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It’s the middle of the night… sometime between midnight and 3am, if he’s specific about it. Mostly he has no idea what time it is–an unexpected blessing, actually. He’s awake, in the middle of the night, and he knows exactly where he is, no question, no doubt, and though he has almost no idea what time it is, it doesn’t spark an ounce of fear or panic. He isn’t awake because of a nightmare, not this time (the nightmares still came, of course, but he was processing, learning to deal with them and not just suffer through them), he’s just… awake.
He turns to look at Sam, bathed in the light of the almost-full moon, and, judging by the steady rise and fall of his chest, still mostly asleep. The bed is plenty big enough for the both of them, but their arms are pressed firmly together, Sam’s bare skin to Bucky’s metal. Grounding.
He’s still learning to take the peaceful moments as they come–there was a lot of bullshit and chaos both in the world and in his head, and he knows he can’t control the world, and he’s still figuring out how to control his own mind, but he was getting there. Slowly. And here, with Sam? It’s the most peaceful place he knows.
And fuck Raynor, actually. It’s all he wants.
Really.
“I can feel you starin’,” Sam says. Maybe not so asleep as he’d thought.
Bucky hums but doesn't look away.
Sam turns and locks eyes with him. Bucky wasn’t staring bionically or whatever… at least he doesn’t think he was, but he doesn’t shy away when Sam looks back either.
“What are you thinking about?” Sam asks after a few moments.
“I want to marry you,” Bucky says without hesitation.
Sam doesn’t even have the chance to display any amount of surprise before Bucky furrows his bow in contemplation. “Actually, is that even legal?”
Sam chuckles. “Yeah, it’s legal, Buck. Well. It’s complicated, but yes, it’s legal, everywhere that matters anyway.”
Bucky doesn’t really understand how complicated it could be, either it is or it isn’t, but then again, everything with the government was needlessly complicated. That hadn’t changed much.
He hums and closes his eyes.
“You’re serious?” Sam asks after a few moments. When Bucky opens his eyes again, Sam is still looking at him. Now who’s staring.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No, I just mean. Is this an official proposal?” Sam asked, brushing their fingers together.
“Is it? Maybe? I don’t know.” He hadn’t exactly said it with intention , not that he didn’t mean it. A passing thought he wouldn’t have said out loud if Sam hadn’t been awake to ask.
“I just think, if it is, maybe at least one of us should be wearing pants.”
Bucky laughs, free and easy, then leaned in to kiss Sam.
“No no no,” Sam says, pulling back. “ Hold up. We are not telling people this is how we got engaged.”
“ Oh . Oh this is a terrible proposal.”
“Realized that, did you?”
“Can I get a do-over?”
Sam leaned closer to give him a soft kiss on the lips. “I suppose I can be convinced to overlook this egregious error in judgement on account of I deserve to be wooed.”
Bucky presses their lips together again. “You do. Absolutely.” Another kiss.
“Good, as long as we’re on the same page. Now, I’ve got approximately 4 hours before I have to be on the Hill, so unless you plan to start dispensing the wooing now, we’re going back to bed.”
Sam rolls onto his side, dragging Bucky’s flesh arm over him. Bucky settles in behind him. “We certainly can’t let you miss any beauty sleep,” he says, closing his eyes. Sam jabs him in the ribs with his elbow, not quite hard enough to hurt.
He could probably catch a bit more sleep, if he tried.
“For the record,” Sam says, a few moments later, his voice already heavy with sleep. “I want to marry you, too.” And a few months ago, Bucky might’ve needed that confirmation, might’ve doubted it if he hadn’t said it aloud. But here in the dark hours before dawn, he knows. “I’m gonna say yes,” Sam continues. “Unless you, like, really botch it. Again.”
“Does that mean no jumbotron?”
“Oh the man jokes now, does he?”
“Go to sleep, Sam.”