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Bucky lay on the bed, breathing heavily, utterly spent. He loved this time, right after sex. Maybe almost as much as the sex itself if he was honest. Orgasms were amazing, but the feeling of absolute blissed out nothingness that followed was what Bucky lived for.
He couldn't get drunk, he couldn't get high. This was his one release, the one time he could get away from his own mind for a few precious moments.
As he closed his eyes and let himself drift, he felt a weight on his stomach, lips pressing against his sweaty skin. He smiled lazily.
"Hey, that tickles."
The mouth was joined by fingers, tracing a pattern across Bucky's chest. Bucky wanted to hold him, to be close to him, but the tickling was a little bit too much - he wasn't quite ready to return to reality yet. He gently nudged him with his leg.
"Hey come on Stevie, quit it."
He'd thought he'd said it playfully, but maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd been too abrupt. Because almost as soon as the words were out, the fingers stopped moving, the weight on him shifted, and suddenly it was gone.
He sighed. So much for enjoying the moment. He opened his eyes and squinted at Sam, who was standing at the bottom of the bed, staring at him. Frowning.
Bucky felt a stab of irritation. Everything had been so perfect, what the hell was Sam so upset about? He wasn't usually this sensitive. They bantered all the time, it was pretty much what their relationship was built on.
And normally Sam gave as good as he got. Why was he all bent out of shape now, when all Bucky had said was...
Oh crap.
Suddenly he was wide awake, a cold twist of fear in his stomach.
"Sammy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."
He sat up, moving towards Sam. And Sam took a step backwards. Not far, just a small step, but enough to put him out of Buckys reach. It felt like a mile.
"It's fine, Buck," he said in a flat voice.
"I wasn't thinking about him, Sam. Not when we...I wasn't..."
Bucky felt sick. He actually hadn't been thinking about Steve. He hadn't been thinking about anything. And he never thought about Steve when he was in bed with Sam, never. But he'd been half asleep, his brain had switched to auto pilot and oh god, what the hell had he done?
"Don't worry, it doesn't matter." Sam's face was neutral, but Bucky knew him too well. He could see the hurt in his eyes.
"It does matter, Sam. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
He paused. How was he supposed to prove that he wasn't thinking something? As he tried to find the right words, Sam started to move towards the door.
"It's fine, Bucky, really. Don't worry about it. I'm just going to grab a shower." He was out of the room before he'd finished the sentence.
Bucky moved quick. He was a supersoldier - he was definitely faster than Sam. And yet somehow, when he got to the bathroom, the door was already closed.
He stared at it, his heart sinking, unsure of what to do. He'd never known Sam to close the door when he was showering. Normally they'd be in there together.
He knocked on the door.
"Sam? Sammy? Let me in, we need to talk."
All he could hear was the tap running. He knocked again, a little harder this time.
"Sam, I'm sorry. Please let me in."
Still nothing.
He hit the door with the flat of his hand, hard enough to rattle it on it's hinges.
"Come on Sammy, please."
There was an agonisingly long pause before he heard Sam's quiet voice.
"It's not locked Bucky. Just come in already."
When he opened the door, Sam was standing by the sink. Bucky stood awkwardly in the doorway. He felt as if he was somehow intruding, which was crazy. Sam was usually the one person he felt truly comfortable with.
"Look Sam, I..."
"No, I'm sorry Bucky. I overreacted. It's fine."
"Really?" Bucky frowned at Sam, trying to read his face. "Are you sure?"
Sam shrugged and gave a small smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Yeah. It wasn't great for my ego, but I'm not mad at you."
"I'm so sorry, Sammy. I swear I wasn't thinking about him."
Bucky put his arms around Sam, and Sam leant into the hug. But he'd hesitated for a split second, Bucky hadn't missed that. And while it felt good to hold him, the hug didn't last nearly as long as Bucky had hoped. Sam quickly pulled away and started fiddling with the shower.
And there was a slight atmosphere. As they moved around the bathroom Bucky could feel it. It made him nervous, made him think that maybe things weren't fine, despite what Sam had said.
There was no teasing, no bickering. They stood by the shower, waiting for the water to heat up, and it felt like they were two strangers waiting for a bus. Side by side, but careful not to make eye contact. Careful not to engage.
"Why are you with me, Bucky?"
The question took him by surprise and he turned to look at Sam. Sam was staring into the shower, seemingly fascinated by the water.
"What do you mean?"
Sam turned to face him.
"Why are you with me?" he repeated.
"Because I love you."
It was the truth, and he'd thought that Sam had known that. Surely he knew that? Bucky wasn't the most romantic person, he often struggled to say what he was feeling, but he was sure he'd always been clear with Sam about how he felt about him. How could he not know?
Sam smiled sadly. It wasn't the response Bucky had been hoping for.
"I love you too, Bucky. It's just... It's made me think..." He paused, and Bucky felt a cold dread spreading though his body.
It had been a mistake, a stupid slip of the tongue. How could this be happening? The evening had started so well, he couldn't understand how things had gone so totally and catastrophically wrong. How he'd messed everything up so badly.
"Sam, I..." he started, but Sam cut him off.
"It's not about what you said, alright? I know you were with Steve a long time, it's only natural that you'd think about him."
"I wasn't thinking about..."
"Bucky, please."
Bucky closed his mouth and stared at Sam. He could feel his pulse beating in his ears.
Sam sighed.
"Why were you so desperate for me to have the shield?"
The sudden change in direction threw Bucky. What the hell did the shield have to do with anything?
"What? It was Steve, Sam. He wanted to pass the shield to you."
"But you agreed?"
"Well, yeah, I thought it was a good idea." His mind raced, trying to work out where Sam was going with this.
"And the costume?"
"I thought you deserved it. You're Captain America, you needed a suit. What are you..."
Suddenly realisation dawned and Bucky frowned.
"Wait... Do you think I'm trying to turn you into Steve?" He waited for Sam to laugh, to tell him he was being stupid, but Sam just looked at him.
"No, that's...that's ridiculous, Sam."
"Look at it from my point of view, Bucky. Steve left, and then you're all on my ass about giving up the shield, which you said yourself is his legacy."
"No, you're twisting what I said." He felt like his head was spinning, everything was spiralling out of control and he didn't know how to stop it.
"Look Bucky..."
"I'm not some sad old man with a Captain America fetish, Sam."
"I'm not saying that. I'm not saying you meant to do it, but you were alone and after Steve left I was the only person you..."
"What?" Bucky felt his bewilderment turn into a flash of anger. "Are you saying I'm with you because you were my only option?"
"No, of course not." A tiny pause. "I don't know."
Sam stepped into the shower and Bucky stood for a moment, fists clenched at his sides. He followed Sam into the cubicle, and they stood in the tiny space, face to face, hot water pounding against their shoulders.
"That's a little insulting, Sam."
Sam held eye contact for a beat, then shook his head slightly and turned away. The two men washed in silence. Bucky was aware that Sam was leaving space between them. Taking care not to brush against him even though the space was small.
His anger evaporated as he watched Sam. He itched to touch him, to hold him.
Instead he washed his hair, trying not to think about how Sam usually did that for him. It was awkward. Even though the vibranium was a vast improvement on his old arm, the metal fingers scraped against his head as he massaged the shampoo into his scalp. He missed Sam's gentle fingers running through his hair.
As the tense silence stretched out, he desperately tried to think of something to say. Something to make things right again.
He wished he was better at this. He used to be - he could charm the birds down from the trees, that's what his ma always said.
And sure, he was a bit rusty - he hadn't exactly had many opportunities to fine tune his social skills over the last few decades. But he was smart, he could find the right words. He could make things right.
"I had options."
What the hell was that? What did it even mean? He hadn't had options, he hadn't wanted options. All he'd wanted was Sam, and why wasn't he telling Sam that? What was wrong with him?
But it was too late. He could see Sam bristling as he turned.
"Options?"
This was Bucky's chance. All he had to do was tell Sam how he felt, what he had meant. That he hadn't settled for Sam because he had to. That ok, he might have met somebody else, but it wouldn't have been the same. That he'd chosen Sam out of every person in the world, because he was the one he wanted, nobody else even came close.
He could do this. He could fix it.
"I could have found someone else."
And there it was. Proof that Bucky was never going to be happy. Because he could rely on himself to screw up every single time. He closed his eyes, hating himself, wishing he could rewind back to before he'd thrown away everything he cared about.
Before he could say anything else, he heard the shower door slide open, felt a blast of cold air against his skin. He opened his eyes to see Sam leaving the room. He hadn't even stopped to dry himself, he'd just grabbed a towel and left, slamming the door behind him.
"Sam? Sammy?" Bucky was going to follow him. He didn't care if he was naked, wet and covered in soap. He needed to catch him up, talk to him, make him understand.
"Sam, wait, please... Ah shit!"
Pain hit him as his eyes filled with shampoo. He put his hands to his face, trying to wipe the suds away.
He briefly considered going after Sam anyway, but he couldn't see a thing. And it hurt. It seemed silly, after everything he'd been through, to be stopped in his tracks by a little bit of soap. But his eyes were burning, and he had to let Sam walk away while he returned to the shower, cursing under his breath.
By the time he got to the bedroom, Sam was asleep. Or at least he was pretending to be - Bucky wasn't sure. Could he have fallen asleep that quickly?
Bucky switched on his night light, casting a pale yellow glow across his side of the bed. Sam was laying so far over on his own side that the light barely reached him. Bucky could just see his back, the rest of him lost in the shadows.
"Sammy?" he whispered. There was no reaction. Sam didn't even stir when Bucky got into bed, his weight making the mattress dip slightly.
Bucky lay facing Sam, willing him to wake up, to turn around, to at least acknowledge the fact Bucky was there. He was pretty sure he was awake - he'd laid next to him enough times to know how his breathing changed when he slept.
He'd relied on that steady breathing to help him to get to sleep for months.
And now? How was he supposed to sleep now? How was he supposed to sleep without Sam pressed against him? And how long until Sam wasn't in his bed at all? How long until Sam wasn't in his life at all? And what the hell sort of life would that be?
"Bucky, I can feel you staring at my back. We're good, alright? Go to sleep." Sam didn't even turn around as he spoke.
Bucky swallowed. It was now or never. If he screwed up again, there wouldn't be another chance.
"You're right, it was about the shield, Sam. At least at first."
He saw Sam tense, heard the quiet huff as he exhaled. Not a great start. He willed himself to find the words. He knew what he meant, he knew if he could just communicate that to Sam somehow, he'd stand half a chance. But that was a pretty big if. He'd try though. He had no choice.
"I liked you Sam, right from the start. I mean, not like that, not at first. But after Steve... after Steve left I wanted to stay in touch. And I thought, as long as you had the shield, we had a connection. Even if it was just an obligation you felt to Steve, you had a reason to see me again."
Sam turned onto his back. He still wasn't looking at Bucky, but Bucky could see his face. It was progress, at least Bucky hoped so.
"Bucky, it wasn't an obligation. I wasn't doing it for Steve. I tried to stay in touch but you literally ignored every text I sent you."
Bucky thought back to that time. Sitting alone in his crappy apartment, hearing the ping of his phone and feeling as if it was a lifeline, a link to the outside world.
"I didn't ignore them, Sam."
Sam looked at him sceptically. Bucky took a deep breath before continuing.
"I read them, I kept them. They meant everything to me Sammy. But I was scared."
"Scared of me?" Sam's face softened a little.
"Kind of." Bucky paused, biting his lip. "No, not really. I think I was scared of myself."
Sam lifted himself up onto an elbow.
"How'd you mean?"
"I don't know. I thought I'd mess up somehow. Say the wrong thing, push you away like I did with Steve. So I put it off. I wrote a reply, and thought I'll send it tomorrow. And then tomorrow would come, and I'd have my finger on the send button, and then I'd think, I'll just wait a bit longer. And then, I don't know, I'd lose a few days, and by that time it seemed like it was too late to reply. But your texts meant everything to me Sam."
"I didn't realise, Buck. I just assumed you didn't want to see me, you'd moved on, you know. Started a new life"
Bucky felt a pang of guilt. He'd been so wrapped up in his own misery, he hadn't even given a thought to how his actions might be affecting Sam. If anything, he'd assumed Sam had probably been relieved when he hadn't replied.
"No, Sam. I really wanted to see you again, and I kept thinking, it's ok, I'll get another chance. And then when you gave up the shield, I thought that's it, I've lost him." His voice broke a little and he cleared his throat.
"Bucky, you hadn't lost me. I was always here. It didn't matter if I had the shield or not."
"You were Steve's friend, not mine. Not really, not back then. And you've got your family, your friends. I was so scared I'd never see you again. So I came to find you, to tell you how I felt."
Sam looked confused for a moment, then he gave a soft laugh.
"Do you mean when you came and yelled at me for giving up the shield?"
"Yeah." That hadn't been one of Bucky's finest moments. He'd been full of good intentions, ready for a heart to heart with Sam. And then as soon as he'd seen him he'd panicked, started an argument, got Sam's back up.
"So why didn't you say something later?" Sam was looking at him properly now, his brow furrowed.
"I tried Sam. But I'm not...I'm not really good at talking to people, you know? And everything I said just made things worse. And then you said you never wanted to see me again and..."
He winced at the memory. "I just thought, if I could get you to take the shield back, it'd be ok. I guess I got a bit obsessed."
"You could say that." Sam raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look angry any more. Bucky swallowed before continuing.
"When we did get it back, in the warehouse, I realised I'd been kidding myself. You had the shield, sure, but deep down I knew that when the mission was over, that would be that. Because you were right, the shield had nothing to do with me."
"Bucky, I didn't mean it like that." Sam was leaning in now, his head close to Bucky's.
"Yeah, you did. And you were right. Steve gave it to you, I wasn't part of the deal. But by that point, after we'd spent so much time together... I just felt...I needed to see you, I needed an excuse."
"So you got me the suit?"
Yeah. I mean, I would have done that anyway. I meant what I said, you deserved it. But I thought, if I delivered it, it would give me a reason to come out and see you."
Sam laughed softly.
"You didn't need a reason. I wish I'd known. I liked you way before that, Buck."
Bucky stared at him.
"What do you mean? You hated me, Sam."
"Yeah, I did." Sam shrugged. "But have you looked in a mirror lately? You have any idea what you look like? When we visited you in Wakanda, when you'd stopped trying to kill me, I noticed you, you know?"
"In Wakanda?" He couldn't quite understand what Sam was saying. He'd been a mess in Wakanda. The treatment to remove his programming had been hard, he'd barely been able to function.
Sam gave a crooked smile.
"Yeah. But you were with Steve, I knew nothing was going to happen. It's the biggest cliché in the world, isn't it? Pining over your best friend's guy? But the more I got to know you, the more I could see what Steve saw in you. Why he fought so hard for you."
Bucky was stunned. All that time? All that time, Sam had liked him?
Sam's face was sad, his mouth drawn into a tight smile.
"When you said you liked me too, I was thrilled. But at the back of my mind, I always knew you were way out of my league. I mean miles out, nowhere near. I knew that once you'd recovered, you'd realise that, find someone else. I mean, you were with Steve Rogers. Man's practically a saint, I can't compete with that. And once he had the serum..."
Bucky couldn't help laughing at that. Sam looked at him, his expression wavering somewhere between hopeful and offended. He looked so vulnerable like that. So absolutely and utterly beautiful.
Bucky couldn't believe that this man, this confident, gorgeous, perfect man, could possibly be worried that Bucky might leave him.
"Sam, that wasn't the Steve I loved. I loved him when nobody cared who he was, when he was just a scrawny kid from Brooklyn. And he wasn't perfect. He could be stubborn, he never talked about his feelings, he could start a fight in an empty room. That was the Steve I loved, not Captain America. And I did love him Sam, I can't change that. I'll always love him."
He took a deep breath. This bit hurt, but he wanted Sam to understand, needed him to understand.
"But I'd already lost him, even before he actually left. We were different people by then. I think he was always looking for Bucky Barnes, the guy I was before. Not me, not really."
Sam started to speak but Bucky carried on. Because this was the important bit. This was his last play, all he had left.
"Sam, being Captain America is your job, not who you are. I'm proud of you - really proud. I'll support you every step of the way. But I didn't fall in love with Captain America. I fell in love with Sam Wilson, when I saw you in Delacroix that first time. When you were taking care of your family, being with your friends, fixing your boat. I fell in love with you when you were you."
For a moment Sam just looked at him. Bucky held his breath, silently pleading with him to understand, to believe him, to keep on loving him.
And then Sam was leaning in, his breath hot on Bucky's face. His lips pressed against Bucky's, warm and soft. Bucky closed his eyes and melted into the kiss, the surge of relief and happiness making him dizzy.
Sam's hand twisted into his hair, making his skin tingle and then Bucky was pulling him towards him, holding him tightly, stroking his back.
The kiss lasted a long time, and when they finally parted, Bucky felt light headed. They were both breathing heavily, laying close together.
"So, does that mean we're good?" Bucky asked. Sam laughed, heartily this time, and it was the sweetest sound Bucky had ever heard.
"Yeah, we're good."
"I do love you, Sam. You know that right?"
Sam traced his fingers along Bucky's jaw.
"I know baby. I love you too." They kissed again, more gently this time. When Sam pulled away, he was grinning.
"What?" Bucky asked.
"A Captain America fetish? Really?"
Seeing the laughter in Sam's eyes warmed Bucky's heart, even if the teasing was aimed at him.
"I don't have a fetish, Sam."
"So you're saying I don't look good in the suit?" Sam pretended to look hurt.
"Oh god Sam. You look so good in that suit I can't even..."
"So tell me, when Walker was in the suit, did you ever feel a little bit tempted?" He was clearly trying not to laugh at Buckys appalled expression.
"That's a low move Wilson, even by your standards," said Bucky with a mock scowl.
"Don't think I didn't see how you were looking at him, Buck. All wide eyed and pouty."
Stifling a laugh, trying his hardest to look stern, Bucky moved to straddle Sam, who squealed and tried to wriggle away. Bucky let him go until he was almost out from under him, and then he grabbed his hips and effortlessly pulled him back, sliding him down the bed until he was laying underneath Bucky.
And then they were kissing again, moving against each other, and he felt Sam's hands holding his face, his tongue exploring his mouth, and for a while Bucky couldn't think about anything at all.
Later, when he was drifting off to sleep, listening to Sam's heartbeat, feeling his warm body against his skin, Bucky thought about how close he'd come to losing this. To losing everything.
But he hadn't. He nuzzled his face into Sam's neck, breathing in his clean familiar smell, and smiled to himself. Sam was his. He was Sam's. They belonged together.