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Bucky trudged through the front door like a man betrayed.
Sam looked up from the couch, instantly clocking the damage.
“Oh my God,” Sam said, trying—and failing—not to laugh. “Bucky. You look like a lobster dipped in hot sauce.”
Bucky scowled and slammed the door a little harder than necessary. “I told you I was fine. It didn’t feel that bad.”
“Because the sun takes its time before it peels you like a boiled potato,” Sam said, tossing his phone aside. “Come here. Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re walking like your skin’s made of glass and regrets.”
Bucky hissed when he peeled off his sweat-damp tank top, revealing shoulders and upper arms that were—frankly—glowing. Not the ‘wow, you’re angelic and beautiful’ kind. The ‘you stood outside too long trying to prove a point and now nature’s punishing you’ kind.
Sam stood and whistled low. “Damn. That’s some prime red, babe. You’re like a walking stop sign.”
Bucky groaned and slumped against the wall. “This is what I get for trying to enjoy the sun.”
“You’re a 106-year-old supersoldier, Bucky. You should know how sunscreen works by now.”
“I thought the serum would cover it.”
“Wrong.” Sam had already disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a bottle of aloe vera gel. “Now come sit your scorched, stubborn ass down.”
Bucky sat with a resigned sigh, wincing as the couch touched his back. Sam knelt behind him, gently dabbing cool aloe onto the angry red skin.
“God, that feels good,” Bucky admitted after a sharp intake of breath.
“I bet,” Sam smirked, rubbing slow circles into his shoulders with aloe-slicked fingers. “Your stupid, stupid white ass.”
“I don’t hear you complaining when my stupid white ass is naked in your bed.”
“That’s when it’s not trying to impersonate a tomato,” Sam said, but the smile was in his voice now. His touch softened, fingers trailing gently along Bucky’s spine.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional hiss from Bucky when Sam hit a particularly red spot.
“You know,” Sam said, “this could’ve been avoided if you let me rub sunscreen on you in the first place.”
Bucky tilted his head back and gave him a lazy, sun-drunk grin. “Maybe I just wanted your hands on me.”
Sam rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the one unburnt spot on Bucky’s neck.
“You’re lucky I tolerate you.”
“I’m painfully aware.”