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It’s the most obvious when they’re bruised and bloody, beaten from whatever fight they’ve jumped into. They stumble home those days, clinging to each other for support and reassurance. They collapse onto the living room floor, too drained to make it onto the couch or the bedroom.
Most often, Sam checks on Bucky first. “You okay?” he asks because he knows. Bucky hates hurting people, hates all the constant fighting and running. It reminds him of his past, so Sam always asks.
“Fine,” Bucky usually says. He turns to look at Sam. “You?”
“Fine,” Sam says, but he can feel the ache in his ribs. He’s always sorer than Bucky, and Bucky knows. Bucky understands that Sam doesn’t have the super soldier strength, so he picks himself off the floor and gets the first aid kit from the bathroom.
Sam groans as he sits up. “Thank you,” he tells Bucky as he sits down beside Sam.
Bucky hums and begins to clean Sam up. His touches are careful; he’s hurt Sam before, and he never wants to again. Sam hisses as Bucky applies pressure to the cut over his eye. Bucky pulls away, his eyes searching Sam’s. Sam nods, and Bucky resumes his ministrations.
Once Sam is bandaged, he does the same to Bucky. Bucky insists that he’s okay every time, but Sam doesn’t believe him. He wipes the blood from his face and touches the bruise on his cheekbone. Seeing Bucky like this, vulnerable and human, is something Sam will never tire of. He loves this side of Bucky, and it’s obvious.
Their love is obvious in everything they do, but it’s most obvious in the moments just between them.