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Sam's a pro at sleeping, always has been (not counting the 9 awful weeks when he'd just returned home) and always will be. Bucky's a pro at sleeping too (years in the war not withstanding) and after being free, sleep meant that he was dead to the world.
All of this is fine... usually.
Sam wakes up with a full bladder pressing into the mattress. He grumbles it himself, half-asleep and bleary as he stumbles to the bathroom. He doesn't bother with the light. He sits on the toilet until his business is done and his eyes basically stay closed on his way back to his bed.
Everything is fine.
Except—
In the short space of time that Sam spent in the toilet, Bucky rolled over to the other side of the bed.
Bucky is laying on his stomach on his side of the bed, legs spread out and both arms tucked fully under his pillow. Sam stares at the sleeping silhouette through dim lighting and dream fuzzed thoughts. And he frowns.
He slips under the covers again and just lays there with his eyes closed.
Sleep doesn't pull to him like it should.
Sleep always pulls to him.
He was in the army for crying out loud.
He'd slept in the freezing desert in the middle of war zones.
But sleep doesn't hold him like he should now.
It takes embarrassingly long (until Sam's eyes feel sandy) before he realizes it's because Bucky isn't holding him either.
Sam frowns again and shifts towards the man in question.
He hears the sheets rustle as he moves. That used to be enough to wake the sleeping super-soldier but Bucky feels safe with Sam now. It will take just short of the world ending to wake him naturally.
Sam drapes his body over Bucky's back and lays his head to hear the heavy thump of his boyfriend's heart. It's nice, it makes Sam relax, but it doesn't put him to sleep.
Ten more minutes of waiting for sleep to come and Sam is annoyed.
"Bucky," he whispers while tapping his fingers against the man's flesh and bone shoulder.
Bucky doesn't stir.
"Bucky," Sam insists, shaking the man now.
He sees the shadow of Bucky's eyes opening and he waits for a response... but Bucky doesn't say anything.
Bucky closes his eyes briefly. He takes in a measured breath and exhales. It's still dark, Sam's heartbeat is steady. There doesn't seem to be any immediate danger. Once he understands that, he settles into his usual mood.
"Hey," Sam says in regular speaking volume (which sounds like screaming in the dead of night).
"Can I fucking help you, Samuel," Bucky grumbles in his sleep heavy voice. There's barely any bite to his words, not more than usual. He never did manage to shake the perpetual grumpiness that he carried around anyway.
So, Sam doesn't mind it.
"Yeah," Sam breathes. "Cuddle me," he says, already turning around to be the little spoon.
Bucky makes a noise of slight displeasure, but Sam doesn't have to look at him to know about the small smile on his lips. Bucky shuffles around, pressing up against Sam's back side and throws his metal arm around Sam's waist while shoving his right arm under the pillow.
"Good?" his hot breath blows against Sam's neck.
Sam grins to himself, eyes already feeling heavy. "Yeah, thanks," he murmurs. Sam is a pro at sleeping.
"Fuck off," Bucky hums. Sam feels a kiss against his neck just before he's out again.
It's one of those mornings when Bucky's super-soldierness... or just Bucky-ness starts grinding a bit on Sam's patience. The guy is a constantly burning house, he's always ready, always filled with energy, even when he's sitting doing nothing.
Some mornings, Sam can't take it.
It's one of those mornings.
Sam's standing in the kitchen, preparing their shakes and dumping twice as much protein into Bucky's mix when the man in question comes into the kitchen.
He settles next to Sam, sniper-still, which is how Sam knows he's just barely containing his energy.
Sam doesn't look at him, but he can feel Bucky's gaze following his movements.
"What'cha doin'," Bucky asks, stepping behind Sam and crowing his space without actually touching. Sam doesn't answer, he just rolls his eyes and passes Bucky's cup to him.
Bucky (unnecessarily) downs his drink in 5 seconds while Sam stands there like a normal person.
"Dude..." is all Sam manages before Bucky is heading to the door and slipping his running shoes on.
"Let's go, Sam," he beams while stepping onto the deck outside. Sam rolls his eyes, abandons his drink and follow.
Skipping his drink was an awful idea and Sam can feel it now. His muscles burn a bit more than normal and he can feel himself slowing down. There's this, plus the fact that Bucky decided to chanel his inner Steve Rogers today and abuse the fuck out of his super soldier enhancements.
Usually, Bucky stays in step with Sam, steady throughout the whole run. He's not like that today. He has lapped Sam twice already, and each time he shoots Sam this cocky ass grin that makes Sam roll his eyes... well kind of. He suppresses his smile by rolling his eyes.
"Incoming!" Sam hears behind him a few seconds before Bucky even gets close.
Sam glances over his shoulder and spots his boyfriend zooming towards him with that stupid grin. He looks like a dog whose finally been let off it's leash.
"You fucking show off," Sam says, losing the battle this time to hide his smile.
"You love the view though," Bucky quips back just as he races ahead of Sam.
Sam doesn't say anything, not that he could, not as he watches Bucky's back muscles ripple beneath his too-tight Under Armor t-shirt. Not at he watches the movements of Bucky's pert ass in those shorts.
Bucky glances over his shoulder and grins to wide at Sam, that Sam remembers (yet again) why he's in love with this man. It's annoying, really.
The winter soldier was absolutely perfect at any task he'd had to carry out. Those were the rules. He was conditioned and trained (to put it lightly) for twenty years to make sure that he was the perfect machine. James Bucky Barnes is just a human (mostly). He is bad at some stuff.
Fishing is one of those things. And his wonderful very human never before turned into the perfect anything boyfriend, Sam Wilson, will never let him forget that.
They're out on the boat, far enough away from the docks that Bucky can't see it anymore.
Sam is on his 5th beer and a bit giggly.
He looks absolutely ridiculous in his bucket hat and baggy jeans but it's fine. He's smiling at Bucky in that loose and carefree way that makes Bucky forget every bad thing ever.
Bucky loses focus when Sam looks at him like that.
So he doesn't even pay attention when he feels a tug at his line.
"Dude," Sam chuckles, reaching for Bucky's line and reeling in the medium sized red fish. Bucky only observes the fish's floundering in his periphery, because Sam keeps shooting him the fond yet exasperated looks and it's making him smile so hard that his cheeks hurt.
"How are you so bad at this, man?" Sam shakes his head with the rhetorical question. Sam, at least, passes him the fish to get the hook out and chuck it into their ice box for dinner with Sarah and the boys tonight.
"I'm a city boy," Bucky shrugs easily, goin through the motions like Sam taught him.
Sam rolls his eyes, gives him a once over and reaches for his 6th beer bottle.
"You weren't in the city in Wakanda," he deadpans.
Bucky's laugh catches him by surprise. Before he drops the fix into the fox, he's stumbling with his head thrown back in hearty laughter.
He inhales the salt of the water around them. "The children did all of the fishing."
"And why's that?" Sam's directly behind Bucky now, smelling of beer, salt, sweat and everything Sam underneath.
"Because," Bucky turns in place and nods his head vaguely to the left. "I wasn't very handy."
Sam snorts, covers his mouth to stop from spitting his beer out and just leans his head onto Bucky's shoulder.
"That was awful," Sam comments once he's swallowed and no longer in danger of choking. "Awful excuse too," he stares into Bucky's burning blue eyes.
Bucky smiles, slow and easy, and places his hands on Sam's hips. He can feel, under his fingertips, how Sam's over heating from hours in the sun. It should be time to head back.
"The kids were also monumentally better at it than me," Bucky shrugs, leaning slowly into Sam's space.
Sam exhales, cooled breath smelling of beer brushing against Bucky's cheek. "Not hard to do-"
He barely finishes his sentence before Bucky's lips against his, warm, wet and soft. Bucky's kisses always start off like professions of love, and Sam feels it every single time.
It's trivia night at the compound and Sam has never been more baffled in his life. Tony chose the topic tonight-- American History because he decided to seek pity on Bucky and have absolutely no mercy on the widows... or himself. He never cared much for history apart from his Captain America phase.
Morgan shifts on his lap, holding her Stark pad tightly in both hands, staring down at the mini design for a --Tony squints-- robot puppy. Of course.
Steve was banned from American History nights, so he is the host. Tony and Rhodey are on a team (with Morgan as well but she didn't seem very inclined to help). Sam and Bucky are seated practically on top of each other with that passively annoyed at each other but totally in love thing that they managed to keep up for more than 8 months so far.
Clint and Kate are signing viciously at each other. Steve squints and chuckles to himself. Kate just learned that Clint dropped out of school.
The widows also grin to each other, but it's more of their poker face than confidence. They also passing a (now) half-empty bottle of vodka between themselves.
"Okay," Steve announces.
"Boo!" Clint says immediately and throws popcorn at the former Captain.
Steve sighs. It's gonna be a long night.
It's been 5 painful rounds so far. Morgan went up to her room at the end of round 3.
The Archers are dead last with 15 points (14 of which were won by Kate and Clint made a lucky guess at the 15th since he took his hearing aids off after round 2). The Russians are only ahead of them because Steve— Clint glares at Steve— has a soft spot for the red head and keeps whispering answers to her whenever she looks at him with those manipulative green eyes.
Rhodey and Tony have been cheating the entire time but they've still barely been able to keep up with Bucky and Sam... mostly Bucky though. Sam helps when he can, but Bucky's faster.
By the logic of Tony Stark's Trivia Night Rules, the Archers and the Russians have had just as much to drink. This means that Clint is fucking wasted, Kate stopped drinking an entire round ago and the Russians are pretending to hold it together but really aren't.
Tony quit drinking when Morgan was born so Rhodey has to hold his buzz at bay. Bucky can't get drunk and Sam just snuck all of his drinks to Bucky.
Sam reaches up and fixes a lock of Bucky's hair. Bucky smiles at him and kisses his nose.
"You two are absolutely disgusting," Yelena's grumble reaches them, and Bucky's grin changes.
"Your liver is preserved in vodka right now. Is being single that painful?" he shoots back easily while Yelena fake-pouts. Natasha giggles next to her and shoots a glance at a mostly oblivious Kate.
Clint's made the poor girl in charge of translating everything that's being said.
"Okay," Steve breathes with a wide grin down at the card. There are 3 kernels of popcorn in his hair, a red kiss from Natasha on his cheek and a red laser aimed at his chest (Tony threatened him 4 questions ago). "Final question, he grins even wider."
"Fuck off, Rogers," Tony waves his hand in the air, glaring with as much heat as he can manage while grinning like a fucking idiot.
"When was the ban on celebrating Christmas lifted?" Steve smiles as he tucks the card away. The girls have just resigned to drinking without even bothering to attempt answering. Tony frowns, probably about to check F.R.I.D.A.Y but—
"Easy, 1686," Bucky perts up and Steve throws the final card in mild celebration.
"Fuck off," Tony yells. "How did you even know that?" he says as he falls into giggles of hysteria.
"I was there," he shrugs while Steve rolls his eyes and goes to settle between the Widows.
"What?" Clint yells, far louder than necessary.
"I was there," Bucky repeats while also signing to Clint.
"You're fucking with us?" Rhodey asks. Okay, maybe he's more drunk than he thought. Why did they do 5 whole rounds of this shit again?
Bucky just smirks and leans his head against Sam's temple.
"Perhaps," he says, "But I do know everything about America because I'm just the perfect partiot." F.R.I.D.A.Y intuitively starts playing the theme of God Bless America through the speakers before Clint starts laughing.
Bucky closes his eyes and inhales Sam's scent for a minute. He should have told Sam that his knockoff version of the serum didn't make him entirely immune to being drunk. So, yeah, he was buzzing a bit right now.
"You're not even patriotic," Natasha sasses, easily hiding the slur in her words but she can't hide the permanent flush to her face.
"Okay," Steve says softly while gently taking the new vodka bottle away from her.
She gives him a weak glare, very briefly, before she turns her attention back to Bucky.
"I've fucked both Captain Americas—" he ignores the way Kate snorts and excuses herself "—that makes me the most patriotic American ever!"
Rhodey and Tony lean into each other to hide their giggles. Steve's face goes hot and Yelena groans.
"You're not special. I've fucked them too," Natasha gives Bucky that fox-like grin.
"You're not American," Tony points at Natasha. "Boo!"
"Ya but I also fucked America's bestfriend," Natasha cheers. Steve throws his head back against the couch, Sam's jaw drops and Bucky just grins.
"Bucky bear," Tony admonishes. "Is that true?"
"Of course it is," he says softly. He throws a glance at Sam who just rolls his eyes. Of course, Sam knew this information already.
"Slut," Yelena slurs under her breath.
"You're just mad потому что ты don't have the balls to ask лучникша to fuck you," Natasha grins at the horror rising to Yelena's face. Tony pretends to understands what's happening, even as his eyes start falling closed. It's a bit past 1 a.m. He's a full time dad, it's too late for this.
"I don't want to fuck her," Yelena groans.
"Fuck who?" Kate asks as she steps back into the room.
"You, I think. Not sure, she said it in Russian," Tony points vaguely in Kate's direction.
There's a brief pause before everything devolves into madness.
Kate gasps. "Why wouldn't you want to fuck me? I'm so hot," he stumbles onto the couch.
"That's not what I meant-"
Natasha cuts her sister off. "Oh so you like her like her? пригласить ее на свидание?"
"What did she just say?" Kate asks Clint.
"She told Yelena to ask you on a date!" Bucky says a bit too loudly from his seat before Sam smacks a hand over his mouth and starts laughing.
Yelena melts into the couch. "Верните меня в комнату," she groans into her palms.
"Don't let Clint-"
"Why would you say something like that!" Clint interrupts Natasha with the way he darts off of his couch and clears the room towards the Russians.
Bucky bites down on Sam's palm and they both squeal in laughter while leaning into each other. Tony's asleep, Rhodey isn't far behind. Steve is a bit confused.
"How'd you even hear that?" Yelena yells, throwing herself over the back of the couch to put some space between herself and Clint.
"I'm connected to Friday's mic," he shrugs.
"You made me sign this whole time FOR NOTHING?" Kate yells from across the room.
Sam's awfully attached to doing Karaoke night biweekly at the local bar. Usually, Bucky doesn't go with him. Sam goes with his friends (which consists of a blind lawyer and a convicted mass murderer)— Bucky frowns. It seems like Sam may have a type.
This time, Sam drags Bucky along because it's 'couples night' and Bucky can't be bothered to come up with any excuse not to go.
The bar is small, dimly lit and constantly smelling of sweat and too much perfume. Bucky smiles, it smells a bit like the home he misses every now and then.
You're not allowed to stare at the glasses for too long, you just drink whatever is inside and you don't question why everything burns on the way down.
Bucky feels a light buzz by the time Sam finally gets up on stage (he couldn't convince Bucky to start singing with him— not a fucking chance). Based on the sway in Sam's step, he is resolutely wasted.
Sam squints against the harsh spotlight, then his dazed gaze finds Bucky and he smiles. What a fucking sap— Bucky rolls his eyes to avoid grinning too.
"This is for my Brooklyn Baby," Sam says too loudly into the mic.
The intro of a guitar starts playing and Bucky order another drink.
"They say I'm too young to love you," Sam barely gets through the line because he's giggling to much.
Bucky rolls his eyes again but that does nothing to suppress his grin.
All in all, it was pretty awful, but everyone in the bar is drunk enough to start cheering once Sam's finished with his song. Sam smiles and waves with his Captain America suave, and it's the first time Bucky realizes that no one in here is treating Sam like he's some sort of celebrity... well at least not seriously.
He regrets the thoughts as soon as he sees Sam pull a marker out of nowhere and reaches to sign someone's forehead.
He pushes through the crowd with fond exasperation on his features.
"Let's go, Rockstar," Bucky announces when he reaches for Sam.
"You just hate to see me shining," Sam protests while willingly stepping into Bucky's arms. The super soldier lifts him off of the stage and easily guides Sam out of the hot bar.
"That's not true," Bucky admonishes, surveying the area before frowning at his bike. He didn't think Sam would get this drunk. Maybe he should call an uber.
"You're a hater," Sam rolls his eyes with his dry tone.
Bucky adjusts his grip on Sam's waist and places an absent-minded kiss on his boyfriend's sweaty temple.
"Are you steady enough to ride home?"
"Ya," Sam hums and Bucky nods before leading Sam over to his bike. He fastens Sam's helmet, then knocks on it before Sam knocks back. They laugh a little before they climb on.
"You liked my performance?" Sam asks before Bucky starts up the bike.
Bucky grins in his helmet. "Of course, I did. I don't think you're cooler than me though," he shrugs, keying the ignition.
"I am," Sam says over the grumble of the engine.
"Okay," Bucky placates. "Hold on tight, superstar."
Sam's mostly compliant and blabbering while bucky gets him ready for bed.
"You're so perfect," Sam gushes after Bucky takes off his henley.
"Am I?" he humours Sam while leading the drunk man to the bathroom to do his detailed skincare routine before bed.
"Yes, obviously," Sam rolls his eyes but sits on the toilet while Bucky brings a cotton pad damp with cleansing water to his face. "Plus," he puckers his lips for a kiss. Bucky obliges. "You're like so fucking hot too," he groans as he closes his eyes.
Bucky grins at his boyfriend while reaching for the nighttime serum.
"Sounds like you're hitting on me, Wilson," Bucky hums as his fingertips brush lightly over Sam's skin.
"You should be my boyfriend," Sam states after Bucky finishes moisturizing his skin.
"Should I?"
Bucky turns to wash his face in the sink.
"Yeah. I'm a great boyfriend," Sam insists, swaying a little on the toilet seat.
"I believe you," Bucky hums, guiding Sam back to their room.
"I'm great at sex too. And like—" Sam flops onto the bed and waves his hands towards himself "— look at me." He gives a smug smile, even with his eyes closed. "I'm also really hot and I think that two hot people should always be together."
Bucky coaxes Sam into their regular sleeping position and peppers his face with kisses.
"I love you," he says softly.
Sam grins, wide and easy, eyes still heavy and closed.
"I love you," he echoes.
Then Bucky turns off the lights.
"Hey, Bucky." Sam whispers into the darkness.
"Yes?"
"We should get married."
Sam feels a kiss against his temple, then another against his neck.
"Sure."