucky’s torso, making the other man shiver, and resting them against his neck, thumbs just against the hard set of Bucky’s jaw. “Let me show you how much I’ve been looking.”
Bucky’s soft chuckle gets lost between them as Sam brings them together again. The stubble under the pads of his thumbs, Bucky’s arms around him, the laugh track coming from the TV - he’s not sure why it’d taken them so long to realize they were this perfect for each other.
And so, when Steve announces that he’s moving in with Sharon and Bucky is suddenly on the market for a new roommate, he doesn’t hesitate when Bucky hands him Steve’s old key.
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read on ao3
bingo square fill: trans character, sci-fi au
words: 2,043
excerpt:
"what in the..." sam muttered under his breath, entering and discovering a young woman sprawled out on his loveseat with a heap of records piled up beside her on the floor. "who in the hell—"
"where' s minnie ripperton?" she asked, unfazed by sam's presence or the knife he still had clutched in his fist.
sam gaped at her. "i—what?"
she sat up, her red-tinged box braids moving along with her like a shadow. "you've got the commodores, the temptations," she said, flipping through the stack, "gladys knight and the pips. but no minnie ripperton. we're supposed to have good taste, sam. no collection is complete without 'perfect angel'."
"'we'?"
"well yeah," she said, leaning back. "oh, come on. seriously? don't tell me i'm the first one."
"the first—"
"well, i guess i am," she murmured, sighing and pulling herself up to her feet. "sam—samantha wilson," she corrected, extending a hand out to sam.
sam looked her up and down. "am i supposed to know who you are?"
samantha frowned. "i mean, i'd hope so. i am you. well, a variant of yours. one that clearly has better taste in just about," she pulled at the collar of sam’s jacket, "every department."
