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Sam could hear him.
The creak of the backyard porch; the one Sam kept fixing every time he came to visit but was always squeaky by the time he came back. He heard the steps on the porch; the ease of the wood as new weight hit it.
“The stuffed cabbage was really good,” offered Sam, unconsciously moving the porch swing as he glanced Bucky’s way, “I don’t know why I’m always so surprised that you’re a good cook.”
Bucky smiled soft and kind as he sat down with Sam on the porch swing; helped move it too.
“What can I say? I was the oldest. I helped my ma out when she needed it, so that meant in the kitchen too,” explained Bucky as he scratched the side of his nose, “Sarmale was something Ma made a lot; she brought it over from Constanța. It was something her bunica made for her, so...”
Bucky’s eyes were distant.
As if he found himself back in that small kitchen in that tiny apartment his family lived in all those decades ago.
Sam let him live there.
Bucky would do the same for him.
If Sam was lost in a memory of his own mother, well... it was nice that Bucky gave Sam that space. Of course he would do the same for Bucky.
“It was one of my favorite things to make with her. I don’t know. I was a little more worried about the galuste cu prune.”
“What? The dessert?” asked Sam, grinning, “You think anyone’s saying no to a dessert?”
“I don’t know. Weird name. Plum filling. I’d get it if it takes a moment to try anything I made,” explained Bucky with aa shrug, “But I’m glad everyone liked the meal. You all make food for me all the time. I just want to return the favor.”
Bucky turned his gaze Sam’s way.
And it was heart stopping.
It was intensity.
It was more than Sam could bear sometimes.
And it wasn’t as if they had quite put a name to their relationship. They really hadn’t. They slept in the same bed for almost a year. Bucky had basically given up his search for an apartment in Delacroix until Sam decided to look for one too.
They kissed.
They.
Did more.
So much more.
And it didn’t feel desperate. It didn’t feel like this doomed cycle of hookups that would end with casualties. No. It just felt... right.
It felt perfect, even in its own imperfections.
Sam liked it. Whatever he had, he liked it.
More than liked it, really.
“We just like you around,” said Sam, maybe projecting a bit.
Maybe being a bit too honest.
Bucky quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh? ‘We’, huh?” asked Bucky curiously.
Sam laughed feeling Bucky lightly elbow him.
“Okay. Maybe me. But we all like you here. I swear,” admitted Sam as Bucky chuckled, “Also. You don’t need to cook for us. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Though. I’m not going to say no to it. I do love good food. I love your cooking.”
And there was something more to the words.
Sam knew it.
Bucky did too.
A subtle admission that was easily returned.
“Don’t worry. I like it. Love it. Really. I – I like doing things for you all,” said Bucky as he grew a little quieter, “For – for you.”
Sam felt his breath hitch.
It felt dizzying to hear.
For you.
And their hands were so close.
Sam’s pinky.
Might have overlapped with Bucky’s.
And.
Bucky was the one who made that first move.
Took Sam’s hand in his own; held it tight. And his hands were surprisingly smooth. It was part of the serum, Sam knew that. Most anything could be healed by that serum besides the deepest of scars, even if the serum Bucky was given was imperfect.
Of course his hand felt as if he hadn’t worked a day in his life despite Sam knowing full well that wasn’t the truth.
Sam was the one to lace their fingers together.
Squeeze Bucky’s hand.
“You know I love you being here, right?” mumbled Sam to their hands, and then Sam realized –
Shit.
He had said it.
Said it adjacently again, anyway.
Love.
“Well, I love you too – ” Bucky started to say until he seemed to realize what he just said; realized just what Sam had actually said; seemed to, as a panicked afterthought, added, “... buddy.”
Sam.
Laughed.
Loud.
And boisterously.
And he could hear Bucky laughing along with him.
Maybe groaning in embarrassment.
“Buddy?” asked Sam, amused, “I love you, buddy?”
Bucky rubbed his face with his other hand.
“I know, I know. It just came out like that,” bemoaned Bucky.
And.
Okay.
Sam turned Bucky’s half-mortified face his way.
The sunset hitting Bucky just right.
The fucking golden hour.
Always made everyone look beautiful.
It was hard not to just sit there and stare at the guy for the entire hour. Maybe Bucky thought so too. The way he was looking at Sam. Despite his embarrassment, he just looked like all he wanted to do was stare at Sam for the rest of his life.
And.
Okay.
Sam.
Leaned in.
And.
Kissed him.
Kissed James Buchanan Barnes.
Kissed him sweetly.
And slowly.
And meandered for a long time because it wasn’t as if they had a place to be. They could lazily make out on the porch if they really wanted to.
Bucky looked even more lost in Sam’s eyes when Sam slowly moved away from him.
Ended the kiss.
Smiled at his – his person. Even if they didn’t really have a name to this, it was still something for both of them.
“I love you too,” said Sam softly, before adding a little more amusedly, “Buddy.”
Bucky.
Laughed.
And.
Groaned.
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” asked Bucky, not sounding all that worried about it.
“Not as long as you’re with me, pal,” snickered Sam, and okay, Bucky was smiling too now.
“I think I can live with that,” said Bucky, shrugging as he shifted closer to Sam, “If that means I can be near you.”
“I always want you near me,” breathed Sam, a little lost in the intensity of Bucky’s eyes, “If you ever ghost me again like – like you had a year ago. James – ”
“Never,” Bucky interrupted, pulling Sam in for a passionate kiss that left Sam an absolute puddle, “Never again. I love you, Sam.”
“Love you too,” breathed Sam.
Just.
So happy that he and Bucky found each other again.
*****