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"Get off of me."
Bucky groans and rolls off Sam, grunting when something in his back goes twang. It'll be better in a few minutes. Probably sooner than his other problem is going to go away.
"Thought we got that out of our systems in Wakanda."
"We did."
"So that was a gun in your pocket?"
"You know I'm not happy to see you, so what else was it going to be?" Bucky says, but he doesn't have the energy to give his tone much bite.
Sam groans as he sits up. "It's been a long time since somebody wanted to punch me and fuck me at the same time."
"Really? I figured that was standard for you." Bucky's not going to let Sam get off the ground first, so he heaves himself upright. Sam follows a second later. It doesn't even look like it bothers him, despite the fact that the wing pack has to be 160 pounds, easy. For a man who's not enhanced, Sam's strength is... not what Bucky needs to be thinking about, given the thing Sam's still snarking at him for.
They head off on foot, no discussion required. The alternative is Sam taking flight with Bucky in his arms, and it looks like Sam doesn't want to be that close to him again. Which is fine. Not what Bucky wants, either. He doesn't even look over at Sam, just stares straight ahead.
"Look, you don't have to be all awkward about it."
"I'm not being awkward," Bucky grunts. "You're the one who can't shut up about--" There's no good way to finish that sentence, not without bringing the problem into full view.
Which Sam has no issue with, apparently. "Your dick? Nah, man, I've got a lot of things on my mind other than your dick."
Bucky grunts again.
"The little girl that kicked your ass. Your little trip through the treeline."
"Oh, are you gonna be able to get the footage off Redwing? What's left of Redwing."
Sam's lips turn down. His feelings are actually hurt over that annoying little robot.
Wait, Bucky's not supposed to be looking at Sam's lips.
Fuck.
"Perfectly normal thing," Sam mutters.
"Are we back to my dick again?"
"You know what you need?"
"Let me guess, it's something only you can give me," Bucky says dryly.
Sam cuts him a look. "You're really talking yourself into thinking I want a second round."
"Third round."
"It was once--"
"Twice that night. Third round."
Sam ponders that, tilts his head, nods. "Just saying. If you wore a cup, this shit wouldn't be happening. You might be pumped full of serum, but no reason not to protect the goods, man."
"Jesus, Wilson."
"Am I wrong?"
"I'm just glad the health and safety of my goods is so important to you."
A laugh bursts out of Sam, and Bucky's lips twitch, almost. It's hard to keep a straight face when Sam laughs like that.
Fuck. Fuck. This is not happening. He doesn't want to get... involved. He doesn't want to want to get involved.
"I'll pick you up one next time we get a chance. Carry a spare or something. Next time you decide to fall out of a plane, get the cup on first."
This time Bucky can't hold the smile back, but he gets a handle on it fast.
"When I fix Redwing up, I'll have him deliver it personally."
"Whoa, no. No way."
"You'd rather have me do it?"
Yes. "Okay, fine. Redwing can drop it off."
"You'd rather have me do it. All right." Sam shrugs. "Ask nice next time, I'm not gonna say no."
Wait, what?
"What's going on in that big cyborg brain of yours?"
"It's computing," Bucky mutters.
"You know what? I can actually see it."
Yeah, that's the problem. Ask nice next time, I'm not gonna say no. Bucky can see it, too.