Some things were immutable between Bucky and Sam, things that were naturally established between them. These weren't rules they had put in place, no, they were little things that just happened without warning.
Morning kisses were always Bucky.
Because Bucky was most of the time the first one awake, sometimes because of his nightmares, sometimes just because his body was still conditioned like that.
Like today, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the shutters bathing them in their light. He turned slowly to his right side, resting his head on his hand, and watched Sam sleep. It was vacation time and they hadn't set an alarm clock. Since embracing the role of Captain America, Sam has been very busy even though he avoided most press and social events.
So Bucky decided to wait for Sam to wake up on his own. He liked to watch him sleep, because in those moments Sam would completely let his guard down. Bucky hoped that it was because he trusted him completely and he promised himself every time he would do everything he could to stay worthy of this trust.
Bucky continued to contemplate Sam in silence for long minutes. He loves the shadows and lights dancing on Sam's face. The goose bumps on his arms, caused by the morning breeze that had crept in through the open window. The slightly half-opened mouth that exhaled little puffs of air at regular intervals. The eyelids that were beginning to tremble as the awakening moment approached. Sam stretched slightly and Bucky came a little closer, watching for signs that Sam was wide awake. Then Bucky saw a slight smile on his husband's lips.
He moved closer and began to sprinkle light kisses on Sam's face. Sam opened his eyes, the smile on his lips reaching them.
"Good morning," he said, his voice still full of sleep, stretching out a little more.
"Good morning Sam," Bucky replied and then closing the rest of the distance between them he put his lips on Sam's and kissed him slowly and deeply. Sam put his hands around Bucky's neck to plunge his hands into his hair.
Later when they caught their breath, Bucky rested his head on Sam's shoulder, which wrapped his arm naturally around him.
Yes, some things were immutable.
It was Sam who showered first.
It was Bucky who made the coffee while Sam showered.
Sam was the one to butter the toast.
Bucky would get the newspaper from the doorway.
Sam read the news while Bucky picked up the sports section.
It was Bucky who usually cooked because he wanted to try all sort of amazing meal with more or less success. Sam was a willing test subject, because he liked to see Bucky try new things and he was the one who did the dishes.
It was Bucky who put the laundry in the machine but it was Sam who folded and put it away. Though after discovering some of his clothes had changed color, it was also Sam who sorted the laundry before washing.
Their days were punctuated by unchanging things and changing things, because it was them, that mixture of rigour and flexibility. The army had instilled in them a certain taste for order, but the desire to be themselves, free of any disciplinary shackles, allowed them to add a certain flexibility and to have the balance they needed.
The rituals of their domestic life allowed them to face the chaos of their "professional" lives, because being an Avenger was never something related to rigor and order. It was made up of those moments when they had to meet a certain ethic and those moments when they had to improvise to get around it.
Certain things were immutable between Bucky and Sam.
Good night kisses were always Sam.
It was Sam who kissed Bucky on the back of the neck to say good night, because it was Sam who made the big spoon. Bucky had confided to him one day that being kept in ice, he felt cold all the time. So Sam decided that he would do everything he could to make sure that Bucky never felt cold again.
Sam was always the last one to fall asleep.
He loved to feel Bucky fall asleep, when the tenseness that seemed to run permanently through his body deserted it.
He loved to feel Bucky's head getting heavy on his arm.
He loved to feel his whole body let go.
He loved to feel his embrace loosen on his hand.
He loved to hear his breath take on the regular rhythm of a sleeping person.
It was at that moment that Sam also surrendered himself to the grip of sleep and completely abandoned himself to it, because he knew that the one he loved and was loved by, rested in his arms.
And that too was immutable.