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Starting the day with fixing the car was probably not the best idea. Letting sleepy and yawning Bucky help was probably a worse idea. Slamming the hood of the car without checking if Bucky's hand was still in the way was definitely a bad idea. Bucky is probably right when he glares and tells him it was his fault. But Sam would rather fall from 200 feet and break every bone in his body, than admit that Bucky is right.
“Your hand was in the way” he says instead of admitting his guilt, it’s not like he did it on purpose “how’s that my fault”
“You slammed the car hood on my hand, who else’s fault can it be?” Bucky grumbles, holding the packet of frozen peas to his reddening hand. For someone who was tortured for 70 years non-stop, Bucky whines a lot about minor injuries.
“You’re a super soldier, you’ll be fine”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Bucky says. He lifts the peas off his hand to examine his injuries, his hand looks fine, it probably won't even bruise.
“I’ve seen you fall from a plane and complain less than this” Sam says
“This hurts more, Samuel” Bucky groans as he flexes his fingers slowly
“Oh my god” Sam throws his hands up in frustration “what do you want me to do? Kiss it better?”
“Sure, why not, since it’s your fault” Bucky says with an exaggerated glare, holding his hand out to Sam. Sam blinks, Bucky’s obviously being a little shit, but Darlene Wilson did not raise a quitter, Sam is not gonna be the one to back down from this weird game of chicken. So he gently grabs Bucky’s hand and bends down to kiss his reddened knuckles softly.
“Here, better?” he asks as he straightens up. Bucky’s looking at him with his eyes blown wide, probably not expecting Sam to actually kiss his hand better. He recovers in a second, examining his hand and flexing his hand again, faster this time.
“Yeah, actually, thank you very much” he says smugly “Samuel” he grins at Sam and walks out of the kitchen, grabbing the door with his right hand, as if nothing had happened to it at all. That little shit.
-
After lunch Bucky is playing with the kids in the backyard, rolling around the grass as he pretends to struggle as the boys attack him from both sides. Sam’s watching from the poch, leaning against the railing with a cup of coffee in hand. It’s actually pretty sweet, how after everything Bucky still has enough softness remaining in him to play catch with kids and let them pile above him without complaint.
A few minutes later Bucky admits his defeat to the boys and joins Sam on the porch. He leans against the railing facing the house, a little closer to Sam than he usually is, their shoulders brushing when Sam drinks his coffee. Bucky rubs at his shoulder and sighs loudly. Sam keeps drinking his coffee in silence, if Bucky wants to say something, he will. Bucky sighs again in a few seconds but he still does not say anything. When Sam does not say anything either he sighs again, oh for fucks sake!
“You good?” Sam asks, playing along with Bucky’s game.
“Hurt my shoulder” Bucky says and shrugs for emphasis, rubbing his shoulder against Sam’s
“First you hand, now shoulder? You sure that serum is not wearing off?” Sam asks.
“I’m a very old man Sam and that serum was a knock off” he says with a pout, or what Bucky’s idea of a pout is, which is scowl with a downturned lip. He looks more concerned than pouty, to be honest.
“Put some ice on it” Sam suggests
“Ice didn’t help with my hand, doubt it will help with this” Bucky says and looks up at Sam from under his lashes. Oh, Sam tilts his head, considering Bucky’s coy expression for a second. So that’s how it is apparently. That’s the game Steve used to talk about.
“Would a kiss make it better?” Sam indulges him, watching Bucky’s eyes light up slightly under his pretense pout.
“Worth a try” he shrugs and lifts up his shoulder, presenting it to Sam.
Sam shakes his head fondly and leans down, pressing his lips to Bucky’s shoulder over his shirt, lingering a second longer than he intended to. Bucky exhales loudly, probably another exaggeration.
“What do you know?” Bucky says with a smirk “it worked”
“You have dirt on your forehead” Sam tells him instead of responding.
“Oh, i hit my head to the ground” Bucky says and rubs his forehead, completely missing the dirty spot. “It hurts pretty bad too,” Sam laughs this time, unable to contain his amusement at Bucky’s weird ways of flirting, or whatever it is he’s doing.
“Oh you poor thing” he rubs the dirt off Bucky’s forehead and step closer to plant a small kiss there. “There, all good” he says and walks away, shaking his head at his partner. It’s no big deal, Bucky’s asked him for much worse things than kissing his wounds.
-
After dinner with Sarah and the boys Bucky excuses himself to go and run some mysterious errand in town. Sam does not question him, Delacroix is one of the few places where Sam trusts Bucky not to get in trouble.
After putting boys to sleep he sends Sarah off to bed too with reassurance that he will do all the dishes. He’s almost done with drying the last of the glasses when the front door opens and Bucky walks in, coming straight to the kitchen where he stands in front of Sam.
“Hey Buck, where did-” the words die on his lips when he looks at Bucky, he looks messed up, his hair tousled and lip busted, a dark bruise growing around his jaw already “what the hell happened?” Sam puts the glass back into the sink and walks to Bucky, tilting his face to the side to better examine his injuries.
“It was nothing, some guys just making trouble” Bucky shrugs, batting away Sam’s hand
“Some guys?” Sam bats his hand away instead to continue looking over his bruises “how the hell did some guy do this to you”
“I mean, there were a lots of guys” Bucky says “anyway, doesn’t matter, I took care of it. But my face hurts a lot. Especially my split lip” he says and gives Sam another pout, this time at least it looks like a pout with his swollen bottom lip.
“You took care of it? Please tell me you didn’t go all Winter Soldier on some drunk bastards” Sam says, pulling back to take a better look at Bucky’s face.
“What? No. That’s besides the point, the point is that I'm in a lots of pain” he says again, emphasizing the word pain with a grimace.
“How that not the point, someone beat you up Bucky, what if they were enhanc-”
“They weren’t and they are fine, i didn’t kill anyone” Bucky interrupts him “It just hurts a lot”
“But-” Sam starts but Bucky interrupts him again
“It hurts very, very bad, Sam” he says, looking Sam in the eyes. Sam opens his mouth to argue more and then it hits him. He closes his mouth and stares at Bucky's busted lip and eyes glimmering with mischief.
“Bucky” he says sternly “did you have someone punch you so i’d kiss you better?” he asks and if Bucky’s suddenly burning cheeks are any indication, he’s right.
“No” Bucky says petulantly and looks down, avoiding Sam’s eyes.
“You sure?” Sam raises his hands to rest them on his shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over his neck. Bucky mutters something so quietly Sam doesn’t catch it “what was that?”
“I punched myself in the face” he says just a tad bit louder, still not meeting Sam’s eyes.
“Jesus” Sam says and shakes his head in disbelief. Of course Bucky Barnes would do something like this, Sam’s not surprised, in all this time he’s known Bucky the man has never once been able to ask for what he wants like a normal person.
Sam tucks his thumbs under Bucky’s chin and forces his face up to look at him “what am i gonna do with you?” he says fondly and Bucky finally meets his eyes. He shrugs as if he was actually expected to answer the question. Sam stares at him for a moment before leaning in and placing the soft kiss on Bucky’s lips, careful of his injury. Bucky sighs against him and slumps forward to press his lips to Sam’s harder, but Sam stops him with a hand on his chest, keeping the kiss soft and gentle.
“You are an idiot, you know that?” Sam says when he pulls away, he wants to be stern but he can’t stop grinning
“It worked, didn’t it?” Bucky says with a huge smile of his own and leans back in to kiss the life out of Sam, disregarding his split lip completely this time.