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Sam noticed, after a moment or two, that a small bird had landed on his foot. He’d been sitting on this roof for a while now, and he must have been still enough and quiet enough for the little warbler to consider him a reasonable place to perch.
It was a cute little thing, grey with bright yellow feathers on its undercarriage, almost glowing in the soft light of the New Orleans sunset. It was some kind of warbler - a magnolia warbler? Sam wasn’t sure.
“How’re you doing?”
The bird didn’t respond, unsurprisingly, but it didn’t fly away. It just pecked at the laces on his sneakers.
“You come up here when you need space too?” Sam smiled and leaned back on his hands. The bird stayed perched on his foot where it dangled over the edge of the roof.
He’d barely been at Sarah’s house for a minute before he’d taken off. Wings on his back, civilian clothes be damned. Flown into the city just to take a moment, get a handle on things. Get away from-
Suddenly, he heard the fire escape door open behind him. The bird took off, frightened.
“You were right.”
Sam turned to look behind him. Bucky stood there, hands in his jacket pockets.
“I know,” Sam replied. He smiled sadly. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know.” Bucky took Sam’s willingness to joke as tacit permission to approach him. He eyed Sam’s wingpack, sitting a few feet away from Sam. That probably bothered him; Sam sitting right on the edge of the roof with no wings. It didn’t bother Sam.
Bucky sat down next to him, a little further back from the edge than Sam. “Redwing told me where you were.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered.” Sam had only left for a bit; he’d needed some air.
“Sam,” Bucky said. “You’ve been gone for seven hours.”
“Oh,” Sam frowned.
“Sarah was worried.”
“Remind me to apologise,” Sam replied absently. He looked out over the roofs again. The sun was getting low. He’d observed it but not really registered what it meant.
“Sam, I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
*
Like a lot of terrible things, it had started with the CIA.
“Thirty minutes ‘til drop off!” Joaquin called from the front of the plane.
“Be ready in twenty,” Sharon added from next to him, removing her headset and entering the main body of the plane. “I want to go over the brief with you again.”
“You don’t trust me to get it right?” Sam asked from where he was reclining on the bench.
“Oh, please, Sam,” she said, flirty, smiling and not answering his question.
The mission was mostly recon, but could get dangerous. They were flying out to an old Department of Defence facility in Utah. Some former contractor (read: mercenary) had taken it over. Legally, at first. Now he was hoarding weapons, amassing a militia and allegedly had his own AIM-supplied W.M.D.s.
The situation was mildly terrifying, and incredibly embarrassing for the feds, which was probably why Sharon had called Sam in on it. Unofficial, off the record. Today all they were doing was trying to find out what he actually had stashed there, assess the scale of the threat.
“Recon. Birds swoop around, scan the place. We sneak in, do inventory, get out. We know the plan.” Bucky said, deadpan. He sounded bored.
Sam looked to where his partner was sitting, leaning back and manspreading, and emitting an aura of pure disgruntlement.
“He’s still like that, huh?” Sharon asked Sam.
Sam laughed instead of answering. The truth was that no, Bucky really wasn’t the way he’d been back when they’d met Sharon in Madripoor. He’d gone from a grumpy, nagging, uninvited guest to probably the most reliable person in Sam’s life, certainly one of the most important people in his life. Bucky had moved down to Delacroix and now spent pretty much all his time with Sam. They were thinking about getting their own place together. Amazingly, Sam hadn’t tired of his company. If anything, he’d found himself craving more of it.
Bucky had cheered up considerably… just not whenever they worked with Sharon. On the one hand, Sam could relate; he knew enough history to have no respect for the CIA as an organisation. But on the other hand, Bucky hadn’t started sulking until Sam and Sharon had started-
“You doing anything after this?” Sharon asked, in a quieter voice.
Sam smiled, relaxed further on the bench and put on a faux-innocent expression. “I’ll have to check with the mission-leader. She’s calling the shots on this one, not me.”
“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Sharon laughed. She reached for her phone and gestured towards the back of the plane. “Be back in a sec.”
The second she was gone, Bucky stood up and went to sort out his earpiece. Sam joined him.
“You like being ordered around then?” Bucky asked, teasing.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sam flirted back. He put on his wingpack and started to adjust the straps.
“Hey,” Bucky said, reaching out and taking over. “Let me.”
He stepped behind Sam to tighten the other one, then he paused. Sam could tell he was inspecting the device, running a safety check.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get drinks after,” he muttered.
“That’d be nice,” Sam said, honestly.
“But you’ll probably be busy with your girlfriend.” He said it teasingly, like he was just some friend giving him shit over nothing, and not like he’d been personally agitated over Sharon for the last few months.
“Girlfriend?” Sam smiled to himself, shaking his head. It wasn’t really like that, but it was certainly something, they’d been enjoying each other’s company for a few months now. Where did Bucky get off teasing him over this like they were twelve years old? “You’re just jealous, man.”
“Hmm,” Bucky said, and Sam had to wonder how he wasn’t finished yet, if he really needed to still be standing so close to him. “Maybe.”
He really could have not said that. Sam would have preferred it if he hadn’t said that.
Then he slapped Sam gently on the ass and stepped away.
“Hey!”
*
“You were right not to trust her, I guess,” Sam said. He didn’t look at Bucky when he said it.
Bucky grunted and Sam knew if he turned to look at him, he’d see his face all scrunched up and awkward.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t have any basis for that, though,” he said eventually. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I just don’t like her because you’re sleeping with her.”
Sam frowned to himself, a little surprised to hear Bucky be so honest. It was a little shift, a change in how they were going to talk about this. It was out in the open now.
“Yeah, well…” he trailed off. “It is what it is.”
*
Everything happened at once.
They found the weapons. It was worse than they’d thought. They found nerve agents, cruise missiles and bombs. They triggered an alarm. They knocked out two of the guards. There were more on the way. They found out about Sharon, what she was doing here, why she had taken full control of the mission.
Power broker.
“I don’t understand. Was this all fake? The contractor?” Sam demanded to know.
“Hansen? Oh, he’s real.” Sharon scoffed. “He’s insane. I was just-”
“You were just gonna take what you could get while we’re here. Is that it?” Bucky accused. He was livid.
“I don’t care about that,” Sam muttered.
“Sam!” Bucky shot him a look. “This shit - this nerve agent - it’s no fucking joke.”
“I know that.”
“So do I,” Sharon added. “Believe me when I say there is no one on earth I would sell that to. Like I said, Hansen’s got a-”
“Funny, but I don’t exactly feel like believing you.” Bucky jabbed in response.
“I do,” Sam said. “You… Sharon, you killed Karli. You shot her.”
Sharon’s demeanour changed. She dropped the flippant attitude.
“She would’ve killed you, Sam. I meant what I said.” She bit her lip, hesitated. “I’m sorry it turned out like that.”
“You knew her!” Sam couldn’t get his head around it. “All this time you knew her.”
“I can’t take that back, Sam.” She was quiet, reserved. The alarm was still blaring.
“You sent men into New York to fight us. To kill us.” Bucky said. He had moved, placing himself not so subtly between her and Sam.
“Buck. Shut up.” Sam said.
“That’s not-” Sharon caught herself, took a deep breath. “It was more complicated than that.”
“I don’t call being shot at very compli-” Bucky continued.
“I said shut up!” Sam raised his voice.
The alarm stopped.
Sam moved a little to the side, so he could look at Sharon properly. Bucky looked uncomfortable with it, but stayed quiet for once.
“She was scared of the Power Broker.” When Sam eventually spoke it came out quiet, but he tried to keep some strength in his tone. “She was being hunted down. By you.”
Sharon nodded reluctantly, looking away.
“She was just a kid. They were all-”
“Sam, I don’t need this from you.” Sharon snapped. “I don’t need your moralising. I’m not a broken bird for you to fix. I’m not looking for you to make me better-”
“I never said tha-”
“We’re not all like you. We’re not all Captain fucking America. I gave up trying to be perfect a long time ago.” Sharon looked resolved.
“I never expected you to be perfect. I never asked anything like that from you!” And he hadn’t. Hell, Sharon worked for the CIA. There were no angels in that line of work. “Is it too much to ask you not to lie to me?”
Sharon opened her mouth as if to speak, but then turned away.
Bucky stood still, doing his best bionic stare. Thankfully, he stayed silent.
Sam could hear footsteps above them. Guards running about the compound. They had to get out of here soon.
“I guess it is.”
“What?” Sam asked. “What is?”
“It’s too much to ask,” she said, voice slightly raised.
Sam didn’t know what to say. He stared at her. Sharon and her frustrating, pretty face. He half expected to see her transformed, an evil villainess but no. She was still just Sharon. She didn’t look vindictive or conspiratorial at all - just disappointed. Like she didn’t want him to find out this way. Like it inconvenienced her.
“Sam?” Joaquin’s voice came through on his earpiece. “Sam, we have to go. Now!”
Sam was still looking at Sharon. Neither of them spoke.
“Sam?” Joaquin again.
“Sam, come on.” Bucky said, losing patience. He grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him towards the exit.
Sam shook him off. He turned back to her.
“I was never trying to save you, Sharon.”
She looked at him, expectant, but Sam didn’t say anything else.
When he and Bucky finally got back to Joaquin, he asked about her. Is she still at the compound? Why did you leave her there? Sam let Bucky fill him in and headed straight for the cockpit.
*
Sam turned to look behind him, where Bucky was still sitting. The light from the sunset cast onto his face, bringing out his sharp, handsome features. It glinted off the metal of his hand, highlighting the gold accents. It almost distracted Sam from the stern look Bucky was sending him, the gravity of the situation.
“Sam.”
Sam’s gaze snapped back up to Bucky’s face.
“She lied to all of us,” Bucky continued. “I get- I understand that it’s hard for you-”
“Stop it.”
“No.” Bucky was resolute. “I’m apologising here.”
“Are you?” Sam asked incredulously. “Because it sounds like you’re condescending.”
“I am sorry.”
“Well, I’m over it.”
“Sam-”
“I said I’m over it.”
Sam faced away again. He bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to leave it at that, to not keep arguing about this.
*
They’d been back on the Air Force base for a few hours when Sam noticed he hadn’t seen Bucky in a while. He’d been hovering around, watching Sam stew in his feelings about Sharon, occasionally offering to get him things. But after a while, he disappeared.
Sam had a hunch this wasn’t good.
He asked around - he knew these places well enough to know who to ask - and headed for the third hangar building.
It was getting dark, the low sun casting everything in sharp contrasts. He noticed a crow by the edge of the open bay. It was trying to eat a cigarette butt, having a nicer evening than Sam was by the looks of it.
“...permission to speak freely, sir.” Joaquin’s voice.
“Permission denied.” That was the Colonel he’d seen around the base earlier.
“It’s been decided.” An unfamiliar voice.
“He’s not going to like this.” Bucky.
“It really doesn’t matter what he lik-”
“What won’t I like?” Sam asked, stepping out into the entrance of the hanger. He’d raised his voice and it echoed a bit, scaring away the crow.
“We’re off the case.” Bucky said gruffly, not looking at him.
There were two men Sam didn’t recognise. Tac vests over suits. Definitely CIA guys, Sharon’s bosses, here to clean up her mess. One of them spoke.
“We’ve ordered a remote strike on Hansen’s compound.”
“What?” Sam was marching forward. “Drone strikes? Are you insane?”
“Mr. Wilson-”
“Captain,” Joaquin interrupted..
“He’s technically a civilian, Lieutenant.” The colonel corrected. To the man’s credit, he didn’t look comfortable with the situation.
“Mr. Wilson.” The fed continued. “Hanson is a threat to national security. He’s a threat to goddamn world security. We tried taking him out the soft way - Carter’s way - now it’s time for the hard way. You should go home.”
“But I left her in there.” Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He should have seen this coming. “We left her there, you’ll kill her.”
“Agent Carter is well aware of the risks of her job. She’s a professional.” The other agent chimed in. The insinuation that Sam was not so professional lingered in the air between them.
Bucky stepped in, speaking directly to Sam, angling away from the others.
“It’s their call, Sam.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Buck.”
“No, listen. I don’t want this but…” Bucky looked exasperated. “It’s their mission and it’s fucking nerve gas, you get why they want to do it this way, right? They don’t want anyone anywhere near it. Hell, I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“I’m starting to think you actually think I’m an idiot. I know what we’re fucking dealing with here.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot I just.. I don’t think you think straight when it comes to Sharon.”
“I don’t think you’re thinking at all.” Sam turned to the other men. “You blow up that base, you risk releasing god knows how much of that nerve agent to the surrounding area.”
“It’s remote,” the first agent answered.
“It’s fucking nerve gas. It could-” Sam stopped himself. These guys weren’t going to listen to the science here. The politics? Maybe. “You strike this place, killing one of your own people. You’ll have another Benghazi on your hands.”
“Yeah, and if we lay siege to the place, we’ll have another Waco.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Bucky interrupted. “Are you sure we can’t-”
“With all due respect, Sargeant,” the second agent said, clearly not intending any respect at all. “This is not a committee, and neither of you have any authority here.”
“I just think-”
“Are we sure that-” the colonel started to speak.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to listen. He turned on his heel and stormed out.
*
“Did you tell them?” Sam asked. He had to. “Did you tell the feds that Sharon was stealing from them?”
“No.” Bucky replied quickly, offended. “Of course I didn’t. I don’t think Torres did either.”
“Hmm.” Sam didn’t know if he believed Bucky. At this point he didn’t know if he could trust him to do the bare minimum and not report her. “The difference is, I trust Joaquin.”
“The hell?” Bucky sounded genuinely hurt. Sam didn’t look at him, aware it would only make him feel bad and lose his resolve. “Sam. You can trust me. I’ve never lied to you. I would never lie to you.”
Sam really wanted that to be true.
“Sammy.” Bucky’s hand was on his shoulder, trying to get him to face him. “I’ve always been honest with you.”
Unlike Sharon. It was implied by his words.
Sam took a breath before speaking, trying to keep it together.
“Does honesty even matter that much?” He asked, quietly. “Because, let’s say that you are honest with me-”
“I am.”
“How does that matter when you still treat me like…” Sam lost his words. He swallowed. “Why is there always something you need to apologise to me for? Why is that?”
“Oh and Sharon treats you so much better?” Bucky snapped. Once again, the shit they’d been leaving implied came flooding out into the open.
“The fuck would you know?”
“I know because every day, every fucking day, i had to sit back and watch you-”
“What?” Sam was incredulous. “No you didn’t. You’ve barely met her and you don’t know her. How are you going to argue you can treat me better than her when you don’t even know-”
“Sam, she lied to you. She doesn’t respect you.”
“And you’re being so respectful right now?”
That shut Bucky up. He let go of Sam’s shoulder and leaned back again.
“She’s a good friend. And she was good for me.” Sam said, and he felt good saying it, like he needed to speak it out loud to reassure himself. “I’m not saying it was a good idea, and it’s probably for the best that it’s over-”
“It is?”
“Yeah, we’re done.” Sam sighed.
*
Sam went back for Sharon.
Breaking back into the Utah compound wasn’t easy - they’d increased security since the break-in - but somehow she’d managed to hide from the guards. Eventually, he found her… or she found him. Long story short, Sam found himself hiding in a locked supply closet, with a woman who’d betrayed him, brainstorming ways to neutralise a small country’s worth of ballistics.
“... I can talk you through detaching the payloads. The biggest explosives and the gas canisters. I think if we can move them into the deepest level of the bunker, that’s the safest option. Away from any possible gunfire.”
“You think they’ll survive a drone strike intact? Or are we about to go out in the worst way possible?”
“Do they know you’re here?” Sharon asked, instead of answering.
“Who? The Air Force? Your agent guys?” Sam shrugged. “Probably worked it out, yeah.”
“Hmm...” Sharon sounded contemplative. Sam recognised the look on her face when she was coming up with a plan. “I think we can take out Hansen. It’s a matter of timing. There aren’t that many guards… maybe a hundred?”
“...and they’re not expecting us.” Sam followed her line of thought.
“Shame we don’t exactly have a strategic base of operations.” Sharon glanced around them, the shelves lined with toilet paper, a mop bucket, and a cheap folding table that Sam was currently perched on.
He pushed up his goggles and leaned back against the shelving.
“You know,” he said, after a fashion. “I always loved how ugly these government buildings look.”
“What?”
“They’re all kind of the same, right? Like, I can tell this place was built in the 70s because it looks just like my college library.”
“Right…”
“Exactly the same…”
Sam chewed his lip before he continued.
“So, when I was a Junior, there was this big sit-in at the college. They’d named the library after some confederate general way back when, and everyone was protesting to get them to change it, and my girlfriend at the time-
“Oh?”
“Leila,” Sam smiled to himself. “She was great. You’d like her. She’d hate you, no offence but, you know, the whole CIA thing.”
“Sam,” Sharon tried to look stern, clearly suppressing a smile.
“Yeah, so we were doing this sit-in, occupying the building. But we turned up kind of spontaneously, right?”
“I’m still trying to imagine you as a student. What were you like back then?” She lowered her voice suggestively. “Was college an experimental time for you?”
“You know it.” Sam winked at her. “But after we were done experimenting-”
Sharon laughed, muffled into her hand.
“-afterwards we came to this sit-in. Only, we didn’t really plan it so we didn’t bring any supplies, no food or anything.”
“I think I see where this is going.”
“Yeah?” Sam looked up at the corner of the closet, indicating a small-ish air vent. “Leila was skinny enough to fit into the vents and they supported her weight. She could climb through and sneak out to get food without being seen breaking the picket.”
“It’s a cute story. You're cute.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Sharon winked back at him, but then her face became sober. “But there’s no way these will open up to the outside just like that. They’ll have reinforced the gratings over the exits. Steel bars, military standard.”
“Yeah, but you don’t need to get outside,” Sam said, grinning.
Sharon’s face lit up when it dawned on her. “I just need to get to the security hub.”
“Do you think you can disable the alarms around the armoury?”
She rolled her eyes. “Easy. I’ll cut the perimeter alarms too. Might be able to kill their comms.”
“For how long?”
“I can’t promise you more than five minutes.”
“That’s okay,” Sam breathed out through his nose. “That’s a head start.”
“Do you think you can disable the payload?” Sharon threw his words back at him.
“Yeah,” Sam shrugged. “I’ll make something work. Hey, if I fuck up we just end up exploding a few minutes earlier, right?”
Sharon stood up straight and approached Sam where he was sitting, slotting between his legs. She kissed his forehead.
“They’ll have postponed the drone strikes, maybe indefinitely,” she said, as if it was obvious.
“What makes you say that?”
“They don’t want the Winter Soldier to murder them in their sleep, that’s why.” She smiled, then walked away towards the wall vent. Sam followed.
“Someone will come get you out of here, Sam. I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“Why?” Sam offered his hands for a leg up.
“Because he loves you.” Sharon paused, looking away, then turned back. Their eyes met for a long second. “ Everybody loves you.”
They looked at each other a moment longer, then Sharon stepped onto his hands and Sam lifted her up to ceiling height. She removed the cover with little effort then turned back towards him.
“Go,” Sam said. “Get your skinny ass out of here. I got this.”
“We can’t all have asses like yours, Sam.” Sharon smirked, then scrambled up and disappeared into the vent.
Sam stood still, failing to process any of it for a few seconds, then hurried to reposition the vent cover. Then he stepped to the door. If Bucky were here, he’d probably just ask the guy to pull the thing off its hinges. Sam could probably break it down himself, if he had to. A big enough boost from the wings would do it. But it would be loud, and probably set off an alarm.
Instead, he turned to the small panel by the door - an electronic lock for a key card or something similar. He prised off the cover, thankfully not triggering any anti-tamper measures. He peered at the wires. Pretty basic stuff, compared to Redwing’s internal mechanisms. Sam’s only concern was whether or not manually overriding the device would alert security of his location.
“This is a really stupid idea, Sammy,” he muttered to himself.
He pushed one of the wires over, short circuiting the device and the door unlocked, silently.
Sam grinned, kissed the panel quickly in gratitude, and ran off to go defuse a bomb.
*
Sam heard Bucky stand up behind him, so he got to his feet too. Slow, and a little achy from the mission still, even though they’d all made it out unscathed. Sharon had come through for him which proved… something. That Sam had been right? Maybe.
He felt Bucky’s hand on his waist, steadying him and guiding him back from the edge of the rooftop. It was unnecessary, and probably an unconscious gesture. He found himself revelling in it anyway; Bucky’s touch was comforting, grounding. Despite everything, he was disappointed when he felt that hand fall away.
“I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“Yeah, me too,” Sam replied.
“No. Seriously.” Bucky looked pained. “I mean it.”
“Whatever Bucky, we’ll get over it. People fight, they argue, they handle things badly. We move on, okay?”
Bucky stood still in front of Sam, arms awkwardly stiff by his sides.
“I definitely handled it badly,” he joked.
Sam tried to smile. It was probably more of a grimace.
“But I need to know.”
Oh, here we go.
“I don’t know if there was a “good” way to handle this.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“I always felt like the bad guy,” Bucky said, stupidly still talking. “Wanting to get between you two, to ruin it. There’s no nice way to be that guy, you know?”
“Buck…”
“But I need to know. What now?” Bucky stepped closer to Sam. “Because nothing’s changed for me, Sam. I still want this.”
Again, Sam was being told something he knew. He knew how Bucky felt but it still felt like a shock to his system. He struggled to parse how he felt about it; he was still so damn angry.
“What now?” He asked. “You’re so damn petty over this that you’d leave Sharon for dead! Am I supposed to find that romantic?”
“No! No, I wouldn’t do that.” Bucky looked pained. “You have to know I wouldn’t do that.”
Sam stopped moving, rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Goddamn . He did know that. Bucky was a lot of things but he wouldn’t - he couldn’t believe he’d have let those feds kill Sharon out of spite. He hadn’t ratted her out, after all, and this was Bucky. Bucky. He was a good guy, or was trying to be. This was the same guy who always had his back in a fight, who always had a nice thing to say to him, who would do things for him. Little things, holding doors for him, picking up and washing the clothes Sam would leave just lying on the floor. He’d fixed Sam’s bedframe when Sam had complained about it creaking at night.
“I just hesitated, Sam.” Bucky was standing even closer to him now, pulling his hands away from his face. “That’s all it was. I was upset, and I hesitated.”
He held Sam’s wrists in his hands still. A loose grip. If he wanted to, Sam could step away. He didn’t.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked. “You had months. You never said anything.”
“Sam.” Bucky sighed, clearly still worked up. “I’ve not been subtle about this.”
“You-”
“I moved to Louisiana for you.”
“Yeah but that was-”
“What?”
“I don’t know!” Sam could hear something in his voice crack. “I just- I would have, you know? If I’d known.”
“Sam.” Bucky let go of his left hand, and cupped Sam’s face. It took him a second to realise he was wiping a tear away.
“It didn’t have to be like this,” Sam managed. “Now it’s all… this is wrong.”
Fuck .
Bucky was strong. Stupidly strong. Supernaturally strong, and Sam had long since gotten used to what it felt like to be manhandled and manoeuvred by a supersoldier. Still, he was a little taken aback by how effortlessly Bucky moved him, pulling him closer and pressing Sam’s head against his chest. Sam squeezed his eyes closed, holding back the full flood of tears that were threatening to come. There was some anyway, a salty blur at the corner of his eyes.
His entire head felt warm, overwhelmed again with everything that had happened. His brain filled with red and black and he lost himself in it for a minute. Breathed. Waited for it to clear.
Sam opened his eyes, staring at his hands, still clutching at Bucky’s jacket. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. He kept his head down when he finally spoke.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“Okay,” Bucky said quietly, reassuring.
“I don’t- I - I need time.”
Bucky grunted, a frustrated noise like he was going to say something but held himself back.
“I can give you that,” he said, eventually. “Anything you want.”
Sam looked up. Bucky’s face was open, earnest. If anything, he looked desperate. Sam wondered why it had taken him so long to notice the longing there.
“Sam?”
“Kiss me,” Sam said, unthinking.
Bucky obeyed, lifting Sam’s chin with a vibranium finger and kissing him carefully, like he’d been planning it for a while. Despite the precision and care, there was a heat to the way he pressed up against Sam, and Sam found himself melting for it. He kissed back, opening up for Bucky. There was something here, something strong, something worth fighting for.
“Okay,” Sam said, pulling away but not going far. He caught his breath, and Bucky stole another quick kiss before he could speak again. “Okay. We can do this. This could work.”
Bucky smiled, like he couldn’t help it, like he was holding himself back from shouting with relief. He pulled Sam into another embrace, kissing the side of his head.
“As much time as you need, I swear. Anything you want.” He promised.
Sam squeezed his arms around Bucky’s middle.
“Yeah, tell you what?”
“Hmm?”
“You can start by driving me home.”
Bucky laughed abruptly, taken aback. “Yeah, okay. C’mon.”
Sam went to pick up his wingpack from where he’d left it near the edge of the roof, then followed Bucky through the fire escape into the building.
It was a start, he thought. It was stupid and wrong and a hot fucking mess. But it was a start. Sam couldn’t help but hope that it was the start of something fantastic.