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“Push here.” Sam moves his hands aside for Bucky to push the crowbar firmly in place with his left hand, and Bucky just leans against the wall and let’s his gaze roam over Sam as he’s fiddling with something. He will not be held responsible for the way he reaches out with his right hand to hook his finger into the loop of Sam’s jeans to pull him closer. It’s entirely Sam’s fault for being that close and looking so tempting this early in the morning.
His body is warm and solid and Bucky lets his arm snake around Sam’s middle even as he keeps pushing on the crowbar to keep it from slipping.
“Bucky...”
“I missed you.” Bucky whispers, lips brushing Sam’s ear before he trails them down his jaw. Sam sighs, but it’s sounds less exasperated then usual, leaning more heavily into Bucky’s frame.
“I figured that’s why you were here.” He hums, tilting his head back into Bucky’s shoulder, shivering at the sensation of Bucky’s facial hair scratching at his sensitive neck.
“I wanted to help, too.” Bucky sighs, nuzzling the dark skin. Sam smiles softly.
“You always do.” Sam admitted, breath hitching as Bucky’s hand smooths over his belly to the waistband of his jeans.
“I like to help.” Bucky’s low voice rumbles through Sam’s back, lower face burying itself in Sam’s neck. Sam could feel his heavy stare though, could feel Bucky’s unspoken question tangible in the air.
“I know.” Sam’s hand curls around the metal bicep, squeezing it. The crowbar creaks under Bucky’s fingers at the touch. “I like when you help, too.”
Sam could feel Bucky smile against his throat as he squares his feet. Bucky’s hand sunk lower, and Sam was suddenly glad they had awoken so early.
He didn’t want anyone else but Bucky to hear how much he loved his help.