Work Text:
The first time Sam kissed Bucky, he used the cover of the alcohol on his breath to laugh it off. He leaned back on his stool, out of Bucky’s space, back across that careful line they edged but never crossed, went back to pretending.
The thing was, two drinks ahead of him and given the out they needed to forget the lapse in their unspoken rules, Bucky wasn’t laughing.
The second time Sam kissed him, they were alone on the boat and too tired to play make-believe. Bucky kissed him back, and that line dividing them became a tether instead.