Work Text:
It was starting to get cold. The wind becoming biting. The birds staying in their aviary. Sam knew what that meant.
Ever since Sam’s father’s Parkinson’s diagnosis, it was up to Sam to keep the farm up and running. Tend to the vegetables, feed the birds, milk the cows, repair the fences, anything that needed to be done. Looking after the birds was always Sam’s favourite though, ever since he was a little boy.
It was more difficult to run the farm by himself in the winter. The fences got knocked over more often by the wind, the corn had to be watched carefully, the animals couldn’t roam freely for too long. Sam’s mother had been telling him for years that he needed help, that no one expected him to look after the land by himself.
But Sam knew money was tight as it was, how could they afford to employ someone else? Especially with the farm’s location. Topeka, Illinois. A four hour drive from Chicago. Smack in the middle of Midwestern United State’s Corn Belt. Population of 90 people, according to the most recent census.
If, for arguments sake, they did hire someone else to work on the farm, they would have to be content with living in the middle of nowhere, happy enough to receive a measly paycheck, as well as be fit and qualified to work with animals. It seemed very unlikely that the Wilson family would ever find a worker like that.
And then Sam’s mother received a phone call. They were in the middle of breakfast, Sam setting the table, Paul staring out the window, while Darlene prepared oatmeal for the three of them. The phone rang three times before Darlene went into the hallway and picked it up, wiping her hands on her apron as she did.
“Hello, Wilson residence,” Darlene called into the phone. It always made Sam grin when Darlene answered the phone like that; he thought it made them sound much more refined than they really were.
“Really? That’s… Yes. That would be fantastic. When can you come up?” Sam didn’t pay much more attention to Darlene’s conversation, instead focusing on his task of filling a jug full of orange juice and setting it in the middle of the table.
Darlene thanked the person on the other end of the phone, said goodbye to them a few times and told them she’d see them soon. She hung the phone up on the wall, returning to the kitchen and stirring the pot of oatmeal. She didn’t say anything about the phone call, which Sam found unusual. His mother was quite the gossip, most of the time.
Soon enough, breakfast was ready and the family was sitting around the old kitchen table, helping themselves, except for Paul, who was fed by Darlene with a soup spoon. Sam couldn’t take it anymore, there was never anything to talk about around here, expect for the weather and how the animals were fairing. Finally, he asked, “Who was on the phone, Ma?”.
He spooned some jam onto his oatmeal as he waited for an answer. Darlene was being strangely quiet, and Sam hoped the phone call wasn’t a bad one. Though, Darlene seemed happy when she talked to the stranger. Happier than she had sounded in a long time.
“Actually, Sammy… It was someone looking for work,” She said slowly, as if she was trying to gauge Sam’s reaction. Sam’s brow furrowed, “What would make anyone think we had any jobs going?” He questioned, continuing to eat.
Darlene hesitated for a moment, before lowering her shoulders in defeat. “Well, because your Pa and I,” She reached for Paul’s hand, his immediately closing around hers, “We thought it’d be good if you got someone to help you this Winter around the farm. We know how difficult this work is, especially this time of year… And especially when you’re all by yourself. So we put an ad in the papers, saying we needed a farmhand.”
Sam began to push his chair back from the table, not about to have the same conversation again. He was fine working by himself, liked it even.
“I don’t need any help,” Sam replied, his voice firm, not leaving any room for discussion. Somehow, Paul found room. “Samuel, don’t be stubborn. Listen to us, just this once,” it was rare for Sam’s father to speak. He only did so when he had something to say, not seeing much purpose in small talk or niceties.
Sam started to head for the door, ready to get to work. It would be a long day today. There had been a storm last night, knocking down one of the surrounding walls. It had to be fixed quickly, before the animals were let out of their sheds again for Spring.
He went into the hall, pulling on his work boots and shrugging on his jacket.
“He’s going to be here at Four, so don’t be late! Make sure you come in and talk to him!” Darlene called after him as he shut the front door behind him.
…………………………………………………………………………..
Nine hours later a dusty yellow cab was pulling up at the bottom of the driveway. Sam was still working, busy feeding the birds for the last time of the day. Even though Sam didn’t want anyone else working on the farm, he couldn’t help but be curious about the stranger. He could just about make out the silhouette of the stranger. Male (but his mother had already told him that), tall, well built and with dark hair.
The man strided confidently up the driveway, giving Sam a wave as he noticed him. Sam didn’t wave back, going back inside the shed, at the same time Darlene opened the front door to the stranger, ushering him inside.
…………………………………………………………………………………..
Another hour passed, and the man still hadn’t left the house. Sam decided, defeated, that he would finish up for the day and go back iniside. Because he was tired and hungry, not because his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
……………………………………………………………………………………
Cautiously, Sam entered the house. He took off his boots, noticing how the house was quiet. As soon as the thought entered his head, he heard a deep, unfamiliar laugh coming from the kitchen. Sam sighed, dropping his tools beside the front door, and heading towards the kitchen.
When he entered, everyone’s heads turned towards him, suddenly making him feel hot. Before he had a chance to say anything, Darlene was standing up from the table, putting her arm around Sam’s waist.
“Ah, here’s my prodigal son!” Darlene joked, her free hand gesturing towards Sam. “Sam, this is James, the one who applied for the job. James, this is Sam, he’ll be the one you’ll be working with. Me and Paul are too old for this kind of work,” Darlene was trying to keep the conversation light, but Sam’s shoulders were still tense.
James stood up, reaching over the table to shake Sam’s hand, a bright smile on his face. Sam hesitated for a moment, before stepping forward, taking a hold of James’ hand. It was warm, but slightly calloused. “Oh please, call me Bucky. Only my grandma called me James.”
Sam nodded. “Bucky, then,” he sat down at the free seat, Bucky following suit. Darlene walked towards the oven, pulling out a pasta bake. “Dear, would you like seconds?” Darlene asked, turning towards Bucky, awaiting his answer.
Sam realised then that they all had empty plates in front of them. They had already eaten. Sam suddenly felt rude for leaving James, or Bucky, waiting, while Sam was sitting in the shed sulking like a child.
“How could I say no to that offer, Darlene?” Bucky replied, flashing Darlene a cheeky smile. Sam was right earlier when he noted that Bucky was confident. Annoyingly so.
Darlene hummed to herself as she ladeled a second serving onto Bucky’s plate, and a first onto Sam’s. “So… Bucky. Why do you wanna work here of all places?” Sam asked. He realised the question was abrupt, and that was solidified by the daggers his mother shot him across the table.
Bucky didn’t seem phased by the question, smiling as he dug into his dinner. “Well, Sam. I don’t got many qualifications. Parents died when I was little, so I dropped out of school, tried to support myself any way I could. Did a few tours with the army, but it didn’t stick. I travelled around for a while, workin’ as a salesman, but that didn’t stick either,” Bucky shrugged as he shoveled the food into his mouth before continuing, “Last few years I’ve been living in Russia, had a friend from there so I thought I’d go over with her. Only work I could get was as a farmhand, then I started studying Veterinary Science in the evenings, cause I loved working with the animals. But I couldn’t get a vet job there, came back here and couldn’t get one either. So, here I am,” Bucky concluded.
Everyone at the table was silent for a moment, no one sure what to say. Bucky didn’t seem to notice the tension, continuing to tuck into his food. “What brought you here? I mean, we don’t exactly get many tourists, and a town of less than a hundred people isn’t the best place to look for work,” Sam pressed, more gently this time, feeling guilty for how abrupt his previous question was.
Bucky seemed to think of that question for a minute, pushing his pasta around his plate with his fork, before looking up at Sam. Sam suddenly felt nervous, with Bucky looking straight at him like this. Sam could finally get a good look at Bucky now. He had piercing blue eyes, almost grey. His chin was covered with a light stubble, the result of not shaving for about two days. He had dark hair, about chin length, pushed back behind his ears. He was handsome, Sam could admit that much.
It almost felt like they were on a date. It had been a long time since Sam had dated, but sitting opposite a handsome man, eating dinner, asking him about his life, it almost reminded him of the dinners he used to go on before he started working on the farm full time. Straight away, Sam felt stupid for making that comparisson. He wondered if Bucky could tell he was blushing.
“I grew up in Brooklyn, but I left when I was about fourteen. Since then I’ve been travelling, working in different places. You know I can speak seven languages?” Bucky directed that rhetorical question at Darlene, who laughed. Even Paul, who had been quiet and still, cracked a smile at that.
“Anyway, from moving around, I realised I like the countryside the best. I came back from Russia a week ago and since then I’ve just been hitchhiking around. Two days into hitchhiking, I stop at this little corner shop outside of Pekin, pick up a newspaper, and guess what the first thing I read is? So, here I am,” Bucky concluded. Sam noted that Bucky had said that last sentence earlier, too. He briefly wondered if Bucky had memorised his answers, or if he was repeating himself because he was nervous.
Sam looked away from Bucky now, his eyes casting downward. For the first time, Sam noticed that Bucky had a prosthetic arm. He couldn’t help but wonder what happened. A farming accident? A childhood illness? Is that why he left the army?
“Well, James, I th-think you seem like the man for the job. When… When can you start?” Paul asked, surprising everyone at the table. He only stuttered slightly when he asked the question. Sam presumed that meant he was pretty sure of his decision.
Sam didn’t even realise they were going to hire Bucky today. He thought it was more of an informal interview, of sorts. Judging by Bucky’s surprised expression, he was thinking along the same lines as Sam.
“Um… I’d have to look for somewhere to live first, right now I’m just staying at a Bed & Breakfast outside Manito, but I’m only booked in for one more night,” Bucky replied sheepishly, the confident bravado nowhere to be seen. Sam wondered if he was expecting to land the job at all.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, honey! We have a cabin out back that we’ve done up real nice for guests and workers to stay. You can stay there while you’re working here, rent free,” Darlene didn’t quite suggest it, more declared that it was what Bucky would do. Sam almost chirped that they’ve never had either of those stay; workers or guests. For as long as Sam could remember it's just been the three of them.
Sam finished his dinner, sitting back and waiting to see what would happen next. He was too tired to argue, and Sam knew it wouldn’t be fair to start fighting with Bucky sitting right at the table with them. He needed a job, Sam understood that.
Bucky nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “If it’s really no trouble… That’d be great. Thank you,” Bucky said, no humour in advice, only genuine gratitude and appreciation. He looked at each person around the table, making sure that it really was okay. That they were serious about Bucky working and living here.
Darlene smiled and patted Bucky’s hand, Paul nodded in confirmation, that it really was no trouble. Lastly, Bucky looked at Sam. He seemed most nervous to gain Sam’s approval of the situation. The last thing Sam wanted was someone to be working alongside him every day and living with them, but with Bucky looking at him so hopefully, all Sam could do was smile at the man across the table.
“How about I show you your place then?” Sam suggested, finding himself unable to voice any disapproval at the situation.
…………………………………………………………………………
The next morning, Sam was pulling up outside th B&B Bucky was staying at. He beeped the horn once and almost immediately Bucky was walking towards Sam’s pickup truck and throwing two carrier bags in the back. Bucky opened the door and hopped in beside Sam, flashing a smile at him.
Annoying, Sam thought again. It wasn’t even 7am and Bucky was already practically bouncing, smiling at nothing. Sam already knew he was going to be driven crazy working with him. At least it would only be three months.
“Thanks for picking me up, man, I don’t think I could afford another cab,” Bucky said conversationally. Small talk. “No problem,” Sam said back, pulling out from his space and beginning to drive back to the farm. It would only be about a fifteen minute drive.
After a few minutes of silence and Bucky tapping his foot and looking around at everything, Sam’s car, out the windows, at Sam himself, he figured it would be better to converse for a few minutes. “You know, there’s not much of a nightlife around here. And we can’t pay you much. You’ll probably get bored pretty quickly,” Sam was saying before he had thought it through. He didn’t mean to keep being so harsh.
He wasn’t sure if he was being so rude to Bucky because he didn’t want to work with someone, because he didn’t like Bucky, or because it had been so long since he had to properly talk to someone. Other than mailmen, delivery drivers and the guy who worked at the nearest grocery store, Sam didn’t really talk to anyone.
He used to. When Sam was in college. He’d talk the ear off anyone who was willing to listen. He didn’t really know what he wanted to do after college, but he got accepted to Columbia University and was studying Sustainability Management, thinking that maybe he would go into agriculture, like his father. On weekends Sam learned Judo with his closest friend, Steve, whom he had met at college. Two evenings a week he volunteered at an animal sanctuary, and the rest of the time he partied. Had a few flings, not quite relationships, but Sam had fun, and that was something he was sorely lacking these days.
Sam had been dating a film student called Lucas and Sam often wondered where Lucas was today. If they’d still be together if Sam hadn’t gotten a call from his mother, saying that his father was sick and that he needed to come.
Darlene always insisted after that that she and Paul were fine, that she only meant Sam needed to come home for a week or so, that he should go back to Harlem. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself, knowing his father was suffering almost halfway across the country, and that his mother was looking after him, all by herself in that old farmhouse.
“Oh, I don’t care much about that. Never was one for clubs or anything, really,” Bucky said, pulling Sam out of his self-pitying thoughts. “Yeah?” Sam asked, not really sure what else to say. Bucky turned his head, smiling directly at Sam this time. “Yeah. I really do think I’m gonna like it here,” Bucky replied, his eyes locked with Sam’s as he spoke.
Bucky broke eye contact first, staring back out the window, taking in the sights with a small smile playing on the corner of his lips.
………………………………………………………………………….
The next few days saw Sam and Bucky working alongside each other, quickly falling into a rhythm. They didn’t speak much, save for Bucky asking where a certain tool was every now and then, or cursing in a language Sam didn’t recognise if he dropped something or injured himself.
Sam was thankful for that. He didn’t think he would be able to handle going from working alone for almost ten years, to suddenly talking to a stranger every minute of the day.
At five o’clock every evening, they finished up their work on the land and went inside for dinner, Darlene having their food ready and waiting for them every time. The four of them would eat mostly in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking about work and the food.
One evening, Sam’s father posed a question to Bucky. “What was it that happened to your arm, James? If you don’t mind me asking,” he questioned, pointing his fork towards Bucky’s arm, as if expecting Bucky to not immediately understand the question.
Darlene was about to scold Paul for asking such a question, and truthfully, so was Sam. But before either of them could speak, Bucky was bellowing out a laugh. It didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest. He sounded… relieved, almost.
“I wish it was a more interesting story. Back when I was a soldier, my unit was scoping out this train. I don’t even remember exactly how it happened, it was all so quick, you know? Anyway, next thing I know, I was lying at the bottom of a cliff and my left arm wasn’t,” Bucky replied, continuing to eat his food, not paying attention to the shocked expressions on Sam and Darlene’s faces.
“That’s awful,” Sam was saying before thinking. Good one, Captain obvious, he thought to himself.
Bucky just grinned at him across the table, “hey, it’s not so bad. This prosthetic arm is pretty cool, the army paid for me to get a super advanced one. And, if it hadn’t happened, I probably wouldn’t be working here!”
Sam wished he had half the enthusiasm and positivity Bucky did.
………………………………………………………………………………….
The next day, Sam and Bucky were finishing up fixing the farm’s surrounding wall. Sam realised then, that without Bucky’s help, he would have never gotten the wall fixed by Spring. He made a mental note to thank his mother for that.
It was getting close to five o’clock, and there was still a lot of work to be done. Bucky had been chiseling off the wall’s old bricks, so that Sam could lay new ones. “You need some gloves?” Sam had offered, thrusting a spare pair of gloves towards Bucky, but he just shook his head in response.
Bucky had come dangerously close to stabbing himself in the hand multiple times with the chisel, when Sam was finally ready to insist. The last thing he needed was to nurse Bucky back to health, along with all the other work he has to do. Just as Sam was picking up the other pair of gloves, Bucky was turning towards him. “Okay, yeah, I’ll take the gloves,” Bucky said timidly, holding out his right hand.
Sam chuckled softly, handing the gloves over to Bucky. As he did, their fingers touched for a moment. Bucky didn’t pull away. Sam noted to himself how cold Bucky’s hand was, yet it still sent a jolt of electricity through his arm. Sam pulled away, Bucky muttering a thank you.
Another hour passed. They were later than usual. “I think I’ll skip dinner. I’m worn out,” Bucky said as he packed up his tools. Sam nodded and they headed back to the house. Bucky gave him a small wave after leaving Sam at the front door to the house, while he headed towards the cabin behind the house.
Sam hesitated, feeling bad for not telling Bucky he could finish up sooner, and for not insisting that he gets something to eat. He hoped he hadn’t over worked him.
He headed inside, dropping his tools beside the door and going straight for the kitchen. It was empty. Sam walked towards the living room, peeking his head around the crumbling door frame. His parents were both fast asleep, Darlene asleep on the couch and Paul asleep in his armchair.
Sam rummaged through the boiler cupboard, finding two warm blankets. He laid them over both of his parents, taking their plates and mugs into the kitchen with him. He washed up for ten minutes, before grabbing his own dinner plate from the oven.
Bucky’s plate was in there too. Sam didn’t spend much time thinking about if he should bring Bucky’s dinner to him.
Less than a minute later, Sam was outside, knocking on Bucky’s cabin door. “One second!” Bucky called through the door. Sam waited, listening to things clatter inside and hearing something turn off. A shower, he assumed.
Bucky flung the door open, grinning when he saw Sam standing there. He was only wearing a towel around his waist, his dark hair wet and falling down, almost reaching his shoulders.
“Thought you could do with some food,” Sam tried to keep his voice even as he spoke, raising the plate slightly to show him the dinner. Pork, potatoes, corn and peas. Nothing special.
Bucky’s face lit up and he stepped aside, ushering Sam inside. “Thanks, that’s real nice of you. We’ll eat at the coffee table,” Bucky replied, taking his plate out of Sam’s hand. Only then did Sam realise he had brought his own dinner with him too.
Feeling embarrassed, he simply nodded, sitting down on an old yellow fabric couch, placing his food in front of him. Bucky but his down beside Sam’s, as he said, “I’ll be back in just a second.”
Bucky disappeared into his bedroom, giving Sam a chance to look around the cabin. He knew what it looked like, he was the one who built and decorated it. One small bedroom, one even smaller bathroom and a kitchen that doubled as a living room.
It had been decorated sparsely. In the room he was currently sitting in, he had only put in the couch, the table, the basic kitchen amenities and a small mirror on the wall. Now, there was a brown fleecy throw over the back of the couch, a few novels on the table, cereal on the kitchen counter, photo frames on the wall and a plant under the window. Sam thought it might be a spider plant.
Bucky returned wearing a pair of dark sweatpants and a faded logo t-shirt. Sam would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t slightly disappointed to see Bucky dressed. But it was nice to see Bucky wearing more casual clothes, instead of his usual work attire, which consisted of thick construction pants, multiple sweaters, a raincoast and chunky work boots.
“Sorry about that,” Bucky apologised as he grabbed some cutlery from a kitchen cabinet, sat down and handed a knife and fork to Sam. “It’s no problem, sorry to hassle you. I just thought… Well, I didn’t want you to skip dinner, especially…. especially after working so hard the past few days,” Sam finally got out, poking his peas with his fork.
Bucky bumped his shoulder against Sam’s, laughing a little. “That’s very sweet of you,” Bucky teased. At first, Sam thought Bucky bumped into him by accident, that he had fallen over or something. It had been a long time since he had been teased. Half of him felt defensive, but the other half missed the light joking.
“I’m gonna be sweet again and give you the day off tomorrow,” Sam teased back, glancing over at Bucky and seeing the confused look on his face. “You were exhausted today, and your hands were… I mean you looked frozen cold. Can’t have you getting sick on me, I need you ‘round here. So, just relax tomorrow,” Sam used his most authoritative voice, leaving no room for argument.
Bucky ate quietly for a moment. Sam wondered if he was annoyed at him; if he thought Sam was babying him, or something. “You need me ‘round here, huh?” Bucky asked, smiling at Sam, clearly waiting for a reply. It wasn’t a rhetorical question.
Bucky had only been working at the farm a week or so, and already, Sam knew that he needed Bucky there, that he couldn’t do the work himself anymore. Sam just rolled his eyes at Bucky, lightly kicking him in the shin under the coffee table.
“Yeah, I need you here to work, Buck. Don’t get a semi on me or ‘nothin,” Sam replied, shaking his head, a small smile on his lips. Bucky was smiling too as they finished their food, sitting side by side.
…………………………………………………………………………………
A few days later, Sam was awoken to rasping at his bedroom door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he shouted, his voice gruff with sleep. He flung back the sheets and stumbled towards the door, opening it to find Bucky. He looked worried.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, moving towards his dresser and pulling on a pair of old jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. “It’s your Dad, they had to take him into hospital. Your mom said that she tried to call you but there was no answer, so she called me. She said not to worry, that they got him to the hospital just in time, but they might have to spend the night there,” Bucky was rambling.
The one time Sam didn’t plug his phone in to charge before going to bed, and someone ended up in the hospital. Sam was about to ask Bucky what happened, but he knew himself that Bucky wouldn’t know. Just one of the many complications of his father’s illness that had landed him in hospital four times in the last year alone.
They went downstairs and ate breakfast in silence, Sam constantly glancing towards the landline, just in case someone called. He could only hope that the call wouldn’t be bad news. His father would want Sam to pray, with him being a minister for many years in Harlem, before they moved to the country.
Sam felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he was too exhausted to wipe it away. He had lost count of all the times he had sat at this very kitchen table, just waiting for the bad news that would eventually come.
Hesitantly, Bucky reached across the table, laying his hand on top of Sam’s. Unconsciously, Sam turned his hand over, now palm-in-palm with Bucky. Bucky squeezed gently, and another tear fell.
“I used to go with her to the hospital, the first few times, anyway. But she’d always say there was no point in me sitting there worryin’, when we couldn’t do anything to help him. Wonder if she knows I’m just sitting at home worryin’,” Sam said.
He wasn’t sure what had shifted since Bucky had arrived. Why he was confiding in someone he’d barely known a week, or holding his hand across the table. It all felt awfully domestic.
Bucky didn’t reply, just rubbed small circles on Sam’s inner wrist with his thumb. Sam coughed, pulling his hand away and dumping both of their plates in the sink.
“Well, we still have work to do, we should get to it,” Sam gave Bucky a pat on the shoulder, before going to get his work boots. Bucky followed behind him, leaning on the doorway. Sam wondered if that meant Bucky was getting comfortable living here.
“Are you sure? That wall isn’t going anywhere, we can keep working on it tomorrow. Plus, it looks like the rain’s going to come down any minute,” Bucky counter argued, putting on his boots, anyway, letting Sam know that he’d do whatever Sam wanted him to do.
“You’re not afraid of a little rain, are you Barnes?” Sam teased, throwing a pair of gloves in his direction. Bucky caught them, but didn’t speak. Sam appreciated that Bucky wasn’t forcing him to stay inside. He’d go crazy if he just sat by the phone all day.
Sure enough, the rain came pouring down less than ten minutes after they got to the broken wall. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had seen rain this heavy, let alone worked in it.
Bucky didn’t seem bothered by it, just laying down brick after brick. The rain started to get into Sam’s eyes, his raincoat doing nothing to protect him from the pellets of water. The rain was going down the back of his shirt and into his socks, thoroughly soaking him. Bucky looked like a wet dog, his long hair clinging to his face, rain ricocheting off his chest.
The water momentarily blinded Sam while he was hammering at the old bricks. In his blind state, he misjudged the location of the brick, striking the hammer down on his knuckles.
“Fuck!” Sam exclaimed, unable to keep it in. He dropped the hammer, cradling his hand to his chest. Just half an hour ago, his hand felt on fire, because Bucky was holding it so tenderly.
Now, his hand felt on fire for a completely different reason. Sam was sure it was broken. Bucky glanced over, seeing Sam’s distress and immediately dropped his own tools, coming closer to Sam.
He took Sam’s hand between his own and Sam hissed. Bucky gave him a stern look, quieting Sam, and allowing Bucky to look at his hand. Carefully, Bucky took Sam's glove off, dropping it on the grass beneath them. Sam bit his lip so hard he could taste blood, not wanting to whine in pain.
Gently, Bucky turned Sam’s hand over, inspecting it. “You’ll be fine. ‘S not broken, just needs some ice,” Buck deduced, but didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. Sam realised how close they were now. He could feel Bucky’s ragged breath against his cheek, tired from their labour.
Without thinking, Sam leaned forward, knocking his nose against Bucky’s. It hurt, but he didn’t care. Bucky reached up with his prosthetic hand, his other still holding Sam’s injured one. Bucky’s free hand slid behind the hood of Sam’s raincoat, cradling his head and guiding Sam’s lips toward his own.
Their kiss was wet… The rain was still coming down, heavy and almost painful, though neither of them paid it any attention. Sam’s uninjured hand grabbed Bucky’s hip, his numb fingers gripping the fabric there. Sam pushed Bucky against the wall, knocking down a few of the newer bricks they had laid, the cement not yet hardened.
Bucky smiled against Sam’s mouth, before nipping at his lower lip. “It’s fucking freezing, can we go inside?” Sam thought this was the first time Bucky had ever asked him for anything, and he couldn’t refuse. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to refuse him.
………………………………………………………………………………
The moment they were inside the house, they were kissing again, hands everywhere. Sam kept forgetting about his hand, cursing against Bucky’s lips each time he tried to grab him. They were both shaking against each other as their lips found each other, over and over again. Sam wasn’t sure if he was shaking from the cold, or from something else. It had been so long since he had been any way intimate with someone.
Bucky pulled back, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders to keep him still. “Let me run you a bath. You go get some frozen peas for your hand,” Bucky ordered, much to Sam’s confusion. “Run me a what?” he questioned, exasperated, just wanting to get back to their earlier activities.
That made Bucky laugh. “A bath. B-A-T-H,” Sam rolled his eyes when Bucky spelled it out. He knew what a bath was, he just hadn’t taken one in… a long time.
Before Sam could protest, Bucky was wriggling out of Sam’s hold and jogging up the stairs. Bucky stared after him for a few moments, huffing, and going into the kitchen. He searched the fridge-freezer, eventually finding a packet of frozen mushrooms. He placed the packet on his knuckles, wrapping his hand up with an old tea towel to keep it in place.
He quickly cleaned and put away their dishes from this morning, not wanting Sam’s mother to come home from the hospital and then have to do housework.
He headed up the stairs, slowly pushing the bathroom door open, to see Bucky kneeling beside the bath, dipping his hand in to test the temperature. Bucky had shed his boots and jacket in the corner, but other than that, he was fully dressed.
For a second, Sam felt stupid. He wasn’t sure what kind of relationship had developed between him and Bucky, but right now it was clear in Sam’s mind that Bucky’s side of the relationship was fueled by pity.
Poor Sam, working all alone in the middle of nowhere, no friends, a sick father, no partner, and now a broken hand. He was still positive his hand was broken, no matter what Bucky had to say about it.
He was embarrassed. He didn’t think the two of them were going to get married or anything, but after today, he thought maybe there was something between them. Romantic, sexual, something.
Sam was too tired to voice his embarrassment. Maybe he could just enjoy today for what it was. If anything, he got to kiss someone. For the first time in years. And that someone was Bucky.
Bucky glanced up from the bathtub, noticing Sam’s forlorn expression. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ Bucky questioned, his voice soft. Laced with Pity. Sam’s frown deepened as he avoided Bucky’s eyes.
‘Nothing.’ Even Sam could tell how weary he sounded.
Before he could react, Bucky was up, standing in front of him, both hands on either side of Sam’s face, gently tipping it upwards. And then Bucky was leaning in again, and Sam sighed against his lips. The kiss was slower, less frenzied and clumsy than their first. But it was sure. Like Bucky was trying to communicate something through it. And finally, Sam received the message.
Sam began to strip, leaving his clothes in a pile beside the door. He locked the bathroom door, just in case his parents came home. No need for them to walk in on this and have a heart attack, sending them both back to the hospital again.
“Join me,” Sam said. Not an order, but not quite a question either. A plea, maybe. Sam, now naked, sunk into the water, his hand hanging out the side of the tub. Bucky seemed to think on that for a moment, before stripping too. Sam averted his eyes, deciding to lean his head back on the tiles and close his eyes.
He felt the water rise slightly, as another body joined him in the bath. He didn’t have to open his eyes. He was content, just sitting there, with Bucky across from him. Bucky’s foot was digging into Sam’s thigh, and Sam’s knee kept nudging Bucky’s hand, which was resting on the side of the tubs, beside Sam’s. Sam had never felt more comfortable.
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
AND that's the end! This was my very first fanfiction I've ever written and I had a lot of fun.
I have a few more chapter written, but I'm not completely happy with them. So, if anyone actually reads this and enjoys it I'll probably edit and post those chapters as a series. Please leave kudos and comments, I would really really really appreciate any feedback!!!
p.s. here's a few pictures that gave me some inspo :)
