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Bucky is not a patient person. It's one thing that stayed despite all the brainwashing and made his time as the Winter Soldier that much harder. But he had to try— court ordered— but more than that, he wanted to.
For Sam.
Because Sam was more patient than Bucky maybe deserved; when Bucky needed space, or couldn't be touched, or needed to hear Sam's breathing to make sure he was alive, Sam let him be. He never pitied Bucky, and never treated him any differently. Sam treated Bucky as the self-sufficient, perfectly capable man he was.
But Bucky was starting to get irritated.
After finally admitting to himself that he liked Sam, that maybe their cohabitation was slightly more than convenience, he'd been careful to not cross any boundaries that didn't suit a friendship. But Sam was confusing in all the best ways, and Bucky was never sure when a touch turned from a show of platonic love to an unspoken declaration of more.
It had been going on for almost a month now, with notable inclusions of: holding hands in crowds, petting hair while watching a movie on the couch, sleeping in the same room (or bed) after a nightmare, and a cheek kiss goodbye.
Bucky knew Southern culture was more affectionate, and that affection between men wasn't nearly as taboo in the 21st century, so he brushed it off as overthinking. He was just head over heels for Sam, and his one and only wingman was 80 years old and Sam's friend, and Sam was his live-in best friend. It was fine.
It had to be.
All this to say, Bucky was being extremely patient with the people who kept coming up to Sam at the farmer's market and drawing attention to him. The bag of apples Bucky had slung over his right shoulder was starting to dig into his flesh and bone, and his left shoulder was starting to ache, and the attention on both him and Sam was starting to get him riled up.
"Sam," Bucky mumbled. The other man only heard him because Bucky had been pressed to his side for the latest crowd of people.
Sam looked over at Bucky, grin still playing on his lips.
"I wanna go home."
"We will," Sam said, snaking his hand into Bucky's. "I just need some veggies and eggs and we can go, alright?"
"That'll take forever."
Sam gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand.
"Let's get it over with then, hm?"
Bucky was helpless to do anything but be dragged along as Sam continued to greet his neighbors ("And fans." "Be nice.") and finally gather everything he needed for dinner.
Bucky stopped paying attention at some point, becoming nothing more than a mule to carry Sam's purchases, and finally relaxed when they got back to Sam's truck. Sam took his hand back as they approached, and Bucky was much too aware of how deeply he missed the warmth and comfort of his hand.
"You did good today."
"Hm?"
"With all the people. You did good."
Bucky fought back a smile as Sam peeled out of the parking lot, beginning their short drive home.
"I did good, huh?"
"Okay, don't drag it out."
"You're the one that said it!"
"And now I'm regretting it."
Bucky barked out a laugh, considering the side of Sam's face. The strong sweep of his cheekbones, the jut of his jaw, the pink tongue that wet his plump lips.
Control yourself, Barnes.
"Well, if I did so well, shouldn't I get a prize?"
"What are you, a dog?"
"Woof."
It was Sam's turn to laugh, glancing Bucky's way as he turned into their driveway.
"Fine, you get a prize. Know what you want?"
You, Bucky's mind sang, and he wondered for a second if—
"Can I kiss you?" Bucky asked suddenly, the words falling out of his mouth before he could think better of it. Sam's eyes widened a fraction, his grip on the tote bags filled with ingredients for the dinner he had planned specifically to make for Bucky tightening. The truck stood between them, and it felt like an entire chasm. Bucky's eyes darted across Sam's carefully controlled face and found that he was suddenly nauseous.
"I– um, don't worry about that– let's get inside and–"
"You can."
A silence stretched between the two men, with Sam adjusting the bags in his hands before walking to the front door.
"Wh–"
"Let me know when you want your prize. I'm starting on dinner."
Bucky stood dumbfounded as he watched Sam enter their home. After a moment of contemplation, he ran inside and found Sam by the fridge, content to organize his purchases. He watched Bucky catch his breath (when did he get short of breath?) with a smile.
"I–um. I'd like my prize. Please."
Sam chuckled and held out his arms, beckoning Bucky towards him. Bucky went easily, finding himself between Sam's legs as the other man leaned against the counter.
"This good?"
"Yeah," Bucky whispered, afraid to break the dream that he seemed to have found himself in. Sam hummed, brushing Bucky's hair back as he took in the man in front of him.
"You ever kiss a man?"
"No. Have you?"
"Yeah. Never kissed a super soldier, though."
Bucky stilled, his hands just brushing against Sam's jaw as he watched all of his features make their minuscule movements.
"Do you… want to?"
Sam's brows furrowed slightly, and he closed his eyes. Bucky could tell he said something wrong, but wasn't quite sure what. He pulled his hand away, only to be stopped by Sam gripping his wrist.
"I'm going to be nice and chalk that up to being nervous. I don't just offer up a kiss to anyone, Bucky."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh," Sam mocked him, affection evident in his voice, and slid a hand to the dip of Bucky's waist, drawing him in fractionally closer.
"How do we– how do– what do I do?" Bucky floundered, finding his palms starting to feel damp with sweat.
"…You have kissed someone before, right?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. Do that. We'll figure it out."
Bucky gave him a curt nod, making Sam's face split into a grin.
"God, you're weird," Sam said, before pulling Bucky in close. They closed the remaining gap slowly, and Bucky almost didn't stop himself from gasping when his lips met Sam's.
It was a soft, gentle thing. Bucky was too afraid to do much else other than relish in the feeling, and Sam didn't want to scare the other man away.
Slowly, they got the hang of it, slipping into an easy pattern of interlocking lips, before Bucky pulls away with a dazed expression on his face. Sam can't help but chuckle and squeeze his cheeks, making Bucky furrow his brows.
"Hey," Bucky mumbled out, lips pink from kissing Sam.
"Hey yourself. How'd you like your prize?"
Sam let go of Bucky's cheeks and found him smiling, a shine in his eyes that wasn't there before.
"Liked it. A lot." Sam hummed, playing with the fabric in his hand. "Is this a one time deal?"
"Depends."
"On?"
Sam smiled, squeezing Bucky's waist playfully before slipping out of his grasp.
"On whether or not dinner turns out edible. Get chopping."
And when dinner ended up being delicious, Bucky was rewarded with a handful of Sam and many more kisses, with the promise of more to come.