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One
“Hi, Sarah.”
Bucky’s doing that stupid little head tilt that he pairs with a smile again. The bastard knows it’s irresistible, and this time it’s directed towards Sam’s baby sister. Damn him, honestly. “Buck...” Sam has to bite back a smile, even though he’s fuming. He is fuming. Right?
Sarah laughs at Sam’s expression and shakes her head. “Oh, wipe that look off your face, Sam. And get washed up for lunch, boys, everybody’s brought a little something and it looks fine.”
Bucky waves at her as she leaves, then turns around to find Sam glowering at him. He raises an eyebrow. “What? All I did way say hi.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing,” says Sam, trying and failing to stay mad at him. He’s helpless to that wide-eyed look Bucky’s giving him. “You got that whole head tilt thing going on. You think it’s seductive.”
Bucky doesn’t look seductive at all, really — more pretty than anything else, Sam thinks to himself, and then immediately slaps himself in the face internally. Bucky does not look pretty. What the hell.
Bucky looks like he’s about to burst out laughing. “Seductive? Really?”
“Oh, fuck off, man,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Let’s go get some damn lunch.”
Two
The food everyone’s brought tastes like heaven, Sarah hadn’t lied. It feels like heaven too — not the food, but just sitting there next to Sarah, watching everything. The kids trying and failing to arm-wrestle with Bucky, people laughing and talking all around, the sun dipping into the water behind the boat — it feels like heaven. It feels like home.
Sam glances over to where Bucky’s sitting. The kids have momentarily left him to go get cake, and he’s smiling at something old Mr. Coleman from across the street said. The warm orange light flickers across Bucky’s face, and he looks happier than Sam’s ever seen him.
He has a pretty smile, Sam muses. He’s less surprised at himself for thinking it this time, and he admits to himself that earlier wasn’t really even the first time he’d thought it. It’s not just his mouth that smiles, his entire face lights up. He looks like a damn puppy when he’s happy.
There’s a tap on Sam’s shoulder, and he turns.
Sarah smiles at him and glances over at where Bucky’s seated. “Nice view?”
“What do you mean?”
She gestures across the dock as if it was obvious. “Don’t act like you weren’t making that face you do with those big old love eyes at him till I came over.”
“Love eyes? Really?” Sam raises an eyebrow. “Sarah, come on. It’s Bucky.”
“Yeah, Sam. It’s Bucky.” She looks up at him and shakes her head with a smile. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”
Three
Sam and Bucky are outside on the dock when the sky starts to threaten to rain.
Sam knows it’s coming, of course — anybody who’s been in Louisiana for any period of time knows the foreboding oranges and pinks of an incoming rainstorm. He tells Bucky this, but he just sits there unmoving and looks at him with a little smile on his face.
“Buck? You coming inside, or what?”
“Nah,” Bucky says, and his eyes flick up towards the sky. “A little rain never hurt anybody.”
“Yeah, well— it turns out to be more than a little rain, you get your ass inside, Mister ‘I got a metal arm and I’m gonna stay outside in the damn thunder and lightning.’”
Bucky laughs. “Alright, alright. Don’t ruffle your feathers.”
“Really?” Sam snorts. “A bird joke?”
Bucky smiles, and it’s like an arrow through Sam’s heart how lovely he looks, sitting out there on the dock, gazing off at the water with his fingers idly tapping the wood beside where he sits. Sam’s heart twists up into his chest, and all of the sudden he’s oddly aware of his own heartbeat — just the slightest bit quicker than normal.
“Yup. A bird joke. Go on, head inside, leave me out here all alone.” Bucky sighs dramatically.
“Aw, what the hell,” Sam says, and plops back down onto the dock. Bucky glances up at him, a little surprised, and smiles again.
The first drop of rain hits Bucky’s arm with a plop, and he closes his eyes contentedly. Sam watches him, barely aware of the smile forming on his own face. Lovely.
(They’re absolutely soaked when they come inside, of course. Sarah just shakes her head and doesn’t question it.)
Four
The next day, Sam wakes up early to train. He’s not really a morning person, never was — but when the light is soft and the sun is barely up yet, it’s the perfect time to train. It’s not too warm, no one’s bothering him— “Thanks, Bucky,” Sam mutters under his breath— the morning is one of the only times Sam can have for himself and just breathe.
He opens his bedroom door quietly, trying not to wake anyone, and steps softly into the living room. Bucky’s lying sideways on the couch, dead asleep, and Sam doesn’t think he could wake him if he tried.
Light is flickering across Bucky’s face, and the golden softness of it makes him look like some kind of angel in peaceful hibernation. He’s pretty, and Sam’s gradually becoming so aware of this he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
The door to the backyard opens with a creak. What Sam needs is a distraction, so he trains — he trains, and doesn’t think about it.
Five
After a while, Sam gets used to the thought of Bucky being pretty. He still tries to avoid actively thinking about it, of course — but the thought that his metal-armed friend is actually rather attractive buzzes persistently over his shoulder like some kind of annoying gnat.
It doesn’t make any damn sense. Half the time, Bucky’s more needy than a toddler, always wanting to talk or train or do something. And, yeah, he’s... not all that bad looking, but still, it’s Bucky, and Sam can’t be indulging this, uh, thought, because if he messes up whatever weird type of friendship he and Bucky have gotten themselves, it would be... bad.
Sam sighs. “Those damn eyes, though,” he mutters to himself, and then winces.
Fuck. Now he’s actively thinking about it.
+ 1
Sam’s standing in the living room watching Sarah play catch with the boys outside the window. He sighs. It’s been a long day, and honestly, all he wants is to just collapse into his bed and sleep for a few... weeks.
“Sam,” Bucky says softly from across the room, and Sam turns, startled. He hadn’t realized Bucky was there. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but it wasn’t this — Bucky ‘s looking at him with a more gentle expression than Sam knew he was even capable of, and something traitorous in Sam’s heart aches.
A little caught off guard, Sam meets his eyes. “What’s up, Buck?”
For a second, Bucky looks like he’s going to answer, but after a beat, he shakes his head. “Nothing. Just—” he stops short. “Doesn’t matter.”
Sam crosses the room and sits down next to him on the couch. “What were you thinking about?” There’s a trace of concern in his voice, and Bucky won’t look at him.
“I can’t—” Bucky sighs. “It’s stupid. Really. I can’t just say something like that.”
“Bucky—” Sam says and raises an eyebrow. “Now you gotta tell me.” Damn it. Boundaries, Wilson. He starts to apologize, but before he can get the words out, Bucky sighs.
“I was thinking that you were pretty, alright? For god’s sake.” He’s still looking anywhere but at Sam.
Sam’s stomach flips over into his chest. Oh. “You think I...” Shit.
Warmth spreads furiously over Bucky’s face and he buries his face in his hands to hide it. “I told you it was stupid,” he mutters. “Leave me alone.”
He gets up to leave, but Sam grabs his hand before he can escape. “Shit, Bucky, I— fuck.” He’s at a total loss for words.
Bucky bites his lip and finally looks back up at Sam. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t be— god— don’t be sorry,” says Sam helplessly. “Bucky, you’re fucking beautiful.” It slips out of his mouth before it even registers in his mind, and watching Bucky, his heart is beating even faster than it does when he’s in a fight.
“I... what?” Bucky lets out a shaky breath in unfiltered bewilderment, and Sam suddenly gets the feeling that Bucky’s guard hasn’t been down like it is now in years. “Sam, I... what— what?”
“Shit, I didn’t mean to say that,” says Sam, stumbling over his words as they fall from his lips. “But I meant it, because you are, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or any—”
Before he can wrap his mind around what’s happening, or even figure out what he’s saying, Bucky’s leaning over, still holding Sam’s hand as tight as a lifeline. And god, he’s never seen Bucky so careful and uncertain and desperate in his life but he’s here and Sam can feel the warmth of Bucky’s breath, and Sam’s mind is spinning in circles. He manages to focus on Bucky’s eyes, and fuck, his eyes are gorgeous, he’s never seen them so close before— but then there’s his lips and they’re cool against the side of Sam’s mouth and Sam’s heart is nearly beating out of his chest before it dawns on him — holy shit, Bucky just kissed him.
And then Bucky pulls away. He’s staring at Sam with wide eyes, ready to close up on himself at any sign of Sam reacting badly. Sam can barely think.
“Sam—” Bucky says, his voice catching. “Shit, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t fuck up the moment,” Sam mumbles, and leans over to kiss Bucky again. “Shit, don’t apologize, you have no idea how much I wanted this. Fuckin’ hell, I had no idea how much I wanted this.”
Bucky stares at him as if he can’t comprehend the words that just came out of Sam’s mouth. “What—?”
“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
Sam shakes his head incredulously, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m in love with you, asshole.”
A pause.
“Oh.”