Chapter Text
The words hung suspended in the air between them, Sam taking an involuntary step back as he searched Bucky’s face. Bucky dropped his boyfriend’s hand, sliding his palm against his thigh as he let Sam think it through.
“My last…” Sam’s face scrunched in confusion, his knee-jerk reaction to spar, because that was his and Bucky’s love language. “What’s wrong with my last name? Wilson is a strong name. My dad was a good man--the best this town has ever seen. An’ my granddaddy was the first…oh!” Sam froze, facial muscles going slack as realization sank in. “Shit.”
“There it is,” Bucky commented dryly, torn on that precarious precipice between amusement and devastation, Sam’s obvious shock adorable, but also off-putting. Was it really so crazy? Marrying the Winter Soldier? Sam binding himself for life with a paranoid, antisocial killer? That same intrusive voice he fought on the daily chimed in helpfully. You better fucking believe it.
“You want…” Glowing, dark eyes that always reminded Bucky of earth—of life and vitality, of earnestness and survival—blinked rapidly as Sam tried to capture one of his many racing thoughts.
“To hitch myself to your wagon? Yeah, genius.”
Bucky’s glib comeback struck like a blast of arctic wind, forcing Sam’s brain back to reset mode. For him and Bucky, that would always be sass. “My wagon? You’re old, but not that old.”
“Yeah. I’m old. And old fashioned. Can we drop this now?”
Sam’s gut jarred at his sullen, resigned expression. He dipped his tone down to a smooth, soothing rumble, hoping to abate Bucky’s rising panic before it intensified into misery. “Drop it? Wait. Just hold up. I’m still letting it sink in. You can’t throw a bomb like that and think we’re just gonna go about our day like it didn’t happen.”
“I didn’t wanna throw the bomb at all. You made me. And can we stop calling it a bomb?” Bucky straight up pouted, though technically this shit had blown up in his face. To his mortification, an irrepressible grin stretched across Sam’s ridiculously handsome face. Just great. His man wanted to act cute. “I wouldn’t right now.”
“Wouldn’t what?”
“Make a joke. I’m not in the mood for you to rib me right now.”
“Huh,” Sam trudged on, undaunted. “Would you look at that.” His eyebrows arched in exaggerated surprise, his smile lively and animated. “You wanna get married. To me.”
“Sam.”
“You wanna put a ring on this.”
“Would you shut up?”
“Lock my fine self down for life.”
“I think I might hate you.”
“The fucking Pinterest board you got full of venues and flower arrangements says differently, Baby.”
“I don’t even know what Pinterest is.”
“You’re a fucking lying liar, Bucky Barnes.” Sam mercilessly threw his former words back at him. “I know you’re getting those crockpot recipes you keep trying from somewhere.”
“Can we please just drop this?”
“Yeah, not a chance.” His eyes grew hooded, his face sobering in contemplation as he turned serious. “You mean it? You want to get married?”
Bucky hemmed and hawed for all of twenty seconds before throwing his hands out in helpless surrender. “Sam, I was born in 19-fucking-17. Marriage was literally the only goal growing up. Of course, I wanna get married. And you’re the hottest person on the planet. Of course I want to marry you.”
“So, why is this such a big secret then and I didn’t know shit about it? A man oughta know if his beau is wanting to commit.”
“Do not call me your beau.”
“You’re the one dramatically announcing you’re from 1917. It tracks, Baby. Bucky’s Beau. That could be a song.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Sam hummed, murmuring a few words off the top of his head. “Here he comes, that’s Bucky’s beau. Bound for life, don’t you know…”
“Oh, for the love of-” Bucky stopped abruptly, fueled by Sam’s unrepentant smirk. “Look at that, not even married, and I’m ready for divorce. Congrats Wilson. You know how to ice a pair of feet. Now mine are as cold as yours. Guess it’s a good thing you’re a marriage phobe, after all.”
Sam squinted at the off-handed charge. “Who said that?”
“What?”
“That I’m a marriage phobe?”
“Only everyone. You’ve said it yourself in interviews.”
Sam wrinkled his nose, poking his tongue into his cheek as he studied Bucky. “What interviews?”
“Could we not?”
“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Bucky Bear.”
“Fine, Bucky’s Beau,” he tossed right back, relishing the gleam that lighted Sam’s face, banter the breath of this relationship. He scowled as he cleared his throat. “‘I guess you could call me a confirmed bachelor, yeah. I’ve never really seen myself settling down. Getting married. All that stuff. That’s really not anything I’m interested in.”’ Bucky paused; his expression triumphant when Sam’s posture crumpled. “I can go on. Should I go on? Allow me to go on.” He cleared his throat again, Sam transfixed on the bob of his Adam’s apple as he continued. “‘My parents already had the perfect marriage anyway. I don’t see how I could live up to that. Guess it makes this job—taking on the mantle—a little easier not having to worry about the whole marriage thing. Yeah, that’s definitely not in these cards.’” Bucky stopped to take a breath. “That’s a direct quote.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Sam said, flummoxed. “Did you really just word-vomit a whole assed quote to me?”
“That was from the interview with People.”
“You really hang on to every word I say, don’t you?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“What? It’s cute. And flattering. A little creepy, but you know what? I’m down.” His brow furrowed as he thought back to the interview. “Wait, that one was right after the Flag Smashers, right? Way before we even got together?”
“So?”
“So, I can’t be accountable for shit I said before I was even your beau, c’mon now.”
“Stop calling yourself that.”
“No, I like it. Boyfriend is too cutesy, partner too clinical. Beau, now…that’s got a little meat.”
“A little meat?”
“And potatoes,” Sam continued gleefully.
For a man drastically opposed to marriage, he seemed to be taking Bucky’s secret desire to legally bind them both together for life in stride. Bucky might have felt grateful for it if he hadn’t felt so vulnerable and exposed. “That’s not the only time you’ve said something like that. And it’s fine, Sam. I get it-”
“Oh, it’s fine, is it?”
“Yes, fine. Completely fine.” He dragged his vibranium hand through his hair, his cheeks reddening in that way that always made Sam wonder how this man had once been a skilled assassin when his face betrayed his every feeling. “I promise everything is fine, Sam.”
“I don’t know, Buck. I get the distinct feeling none of this is fine.” Sam’s smile was bright and cunning as he tried to lighten the mood. His poor baby was three seconds away from a panic spiral. “You got any other of my quotes memorized?”
“No.”
“That was a long quote. C’mon. What else you got?” Bucky rolled his eyes. He would’ve left, but Sam was directly in his path and never would have let him live down slinking away like a chastened puppy. “Admit it, you’re a little obsessed with me. I always knew it. Probably should mind it, but yeah, I don’t.”
“I’m obsessed with you?” Bucky scoffed; panic spiral successfully halted thanks to Sam’s shit-talking. “Who kept hauling ass to Wakanda to watch me herd goats?”
“You shut your mouth, Bucky Barnes.”
“What? You gonna deny it, Wilson?”
“Hell yeah, I’m denying it. Steve and I had business in Wakanda that wasn’t you, ya know?”
“Except I barely saw him, but there you were at my hut, time and time again.”
“I came as moral support for Steve,” Sam huffed.
“You liked seeing me in the shuka. Don’t lie.”
“I didn’t hate it,” Sam grumbled, the brashness of his tone tempered by the affection in his eyes. “Back to this marriage thing though. You know you can’t base everything off interviews, right? I mean, the idea is to get people to stop speculating on my private life and focus on the work. I’ve always tried to keep the focus where it needs to be.”
“Sam, the first time I came to Delacroix, I heard you weren’t the settling kind no less than five times. Everyone seemed surprised you even brought someone around. Even though technically I wasn’t really your someone at the time.”
“You’ve been my someone for longer than that. It just took us a while to get there,” Sam countered softly. There was a reason he’d chased this dipshit all over the globe, an invisible string connecting them from the moment that asshole had reached through the roof of his car to claim his steering wheel as a spoil of war.
Bucky blushed, humbled and invigorated by the charge. “Even so, this whole town knows you’re all about your freedom. Just like your uncle Thomas, who was off raising hell while your pop was raising souls to heaven.”
“That’s specific.”
“You’re the darling of Delacroix, Sam. People like to talk about you. And I like to listen because you’re my favorite topic. Mrs. Paddy said she taught you in Sunday School and you told her when you were like eleven you weren’t ever getting married. Carlos mentioned how much you like your freedom. Miss Edna said you weren’t the sort to tie yourself down. Tommy said when you were just yay-high,” Bucky paused to do the appropriate hand motion. “You declared you were gonna be just like your Uncle Thomas and stay single forever. And you’ve never wavered on that.”
Sam slowly nodded, features softening as his eyebrows drew together in thought. “Well, yeah. All that’s…that’s all true, I guess. Uncle Thomas, he never married, mainly because he liked variety too much to ever settle down. The opposite of my dad in every way imaginable, except his big heart.”
“I think that’s a Wilson thing,” Bucky said, his eyes crinkling.
“Look Bucky, yeah, I said all that. And I meant it. But did you ever stop to ask yourself why?” When Bucky furrowed his brow, Sam gave a dejected sigh, shuffling until his back found a wall to support his weight. He tipped his head back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling for an indeterminable moment, silence thick and looming as he carefully considered each word. “I guess it makes sense. Me starting the whole non-marriage thing around ten or eleven. I sure remember Sunday School with Mrs. Paddy. She’d always bring this orange juice in a jug. Not like orange juice-orange juice—no juice in that stuff, just a heap-load of sugar. Kinda like Kool-Aid, except it wasn’t really. And vanilla sandwich cookies for us to snack on at the end of the lesson. Those were good days. I really loved her, you know? Still do. Loved all my teachers. The deacons. Everybody in that church where my daddy preached. It wasn’t in me to disappoint them. I guess, that’s a weakness still. I don’t like disappointing people. And it’s hard for me to draw the lines I need to…create the boundaries necessary to protect myself sometimes.”
“You give until there’s nothing left,” Bucky murmured, reminded of all the times that Sam had run himself ragged, fighting fights that weren’t his, trying to save everyone at the expense of himself.
“I don’t know if I’m that selfless.”
“I do.” He perched his hip against the arm of the couch, assuming a relaxed position, so Sam would feel comfortable opening up. “That’s the age, you knew, isn’t it?” He prodded gently, not pushing, but gently guiding Sam.
“How’d you know that’s where this was going?” Sam asked. He didn’t know why he was surprised, he and Bucky so connected, they often intuitively understood what the other was thinking.
“It was around that age for me. The first time I caught myself staring at a fella working on the docks, and realized I was staring because I really liked his arms, not because I was in awe of his strength or wantin’ to be eighteen myself. Nah, it was the arms. And the back. And…” Bucky smiled grimly, ducking his head. “And I tore my eyes away and prayed no one saw it happen.”
“I bet it terrified you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it did. And I pushed it down as far as it would go. Told myself it wasn’t real, just a fluke, and would never happen again.”
“For me, it was Malcolm Winters.”
“You go to school with him?”
“Nah, he came into my home every Monday through Friday during the summer and on breaks from school.” Sam snickered at Bucky’s blank look. “He was a character on this soap opera. One thing us kids knew for certain on those breaks, the Young and the Restless was gonna be playing on the small TV in the kitchen and if we valued our lives, we weren’t gonna be interrupting Mama with questions while it was on. She’d be in there working and if you were in there with her, you best believe you’d be working too, but you wouldn’t be talking unless it was commercial time. Now Gideon and me, we were never gonna admit out loud we were into it, but we were into it. And Gid had himself a mad crush on Olivia, this pretty doctor. And she had this wild sister, he liked her too. But me? I couldn’t see her or her sister, because my eyes never left Malcolm Winters when he was on that screen. He was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. That guy was a problem, too, let me tell you. A walking red flag if ever, but back then I didn’t know better.”
“So, your habit of picking the least suitable guy to fawn over goes way back then?”
“I don’t fawn over you. You wish, I fawned over you,” Sam sniffed in mock disdain. “And you suit me just fine.”
“Glowing endorsement.”
“That’s all you’re getting from me,” Sam jabbed back.
“Did it scare you? The way you were feeling?”
“Yeah, it did. Mostly, I just had a lot of confusion over it, but I couldn’t ask. Couldn’t say. Because there was no room for it in the way I was raised.” His jaw clenched as he stared down at his shoes, a gnawing emptiness taking root in the pit of his stomach as his shoulders slumped. “And look, my parents were good people, okay? The best. And they loved me. I knew that. Knew that the God my dad preached about every Sunday loved me, too. But I still couldn’t say those words. Ask those questions.” Sam shook his head, a little sadly, a little fondly, transported back to a time that was both nostalgic and terrifying. Buoyed in a home full of love, but burdened by truths he didn’t understand and couldn’t own. It was a strange thing…to be loved so completely, but still feel it so conditionally. “And I’d sit in church every Sunday aware of every fucking thing I couldn’t say as my dad stood at that podium and smiled down at me. I tried to wish it away, because see, all I ever wanted was for him to be proud of me. And I thought as long as I never said it, if I hid it away, maybe it’d only be a little true, and I could live my whole life and he’d never have to know. I’d never have to see the shame and disappointment in his eyes as he wondered where he’d went wrong with me.”
The sadness in Sam’s voice pushed Bucky forward, strides long and graceful as he stopped in front of the other man, shadowed blue eyes narrowed in concern. “Can I touch you right now?” Bucky asked gruffly, not wanting to take anything for granted. “Just hold you? Close and against me, so you know what we have is real and always will be?”
Sam closed the last breadth of distance between them, his chest brushing against Bucky’s as his fingertips danced down the length of Bucky’s forearms in a trailing caress. “I’d like that, yeah.”
Bucky immediately pulled him in, his hold gentle but sure as he surrounded Sam with his warmth, his strength and all the love that sang Sam’s name with every beat of his heart. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips against Sam’s forehead. His mother had always said that a well-meaning forehead kiss could make anything at least a little bit better. “That you had to go through that. Hide who you were from the people who mattered most.”
“I guess that’s where Uncle Thomas comes in.” Sam snuggled into Bucky’s welcome body heat; Bucky’s embrace the truest sanctuary he’d ever known. “Sure, he got ribbed a lot, but nobody batted an eye when he said he was never getting married. He was a confirmed bachelor, and everybody just rolled with it. So, one day I decided if I did that, if I said from the beginning that’s what I wanted for myself, nobody would question it. They’d never expect me to settle down and marry a woman one day. I wouldn’t have to live a lie. For a kid raised on the ten commandments, not having to lie every day of my life was a pretty big freakin’ deal.” He leaned away to meet Bucky’s loving gaze, his expression subdued as he tried to make Bucky understand. “I’ve spent my whole life saying I didn’t want it—marriage, the whole happily ever after, a wedding, kids, any of it, because I didn’t think I could have it. For the longest ass time, it wasn’t even legal for me to have it. I wasn’t allowed to want it. To dream about it and hope for it. So, I just…” he shrugged in helpless surrender. “I didn’t.”
Bucky linked their hands together in a reassuring squeeze. If his only purpose in this life was to love and support Sam Wilson, he’d die the happiest of men. Everything else was just extra goodness to a man who wasn’t worthy of any of it. “Nothing has to change. Ever. Look, I didn’t think I would have this either. Not the lifelong commitment to a person I actually love above all others and all that jazz.”
“All that jazz? I might buckle under the weight of the romance.”
Bucky bit back a grin at his sarcasm, even as he continued. “Not for the same reasons as you. Back in the day, I was fine settling with a pretty girl, because I liked them just fine and I was never thinking I was going to have the storybook sort of love anyway. The house, the job, the kids, it was all just gonna be good enough. Just like it was good enough for my parents. I was prepared for a life of okay. And then I died. I fell off the train and I died. Again and again. Each time they put me on ice? It was like dying all over again. Then I found myself, got the words out in Wakanda and fuck if I didn’t turn to dust and die again. I didn’t have dreams anymore. Desires. I was just, ya know, existing. And I thought that was okay. That it was better that way. Because the only sure thing in my life was that I wasn’t meant to have anything good or lasting.”
“So, you ghosted me like a mother fucker,” Sam countered wryly. They’d worked through this, Sam forgiving this man whose trauma response had been to shut down and run when he didn’t feel worthy. Bucky had put forth the work in therapy, had proven he could be reliable, steadfast support so Sam didn’t have to do all the heavy lifting. But that didn’t mean Sam wasn’t still gonna give him a little shit over that disappearing act he’d pulled back when.
The ability to tease and squabble was not only how they worked, but also why they worked.
“So, I ghosted you like a mother fucker,” Bucky admitted. “Because good doesn’t get any better than you. And there’s no way you were ever gonna stay around a broken, corrupted cyborg like me.
“Now Baby…” Sam rested their foreheads together. “You know nobody’s allowed to call you a cyborg but me. Take those intrusive thoughts and kick their ass right back to the curb, you’re in Wilson territory now.”
Bucky couldn’t help but grin. That was Sam, always healing the hurts he didn’t cause. Bucky wanted to soothe some of Sam’s too. For a long time, he didn’t think he was capable, but now he knew differently. “Then you came along again with your smart mouth-”
“’Scuse you. Who came looking for who? I was doing just fine, Falconing all on my own.”
Bucky continued undeterred. “Looking fine as fuck in Madripoor, being a mother-fucking superhero just by being you, and I woke the fuck up. You brought me back to life. Fully this time. I started dreaming again. I started wanting again. I’ve only ever wanted you, Sam. From the moment I came out of that ice and came back to myself—you’re the only thing I’ve ever known how to want. And this right here, it’s more than okay. More than fine. More than good. It’s pretty damn perfect. All I need. I don’t need to throw my last name on you to make it more. It’s enough.”
Sam’s eyes burnt with tears. “Well fuck, I really am gonna buckle under the weight of the romance, you absolute asshole. You got a smart mouth, Bucky Barnes, but damn can it sweet talk.”
“I’m only sweet-talking you, Samuel Wilson. Until the day I turn back to dust. I got the life I want. I don’t need more.” He gave a smug grin. “We even got a cat. How’s it gonna get better?”
“You and that damn cat,” Sam muttered, half-convinced if it ever came down to him or Alpine, Sam might have to do some major wooing to prevail. “Two cats might make it better.” Then maybe he wouldn’t get ganged up on by Bucky and Alpine all the time.
“I stand corrected. Two cats would definitely make it better.”
“Ain’t no way Sarah’s letting us bring another cat in here.”
“Nope,” Bucky agreed solemnly.
“What’d you mean, throwing your last name on me, anyway? Who said anything about me changing my last name? I’m a national icon, if anyone is changing his name, it’s you.”
“We could hyphenate.”
“Wilson-Barnes,” they both said at the same time, each looking at the other like he was a genius.
“It’s got a certain ring,” Bucky breathed.
“Speaking of. Do you? Got a ring?”
“I just told you; I gave up that dream. As soon as I heard everyone and their cousin say you were never getting married.”
“You obviously didn’t give it up completely if Sarah is giving you shit about it.”
“She’s not giving me shit. It just came up once or twice is all. She knows where you stand. And she knows where I stand because I respect where you stand.”
“I saw you at that bonfire, looking all wistful and melancholic.”
“You didn’t see shit. You started wearing socks to bed because you thought I didn’t like your cold feet.” He frowned. “Which ironically, might be true. Just not literal.”
“I don’t have cold feet.”
Bucky snorted. “You do. You definitely do.”
“Fine, Asshole. In the literal sense, maybe I do.”
“Maybe, my ass. You do. I don’t hate ‘em though. I like being your heater.”
“I don’t, however, have cold feet in the figurative sense.”
Bucky felt a flutter in his stomach. He eased away, visibly swallowing as he gave Sam’s hand a tentative squeeze. “What exactly are you saying, Sweetheart?”
Sam fluttered his eyes like a menace, well aware Bucky was a sucker for his eyelashes. “I could probably be persuaded.”
“Persuaded?”
“To hitch up to your cart. Your wagon. Your horse? Whatever the hell you called it when we started this conversation. I’m not old.”
Goosebumps danced along the ridge of Bucky’s neck, his heart rate picking up as he took in Sam’s smug, sure smirk. “You’re really just gonna stand there all prettily, like you didn’t just flip the script on my whole fucking life?”
“Yep.” Sam shrugged. “That’s what I do, Buck-Baby. Been doing it since I chased you all over the world. Sure as fuck not stopping now that I finally caught you.”
Bucky’s gaze narrowed. “You’re saying you’d marry me?”
“I’m saying you never know unless you ask.”
Bucky schooled his expression, forcing an aura of calm even as warmth radiated through his body, his thoughts scattering every which way as his brain worked feverishly to compute this sudden shift in direction. He wanted to yank Sam up, have his way with that man every way he could. He wanted to fall prostrate at Sam’s feet because he was aware he’d never be worthy. But mainly, he wanted to keep his cool and not give Sam the satisfaction of knowing he was officially spiraling. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he shrugged, his mind racing as it formed some big, BIG plans.
“You do that,” Sam simpered, not fooled for a minute. His man wasn’t that slick, Sam well-versed in the book of Bucky.
Samuel Thomas Wilson-Barnes. Yeah, that sure had a nice ring to it.