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It's Sam's birthday in a week and Bucky has no idea what to write on his birthday card.
The two of them have been in each other's lives for almost a decade (give or take the blip years) and only in the last year or so have they been genuine friends without the buffer of one Steve Rogers. So naturally they end up spending Sam's birthday together for the first time since becoming friends.
It's been a few months since Sam Wilson officially took on the mantle and started training Joaquín to carry on the Falcon legacy and began the process of rebuilding the Avengers. Bucky has been a constant shadow at his side, following him into Cap Duties; from fighting rogue super soldiers to sitting to his right at meetings and conferences, glaring burning holes at anyone who dares to question his taking on the title.
This has allowed the two of them to get close. Closer than ever before. Being friends with Sam had given Bucky the opportunity to finally get back to who he was, before the war and HYDRA—no, it gave him the chance to be a whole new person.
He was confident again, something he struggled with since his recovery in Wakanda. "The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world," Sam had told him once and he was right, after months—years—of covering up and self-flagellating over his imperfections and the thing that made him so…non-human, he finally tore off this layer of insecurity and was surprised to be met by such warmth and joy instead of fear. The children of Delacroix loved him, loved his playground of an arm even more. Their parents were just as happy to see him whenever he was in town, greeting him warmly and offering him something to eat on his way over to the Wilson house.
He had become someone who still had the remnants of Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn, yes, but was entirely different; someone who had the scars and the trauma and the fear and the nightmares but was happy regardless. He was hopeful and that was something only Sam has given him, the hope that his future is worth waiting for.
Bucky was grateful for that, that new found community he had in Sam and Sarah and her kids. He wanted nothing more than to let Sam know of this. To let him know how deep his…gratitude goes, how without him he doesn't think he would still be here, on Earth.
But Bucky just…sucks at articulating his thoughts. His cyborg brain glitches and crashes when he thinks of Sam. He doesn't know how to say what his heart has been coding in thumps for months now.
Growing up, Bucky was an avid reader and he wrote—sometimes, when the occasion called for it (love letters to girls in his class, letters to bunică back home on behalf of his mother, so-on-so-forth.) but aside from signing his signature, jotting down memories and names of his victims and occasionally leaving a taunting note in an empty safe house for a certain nosy Falcon (back when they were nothing more than nuisances to each other) Bucky hasn't put pen to paper in decades.
And now Sam's birthday card sat blank on his desk. Crumbled papers of discarded drafts scattered around it.
"Dear Sam," He scratched through the line with a scowl. Dear Sam? What were they, forbidden lovers sending letters across oceans?
"To Sam,
Today 46 years ago the world was gifted an angel."
He paused and imagined Sam reading that. He could almost hear the boisterous laugh as the man keels over in tears. As much as Bucky loves hearing that laugh, he'll pass on the embarrassment of Sam reading such a thing aloud in front of his family and friends.
"To Sam,
Happy birthday. There's very little on earth that shines quite as bright as you, you're a light in my life and I'm so grateful to have you in it. Thank you for always being you"—
Bucky groaned and threw his head back in distress.
Why is it so hard to write a simple birthday note? It was never this hard with Steve, even when they were on the run and Bucky was herding goats, he was still able to write a sweet birthday message to his oldest friend.
Why is it so different with Sam?
Just as he reached over to scratch out the note his phone buzzed against the table, inching closer to the edge. He picked it up and looked at the screen.
Joaquín (do not answer)
He snorted before pressing the answer button. "Hello."
"Bucky, how you doing man?"
"I'm…busy. What do you want?"
Joaquín, bless his heart, chuckled lightly and said, "Well, I was just checking in. Is Sam around? I haven't heard from him in a minute."
"No, he's been down in Delacroix all week. Hasn't come home yet. I don't think he will until after his birthday." He twisted his lips in disgruntlement. He hasn't seen his partner in days, and it's been a little over 24hours since they've last spoken over FaceTime.
Sam wanted to spend some time with his family and although normally Bucky squeezed himself into the empty plane seat next to him to get there, this time he stayed behind in their DC apartment to find the perfect gift for his birthday—and write this stupid birthday card.
"Speaking of, J, have you gotten him anything yet?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah but I — I just can't seem to put words together for his card."
Joaquín let out a startled laugh, "For his card? You're…what, handwriting a letter to him or something? Just get him the cute little pre-made cards. The ones with quirky witty birthday jokes."
He couldn't help but roll his eyes. There's just no way Joaquín of all people got Sam a pre-made birthday card and called it a day. He has to have written him so epic poem or whatever people with embarrassingly enormous crushes do. "I'm not doing that, this is the first birthday we're spending together, I want to let him know I appreciate him, y'know?"
Joaquín cooed and Bucky felt his cheeks get hotter. "That's real cute, man. But sorry, I don't know how to help you. Just write whatever comes from your heart."
"That's helpful," he grumbled sarcastically. "What did you get him?"
"Some blu-ray box sets of some of his favourite films, Beverly Hills Cops and Lethal Weapon. We watched Lethal Weapon together after our first mission together."
"Oh."
"Yeah, he said it was a disgrace that I've never seen it before even though it was before my time. He can be such an old man sometimes."
Bucky broke into a smile, a flutter settling in his chest. He doesn't know what it is, but he's grown to really like hearing Joaquín talk about Sam. At first it used to get on his last nerve, the last thing he needed was a happy go-lucky pup worship Sam Wilson and drone on about how perfect he is, but as they've grown close he began to appreciate Joaquín for many of his qualities but mostly for his devotion to Sam.
In a way…Bucky could vicariously live through him, after all, Joaquín had a way with his words that Bucky seemed to lack. He wasn't necessarily Shakespeare-reincarnate or anything, but his unabashed way with words was something to admire. He said the things Bucky was too ashamed to say, the things that bubbled up in his chest but was ultimately squashed back down.
"God, I miss him," he groaned. "I'm so fucking bored, man. He's had me doing training all week with Mr. Colonel Rhodes. I like the guy but he's just as no-bullshit taker as you—"
"God forbid anyone doesn't indulge in your antics the way Sammy does."
"Damn you. He hasn't been answering my texts."
"You'll live. Aren't you going to the party next week? You'll see him then."
There was a pause over the phone, only the sound of static buzz as Joaquín contemplated his next words. "When did you last speak to him?"
"The other day."
"And you're completely fine?"
"I'm not co-dependent on the guy, no."
"What if—"
"Torres. Relax. I spoke with Sarah, she said he's just busy helping her around the house and at her job."
He sighed with relief. "Okay, thanks, Buck. What did you say you got him for his birthday?"
Bucky's eyes flitted to the small box on the edge of the desk, still not yet wrapped. He swallowed the hardness in his throat, "Er, I—I haven't gotten anything yet."
Pause.
"O—kay. You don't have to lie, man, I get it if you want it to be just between the two of you." Bucky let out a breath. "It's not sex toys is it?"
"What? No! Of course not. We're not-we're not like that, y'know, dating and all."
"Sure man. I take it I don't have to waste my breath giving you the shovel talk?"
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Get off my phone."
Joaquín barked out a laugh and Bucky had to pull the phone away from his ear with a grimace. "Alright man, I'll see you next week."
"See ya."
"Love ya."
With a kiss of his teeth he hung up, the young man's laugh abruptly cut short. He let out a sigh, his heart dropping when his eyes landed on the clean card. "Write from your heart. You can do this Bucky, it's just Sam."
He put pen to paper and once he started writing, it was like a broken dam, it was hard to stop the words flowing out.
It was mentioned how close he and Sam had gotten but something nobody, and that means nobody, knows about is how Sam has burrowed his way into Bucky's heart. He can't even remember when it had all changed but one day he woke up on Sarah's couch and it was like he was seeing Sam in a new light—but it's always been that way at the same time. He knows because the admiration, the devotion, the need to protect, it's all been there—has always been there. But now, he was so aware of it, like a lash on the cornea of his eye.
He loved Sam. It was never going to change.
But Sam doesn't…—it would be selfish to burden him with the weight of his emotions. He can't even handle them himself, how does he expect Sam to react to them? It's his first year being Captain America, he doesn't need the baggage Bucky carries weighing him down. Could you imagine how detrimental dating Bucky would be to his reputation, his new shiny image? After everything he's spoken about, Elijah, the government, Walker, the last thing he needs is for people to see him date a fuck-up, a totally messed up person with a dark history like Bucky.
No, Bucky's not going to put him through that.
He sighed as he got to the last line of the page. Not quite finished. The pen began to weigh a tonne in his hand, his grip slip and sliding on the smooth surface from how clammy his hand began to get, unable to put those words to paper. He dropped it and hung his head low.
"I can't," he whispered to himself. He pushed the page aside and pulled the card to the center.
Quickly without giving it too much thought, he scrawled a few lines down and put it on top of the present.
That's all that he can possibly give of himself without tearing apart their friendship.
—
Louisiana was cooling down in late September but still, Bucky had to shrug off his leather jacket the moment he got off the plane from Brooklyn because the humidity had been suffocating.
When he had called up the house before his flight he was prepared to rent a car and drive down himself but Sarah insisted that someone pick him up. A small part of him had hoped it would be Sam but unfortunately for him the universe has other plans and so he waited for Joaquín to pick him up.
He's surprised Sarah even let him pick him up considering he only got to Delacroix that morning, but he wouldn't be surprised if Joaquín insisted he be of use whilst everyone else gets ready for the party.
"Car for James Buchanan Barnes?" he called out cheekily as soon as he came to a stop in front of him.
"Ha Ha. Unlock this door, Torres."
"What's the magic word?"
"I'll kill you?"
"Threatening a man of colour in the south is a brilliant way to go, Buck."
Bucky felt his cheeks heat up, his eyes darted around to see if anyone had heard that, the last thing he needed was someone to recognise him and make him out to be a racist over a friend's joke. "Please," Torres unlocked the door with a grin and he got in swiftly, throwing his bags into the back with a, "Dickhead."
They were on the road, an almost two hour trip from NOLA to Sam's town.
Joaquín put on the radio after failing to convince Bucky to use the aux and put on his playlist. "A man's playlist is a private matter, Torres. Don't go digging around looking for it." He had told him.
"So," Joaquín trailed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He glanced at him through his peripheral. "Have you…y'know, written the perfect card for him?"
"What are you talking about?"
"C'mon man, don't act like you didn't ask me for birthday-card-writing advice."
"Don't hold your breath on me asking again. You're terrible."
"Just! Tell me. You must've written something worth reading right?"
"It's just a birthday card, Torres. Don't lose your head over it." He grumbled, his jaw twitching.
Joaquín snorted, "Yeah right. It was clearly more than that or else you wouldn't be so worked up about it."
"I just…wrote the regular happy birthday, here's to more yada yada."
Joaquín nodded with a hum and for a moment too long it was quiet. The silence put unscratchable itch under his skin. Judgement. He could feel it radiating from him.
"What?" He snapped finally.
"Nothing. Just- I just thought you were finally gonna, y'know, confess."
Bucky felt his body grow stiffer, his hands clammed up, a sudden ringing in his ears. "Confess?"
"Buck," he said softly and the look he gave him was even gentler. Bucky felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. "I've known you for almost a year now, it's hard to not notice the way you look at him. I felt it the moment I met you." He then grinned, "The eyes chico, they never lie."
Bucky would roll his eyes at the reference if he could, if he didn't feel his own heart beating out of his chest, thumping in his ears.
He couldn't have been that obvious, surely. For someone like Joaquín, who has only ever had eyes for Sam, to look away long enough to notice that Bucky was struggling with his own desires for Sam.
"You can't say anything, J, I'm serious. Don't even hint at it to Sam."
Joaquín frowned, eyebrows furrowed at the road ahead. "You're seriously not going to confess to him?"
"No. Sam," he exhaled. "doesn't need this right now."
"Who are you to decide what Sam needs or doesn't need?"
Bucky's eyes snapped to him. He glared. "With him being Captain America, there're so many eyes on him, the last thing he needs is for people to have more ammunition to use against him."
"and what, you think you're the ammunition? That you're somehow messed up enough that it'll hurt his image?"
"Exactly."
"Bucky, with all due respect, you're an idiot. And an Ass. You'd seriously deny Sam, and yourself, of true love just—"
"I'm not his true love—"
"—because you think there's the possibility, an iota of chance that people will not support it?"
Bucky pursed his lips. So yeah, it sounded insane saying it out loud but it's a rational worry!
He turned to look out the window to avoid looking at the young man. His vibranium fingers took hold on a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt, gently tugging at it, hoping to somehow make a physical resemblance of how he feels inside. Undone.
"He doesn't even like me like that," Joaquín made a noise of disagreement but Bucky continued, "And even if he did, he deserves more than someone who has too many issues to still work through."
Joaquín didn't reply for a moment too long and Bucky's chest squeezed in hurt because he clearly agreed. He is a mess and he has his issues—
"Bucky, you forget that you're human sometimes don't you?"
He turned to him with furrowed brows.
"You think we don't all have our issues? Even Sam, although it's blasphemous to even think it, but even he has his issues. And its not like he hasn't accepted you, if he truly didn't like your character you wouldn't be headed to his childhood house to be around his family for his birthday."
"Yeah but—"
"People will talk, so what? It won't be the first time they do, and it won't be the last. But at least you'll be happy and so will Sam."
"What makes you so sure he will be? Or that he even likes me?"
Joaquín gave him a look like he insulted his intelligence. "Bucky, please."
Bucky sighed.
"Just promise you'll tell him eventually, it doesn't have to be today or even this weekend, but he deserves to know."
"I know it won't end well."
"You don't know that."
"Fine, but when our friendship is ruined I'm killing myself in front of you to change the trajectory of your life."
Joaquín barked out a laugh so boisterous it physically boomed out of him, causing him to nearly swerve to the left. "Careful!"
With a soft smile Bucky reached his metal arm out and put it to the boy's nape, fingers threading through the short curls of his hair. "Thanks, man." Joaquín nugged the arm with his shoulder, a bright grin on his face.
When they finally arrived at the Wilson house the sky was painted in purples, pinks and oranges and there were a few parked cars out in the front. The guests had started arriving.
"Look what the cat finally dragged in," Sam said in lieu of a greeting as soon as they stepped through the threshold.
Joaquín chuckled as he eyed them and Bucky rolled his eyes. He watched as the boy jumped into Sam's arms, "Happy Birthday birdman."
Sam pulled away with a chuckle and Joaquín pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. "Love ya buddy."
"Thanks, J. Go on, go say to the kids. They're expecting treats y'know, you lot been spoiling them too much."
"What worth is the status of Uncle if you can't buy their love, amirite Buck?" he winked at the super soldier who fondly rolled his eyes and shooed him out of Sam's arms. "Don't take too long making out, Sarah said there's more than two kids and I can't be the only one giving piggy backs. They'll kill me."
"You're the youngest, you'll be fine Torres." Bucky called after him. Sharing a short laugh with Sam he stepped over and brought him in for a hug, "Happy Birthday, doll."
Sam snuggled closer and sighed into the nook of his neck.
"Long day?"
"Try long week. I missed you, man." Sam pulled away and squeezed his shoulder. "Had you been here you would've at least shouldered half the old ladies doting."
Bucky chuckled, "Sorry I missed all of that. I thought you'd want to spend your birthweek with your family."
For a moment Sam stared at him, his hand heavy against his shoulder and his eyes saying something that Bucky was not quick enough to decipher. He opened his mouth to say something but was abruptly cut off by Sarah walking through to the kitchen. "Hey James! Come make yourself useful."
Bucky shifted out of Sam's reach and shot him a smile, "C'mon birthday boy, I'm starving and craving something sweet."
"Nah, man, no cake until after everyone's had the BBQ."
"BBQ and you're not manning the grill? Should I be scared?"
"Carlos wouldn't let me, said a man shouldn't be working on his birthday."
Sarah rolled her eyes, "As if that has ever stopped you. Here, Bucky, take this cooler out." Bucky proceeded to drop his bag by the table and picked up the large cooler with ease. Sam tsked and took the bag, "I'll put it up in my room, you know if the kids see they'll end up going through it to look for your candy stash."
The moment he got out into the back yard Bucky was greeted by smiling faces, the heat of the grill and some Stevie Wonder tune playing from the speakers. In the far corner there was a small pool set up for the kids and in the centre of the garden people were gathered with drinks in hands and building a fire in the pit. The grill was by the table of food closer to the porch and manning it was Carlos who took off his sunglasses and waved at Bucky.
"You finally made it."
"Hey, man, you been on the grill all day?"
"Had to take it off of Sammy, the idiot was just sat here moping." With a chuckle Bucky put down the cooler. "You were missed around here, why didn't you come with Sam when he did?"
Before he could respond Sam came up behind him and squeezed his shoulders in, "He got a funny idea in his head that he was allowing me time with family."
Carlos raised an eyebrow, "don't tell me you white folks gotta be told you're family now?"
Bucky's cheeks warmed, "I didn't wanna intrude."
"You never thought of that when you were 'woe-is-me'ing your way onto my couch."
"Shut up. It's the first time we spent a birthday together, I didn't know whether you'd prefer time alone with family or not."
Sam softened, eyes sparkling. His hand rubbed minuscule circles on his lower back shooting shivers down his spine.
"Besides, don't you remember I came to visit you in Wakanda on your birthday?"
"You did?"
"Yeah, why'd you think I was being so nice that weekend?"
He shrugged. Sam did visit him on his birthday but back then they hardly knew each other and Bucky had only just got out of the cryo chamber so he just assumed Steve had him on check-up duty. They didn't even speak the whole time he visited, how was he to know Sam was there for his birthday? Although, now that he thinks about it, Sam was extra nice and even cooked for him and yes he had bought a new york style cheesecake but he specifically said "I was craving some cheesecake so I got some on the way, wanna share?" The words "Happy Birthday" was never explicitly said.
"Well, thank you. I'll make sure to stick to you like glue on your next birthday."
Sam grinned and smacked his back before he reached into the cooler for some drinks. Over his shoulder he caught the eyes of Joaquín who stood with Sarah and Jane. He raised his brows challengingly then nudged his head towards Sam. The message was received and declined. No way. No freaking way would he confess to Sam on his birthday.
He took the can of beer Sam was offering and cracked it open and decided to forget about his feelings for the night.
A few hours later the party was winding down and Sarah convinced Sam to start opening presents so that the kids could finally go to sleep.
The gifts were all sorts of assortment, from a vinyl collection of Dizzy Gillespie's early work from Carlos and DIY printed Captain America shirts and sweaters from Cass and AJ that they handmade at Jane's new workshop to a vintage signed copy of Jazz by Toni Morrison (a book Sam loves to reread any chance he gets) from Sarah who claimed she had help from Colonel Rhodes whom she's been getting close with (Rhodey was unable to attend the party but told Sam he had something special waiting for him at the Compound.)
Sam receives his gifts with such enthusiasm, hugging and kissing everyone in gratitude. Joaquín was a blushing mess when Sam opened his gift and broke out into a grin and said, "Finally! You're gonna room with me tonight, we're watching the whole thing!" That alone was enough to fill Bucky with unnerving jealousy but the sweet message on the card had no doubtedly put his to shame.
(To my mentor and friend, it had said. Happiest birthday to you, I've known you less than two years but its been the greatest year and half of my life. You're the epitome of sunshine and I'm grateful to always have you to turn to like a sunflower does to the moving sun. Here's to more, I hope to spend next year with you also. Love you. — Your wingman.
Dammit, he was good.)
It wasn't until all the presents were open and Sam's eyes fell on him that Bucky realised he hadn't put his present on the table since Sam had taken his bag to his room. Cheeks burning from the attention on him, he excused himself to go retrieve it.
His hands began to tremor slightly, his racing heart pounding in his ears as he grabbed the present from his bag and made his way down. Thankfully everyone had slipped into hushed whispers to each other as they waited, the music (the Gillespie record Sam insisted on playing for the remainder of the night) was soft in the background of the conversations. He slipped through the crowd like a cat and placed the small box on Sam's lap.
Nervously he dipped his head and whispered, "It's not much, I didn't… I don't know if it's any good so you don't have to open it here."
Sam's eyes were impossibly soft, a bright ember in the flicker of the fire in the pit beside them. His hand came up to hold Bucky's momentarily, squeezing it. "Buck, you know nothing is ever too small."
Everyone turned to them and Bucky stepped back, his back hitting a pole of the swing set. Sam opened the card first and Bucky felt his whole body fill with ice as he watched him read it.
"What does it say?" Someone asked softly. Bucky dared a glance around the crowd and saw everyone's eyes curious and hesitant, flitting between him and Sam as if asking for permission to hear what he's written. Bile began to make its way up his throat. God, please don't.
"Oh Captain, My Captain," he started. His cheeks rounded as he tried to contain a smile. Sarah chuckled and the tension around the crowd eased. "Happy Birthday. Here's to more, I hope I get to spend each and every one after this with you. Thank you for being you, you've helped me be me as a result of your undying kindness and authenticity—"
"Aww~" everyone cooed in union. AJ who had been sitting on the swing beside him got up and wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist, pulling him into a comforting tight hug. His heart swooned as he hugged him back, placing a delicate kiss upon his head.
"-Signed, Bucky. P.S. Pack your favourite sweater and best winter coat…? Huh?" He looked up at Bucky in confusion and Bucky nodded to the box.
As Sam was opening the gift, Bucky felt heated gaze burn into him and when he glanced up he found Joaquín staring into his soul. "Yada yada?" He mouthed teasingly. His cheeks burned.
Inside the box was a plane ticket and some papers and gloves. "Switzerland?" Sam's eyes widened.
Bucky nodded, "During our last tour of Europe, y'know when you were stalking me, you mentioned you wanted to see the alps. I thought you were just being an ass about me falling from the train there but in the past year I noticed you really do like the mountains and so I booked you a cabin in Switzerland at a skii resort so you can learn to skii as well."
Sam gaped at him, "Bucky what the hell."
He frowned. "What? Did I—did I do something wrong?"
Sam stood up and walked over to him. His hands fell on his shoulders and Bucky shuddered under the intense gaze of his eyes. For a quick delusion filled moment he thought Sam might lean in and kiss him. But instead he said, "No, man. That's just a really cool gift. Thank you, Buck." Then he pulled him in for a firm and long hug, in which Bucky nuzzled into, his thick arms encircling Sam's waist and holding him flush against him. He felt Sam breathe him in, his chest expanding in his arms. "Thank you, James."
True to his word Sam had Joaquín room with them—them because Bucky refused to sleep on the couch this time, and they all squeezed into the double sized bed and watched the first two Lethal Weapons.
Once Joaquín dozed off on Sam's chest, Sam turned to Bucky, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. "So, you coming with me right?"
"Hm?"
"To the Alps. You're coming along."
"Oh, I didn't think you'd want that. It's really just for you, doesn't gotta be a group thing."
"I know," he replied. "I just want you there. It'll be fun. Unless, you… I don't want you to be uncomfortable—with it being the Alps."
Bucky snorted. "Don't worry, Sam, it's nowhere near where I fell. Besides, I'm…alright. But if you want me there, I'll be there."
Sam placed his hand on the bulge of his arm and caressed it with his thumb. "It really would be a great experience to share with you. Do you know how to skii?"
"I don't think I ever had the chance to learn, what with spending seventy plus years in and out of the ice killing people."
Sam smacked his chest lightly with a scowl. "Then I guess the real birthday present is getting to watch you fall on your ass for a week straight."
"I'm sure you love watching my ass, Wilson."
"Oh please, ain't much there to look at."
Bucky let out a low chuckle, unable to fake being offended. He scooted down until he was on his back. "I should really go and sleep on the couch, there's no room."
Sam pulled Joaquín closer, the young man practically koala wrapping himself around the captain. Bucky gained more space but he couldn't help but dispair at the sight beside him. A sickening feeling of ugly envy clawed its way up into his chest.
"Goodnight Buck."
"Night Sam."
The three of them spend the rest of the weekend helping clear the house and work on the boat for Sarah. Come Monday afternoon, they were all packed and headed to DC.
After they flagged down a cab for Joaquín, Bucky watched as Sam turned to the kid and pulled him into a hug that Joaquín was far too enthusiastic about; jumping into his arms and wrapping his legs around him.
"Damn, J, you know I'm too old for this shit." Sam chuckled as he lowered him. Joaquín pulled away with a sly grin. "Alright sweetheart, get home safe. Thanks for coming."
"Of course, you know I love spending time with your family," he replied, patting his shoulder firmly. "I'll see you guys later."
Bucky let him pull him into a quick side hug before running into the cab. They then scrambled into the next cab and headed home.
It's been only four months since they decided to move in together, Bucky deciding there was nothing in Brooklyn but fading memories and making the move to ask to move in with Sam.
Sam's new house that was issued by the state conveniently had two bedrooms and so he was thrilled to let Bucky move in to the spare one.
Bucky hasn't lived with someone, like this—without the threat of running from the government, in… well ever. Does his family count? He doesn't count it. He's never had a roommate outside of his sisters and sometimes Steve whenever his parents were away. So it took a lot of getting used to, sharing a bathroom and making sure not to use up all the hot water when they both need to be ready at the same time, walking around half naked because he runs hot and prefers to lounge in basketball shorts—Sam had only complained the first time he walked into his kitchen to find him like that, but never reminded him after.
For the most part it was nice; it was natural sharing a space with Sam. They glided around each other like they've been doing this for a lifetime. Bucky knew where Sam kept his secret poptarts and how he liked his coffee and tea. Sam bought him a bed roll when he found out that Bucky had trouble sleeping in a bed and resorted to laying on the cold floor ("It's not too comfortable like a bed but it'll keep you from getting a cold," he had said with sad eyes even though he knew the super soldier couldn't get sick.)
Living together was easy and neither of them were too bothered about sharing every space with each other, which is why it was so easy for Sam to just walk into Bucky's room that evening when they got home as Bucky jumped into the shower.
He had forgotten his bottle of lotion back in Delacroix so he was going to steal some of Bucky's before he was done with showering. He stepped over to the desk, tsking at the mess Bucky had left it in, and grabbed the bottle of cocoa butter. Just as he was about to turn his name scrawled on some paper caught his eye.
The mess on the desk was mostly just scrunched up paper all except for one.
Taking it in his hand he turned on the lamp on the desk and began to scan through it. Within the first line he realised it was a birthday letter draft. Well, it was a lot longer than what his card had said.
To Sammy,
Happy Birthday.
I wish I could just end it there and it not mean anything but I want it to mean something so much i'm numb with longing. It's suffocating.
I've been racking my brain all week trying to figure out a way to just say how grateful I am to have you in my life but I've come to realise that I'm pretty shit with words and no words will ever amount to the tornado wreaking havoc in my mind.
I guess all I gotta say is I'm happy you're in my life. I'm grateful that you put up with me long enough for us to work past our issues and that you've brought me into your fold, let me meet your family, given me a place to stay. I don't think theres a friendship I've had thats quite like what I have with you-"
Sam frowned, confused, heart caught in his throat. His friendship with Steve was like this and more, closer, he'd thought.
Ever since he met Bucky, really met him in private moments where they did nothing but bicker and taunt each other as he tracked him across Europe, he's wanted him in his life one way or the other.
After losing Riley Sam was pretty reserved and didn't want to give his heart into another friendship so soon but then Steve came stumbling in along with Nat and it was so easy to just be friends with them, then it was easier to be friends with Rhodey and then Tony (after the initial flirting was brushed away) but he's never wanted to be friends with someone more than he wanted Bucky.
He tried, so hard. Convinced Steve to let him go to Wakanda to keep him company on his birthday, texted him so much, called even more. It wasn't until Bucky had made his way down to Delacroix and wormed his way into the hearts of his family and friends that he, Sam, had realised he didn't want to be friends with Bucky. He never did. He was stubbornly selfish in this one aspect, he wanted more between them. He just hadn't thought Bucky did as well.
Now reading this, he was beginning to see where it was headed.
"I wish I could've met your mother and father so that I could see the image of such love in which you were created, thank them for raising you and shaping you into the man that you are. The kind of man that has never given up on the people he loves, the man who's warm smile and feather weight laugh brightens my day.
I sometimes think that the universe has made me this way, a man out of time—frozen in his body, so that I could one day meet you. Perhaps I am every bit the monster they made me to be, because I think of all these decades of horror that has brought me to you and I'm filled with elation. It's all worth it, worth something if I am with you.
I'm drawn to you like the tides are drawn to the moon, like a wounded fawn seeks out their mother. You're a blessing to everyone around you Sam, including me. You've helped me see that I am worthy of a second chance but I don't know if I'll ever be worthy of you. And this is not to put you on a pedastal, I know how much you hate that and you can still be a self-sacrificing idiot, but Sammy, you really are the single most precious thing to come into my life. I thought there was truly nothing left worth living for before you, after losing all my friends and family and myself to time, it's a miracle that I was given a second chance at having a friend and a family in you. I don't think you'll ever understand or know the depths of how much I-"
And it ends there.
Sam's face is contorted in pain, cheeks wet with tears, his hands gripping the paper so tight he was afraid he'll tear it in half. He can't catch his breath and just as he let out a sob the door swung open and Bucky stepped out of the steamy bathroom with a towel around his hips.
"Sammy?"
He couldn't stop himself when he turned and ran straight into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders.
"Woah…what is it? Are you okay?"
Sam's shoulders shook as he cried softly and soundlessly into his neck.
"Sam, honey, you're worrying me. What happened?"
"This definitely wouldn't have fit into the birthday card." He pulled away and waved the paper in his face. Bucky froze, his hands still on Sam's hips.
"Fuck, Sammy, you weren't supposed to read that. It was—it was a stupid draft."
"Draft? There's barely anything left of it on the card."
Bucky slumped as he pulled away and walked over to the desk where he pumped some lotion onto his hands and started lathering it up.
"Bucky, Buck," he prodded. "James. Look at me please."
Bucky stilled but he didnt turn to look at him, instead glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. Sam stepped closer and held out the draft. Bucky stared at it like it was an offensive object.
"Read it."
"What? No, Sam, don't do this. I get it alright, I — just forget it about it please."
"Read it."
"I already know what I've written!"
"Then finish it! Read the last sentence and finish what you were going to say." He pleaded, his voice caught up in his throat. "Please."
With a tight jaw Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and took the paper and looked over it, his eyes stone cold. "I don't think you'll ever understand or know the depths of—" He shuddered before twisting his lips to the side with nerves. Under the soft lamp light Sam could see the tears glistening on his waterline. He exhaled deeply, his breath jagged, "Of how much I love-I love you. Sam, I get it okay, it's not what—"
He was immediately cut off by Sam throwing himself into his arms, his lips smacking square on Bucky's. The super soldier barely took a second to react, his strong arms firm around his middle, pulling him close.
Taking his face in one hand Bucky tilted it to the side and deepened the kiss, tasting the salty tears and cocoa vaseline on them.
Sam budged away, leaning back to look him in the eyes. For a moment that felt too long they stared at each other. Their breathing heavy, their hearts pounding. Then Bucky brushed Sam's soft lower lip with his thumb, his eyes transfixed on his mouth, before he took the plum lip between his teeth. Sam let out a breathy moan, "Nngh."
"Sam, I want you, I—I need you."
"You have me Buck, I swear." As he pressed against him the towel around Bucky's hips came undone, falling to a pile at their feet. Bucky gasped at the harsh air hitting him then pulled Sam flush against him exciting a moan out of him.
Sam pushed him softly until his legs hit the bed and he unceremoniously fell back. He leaned up on his elbows and watched Sam with curiosity and lust heavy eyes as the man stripped out of his shirt. His body was sculpted to perfection, his board shoulders and chest soft, the muscles of his abdomen tensing with every hard breath he took. A new found hunger washed over Bucky as he wanted nothing more than to grab him and lick him from the bottom up. Devour him.
Bucky scooted back up on the bed until he was sitting against the headboard, pillows situated below his lower back for comfort. He held his hands out, "C'mere, baby."
After pulling off his pants Sam crawled on the bed over to him, his lips tracing Bucky's right hand as it took hold of his face. He then straddled his thighs, their hard cocks meeting between their bellies. Bucky hissed into his mouth as he trailed his hands down to the small of Sam's back. He pressed into it, pushing his hips forward until their cocks rubbed against each other.
Sam pulled away to nuzzle Bucky's neck, inhaling in his scent. Fresh, citrusy from the bodywash they share. He rutted into him.
"Touch me, baby," he whispered against his skin and Bucky wasted no time to take the heavy cock in his hand and pull at it, letting his fingers adjust to the girth of him. Oh, how he's dreamt so long of holding him like this, of touching him where only lovers do. His body buzzed with excitement, his hand moving faster and tightening around the swollen length. He flicked his thumb across the leaking tip, letting the pre-cum drip onto his fingers.
"Ahh. That's good, baby you're so good. Nngh." He kissed him roughly, licking his tongue into his mouth and Bucky welcomed him in gladly.
Sam carded his fingers through his hair then cupped the nape of his neck tenderly, his hips thrusting into Bucky's hand. Their eyes locked onto each other in an intense hold, their movement slowing down as they stared into each other's souls.
"Do you really love me?" Sam asked, his voice impossibly small in a way Bucky's never heard before.
All he let out was a whimper. His eyes glazed over with so much longing. "I would be nothing without you—"
Sam shook his head ferociously. "Don't say that James."
He grumbled then took his own cock in his hand as well, Sam shuddering against him, then started pumping their dicks together. "You've made this life easier to bear. Ever since-since you've invited me into your life, I've…I've been sleeping better…"
Sam's lips formed into a pout, trembling with unconcealed amalgamation of pride and sympathy. Ever since they've settled after the mess with the rogue super soldiers and Walker, Sam had made it his own personal mission to help Bucky with his sleeping. He knew he couldn't stop the nightmares from happening but he could make him comfortable enough to get back to sleep in no time.
So hearing he's been sleeping better made Sam's heart soar. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Yeah?"
He nodded, "Yeah baby, waking up is so much easier now hearing your breathing from the other room. My mind and body now know the feeling of peace thanks to you."
Tears rolled down his cheeks and he sucked in a shaky breath, "I'm so glad to hear that Buck, all I've ever wanted for you was to find peace." he let out a sigh and brought their heads together, "I got you baby, I love you, I love you so much."
Bucky's orgasm shot through his body at the words, his cum painting their bellies and dripping like paint onto his hand. Sam kissed him through it and he bucked into his fist until he was coming too.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Bucky said gently kissing him.