Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the end, it was the nose scrunch that got him. 

Sam Wilson had seen Bucky Barnes jump out of planes, block bullets with his bionic arm, save hostages from burning buildings, and manhandle humans, robots, and aliens alike–that combination of brute force, devil may care charisma, and sheer lack of self-preservation as sexy as it was frustrating. 

But it was that damn, fucking nose scrunch that ultimately made the man irresistible. Standing out in the Louisiana heat, watching the animated conversation between Bucky and some of Delacroix’s finest after yet another community cookout–because really, when your area was populated with the kind of cooks Delacroix had, you could never have too many cookouts,  shrimp boils, fish frys, barbecues, and potlucks. Something his sister never ceased to remind him, and a take Sam never argued with because yeah…free comfort food with the people he considered his extended family soothed his wounded soul--Sam felt peace wash over him.

Moments like these reminded him why he risked his life on the daily. For the people. Because it was the right thing to do. Because somebody had to and most people weren’t wired that way. He’d always cared a little too much, spreading himself thin to the point of disappearing, leaving just enough to carry on. And that’s what he did. He survived. He carried on, lifting as many as he could along the way. And then, he built himself back up and did it all again.

The calm of community enveloped him, love and support flowing as freely as the laughter and sweet tea. And if Sam’s gaze lingered on Bucky, it was only because he was so damned happy to see the other man so damned happy–to know that by sharing his own space, he’d helped to give Bucky a home after eight decades of not really belonging anywhere.

Sensing the scrutiny–because of course Bucky knew when he was being watched…knew when it was Sam doing the watching–Bucky turned away from Tommy’s waving arms to lock gazes with Sam across the dock, his nose immediately scrunching in fondness before he turned right back to whatever tale the other man was spinning. Though it was just a brief check-in–Bucky’s subtle way of acknowledging Sam’s presence–the casual unbridled joy in the gesture was Sam’s ultimate undoing.

His heart twisted before dropping to his stomach in an unwelcome plunk, tension seizing his shoulders as his brain sang the same mantra again and again. That nose scrunch is yours . That nose scrunch is yours . All yours . That nose scrunch is yours .  And it was true. Sam knew it was true…had known it was true for quite some time. Nobody else gave Bucky that amount of happiness. Sure he was at ease with Sarah and the kids, could shed his guard as easily as his jacket among the folks of Delacroix, could sit in a briefing with Hill or Torres and contribute his tactical skill along with a healthy dose of snark–but the kind of peace that came with an easy nose scrunch? That belonged solely to Sam, the effortless action shifting Bucky’s handsome but hardened countenance back to the dashing, boyish appeal seen in the black and whites that had graced Sam’s history books once upon a time. 

Sam gave him happiness…Sam gave him peace…Sam gave him a home. 

And Sam was stupidly in love. 

The realization was as unwelcome as it was inevitable.

“What?” Sarah asked beside him when she heard the sharp intake of breath from a man about to spiral.

“Did you see that?” Sam tried like hell to play it cool, but while Tommy now had Bucky’s full attention, Bucky had Sam’s, the implications of what Sam was finally acknowledging looming large and alarming. Facing this…saying it out loud…it would change everything. For worse or for better, there would be no going back. 

Sarah followed Sam’s gaze as she let out a little huff. “You mean the heart eyes that man lives to give you? Yes, I saw that, Sam. Everybody in this town sees that, Sam .” She arched a brow that bordered on accusatory. “Well, maybe not everybody.”

“Why you gotta say my name like that, huh?”

“Why you gotta make me? You think I like being the only one with any sense around here? You and Bucky in the house, it’s like having four children sometimes. I’m just saying we all see it. And if you’re just now seein’ it, that’s on you.”

He let out a hmmph of his own, not particularly pleased to be called out by his little sister, even though she was right. And still wrong at the same time. Yes, Bucky gave him heart eyes. Yes, probably more than one person knew it. But no …Sam wasn’t oblivious. He’d have to be blind not to see the way Bucky looked at him, a fool not to know when feelings ran a little deeper than the friendship Sam had extended. 

The first time Sam had noticed had been when footage of Bucky watching his speech to the GRC had hit the Internet, more than one gif hitting Twitter that proclaimed ‘Get you a man who looks at you like TWS looks at the new Cap.” There had even been an offshoot of Bucky memes from that–just Bucky staring adoringly at all kinds of different things and places. A whole assed meme based on Bucky looking at everything from chili cheese fries to Camila Cabello, and Sam couldn’t even make fun of him for it because the origin had been Bucky gazing longingly at him .

If Bucky knew he was an Internet sensation he never let on, and really with his aversion to social media in general, it likely went right by him, much to Sam’s immense relief. See, Sam had been terrified when he’d caught sight of that footage. What would he say to Buck? What would Bucky say to him? How could Sam let him down easy and still preserve a partnership and growing friendship that was starting to feel essential? Though he’d once declared his end goal was to never see the other man again, he didn’t want to watch Bucky fade back out of his life. Didn’t want to send texts that got left on Read. Didn’t want to make calls that went unanswered. Dammit, he couldn’t lose Bucky! But if the man had caught feelings, the possibility was not only real but likely. 

He wanted Bucky near…in his life…but as a friend. Only as a friend. Because with the loss that he had suffered, with the pressure that came with being a national icon–Sam couldn’t offer anything else at the moment. And Bucky was still unpacking decades worth of trauma himself…still learning how to trust and build meaningful relationships…he was in no place to fall into anything either. But how did Sam say that and not wreck the bond they’d formed? It ate at him, twisted him up something awful as he played out conversations over and over, imagining the worst case scenario nearly every time. Bucky disappearing for good. Sam alone with regret and the weight of ‘what if’ forever haunting him.

And then the damnedest thing happened.

Nothing.

Nothing happened. 

Nothing changed.

Bucky showed up at his door with an easy grin. They shared some beers, trash talked Steve a little, and Sam realized that whatever Bucky was feeling…he was fine with ignoring. That it didn’t have to be an elephant in the room, unless Sam made it that way.

And so they settled into an easy camaraderie, fighting side by side, nursing wounds in a threeway split between Bucky’s dismally furnished apartment in Brooklyn, Sam’s place in DC and Sarah’s house in Louisiana. And sure, maybe a touch lingered longer than normal…or a hug felt a little more snuggly than just ‘bros being bros’…and yes, Sam had felt the pull of stormy blue eyes threatening to pull him under as their gazes met and held…but nothing was ever said. Nothing ever changed. Bucky content with the place Sam carved for him in his life and family enough not to rock the boat and aim for more. Sam content to let Bucky be content because the risk of ruining what worked so beautifully between them was too unsettling.

But that damn nose scrunch. It was a declaration all on its own. One that Sam was tired of ignoring. It made Sam’s heart flutter, the blood in his veins sing. He wanted all of Bucky’s nose scrunches to be for him. And for life. Fuck . How long could he keep ignoring that he felt some kinda way about Bucky Barnes? Bucky seemed willing to exist in the unsaid, but could Sam?

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Sarah’s pointy elbow against his arm nudged him out of his burgeoning existential crisis. She let out a low whistle, nodding at the familiar form sauntering up to Bucky’s group. Sam watched the man slide between Bucky and Carlos to join the conversation. Whatever Clayton Carr said had everyone but Bucky immediately laughing. Bucky merely looked at the man, somewhere between inquiring and suspicious as introductions were made. “I heard he was back, figured he’d probably show.” She angled her head to the side. “You gonna just let him make time with your man like that?”

“No I’m not gonna…” Sam let out an annoyed grunt as Sarah tried to make something out of nothing, probably just to get a rise out of him like the annoying little sister she was. “And he’s not even my man.” Sam eyed Clayton as he shook Bucky’s hand, leaning in closer than necessary and holding it a second or two on the side of too long. But that was Clay. And everyone knew it. And Bucky just arched a curious but unimpressed brow at the man who had left to play ball first at Alabama–the fucking traitor–before being drafted then cut by the Buc’s. Now he sold real estate a few hours away and rarely came home even though the grandmother who raised him still lived here. “And he’s not making time.”

“This is Player Clay. He’s definitely fixin’ ta make time. What did they used to say in high school? Don’t get in a car with Carr.” She chuckled at the memory. “You know for years, we didn’t even call a guy being a big flirt a player but a clayer. Ah, he’s just claying.” She shook her head as she stared at Clay a little too fondly for Sam’s comfort. He really didn’t want to know if his sister had ever hooked up with the man though it was on the tip of his tongue to ask. “Look at him though. He sure is fine.”

“He’s not all that,” Sam grumbled. Clay was smooth as hell and had been since middle school, more than one person sacrificing their virginity on the altar of his charm as Sam could reluctantly attest. But he’d always been a player, the sort who didn’t stick around. It wasn’t shocking that Clay would see a handsome, muscular guy like Bucky and make a beeline for him, but Bucky had shown little interest in dating. Had shown little interest in anyone besides Sam. So yeah, Sam wasn’t worried about Bucky’s ability to resist stupid Clay in his stupid designer jeans and suit jacket, looking like he just stepped out of a rerun of CSI: Miami . Who wore a damned jacket to a Delacroix cookout, anyway? A damned poser, that’s who. “What’s with that damned jacket? This ain’t CSI: Miami .”

“I’m guessing so he can strategically remove it at the right moment and turn a few heads.”

“That’s just dumb.”

“Well it’s hard to compete with Captain America here, so a guy needs a gimmick I guess. And he’s definitely noticeable in that. You called it. He reminds me of Eric Delko right now, showing up at a crime scene looking like a snack.”

Sam snorted, because really, what other reaction to this mess could he have? Sarah openly ogling his ex, who was currently sidled up to his current…soon to be…maybe…flame? Sam couldn’t even come up with the right word to describe what he wanted from Bucky, who was already his partner and best friend. Boyfriend seemed silly after all they’d shared…lover felt presumptuous if  also accurate. 

“What?” Sarah shrugged without shame. “Mimi said he’s looking to settle. Maybe move back here.”

“Player Clay?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m just saying what Mimi said. Getting tired of that old life. Gotta give it up sometime, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Sam snorted again, eyes narrowing at the way Clay was angling toward Bucky, trying to draw him into conversation. Whatever. Bucky wasn’t interested. Sam wasn’t worried. 

Sarah turned her full attention back on Sam. “So what’s up with you and Bucky? What had you looking like you ate a piece of bad fish before Clay showed up to distract us?”

“Distract you , you mean. Been there, done that. Ain’t interested in going there again.”

“Only because Bucky’s your one.”

“One what?”

“ The one, don’t play with me Sam. He’s the one, even if he don’t know it. Even if you don’t know it.”

“Get outta here with all that,” Sam tossed back, because sisters really were irritating as hell sometimes, damn. Especially his. 

“Sam, are you ever gonna stop pretending and just be real about this?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, at a loss for a joke to play things off. Maybe he didn’t want to play this off anymore. “Okay, fine, since you brought it up and since you know me better than anybody else. It’s just…” He blew out a breath, because there was nothing for it. If he was gonna go, it’d have to be all in. “The way he looks at me…”

“Mmm hmm?”

“Do I…do I ever look at him the same way?”

Dark eyes widened as she took in the sincerity of his expression. He expected a sarcastic retort, but instead she contemplated him for a drawn out moment. “Sometimes. You do a better job hiding it though. Bucky, he doesn’t have much of a filter. He wears his heart on his sleeve and his feelings on his face. Makes me wonder how he was ever a successful assassin.”

“Hydra only had to torture and brainwash and freeze him again and again to make it happen,” Sam said darkly.

“Shit Sam,” Sarah breathed, tears clogging her throat because she’d grown attached to Bucky in recent months. “It's a wonder he has an ounce of humanity in him. And yet…”

“And yet…” Sam returned, because really those two words said it all. Despite everything he was still working through, Bucky faced each day with a resilience that was both baffling and humbling, his loyalty as profound as his capacity to love. When he loved, it was deeply, completely, sacrificially. Sam had seen his connection to Steve, a devotion that managed to pull him out of decades of mind control. And yet, what was now brewing between Sam and Bucky seemed to eclipse even that. With just the tag of partners and buddies, Sam would already take the bullet meant for Bucky every time and vice versa, standing by each other’s side through thick, thin, and incredibly stupid ideas with unexpected outcomes. If they let themselves be in love how much more intense would it be? Would they go scorched earth for the other, nothing separating them? Even death. “Sar…I need you to tell me it’s a bad idea.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” She asked, not even pretending not to know what he was referring to.

“Because it is. We’re partners, damn near best friends…” When she gave him a sardonic eye roll, he almost tossed his hands up. “Fine! We are best friends, which really doesn’t help this situation any.” He glanced back toward Bucky, irritated to see that somehow Clay had managed to draw him off into a private conversation. Really…why had Carlos let that happen? Not that it mattered. Bucky was nodding intently at whatever Clay was saying, but he didn’t look particularly enthralled. Clay would give this up eventually, make his rounds, and settle on a new target. Sam watched Clay lean forward to touch Bucky’s vibranium arm. What the actual hell??? Bucky’s brows rose at the boldness, but he made no move to swat Clay away…probably out of respect for Mrs. Mimi, which Sam could appreciate.

“Well there are worse things than hooking up with your best friend, I guess.”

“Like what?” Sam asked, determined to ignore Clay and his pitiful attempts to make time with the Winter Solder. Whatever. Attempting anything with Bucky really could lead to disaster. Why couldn’t Sarah see that? If it didn’t work out…if they hurt each other…how could they go back to what they were? And if they couldn’t do that, how could they live without each other?

“ I could hook up with your best friend,” she said with a gleeful wriggle of her brows.

“That’s not funny. See, I know you think you’re being funny right now, but–”

“Oh hell, slow your roll Brother. As if that could ever work now thanks to you.”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Thanks to you declaring us off limits to each other, that pretty, pretty man is now like my damned brother. A damned shame I can’t even see him that way–”

“Sarah I swear to-”

“Don’t, it’d make Daddy angry.” She only gave him an unimpressed smirk when he glared at her. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Whether you declared me off limits or not. He only has eyes for you. So, I’m asking you Sam, why? Why won’t you let yourself be happy? Why won’t you take what you want? What you deserve ? I’m not sayin’ it’ll be easy, but you know as well as I do, he’d cut off his other arm before ever hurting you.”

“I just…I don’t wanna lose him. I don’t…I don’t want this to not work out and for that to ruin the things that do work.”

“Sam, you’re almost 40-years-old. You’ve never been a player in your life. You were born to settle and be a one-man or one-woman man. You’ve always been that way. If you let yourself fall, he’s gonna catch you and you’re gonna catch him.”

Sam swallowed hard, had to look away from Sarah, but couldn’t look back toward Bucky. It hurt too much. “Why’d you hafta say it that way? It hurts that you said it that way.”

She reached for his arm, giving it a firm, loving squeeze. “I know, Baby. But it’s true. And that’s what you need to hear. It’s okay to open yourself up. Let yourself love him. I don’t wanna hurt you, but it hurts me to watch you hurt yourself like this.”

There was a tragic symmetry to their lives even though they had been born worlds apart. Bucky had loved Steve, who hadn’t caught him. Riley had loved Sam….who hadn’t caught him. That’s why Sam had so readily gravitated toward Steve, why he had left his life behind to follow a man he didn’t know…why he had risked his safety and freedom to chase after Steve’s fallen friend. Because Sam understood how it felt to love…to fail…to lose the person who mattered most. And now here they were, Bucky again without Steve–because this time Steve had willingly let go. Sam always without Riley, because cruel fate hadn’t given him the opportunity that Steve had squandered. 

But maybe that was the point. Fate hadn’t given him Riley back…but fate had given him Bucky. Had given Bucky Sam. Lost, weathered pieces of separate puzzles that still somehow seamlessly slotted together to form something new, something beautiful. A story all its own. “I watched Riley die.”

“And Bucky is alive.”

“For how long? Do you know how many times I’ve nearly lost him since we started this Captain America and the Winter Soldier bullshit? I’ve watched him fall out of windows. I’ve…I’ve watched him be electrocuted…I’ve watched…” He blinked back tears, because it was too much. Loving someone this deeply, this irrevocably…it was all well and good until fate decided to be a fickle bitch and rip him away.

“Sam, I loved Jody with everything I had. He never did a damn thing to put himself at risk, because all he wanted was to come home to this family every day. And cancer still came and took him anyway. You’re gonna love Bucky whatever today or tomorrow brings. Don’t you wanna do it without regrets? If you let yourself have this and he dies tomorrow, will you regret the words you spoke today? The kisses you let yourself have? The hugs and everything else? No. But you will regret what you didn’t say. That’s what will stay with you. And that’s all you’ll have of him. And it won’t be enough. That’s what you’ll never heal from.”

He blew out a breath, staring at his sister as if she was the most amazing woman he’d ever known. And truthfully, in that moment she was, reminding him so much of his beloved mother he could’ve wept if they weren’t at a cookout doused in Louisiana heat with everyone who mattered milling all around. “How’d you get so wise?”

“You turned to dust and I aged five years without your ass. Had to figure out a lot of stuff without you. Really glad I don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I just…I don’t know what to do. I know I should have it together, but I don’t.”

“None of us do. Everyone in this entire universe is just faking through it.”

“Maybe. But it still feels like I could ruin things here. Like…maybe it might be better not to reach for this. Not in this line of work. Not with all the eyes that are always on us. Separately and together. Mixing it up, blurring the lines…making him everything…”

 “Look Sam…” she paused, her gaze turning sympathetic as her teeth fidgeted her bottom lip. “I love you no matter what. And ultimately, this is your call. I just want you to be happy. If you’re really that unsure, I don’t know…” Her words trailed off as she considered how best to proceed. “If you really…just don’t want to go there and don’t want to risk it, I get it. Sit on it. Give it time. It…it won’t be a problem forever.”

He stiffened, sensing immediately there was something else she wasn’t quite sure she should say. “What’s that mean? It won’t be a problem forever? How?”

“I’m not sure I…”

“Sarah Wilson, I’m your brother. Your loyalty belongs with me!”

“Oh don’t come at me with all that. You know where my loyalty lies, but I’m not about letting Bucky get hurt either. You made us family when you let his sorry broken ass follow you home. If I wanna look out for him now, that’s on you as much as me.”

“And? What about Bucky?”

“Look we talked a few days ago. Just…ya know a private sort of conversation about where he’s at. About his…uh…feelings for you.”

Sam wasn’t sure what surprised him more, Bucky admitting to having feelings in general or acknowledging them to Sarah of all people. “I didn’t realize you were that close. I mean, I knew you were close and all, but…”

“We talk. And like I said I gotta look out for him. He’s kinda a mess sometimes, but he’s our mess.”

“You’ve talked about this before? About how he feels?” 

“A few times. Just in general. Nothing specific.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Like you didn’t know? C’mon Sam. Don’t play. But yeah, he…he’s never tried to hide how he feels about you with me. Asking me stuff like what’s your favorite coffee. Where you like to eat, where you like to go, that sort of stuff, ya know.”

“I just thought he was a good guesser.”

“That man?” Sarah snorted.

It amazed Sam in that moment how much Bucky tried to please him, but only in an effort to make Sam happy…never in an attempt to woo him or turn their relationship into anything else. Just further proof of how selfless he was. Love and care without expectation. “Okay, that’s a good point.”

“He told me…” She hesitated, blowing out a breath as her gaze flicked toward Bucky. A small frown wrinkled her forehead at whatever she saw. Sam resisted the temptation to look, refusing to let himself get distracted. Because Bucky? Bucky was distracting as all hell. “Look, he told me that he’s going to try to get over you.”

“ What? ” It came out sharper than he intended, but Sam suddenly felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. 

“Look, he knows that you probably…ya know…have picked up on how he feels. And the fact you haven’t initiated anything tells him that you’re not interested in him in that way.”

“But he hasn’t initiated anything either!”

Sarah’s scowl was unimpressed. “Does anybody in this world think that that man who has had enough trauma for five lifetimes and who feels unworthy of even the smallest scraps of kindness would ever be the first one to make a move? Really? Please Sam. He’s awkward as fuck. That man ain’t trying nothing. This was always on you, and you both know it.”

“I…I…” Sam couldn’t deny any of that. Because she was absolutely right. He’d picked up on Bucky’s signals and once he realized Bucky had no intention of doing anything about his attraction, he’d let it ride, content in the knowledge that nothing had to change. But he’d never meant to leave the impression he wasn’t interested…that Bucky was in this alone. And now…now Bucky was thinking of moving on? Things were about to change? 

He chanced a glance at Bucky still with freaking Clay, and suddenly the entire scenario felt different. Charged. Bucky was listening to whatever Clay was saying, and he didn’t look bored. He looked…interested. 

Hell. No. 

“Sam what did you think was going to happen? That y’all would just stay in each other’s orbit forever and never be anything else and you both would be okay with that?”

“I just thought…” Maybe he’d thought that. Or maybe he’d thought they would have time to figure things out once their avenging careers died down and the dust settled into what a normal life might resemble. But now…a whole different future spread out before him. One in which Bucky moved on. Found someone else. Fell in love. Because Bucky was kind…and funny…and loyal…and handsome…and someone out there who wasn’t Sam was bound to see it.

And Sam would have to stand there pretending he was okay with Bucky’s arm around someone else. Because they were best friends. And that’s what best friends did–support each other in life and in love. And when the inevitable happened. When Bucky decided to marry (because his gut told him Bucky Barnes and his born in 1917 ass was definitely the sort who’d want to put a ring on it once he found love)…who else would be his best man but his best friend? And so Sam would have to stand beside him as he pledged his life to another and pretend to be okay with that nonsense? And what if Bucky and this fictional spouse wanted kids one day? What if Sam had to settle on being a godparent instead of a co-parent as the love of his life started a family without him? Honorary uncle to the kids that shoulda been his. Hell. No.

“Hell no. Nope. He’s not moving on. He’s not having kids without me.”

“Who said anything about kids? I didn’t even think you wanted kids?”

“That’s not the point. The point is, he’s not getting over me. I love him. This ends with us.”

“Dammit Sam!” Though it came out as a hiss, it may as well have been an explosion given the sudden fury in her gaze.  

Sam couldn’t hide his shock. “What? I thought this was what you wanted!”

“It is, but you couldn’t have had this epiphany like two minutes sooner?!”

“Why?”

“Because your man is leaving this cookout with Clay Carr, you dumbass!”

Sam spun around with way more force than necessary, his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach as he watched Bucky and Clay moving down the dock, Clay’s hand on the small of Bucky’s back as he guided him away from the party…away from Sam.

Chapter Text

All in all, Sam handled the whole thing pretty well. He didn’t sulk; he didn’t brood; he didn’t charge after the two disappearing men and shove Clay into the canal before throwing Bucky over his shoulder like an avenging pirate claiming all that booty. (That last part being a primal instinct to go all Neanderthal that Sam didn’t even know he possessed until he saw Clay’s greedy, grabby hands all up on Bucky’s back. The absolute asshole.)

No, instead, he pulled a classic Sam Wilson, pushing his complicated emotions aside (which Sarah liked to condense into the single word jealousy. “Don’t act like you ain’t green with it, right now,” she said under her breath as he shouldered past her in search of distractions.), plastering on his patented ‘it all rolls off me’ smile, and charming the pants off his community with light ribbing, easy jokes, and a few glorious tales about the superhero life. 

He only allowed himself one indulgence, the vague, searching text he’d sent to Bucky in the middle of it all. Hey Man. Seemed to have lost you in the crowd. Everything ok?

Bucky’s response had been pretty quick. (A win. He couldn’t have been too hot and heavy with Player Clay if his phone was that handy.) But also vague. (A loss, because the truth came with a glaring omission.) Yeah, sorry about that. Party was winding down. Went for a walk. 

A walk. Sure, he had. But he hadn’t gone alone. Nor had he felt the need to mention that. Sam glared down at the screen, conjuring up all sorts of reasons for why that might be. Maybe he didn’t see it as a big deal. Maybe he thought Sam already knew. Maybe he was about to thrust Clay against the closest tree and wasn't the sort to kiss and tell. The offending image that accompanied that thought made Sam want to hit something. Probably the tree. Clay was just being Clay; Sam had no claim to Bucky; but to hell with that tree for aiding and abetting his heartache. Asshole tree, being a willing, wooden accomplice like that.

Bucky sent another text in the midst of Sam’s misery. Sorry I didn’t say anything. You and Sarah seemed deep in conversation. Didn’t want to interrupt.

Yes! About you, you absolute asshole! Sam thought morosely to himself, no longer concerned about being fair. He’d just come to terms with his feelings and before he could do anything about them, Bucky had fucked off with the first pretty boy to show him attention. That’s cool. See you when I see you. Sam tossed back in the heat of the moment, hating himself the second he punched send. Why had he sounded so nonchalant? Why hadn’t he given Bucky a reason to come home? He played around with sending another text, just a basic, ‘hey, boys wanna watch a movie with us,’ which was a lie because Cass was busy rough housing with his friends and a droopy-eyed AJ had his head on a picnic table. But before he could take action, Bucky sent a thumbs up, and that was that.

Sure, he could still send the text. Fabricate an excuse to tempt Bucky back, but he was all about giving Bucky room to make his own choices. After a lifetime where he hadn’t had a say in what happened to him, it was important for Bucky to make decisions for himself, something that wasn’t always easy for him. Bucky had chosen to go on this walk…had chosen to leave with Clay…was choosing to stay with Clay now. As much as Sam hated it, he also had no right to interfere.

So he pocketed his phone, found the smile that hid all the hurt, and launched into an animated tale about the time Steve Rogers had tried to use Tony Stark’s espresso machine to whoever was nearby and listening.

So yeah, at the end of the day, Sam thought he’d handled the whole thing pretty admirably. But damn, was he glad it was the end of the fucking day. He’d thrown himself into entertaining his community with the same bravado and single-minded determination as he had his first official mission as Captain America, now weary and worn from the show he’d been putting on from the moment Bucky had left.

He made his way over to the food table where Sarah was putting foil on the baked beans she’d brought. “Little man officially down for the count?” He nodded to where AJ sat snoozing and drooling.

“He didn’t even rouse for the homemade ice cream.”

“Sacrilege,” Sam gasped dramatically, his eyes crinkling with affection. “He stayed up too late last night showing Bucky that new video game.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that. And don’t think I don’t know you were up with them. Just because you and that man don’t sleep, don’t mean y’all gotta be dragging my baby into it. I just didn’t say anything ‘cause y’all got in so late and the boys were so excited to see you.”

“Next time we’ll catch an earlier flight.”

“Next time you do that,” Sarah jabbed with a good-natured smirk.

“Here, I’ll take him now. Get him to bed for ya. You and Cass stay a little longer. I’m partied out anyway.”

“Never thought I’d see the day you cut out of a party early, but I guess it makes sense.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve just been downright sullen since your guy left.”

Sam let out a sound somewhere between a huff and a grunt. “Not my guy. And I have not. You know how many pictures I’ve posed for? How many jokes I’ve landed? Meechie spilt her coke on Jason, she was laughing so hard. You know I’m the life of a Delacroix block party. It’s damn near a tradition!”

“I call shenanigans! The Sam Wilson Show is still just that–a show . If Bucky was here, he’d call you on your bullshit, too,” Sarah commented wryly as she put the Tupperware lid on some leftover green bean casserole. “He’s a lot like me, ya know? He can tell which smiles you’re faking.”

The stinging truth of that sent Sam’s heart plummeting, his easy grin fading, his trademark banter stuttering to a full lurching stop. It had taken a while, but now Bucky really understood him. Both saw him, and saw through him. So many people in his life had barely scraped the surface to get to the real core of him, but through all that Flagsmashers bullshit…Zemo, the shield, Isaiah, Karli, the whole messed up, traumatic bullshit of it all, Bucky had started trying. Started making the effort. He still didn’t get it perfect, but damn did he try.

Sam had asked once–late at night in a cheap hotel room after a particularly fucked up mission. When guards were down and they were too tired to be anything but honest–if his name had ever been on Bucky’s list of amends. Bucky had surprised him by saying no. Before Sam could launch into a diatribe about steering wheels, ripped off wings, and being thrown against a wall like a fucking ragdoll, he had continued. You’re so much more to me than a name on a list, Sam. Something to mark through and be done with. You always have been. And I haven’t always known how to deal with that. I haven’t always dealt with it well, I guess. (Which, yeah…understatement. But Bucky was trying. And it wasn’t easy for him, so Sam let him have it. Besides…this had taken an unexpectedly sweet and maybe borderline heated turn, and Sam was suddenly torn between changing the subject and rolling out of his bed and into Bucky’s. He hadn’t done either, and Bucky had kept talking.) I guess I always knew…when I came to myself, ya know. In Wakanda. And you were there…at that damned funeral that I didn’t wanna go to. That I had no right to be at. Steve wanted me there, so I went. But I shouldn’t have been there. You knew it was hard on me, and you didn’t leave my side. There you stood, beside me, knowing when to reach out. Knowing when to let me be. And nobody–not even Steve–got me like that. And I thought to myself, even then, fuck . It’s Sam. He’s the one thing I’ll never be through with. There was a long pause after that, Sam taking careful, measured breaths as he contemplated what came damn close to a love confession. Bucky processing everything he’d just revealed. I don’t know if that even makes sense. Or if it’s weird or whatever…  

Sam had closed his eyes in the darkness, wondering then what would happen if he just gave into this unspoken thing between them, just let himself fall. But he hadn’t. Another missed opportunity to tack onto the list with all the others. And now here they were, all the words left unsaid a wall between them. “Well Bucky isn’t here, is he?” He tossed out, bitterness escaping along with the words.

“And whose fault is that, Sam? I told you to go after him.”

“Short of tackling them to the ground, what exactly was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Sam. Tackle them to the ground? Why’re we discounting that as a valid plan of action?”

“I’m not tackling my ex and my…best friend to the pavement in front of the whole damn town Sarah!”

“Yeah, well you should have. Bucky would have thanked you later for saving him from a big mistake. And you would have saved me from the big headache this is gonna cause. I know you. And I know Bucky. And things are gonna be hella awkward around here for the next few months if he hooks up with Clay.”

“Why are you so sure they’re even hooking up?”

“This is Player Clay!”

“And Bucky . I don’t think he’s hooked up with anyone since the Blip,” Sam said, choosing not to go back further because he wasn’t 100 percent certain what the man had gotten up to in Wakanda. He’d seemed healthier then…more at peace. Who knows. Bucky had never said and Sam sure hadn’t asked. 

“Which means he’s due.”

Her certainty made Sam scowl. “This shit right here? I don’t wanna think about it. So just stop.”

“You know what your problem is?”

“I have zero doubt you’re about to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”

“Clayton Carr looks a lot like Rege-Jean Page, and Bucky’s white ass loves him some Bridgerton. ”

“The hot duke?” Sam rolled his eyes at that bull shit. “You actually think that poser looks like the hot duke?”

“You don’t see it? At all? Come on.”

“Maybe like the bargain basement version.”

“Yeah, well the generic will still get you where you need to go.”

“Yeah, I’m not hearing this,” Sam scoffed, annoyed because Sarah was obviously trying to annoy him and dammit, it was working. Now that she’d put the thought in his head, he couldn’t not see Player Clay riding into Delacroix on a stallion, Bucky simpering on the sidelines. Dammit all to hell! “The hot duke, my ass.”

“You’re awful elitist for someone who’s hit that more than once.”

“I was 16! It doesn’t count. You know what? I’m just gonna collect my nephew and go. You’re welcome.”

Sarah reached out, grabbing his shirt to hold him in place, her eyes shining up at him with a mix of irritation, adoration, and worry. “Whatever happens on that walk, you gotta be real with Bucky, Sam. For both your sakes. I don’t want to see either of you hurting.”

He was already hurting. Her giving him shit about it was her way of making him face it. Yeah, it irked him, but it also worked. And he loved her for it. Sarah knew when to gently prod a problem and when to whack it face first. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head to show her there were no hard feelings. “Yeah, I promise. No matter what happens, I’ll get this sorted out.”

**********

So maybe there were no hard feelings, but he still didn’t make AJ brush his teeth before the boy collapsed into bed. Yeah, it was a passive aggressive way of one-upping his sister, a little victory that she’d never even know about, but Sam was salty and felt vindicated anyway. He almost managed a whistle, bounding down the stairs with the blanket and sheet Bucky would need for the couch. 

The murmur of male voices outside stopped him in his tracks for a split second, his heart hammering erratically as he strained to listen to Bucky and Clay. Would it be bad form to send one of his Redwings out? Yeah, okay, probably. And Bucky would notice immediately. And how the fuck was Sam going to explain that? But how the hell was he going to know what they were saying when they were talking that damn low? Bucky tended to mumble anyway, and now there was Clay using his stupid bedroom voice to lure the supersoldier in.

He threw the bedding on the couch, creeping closer to the door. Stuck somewhere between jealous paramour, protective friend, and nosy neighbor as he inched the curtain back to take a peek. There was Bucky in front, Clay’s back to the door as they chatted. Sam frowned. Clay had lost his stupid jacket somewhere along the way and Sam really didn’t want to guess how that had happened.

Sensing Sam’s perusal, Bucky angled his head toward the house, blue eyes narrowing curiously when he caught sight of Sam. They locked gazes for a split second, Sam’s eyebrow arching in challenge. Bucky didn’t have time to react to Sam, because suddenly Clay was grabbing his shoulders and coming at him. Bucky’s expression turned mildly panicked as Clay moved in for the kiss.

Sam saw red. 

Oh hell no. If Bucky wanted to date Clay or get up to what-the-hell-ever with him, that was his business and his right, but Sam wasn’t about to let it happen in his Mama’s yard. He immediately switched on the porch light like a hovering father, yanking open the door as he put an end to that absolute bullshit. “Oh sorry,” he said calmly as if he hadn’t cockblocked the two on purpose. “I was just taking the trash out.”

Clay spun around, his expression stuck somewhere between amused and suspicious. Sam noted with satisfaction that he wasn’t touching Bucky’s shoulders anymore. “Were ya now?”

“Yep.”

“It’s good to see you, Sam. Missed you at the cookout.”

“Yeah, you didn’t seem to stay too long.”

“I got a better offer,” he returned with a smirk, like the asshole he was. He waved elegantly in Bucky’s direction. “Speaking of, if you could spare this man tomorrow-”

“I can’t,” Sam immediately cut him off, his tone cool and curt. He couldn’t very well stop Bucky from going where he wanted, but if Clay was dumb enough to ask Sam first…well, so be it. That was on him.

“Not even for a-”

“Nope. We got plans. All day. All night.”

Clay had been around the block enough to know when he was being romantically challenged. “I see.” He just looked amused now. “So that’s how it is?”

“Yeah, that’s how it is.”

He considered Sam for a careful moment, finally nodding. “All right Captain America.” He stepped forward, putting distance between himself and Bucky as he moved toward Sam. His voice dropped to a husky murmur meant only for Sam’s ears, because Clay was apparently the dumbass who didn’t realize Bucky had super hearing. “I’ll give you room on this one. Just this once, since we go way back. But if he’s still singled up next time I see him, that ass is mine.”

Sam heard the slight wheezing sound as Bucky tried really hard to cover his reaction. Oblivious, Clay gave Sam an easy nod, his tone returning to normal. “Like I said, good to see you, Wilson.” He sauntered back toward Bucky. “And it was really, really nice meeting you. Pretty man with the pretty eyes.” Sam rolled his own eyes. Hard. “Enjoyed our walk and the talk. You got my number, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you…” he held up his phone with one hand and gave it a little wave. “You put it in.”

“Yeah, well be sure to use it. I’m a fun text buddy.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a seductive whisper. “You’ll see.”

“Yeah, okay. See ya around,” Bucky finished, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange though Sam wasn’t sure he would have been had Sam not been there watching the entire thing. He waited until Clay was out of hearing range to mutter, “My ass is his? He better at least buy me dinner first.” He shook his head, pocketing his phone before looking at Sam. “What was that anyway?”

“What was what?”

“The whole…” he gave a haphazard gesture to the porch light. “The whole everything.”

“I’m taking the trash out.”

“Funny, I don’t see a trash bag, Pal.”

“Yeah, well maybe for sanitary reasons, I open the door first so I don’t get garbage hands all over the knob. Ever think of that?”

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen you take the trash out.”

“Well, you looked like you needed a save,” Sam muttered, hoping with everything he was that was true. That Bucky hadn’t wanted Player Clay’s well trained lips all over him. “Did you?” His tone turned hesitant. “Need a save?”

“I…” Bucky paused to consider it. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I knew where that was heading as soon as we left, but he didn’t really try it on the walk.”

Sam suddenly felt like he was 13 again on Sunday morning, sitting in a pew surrounded by a chorus of Hallelujah’s. No punching of trees necessary. At least tonight. “You…like him then?”

“He’s all right, I guess. Why?”

Sam backed up until he was against the door, willing Bucky closer. Like a moth to the flames Sam suspected shone from his gaze, Bucky obeyed. “It's a pretty straight forward question, Buck. Either you like him or you don’t.”

“I don’t know him well enough to say either way. What’s it even matter?”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“Then why are you so curious?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Sam.” Bucky’s own voice dropped a throaty notch, damn near sultry if you asked Sam. His blue eyes raked over Sam’s face with careful scrutiny, as he reached out to box Sam against the door with his vibranium arm. “Gimme something here.”

Sam could have lied. Could have played it cool. But thanks to the stress that came with watching his hopes crash and burn as some asshole made off with his man, the truth came bursting out of him. “Fine. I don’t want to be the best man at your damn wedding!”

“To that guy? I barely know him. Hell Sam, we just went for a walk.”

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t want you walking around my hometown with anyone but me.”

“So, that…that really is how it is?” Bucky asked warily, stealing words from Clay as he attempted to make sense of this in his head. 

Sam saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes, and there was no way he’d ever let Bucky believe anything other than the truth again. They were so much more than friends. They had always been so much more than friends. “Damn right that’s how it is.”

“I…okay…” he gave a cautious nod. “That was…I mean…it wasn’t anything.”

“But it could’ve been?”

“I mean apparently if he’s making plans for my ass,” Bucky returned dryly.

Sam couldn’t stop his grin, the heat from Bucky’s body begging him closer. How he wanted to slide against him, make this thing officially a thing . But still he hesitated, needing to know they were on the same page. Once he had Bucky in his arms, he had no intention of ever letting go. “Why’d you even go off with him? Ruining my night like that.”

“I didn’t know it would ruin your night. I didn’t think…I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It matters.”

“He…I don’t know…the way he came up to me. Talked to me. It reminded me of the old days. He reminded me of me. How I used to be, I guess. It was nice. I don’t know. Not many people just come up and openly flirt like that.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “They’re too intimidated by your good looks.”

Bucky’s eyes softened, a wry smile skirting over his mouth. “I was gonna say they’re intimidated because of the whole former brainwashed killing machine with a metal arm thing, but sure, we’ll go with that.”

Sam’s answering look turned sheepish–because yeah, that probably made more sense. But still, Bucky was a damn fine piece of real estate. “So he used his best lines and you just let him?”

“Well, it was kinda fun. He asked if I believed in love at first sight or if he needed to walk by a few more times.”

Appalled, Sam’s mouth dropped open. “The hell? That’s what he went with? Don’t tell me that shit actually worked on you?”

“What? It was a good lead in for taking an actual walk.  He had me roped into it before I even realized I’d agreed to it. Then on the way, he asked if I was an artist since I was so good at drawing him in.”

Sam cringed. “Man, you didn’t even make him work for it with those cheesy-ass lines. Who knew you were so easy. Damn.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, unashamed. “Like I said, it was nice.”

“Whatever,” Sam grumbled. “I’m going inside.” When he gave Bucky a pointed look, Bucky immediately dropped his arm, disappointment shadowing his face as Sam shook his head and turned to fiddle with the door knob. “Hey Buck,” he said over his shoulder. “You dropped something.”

Bucky looked down at the ground in confusion for a moment before meeting Sam’s gaze. “What?”

“My jaw.”

“Your…” The thought trailed off as understanding hit. And James Buchanan Barnes, the world's deadliest and grumpiest former assassin, beamed at Sam like a mother fucker, slate eyes turning soft as a faint blush scattered across his cheeks. “Your jaw, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well you got something on your cheek, Wilson.”

Sam turned so he could face Bucky, his expression smug. “Do I now?”

“Yeah. My mouth.”

“If that shit actually worked on the ladies in the 40’s–”

Bucky dove toward him, all up in his personal space though he stopped just short of touching him. “I’m not interested in whether or not it worked in the 40’s. Just in whether or not it works on you now.”

“Depends. You planning on using that asshat’s number?”

“Consider him deleted.”

“He better be. Now where exactly was that mouth again?”

“Your cheek?”

“I think we can do better than that.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam said, grabbing Bucky’s shirt and yanking him forward as their lips collided in a searching, tentative slide. Breaths mingled and mouths fused together as they learned the feel and texture of each other. A quiet, gentle foraging that quickly turned wanton, Sam moaning into Bucky’s mouth as their tongues tangled together, the marbled contours of their bodies molding to make a haven for the other, Sam’s leg slotting between Bucky’s as they kissed for long, desperate minutes.

Sam finally pulled away because hand to a higher power, he actually felt dizzy with lust, smug satisfaction settling all over him as he took in Bucky’s dazed, wanting expression. Bucky Barnes, famed Winter Soldier with all his superhero endurance, actually looked weak with desire. He currently had Sam pinned against the door of his sister’s house with his hard, muscular body, one hand cupping Sam’s jaw, the other Sam’s ass…and yeah, all was right in Sam Wilson’s world. Bucky dipped down for another kiss, before nuzzling his nose against Sam’s jaw like a puppy desperate for affection. Sam let his own hands do the talking, fingertips that had found their way under Bucky’s shirt, trailing lovingly across the expanse of his firm back. “You know, I said Clay had to buy me dinner first. You? Not so much.”

“Please, I basically already did. I brought you to a Delacroix cookout. Ain’t no better eating than that.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky returned, his gravelly tone making Sam’s spine tingle with yearning. Oh, how he yearned. For this man. For this moment and all the moments to come. A lifetime of them if he had his way. And Sam was bound and determined to have his way. “I can think of some things I’d rather taste.”

Lust coiled in Sam’s stomach because this sexy mother fucker right here was begging for it. “James Buchanan Barnes,” Sam chided, affection mixing with need.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson.” Bucky’s breath was warm on Sam’s face as he peppered it with kisses. He pulled away to search Sam’s eyes. “I love you.”

Sam’s heart soared. This right here…it was gonna last. “I love you, too, Buck. I really do.” He let out a deep sigh of pure regret. “Not that we can do a damn thing about it. AJ’s asleep upstairs, and Sarah and Cass will be back any second.”

Bucky’s expression turned unbearably sweet as he leaned down to press their foreheads together. “It’s all right. I think we’ve got time to figure this out.”

Sam nodded, even though it made their foreheads bump. “Yeah, we got time,” he said, something easing inside as he realized it was okay to live in the moment. To not just grieve what was gone or wonder what would come…but to enjoy every precious moment of now. To live and learn in love. His hand slid down, interlocking with Bucky’s. He gave it a tender squeeze, reaching to open the door behind him with the other. He pulled Bucky forward. “That doesn’t mean we can’t make out on this couch like horny teenagers until they get here though.”

“Definitely not,” Bucky said, his nose unconsciously scrunching up in the way that Sam adored so much. The one that let Sam know he felt happy and safe. That Sam was his home. Bucky’s nose scrunch belonged to Sam…and damn, it got him every time.