The worst thing about being a superhero?

Rain.

Sam should have taken his uniform off in the car. In the twelve seconds it took to get from the car door to the porch, he'd been soaked. The star-spangled Falcon suit looked amazing, but that poly/lycra/kevlar blend was retaining water like a sponge. He shivered in the cold as Bucky fumbled with the safehouse keys.

"Just a second, Sammy."

"Didn't HYDRA teach you to unlock a door?"

"Most times I didn't have a key," Bucky answered. "Just sorta forced my way in."

The water had soaked through Sam's underwear. He hopped from one foot to the other and grumbled,

"Whatever works."

"Fine, but you're paying to repair the lock."

Sam winced as Bucky slammed his left shoulder into the door. It opened and Sam staggered inside; his shoes squelched loudly on the wood floor. He toed them off, and his socks made a disgusting, watery noise when they hit the floor. Sam unzipped his uniform as quickly as he could and literally hopped out of it, leaving it to make a puddle on the entryway floor. He tugged off his t-shirt and his undershirt hit the floor a moment later.

As Sam unbuttoned his jeans, he noticed something land at his feet. A thin, rectangular something. Sam turned around to see Bucky had pulled out his wallet and was throwing dollar bills at him. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Oh, that's how it is?" Sam asked.

"That's how it is. A man has to pay to see a good show." Bucky leaned against the wall and pulled out a handful of dollar bills. "What'll this get me?"

"A night of sleeping in the car."

Bucky laughed.

"Go change, Sammy." He lowered his voice and said, "Maybe I'll even find a way to warm you up."

Sam bolted, half-ran and half-slid to his bedroom. His teeth chattered as he toweled off, the house not quite warm enough to calm the tremors. He grabbed the first pair of sweatpants he touched and pulled on the Air Force t-shirt Bucky hated. This was his favorite part of the day, the moment he got to stop being Falcon-slash-Captain America and returned to being Sam.

He found Bucky lounging on the couch in the living room, half-watching an episode of Chopped on mute. Sam smiled and leaned against the doorframe.

"I missed you."

Bucky looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"How could you have missed me? I've been with you all day."

Sam closed the distance between them, pushed Bucky's legs off the couch and plopped onto the cushion.

"Yeah, you've been with me all day. I've been saving your ass all day."

"Probably helped that you were already looking at my ass."

Sam laughed. Before the Dusting, he'd give Bucky shit just the same. It was one of the few things that hadn't changed. Another thing that hadn't changed? Barnes was a human furnace. Sam was cold and Bucky was always so, so warm. He curled into Bucky's side and grumbled,

"It's a nice ass."

Bucky shook his head, but couldn't quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. After that, words just seemed to tumble from Sam's lips.

"This is gonna sound really fucking sappy and you're gonna give me hell for it, but ... My favorite part of the day is this, right before I go to sleep."

Bucky wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders and asked, "Why's that?"

"Because right now I get to be Sam and you get to be James. No supervillains trying to kill us and no trying to convince the government I am worthy of the shield. Just me, you, and your marvelous ass."

"You wanna know what my favorite part of the day is, Sammy?"

Sam grumbled his affirmation into Bucky's shoulder.

"Waking up with you."

Sam felt himself blush as Bucky laughed.

"How's that for sappy?"

"Pretty good, Barnes. Pretty good."

Sam put one hand on Bucky's thigh, and Bucky covered it with his left. It hadn't taken long for Sam to get used to the feel of metal fingers twined between his own. It was a cold, heavy weight that reminded Sam, Yes, he's really here. Because he never really knew; what had happened in the Soul Stone? Anything? Nothing? All Sam could say is that once he got back, he realized what a good thing he had in Bucky Barnes. He'd lost his chance with a partner once, and Sam wasn't gonna make that mistake twice.

Bucky suggested, "Why don't you show me just how much you missed me?"

Sam carefully climbed onto Bucky's lap, straddling his thighs. He pressed a delicate kiss to Bucky's forehead and wrapped one arm around Bucky's shoulders. Bucky tugged at the hem of Sam's t-shirt.

"You know I hate this."

"Yup," Sam replied, popping his lips on the 'P.'

"You should take it off."

Sam groaned, faking displeasure as he answered, "Mama always said to respect the wishes of my elders."

He pulled the shirt over his head and caught Bucky smiling up at him. Barnes had the most expressive gray-blue eyes, like it was the one thing HYDRA hadn't been able to burn out of him. It was the only part of him stuck in the twentieth century. He'd seen so much horror, most of which had been committed by his own hands. He witnessed so much change, suffered through so much pain, and Sam saw it all reflected there.

"You gonna kiss me anytime soon, birdbrain?"

That pulled Sam from his thoughts for a moment. He ran the pads of his fingers along Bucky's left cheek and said, "Maybe you should shave."

He frowned.

"Thought you liked the bearded look."

"I just ... I got to thinking ..." Sam shook his head and pressed the thought toward the back of his mind. He ran his thumb along Bucky's jaw and gently pulled him into a kiss.

Bucky turned his cheek.

"Come on, Sam, if you've got somethin' to say, just say it."

"It's nothing, Elsa." He rolled his hips and said, "My plan for the evening didn't involve this much talking, anyway."

Bucky didn't buy it. He shoved Sam off with his left arm, using more force than was probably necessary. Sam landed awkwardly on the couch next to him, and grumbled his displeasure as he shifted back into a comfortable sitting position.

"I'm tired," Bucky said.

Liar. To hell with it, Sam decided. If James wanted to know, then he wanted to know.

"Would you have liked me before all this?"

"Before what?" Bucky snapped. "There's a lot of 'befores' in my life, Sam. You're gonna need to be more specific."

"Back when you were Sergeant Barnes." Sam winced, but figured he couldn't backtrack from there. "If you had been Sergeant Barnes of the 107th and I'd been Sam Wilson, just another soldier in your regiment ..."

"Why does it matter?"

"I started thinking today-"

"Well there's your fuckin' problem."

"-you've been through a lot of shit. You've seen horror I can only imagine, and they can repair your brain but I don't know what that sort of shit does to your heart. So ... I just wondered whether it took a few decades of you getting fucked up for you to be interested in me. Or if, you know, if you would have felt the same about me without having been to hell and back a couple times."

The edge in Bucky's voice faded a bit when he said, "I couldn'ta been with you the way I'da wanted to be. Not back then."

"I wasn't talking about what the rest of the world would have thought about us, James, I was asking about you."

Bucky shrugged and admitted, "I'd've had a difficult time keeping my hands off you, Sammy. If you really wanna know what I was like, I was louder. That's the biggest difference." He nodded to himself and frowned again. "I used to be much louder than I am now."

"Okay."

"If you're asking whether that version of me would have been your friend? No. You would've taken another place at Steve's side, my place, and I would've resented you for it. But if you're asking whether Sergeant Barnes of the 107th would have fallen in love with you as quickly as I did? Yes. I fell in love because you're Sam Wilson, pain in my ass and a good fuckin' man. I'd love you in 1943 and I love you in 2023, so ... that's it. There's your answer."

Sam leaned over and gently pressed his lips against Bucky's. He felt his boyfriend's lips widen beneath his own, unable to contain a smile. Sam pulled back to say,

"Pretty good answer, Barnes."

Bucky turned to wrap his hand around the back of Sam's neck and he slowly leaned in, kissing him just a bit harder. It was a relaxed embrace, like they had days to do nothing but hold each other. Reality was just out of reach as Sam parted his lips so Bucky could deepen the kiss. Sam had one arm around Bucky's waist, each of them with one side awkwardly pressed into the back of the couch.

"I love you too, you know." Sam's words were just the slightest breath against Bucky's mouth.

"Yeah, I know, Sam." Bucky kissed him again and repeated, "I know.