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It was joyous. Bursting out from Sam in booming, boisterous inhibition as Sam leaned on Bucky, his arms curled around Bucky’s arm. Sam’s body shook in the vibrations of the laughter. Bucky could feel it where Sam’s head rested on his shoulder, in between his fingers as Sam loosely laced their hands. It was a captivating roar of surprised glee that Bucky hadn’t really seen from Sam before.
This was his laugh.
Bucky had seen Sam laugh before. Back before he had been cryogenically frozen of his own volition. Back in Prague when Bucky stumbled out of his chair at a café when Sam had snuck up on him. In Bordeaux when that pigeon pooped on Bucky’s head at that park. In Varna when Bucky completely misinterpreted a reference. They all had been in public, though. With people around. In places where Bucky hoped Sam felt safe around him during that rocky period where Bucky barely knew who he was. In very open, very public locations just in case something was still wrong with Bucky and he wouldn’t have Sam alone somewhere.
Those were chuckles. Bucky could see that now. Held back, toned down pieces of Sam’s self that he allowed in public. That he allowed with people around. They were what felt safe for Sam in those places. It was bittersweet. Realizing this difference.
Bucky couldn’t help but find himself entranced by the euphoria of this exuberant laugh. Sam’s personal, vulnerable, unfiltered and vibrant sound, rollicking and mesmerizing.
Bucky didn’t even remember what he said. He was pretty sure it wasn’t that funny. It wasn’t something Stevie, Nat, T’Challa, Ayo, or Shuri would laugh at. They’d groan at him about puns, boo him for how cheesy it was, tell him that he was corny. But here Sam was, curling half onto Bucky in semi-inebriated ecstasy as his unrestrained laughter took hold of Bucky, filled the night air on Bucky’s back porch.
Bucky would have said it was the drinks, but Sam had been drunker in more populated places with Bucky and he hadn’t let himself sound like this. Bucky reeled at the thought that maybe, just maybe, it was because they were alone. They were acres away from anyone in Bucky’s “Murder Goat Cabin” as Sam put it when he had first asked if Bucky was okay with him visiting. It was only them for far stretches if Bucky didn’t count the goats (Sam said the goats didn’t count). It was just him, Sam, his twenty-three goat children, their second bottle of wine, and the great expanse of the Alkama Fields where the closest city was Birnin S’Yan out on the edge of the horizon.
What had Bucky said that caused this? Could he say it again? Would Sam laugh as hard if he was doing just now? All Bucky could find himself do was laugh along with Sam as Sam winded down, his body relaxed and half atop Bucky’s.
“Don’t laugh at your own terrible joke, you weirdo,” Sam said fondly as he took another sip of the pricy red Bucky had already forgotten the name of that Sam had won off of Nakia during a poker night.
“You were laughing at my joke,” Bucky said, unable to take his eyes off of Sam, “It couldn’t have been that bad. I think it was funny.”
Sam shifted his position and Bucky obliged any adjustments on his part in order to make Sam more comfortable. He wasn’t sure how exactly Sam was now fully in his lap, but Bucky didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed it.
“This is nice,” said Sam, tilting his head so that he could face Bucky as he talked, “Why haven’t we done this before?”
“Because I didn’t live on my own when I was recovering in Birnin Zana?” said Bucky as he remembered the few weeks Ayo had allowed him to crash on her couch before he asked about a job outside of the city, “Because you are a busy man who goes out on secret missions to save the world on a near-constant basis? Because I was dangerous up until a few months ago?”
Sam nodded, a little bit of that levity that was there only moments before gone.
“Do you trust yourself not to be dangerous now?” asked Sam.
Bucky shrugged.
“I like to think that I won’t willingly be a danger to you,” whispered Bucky, “But I also trust that you can take me out if I am. You’re not a pushover.”
“I’m definitely not,” said Sam with confidence that enraptured Bucky, “But I do trust you. Because given the opportunity to use your abilities for your own needs, all you did was buy plums and read books.”
Bucky snickered.
“I did other things,” said Bucky and Sam laughed at him.
Maybe Bucky should feel a little offended by that, but it was that laugh again, that unfettered rush of rapture that made Bucky’s heart stutter.
“I did,” said Bucky as he heard Sam laugh harder, “I cooked. I cleaned. I… had that one job. At that corner store.”
Sam wrapped his arms around Bucky, laughing into Bucky’s chest.
“You have all the super strength in the world and you just – you just decide to be normal. You choose to be that guy talking to an old lady every day as you buy her surplus of plums,” said Sam, and Bucky could feel Sam’s smile on his chest, “You work at a corner store because they had a help wanted sign. You get a library card.”
“Sam, library cards are magical. I don’t know if you ever saw a borrowing card, but they were not as good as a library card. You can go to any library in the system with one card! That’s amazing,” said Bucky, “You can even get books and movies online with certain library systems? All that knowledge with just a few taps of your fingertips. I can barely wrap my brain around it even now.”
Sam beamed up at Bucky.
“Library cards,” said Sam warmly, “You love library cards. It’s so adorable.”
“I’m the adorable one?” said Bucky with a snort.
“No, I am,” said Sam, and Bucky laughed, “But you’re kind of cute too, I guess.”
“Thank you for those kind words,” said Bucky, “Truly. Never heard a better compliment in my life.”
Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s cheek.
“Really, though. I’m glad they were able to deprogram you,” said Sam, “I like hanging out with you.”
Bucky tried not to melt at that.
“I like hanging out with you too,” said Bucky, “For whatever time you have to give me.”
Sam felt so right in Bucky’s lap. So close to him. Bucky could feel Sam aimlessly rubbing Bucky’s cheek with his thumb. Bucky was moving closer to Sam. To his mouth.
Vincent Van Goat bleated loudly into the quiet, starry night, staring straight at Sam and Bucky.
“Vincent,” half-whined Bucky as he felt his face heat up.
Sam’s head fell onto Bucky’s shoulder, Sam cackling.
“I can’t believe you gave them all pun names,” said Sam between laughs, “You have a million of them and they all have pun names.”
Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to be too mad about the interruption. Not with Sam laughing like that again.