Work Text:
Sam was lying on the grass, looking at the top of the trees and the stars above them. He missed the sky of Delacroix whenever he was away for too long, its peace and quietness, the feeling of home he just couldn’t find anywhere else.
“Hey, you asleep?” Bucky’s voice was gentle and low, as if he was trying not to wake up Sam in case he was indeed sleeping.
“Nah,” Sam replied hoarsely. He had been quiet for too long, resting from all the socializing in his own celebration. “Just thinking.”
“That’s a first,” Bucky teased. Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled.
Bucky mimicked Sam’s position, close enough that Wilson could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not as close as Sam would have wanted. They lied there for a while, staring into the dark blue night, lost in their own reflections, appreciating the stillness after so many battles and fights.
“Have you ever thought,” Sam started softly, “we were meant to find each other?”
“Considering you were born in 1978, more than sixty years after my birth, nope, I cannot say that idea ever crossed my mind.” Sam scoffed at Buck, always using humor as a self-defense mechanism.
“Man, you’re old old, huh?” Sam smiled, arching his brow at Bucky, who feigned heartbreak, placing his hands on his chest and making the saddest face. He was so overwhelmingly adorable, Sam could feel his face burning up, and had to look the other way quickly.
“Yet,” Sam cleared his voice, “here we are, aren’t we?”
“Indeed.”
They fell silent again, Sam trying hard to find the right words in the stars, Bucky pressing his lips tight, looking for the courage to speak.
“Do you think we were meant to find each other?” Bucky’s words sounded honestly curious, and maybe slightly hopeful.
“I do. I was reluctant to save you, and yet I kept on helping Steve, trying to find you. You didn’t want anything to do with us, and yet you came along. We had friends and battles and enemies and losses in common, both together and apart. There are so many similarities, so many things that draw us together, like a magnet… In a way, I feel we complement each other, like two pieces from different puzzles that, for some strange, wonderful reason, fit perfectly, and create something new, and whole, something that maybe shouldn’t work, but it does.”
Sam paused for a second and took a deep breath. “I do believe we belong together, that every step I took in my life created a path that led to you. So maybe, if you agree, I could keep walking and getting closer and closer to you. And I could hold you, and kiss you, and love you. And we could create something new and beautiful, a life together.”
“Yeah,” Buck whispered, tears rolling down the sides of his face, “I think you might be right.” His hand found Sam’s, and their fingers intertwined. “And I would really, really love it if you never stopped walking in my direction, until there’s no distance left between us.”
“Ok, then,” Sam squeezed Bucky’s hand, tenderly caressing it with his thumb. He turned to his side, carefully, tentatively getting closer. “I’m glad we settled that.”
