(Note: This is definitely not canon complaint, but it does follow the line after the show. I really don't think Bucky ever chooses to keep quiet or Sam hides his emotions, but seeing Bucky's conflicting looks in TWS and CW brought me here.)
This story talk about psycological problems and implicitly mentions sexual activities, so be careful.
Enjoy!
Summary.
And if Sam's heart wasn't broken when he saw Bucky scared, it definitely broke when relief pierced all of his features and his forehead reached Sam's shoulder, along with a relaxed, relieved, choppy sigh, as if Bucky had hoped Sam would somehow reject him.
Sam doesn't need to hear him to know Bucky is there.
(Or Bucky decides not to speak and Sam decides to stay)
More than words.
Even when it was all over, the paperwork and the super soldiers, and Bucky returned to Brooklyn to get rid of his apartment, he still didn't answer the text messages. But he was no longer ignoring him, instead Bucky would call Sam and ask some idiocy like 'All right?', because of course he wouldn't bother to read the message.
Sam didn't take it personally, they spent a lot of time together before Bucky came back to Brooklyn, they had talked about everything and nothing, and now Sam could really see Bucky. Not the one Steve rememberedwith nostalgic eyes and certainly not the killer Sam had met, no, this one was the Bucky who was knowing himself. And to be honest? Maybe Sam likes him.
But he didn't say anything while Bucky was in Louisiana and while they were talking on the phone, because Bucky was getting to know himself and it just didn't seem like a good idea for Sam to interfere with his own feelings.
So, his unanswered messages didn't stop and the calls continued, sometimes they were short, just to give a silly little summary of their day, and other times they stretched into the early morning, when the whispered words managed to quench the noisy nightmares, when the anecdotes worked like bedtime tales, when there was static witnessing smiles and laughter, and when they were just talking about nonsense because it seemed too early to hang up.
And then Bucky responded to his usual message of 'Hey, how was your day?' with a 'Good. Mrs. Davis came back from her vacation, so tomorrow I'll leave the apartment'. Sam knew immediately that something was wrong, something that was unrelated to the response message.
'Can I call you?' wrote quickly. Sam spent a couple of minutes watching as the three points on Bucky's side appeared and disappeared until he finally received a message.
'I can't speak', Bucky replied.
Almost immediately he received another message: 'Will you be going to DC soon?'.
'Yes, you'll be there?' he asked, with his fingers anxiously pounding the sides of his phone.
'Yes. I can only think of that place to settle', received Sam. He felt a turn in his stomach when read the words, couldn't he think of another place? Hadn't he thought of him? Not necessarily with Sam, just there, in Louisiana.
'I'll be there tomorrow morning, you?', he wrote instead of typing every one of the doubts that were accumulating in his head.
'Before noon'.
And the following messages were simply superficial details, whether Sam still had a house there, whether Mary Hill could know they were in DC, whether they were somewhere before Sam's house, and a bunch of other things that kept plunging Sam's stomach into a bad feeling.
'Take care of yourself, Buck.'
'You too, Sam.'
It wasn't a hunch like the ones he had before getting involved in a fight, this was a bad feeling that something wasn't right, something was out of place, and that the hunch was about Bucky didn't help Sam's dream at all. On the contrary, he had nightmares until the sun peeked over the horizon.
The truth is Sam had no plans to go to DC anytime soon, but he wanted and needed to see Bucky, just to make sure he was okay. It was something slightly alien to his desire to see him because Sam likes Bucky and wants to see him all the time.
They had agreed to meet at Sam's house, a house that looked more naked than the last time he was there. His stuff was gone, but he didn't expect them to be either, after two years on the run and another five years gone, Sam was literally grateful to still have this place. A courtesy of Steve's hope that one day he'd show up again and decide to return to his home in DC even though everything pointed to him never coming back. As it may have been, Sam has yet to make the place presentable and livable. He doesn't try to make him look the way he remembers, doesn't feel the same, and Sam doesn't feel like getting depressed about everything he doesn't have anymore.
At 11:23 Bucky knocks on his door and looks anxious, disoriented and genuinely grateful that Sam has opened the door.
"Hi", he waved with a smile, pulling away from the door to let Bucky in. He received no response, Bucky simply walked in and set about watching the house. "I promise you it wasn't like that before", he excused himself with a laugh. Again, he got no answer, nothing more than a tiny smile. "Youokay?" he asked, letting the worry slip through the words and surely in his gaze.
Bucky watched him with very large eyes before nodding, then looked away and rummaged inside his jacket. He pulled out a black notebook, thin and the size of his hand, opened it where a red ribbon separated the pages and extended it towards Sam, barely giving a fleeting look at brown eyes before returning to the notebook.
Sam was very, very confused, but still took the notebook and looked at it superficially, the first page had names scribbled and crossed out, at the bottom of the page was written the word 'end' with rough calligraphy, almost furious, Sam is sure that the letters are marked on a couple of sheets back. However, he didn't check it, his eyes followed the other page and he found a paragraph written in softer letters, meant to be decipherable and understandable. Readable.
'I listened to you, and I did. I spoke to them all and gave them the closure I thought they deserved. I feel good, better than before, so maybe you were right. I know it won't be easy, anyway, I still have to work with me for some time, you know, know what the hell I'm going to do now. I'll leave the fights for a while. I've talked so much, I've said so much that now it feels like I'm done with my words, I decided to stay speechless, keep quiet until everything is in order. And that's why I can't keep fighting. But I'm going to be with you. We're friends and I'm going to support you, that's my job'.
Sam is still very, very confused. He reads the paragraph at least twice more before looking at Bucky, who keeps his eyes in his hands and lips closed. Then Sam understands. I decided to stay speechless, to keep quiet. He doesn't understand why, but he understands what's going on, he doesn't blame him and he's certainly not going to ask for explanations.
"Hey", he called in a soft voice, closing the notebook to return it. "You ok?" he asked when the blue eyes returned to his own.
Sam's heart had no choice but to break, because there was Bucky, exhausted, half shy, half ashamed and with a lot of emotions shining in his eyes. Not a single word came out of his lips, but Sam knew he was scared, his eyes and all his posture betrayed him without a doubt. And Sam's heart was broken because Bucky seemed scared of him, of Sam.
"I'm glad you're done with the names, really", he continued, showing a small smile and approaching to put his hands on Bucky's shoulders. "And it's okay, Buck, don't need to use any words with me. We're fine".
And if Sam's heart wasn't broken when he saw Bucky scared, it definitely broke when relief pierced all of his features and his forehead reached Sam's shoulder, along with a relaxed, relieved, choppy sigh, as if Bucky had hoped Sam would somehow reject him.
Sam wouldn't, he never could.
Not because Bucky trusted him, not because he followed him in a fight that no one knew how to fight, not because he's an old friend of Steve's, not even because he likes him, but because they're friends. And Sam would be there for him forever.
"C'mon, I think there's some coffee in the kitchen, I'll do a little bit as you write what you plan to do now" he incited, clapping Bucky's arms. He swallowed the questions on the tip of his tongue, the mess of emotions inside him and showed him his best mocking smile. "Will you join a book club? I heard they give good snacks. Or maybe you find a good asylum where you can go weaving on Thursdays, you know what they say, being with people your age is always fun".
Bucky smiles and his shoulders stir in a silent, completely mute laugh, Sam needs all his self-control to keep the jokey smile on his own lips despite the turmoil in his stomach. It seems that the overturns will be today's thing.
Sam just doesn't know how to sit and not listen to Bucky, he doesn't understand how it's going to work, but he's determined to stay.
"While you find out you can stay here", he offered, consciously turning his back on him so as not to press for an answer. "I told Sarah I'd come back later, superhero stuff is supposed to be more than dressing up well and kicking butts, so... here I go".
When Sam looked at him again, he almost drops the cups of coffee, because that in Bucky's eyes can't be but pride, a little fun and maybe even tranquility.
"So, you stay?"he asked in a strangled voice, bringing the cup to the metal hand on the table.
Not that Sam was drowning, it's that seeing Bucky's emotions firsthand, with a glance into his eyes, feels like a slap in the face that shakes his entire world. It's definitely not the same to discover his emotions by the tone of his voice than with a look, it's completely different, Sam feels like it's an everything because Bucky is literally exposing himself without any filter. Just with his eyes.
By God, one look and Sam's knees bend like a teenager. Jesus takes care of America and its Captain.
"Well, you're staying in the guest room, but if you can't sleep you can take the couch, okay?"and Bucky's enthusiastic nod leaves no doubt in Sam, he wants to be here, he wants to be with Bucky.
Then, as the hours went by, yes, hours, Sam confirmed that this would be very complicated. Not impossible, but difficult. He assumes it will be a matter of getting used to it and establishing some new language that works for both, because yes, Sam is simply not used to not hearing a cunning answer, a joke, monosyllables, or simple growls.
But he doesn't give up. Even when Bucky writes furiously and quickly to respond to their conversations, those that demand more than a nod, a denial, or a shrug. Sam doesn't give up and waits, sometimes leans over his shoulder and reads while Bucky scribbles, other times he waits patiently until Bucky extends his answer in the notebook, rarely leaves him alone while he writes, and always tries to be there, attentive to gestures, grimaces, the movement of his fingers, the sliding of the pen over each letter. As if he were reallyusing his voice and not a pen to speak.
Suddenly talking seems like everything; that is, Bucky isn't even going to shop because he doesn't ask for anything, because he doesn't talk.
This definitely becomes a problem when Sam is contacted by SWORD, and they come to some sort of agreement where he's not subject to acting only when the government asks him to act but when there are risky situations where he can intervene. There are agreements and a couple of boring joints, but at the end he stays. That means he'll leave Bucky when he has to leave to be a superhero.
"It's not like SHIELD, Buck, and I won't be as involved anyway, Sharon's already back in the game so... at least there's someone to trust", he muttered thoughtfully.
Honestly, SWORD was the least of his worries at the time, Sam was immersed in looking for solutions for Bucky. He couldn't take him, and he couldn't leave him there until he came back.
Bucky hits his hands with his notebook, calling his attention to the new scribbles in black ink.
'You have to go? Why are you so worried?' it said the notebook. Sam sighed slowly before denying and showing a tight smile.
"It's nothing," he lied. "Just think it's weird to come back and not have someone there, you know, someone like Steve or you".
Bucky nodded narrowly, hesitant and confused, took the notebook and wrote quickly on his leg.
'Torres?' he asked. Sam smiled little and shrugged his shoulders.
"Know I can call him, it's just..."
'He's very young', Bucky completed, nodding with something resembling nostalgia.
"Yeah, very young. Also", he began tentatively, looking down at his hands, not quite sure what to do with them. "Don't want to leave you, Buck. I don't... I guess I've felt good here, with you, and now, knowing I have to go wherever there are problems, I don't know, it doesn't feel right to leave you".
He knows Bucky is watching him, but Sam doesn't look up until he hears the familiar tearing of the pen against the paper. The notebook hits his hands again, Sam reads it silently. Read it again. Read it once again. And another one.
'I won't be alone. Neither do you if you don't want it', there was a blank space, as if Bucky had considered writing something else immediately. Sam assumes the consideration was for the statement below the blank. 'Wanda wrote, asked where I was and if she could come'.
"Wanda", he repeated in a babble. Bucky slowly nodded and rummaged through his phone pockets. "You talk to Wanda?" he said in a murmur, more for himself than for Bucky. The soldier anyway shook his head in a nod while showing him the short conversation with her.
Sam held the phone while Bucky was writing back into the notebook.
'She said she wanted company, wanted to be helpful. Maybe she can accompany you, or maybe she can stay with me'. Bucky moved her eyebrows in a strange way, between suggestive and funny.
And Sam just couldn't believe it. When did this happen? Bucky and Wanda?
He had a slight memory of the three, plunged into a silent respect for Stark's death, the three estranged from the majority, seemingly united by having been taken in at some point by Steve. But Sam can barely remember any of that because suddenly, he was walking with Steve, willing to accompany him once again, then he was talking to a very old Steve, and almost right away he was holding a shield that felt very heavy to him.
He especially remembers Bucky, the smile he gave him, some kind of approval in his gaze and the walk they made to the airport to go their separate ways.
Sam doesn't really know where Wanda went, how and with whom she's been, and of course he hadn't imagined that, of all the people, she would talk to Bucky.
But there they were, two days later, with Wanda standing in front of her door, looking cautious and melancholy. Then Sam understood a little bit why, of all the people, Wanda had called Bucky: they both shared that look of having lost something important, as if they had been taken away and their minds had decided to run after it while their bodies remained still.
Absent. Both looked absent.
Obviously, the solution exploded in his face, Wanda would stay with Bucky.
"Are you working for SWORD?" Wanda asked, her hands intertwined over her cup of coffee to hide a tremor that was now part of her.
"I'd say with them," he snorted. "Since SHIELD and the agreements, well, there's no longer as much trust as before. Why? You plan to join?" he asked. Wanda opened her eyes a little more and smiled.
"Noway", she declared flatly. "They don't like me, and I definitely don't like them".
"Anything I need to know? Y'know, something I shouldn't mention", he carefully questioned. Wanda widened her smile and denied.
"You're not supposed to know where I am, don't you? It'd be… nice if you kept it for a while", she suggested, taking the cup to her lips.
"Of course", he replied immediately. "Then you'll stay", he assumed more than he asked. Wanda let out a laugh and nodded.
"Just as long as I can, Sam".
"As long you want, Bucky and I like the company".
And if Wanda had given him an analytical look, suspiciously like the one Sarah used with her nephews, Sam pretended he didn't notice it. Actually, Sam devoted himself to pretending as much as he could from then on.
There was no problem, Wanda had understood Bucky as soon as he spread out a different notebook than the one he used with Sam; and unlike him, she had only read the little paragraph once before nodding and offering, "You want to make it interesting? Learn sign language. We can learn together, if you want, while finding a fun hobby".
Bucky had said yes during dinner, after refusing to let her sleep on the couch, after insisting that she take the guest room and after considering it for long minutes when Wanda suggested it again.
Sam got involved in some of his lessons before SWORD calls reached his phone and the world began to crumble in some places.
That's where he started pretending.
He pretended he wasn't worried about leaving Bucky, pretended he didn't feel displaced when he got home and found a language between Wanda and Bucky that he could never match, pretended he wasn't avoiding engaging in conversations with the two of them at the same time, pretended he was understanding the signs Bucky was gesticulating when in fact he could only imagine his hands on his face. pretended he was tired when he didn't really want to talk to Wanda, he pretended everything was still the same when in fact he was melting inside.
Not literally, Sam just wanted to explode into confessions in front of Bucky and Wanda. He was dying to speak to them with the truth and tell them that he felt a little excluded, that if there was something brewing there, they should tell him because Sam is a little bit in love with Bucky and Wanda is like a sister to him.
He wants to cry, to be honest, because never, in his whole life, has he wanted to be as selfish as he is now, he has never wanted so much something he can't have, something he can't even try to fight for.
It's selfish, no doubt. He wants to tell Bucky how he feels, he wants to tell him he really likes him, he wants Bucky to talk again and tell him if he's ruined this, he wants him to tell if there's anything else with Wanda, if he's being a bad friend or if they're still friends. Sam just wants Bucky back, the Bucky who smiled at him on the dock and didn't hesitate to hug him as soon as he arrived, the Bucky who talked to him and called him 'Cap' enthusiastically.
He wants Bucky and that's it.
But it doesn't say or do any of that. Instead, he arrives from a small mission, greets and locks himself in his room without saying anything else.
He's trapped. Very trapped.
He's considered calling Rhodes, Sarah and even Joaquin, but he never does, he can't do it. This is Bucky's business, and Sam has no right to tell it just because his feelings are so involved.
"Can I pass?" Wanda asked, knocking on the door and waiting.
Sam stands up and opens the door in its entirety, because Wanda clearly has every intention of talking and Sam isn't having a serious conversation within five feet of Bucky on the threshold of his door. He knows about enhanced skills and stuff, but he also knows that Bucky won't hear behind his closed door, he knows it with the same assurance with which he knows the sun will be as bright and hot as every day.
"It's everything okay?" greeted Sam, returning to his horizontal position on the bed, with the legs dangling and the hands on his chest.
"It's just what I was going to ask", Wanda replied, leaning next to him and watching the ceiling in silence.
"Just tired," he said. It's not a lie, he's really tired, just not for the most obvious reasons. "Something'shappening?"
Wanda turns her head to face Sam's profile and sighs short.
"I'm worried about you," she finally let go. "Bucky's too", she added in a murmur.
Sam nodded slowly, not quite sure what to answer.
"My signal language is too bad?" he tried to joke. Of course, he knew that shit wouldn't work with Wanda, Sam just got an accusatory look. "Sorry. Why are YOU worried? Did I do anything? Or didn't I?"
"Both", she replied easily. "You're not being honest, Sam".
"About what, Wanda?"
"Your feelings", she shrugged down, turning her gaze to the ceiling, now it was Sam who took it upon himself to observe her profile. "Bucky is too insecure to realize it, but I'm not. And you neither. So you're lying. You're not being honest about how you feel about him".
"We're friends", he said weakly.
"And that's why it should be easier, don't you think so?" she smiled, just as a mother would do to her children as she tries to explain something that isn't that complicated. "You know him and he to you, shouldn't it be easier to sit down and take it out?"
Yes, in theory, it should be simple.
"It's not that easy, Wanda", he sighed. "I can't do that to Bucky".
"What? Let him tell you how he feels?" she insisted with raised eyebrows, finding Sam's eyes in motion. "Believe me, Sam. He wants to be with you".
"I know", he replied immediately. "But not in the same way. Not like me. And… just look at him, he's doing an amazing job for himself, he doesn't –he doesn't need me to interfere that way, Wanda. I just… it'd confuse him and walk away, and no. I want to be with him. Just like that".
"You're not being honest", she repeated in a singing voice. Sam snorted and denied.
"No, I'm not," he conceded. "But I want to take care of him".
"And you think this is the way to do it", she snorted, exasperated and amused. "Right, however you want. I just think it'd be better if you talk to him".
Sam also thinks it, that it'd be better if he talks to Bucky and tells him how he feels, but he won't. That sitting down to talk to Bucky puts his nerves on edge, and knowing that Wanda is out there, aware of his feelings for Bucky, doesn't encourage him at all to do anything but continue with his easy conversations with Bucky.
He then begins to believe that Wanda is actually pushing him to talk, literally pushing him to scream how he feels, almost as if she's making him walk backwards toward a cliff. That's how it feels.
Because when he gets home, in a manageable, relaxed or happy mood, he deflates like a balloon when he sees the conversation of signs that Wanda and Bucky engage in fluently, or when he sees the smiles of wrinkled eyes in the direction of Wanda, almost always when he sees his arms or hands scrambled while there's a program on the TV, or when he feels an intruder in his own kitchen while Wanda and Bucky prepare dinner. So, yeah, Wanda is pushing him to speak up.
And he does, but not with Bucky.
He knows he's wrong, acknowledges that it was a moment of weakness and, above all, understands that it was no one's fault, only his own and his stubbornness to keep quiet.
Wanda had been with them for over three months, and Sam was fine with it because the world lately was crumbling like a dry cookie, but when the world wasn't falling down Sam had to watch and witness the good interaction they had. And Sam knows that Wanda has no romantic intentions with Bucky, he really knows, but it's impossible to ignore the bubble they have for them, specifically the sign language that Sam hasn't been able to learn because the world falls down on him and he can't stop it, he can't do anything.
So, when he comes from a bad fight, and Wanda greets him with the news that Bucky has decided to go out and buy a book on his own, Sam bursts into an embarrassing cry that Wanda doesn't understand but doesn't hesitate to comfort.
"Hey, it's okay, he'll be fine, I promise, I've gone with him before, nothing will happen", the redhead repeated, because she doesn't understand that he doesn't cry for Bucky, he cries for him and for them, because it will never be the way he wants and because he misses him. "Sam, everything will be fine", she insisted, squeezing his arms around his neck. "Look at me, tell me what's going on", because, apparently, she had already figured out this isn't about Bucky.
He feels bad, no doubt, but he knows it will be worse if he stays quiet and risks there being a next time where Bucky finds him and not Wanda.
He obeys and speaks, let selfishness freeze his muscles, fear take over his hands and all emotions fall like tears.
"Just don't think I'm good for him, Wanda. Look at me, I'm a mess because I can't talk to him, I've abandoned him so much that now he understands himself better with you, and I... I haven't even been able to learn a sign word. He... he's okay without me, he's okay like that. I know he's not broken, I understand why he doesn't talk to me, I understand why he doesn't talk to anyone, but... God, I miss him, and I just... I'd like to hear him once again.
Wanda doesn't tell him that Bucky needs him or emotionalshit, no, she listens to him silently until Sam's jaw hurts and his sobs are nothing but lost sighs; then she cleans his face and took him to his room, brought him a pair of clothes and promised to come back with something to reassure him. Until she returned Sam realized that he hadn't taken off his clothes and he was still in the same place.
"Sam", Wanda whispered, as would Sarah when she saw that Cass is trying to get to the cereal standing on tiptoe, or that AJ is doing his best to repair some of his brother's toy.
"Sorry", he apologized in a hoarse voice. He took the cup of tea, but he didn't drink, he kept his eyes on the floor analyzing all the mess he had just gone through but felt like someone else, someone else who wasn't Sam. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Wanda denied and stroked her arm in an attempt to convey tranquility.
Sam appreciates the attempt, but it's futile. He's embarrassed, sad and feels like he should apologize to Bucky, he doesn't really know why, but he wants to do it, he wants to tell him that he regrets not being the friend he deserves to have.
"It's okay", Wanda said in return, smiling small and drinking from her own cup. "You also have a right to feel, you know? Crying and screaming, all that kind of things".
"I know, but I didn't expect you to be here to witness it. I'm really sorry".
"Don't be, don't apologize for feeling something, Sam. I get it".
Wanda understood and still understood after Sam fell asleep not knowing what book Bucky managed to get. Wanda stopped pushing and maybe pretended she had things to do in town when Sam was home to give them some space as compensation for so many unintentional blows to poor Sam.
She definitely didn't know that was the last blow before Sam fell off the cliff without his wings or a fucking parachute.
'I want you to knowsomething', Bucky showed, with his fingers clenched around his pen and his lip trapped under his teeth. Sam was sure some would break if Bucky dared to force a little more.
"Okay," Sam nodded, sitting next to Bucky, and pretending that his heart wouldn't go down his throat as he felt the other man's warmth so close. Bucky smiled nervously at him before leaning the pen against the paper, however, he wrote nothing. Sam made his shoulders collide and returned a tiny smile to the pair of blue eyes, insecure and expectant at the same time. "You sure you want to write it there?"which actually means 'You sure you want to say it? You really want me to know?'.
Bucky looks away, takes a deep breath and nods with renewed determination. Rest the pen in the notebook and write slowly, very slowly. It goes so slowly that Sam prefers to look away from the window while the strumming stops, but not even when he stops hearing the pen against the paper does he dare to look.
Should he look? Bucky seemed so insecure at first, as if he really didn't want to show him, maybe Sam can tell him that it's not necessary, that he'll wait until he's totally convinced. Yes, that's what a good friend would do.
Except that Bucky bumps his shoulders and drags his notebook until it's in front of Sam, the blue eyes keep running through his features as Sam looks down and reads. Read it again. One more time. And another one.
'I love you', a little blank space and then, in tight letters, as if they wanted to represent a growl between teeth or a whispered confession: 'And I may be in love with you, just a little bit'.
Sam blinks and looks up in time to watch Bucky's nut dance, his eyes take a long time to find the blue pair, but they can't blame him, he feels like he's watching the Bucky who talks, lets out cunning comments and snorts monosyllables. Sam can almost hear the words spoken in that hoarse voice, sounding threatening to avoid a mockery, he imagines it with a selfless tone, as if it were a statement of the climate and not a loving revelation.
"Really?"he asked awkwardly. Bucky raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly.
God, Sam was going to die from that pair of eyes and everything he could read right there, everything seemed to be written with the same black of his pupils: 'I love you, and I may be in love with you, just a little bit'. And yes, Sam is lost, very lost.
"That's good, seriously, I thought I'd be hanging for you forever", he revealed with a smile, really relieved to know he's not alone and entangled in a mess of emotions.
Sam sees Bucky's smile grow on his lips as the most beautiful thing he has ever seen around the world, the whole world. It's just perfect and really feels bad for spoiling it, but he has to ask or possibly will vomit his heart on the table.
"It's okay if I kiss you? Because I think I'm going to kiss you right now", he spoke quickly, moving his body and hands slowly to warn Bucky of the contact. Need not, Sam got to see Bucky's frantic nod before his lips crashed over his own.
And if emotions had been a mess at the time, then they became catastrophic.
Lots ofhands here, lips over there, clothes over here and suddenly there was skin within reach, skin everywhere and there definitely weren't enough hands.
Then it was the end of Sam.
The thing is this: Bucky had stopped talking to the point wherehe only opened his lips to eat, there were still low sounds, those that he made when he thought of something, or when he was upset, when something seemed unpleasant to him or when he snorted a laugh; but they were that, little sounds that barely reminded Sam how Bucky was heard.
But that was before his lips met and Sam started to go down the line of his jaw until he found his neck, until his tongue decided to try how Bucky taste and until Sam dared to press himself closer. Then he heard it, that sound between groan and moan that had escaped from Bucky's lipsand that he keep repeated as Sam's lips went down a little more.
Sam's hands, pants and all neurons melted with that simple sound, low, hoarse and delicious sound.
God take care of America and its Captainbecause Sam's knees bend and he doesn't try to get up. No, there he stays. Stroking all that skin, kissing as much as he can and asking with one look if it's okay if this goes further. The answer is an absolute yes of eyes blacker than blue, bright of desire, radiant of happiness and drowned in unspoken words.
With every touch, every kiss, every look and every lick Sam looks for where and how to get more of those delicious sounds.
Once they start, they don't stopanymore, Sam doesn't get tired of repeating his name as they move in sync and then with erratic movements because this is just too much, hedoesn't get tired because in return he hears his voice, listens to Bucky and understands that this feels good. That they're fine.
"Bucky?" hemuttered against his hair. "I'm completely in love with you, not just a little bit. And I love you as you can'timagine".
Sam receives a soft kiss his collarbone and a slight stroke on his abdomen, just the rubbing of a metal finger in patterns that form letters and at the end they manage to say'I love youtoo'and what he bets is a crooked heart.
"Rest, Buck".
Wanda doesn't mention that they both left the same room and that neither bothered to have dinner last night, no, Wanda smiles at them and serves them coffee as she tells them that there's a new Chinese food restaurant in the city promises to try the food on the weekend before finishing.
The routine doesn't change much, it's just small details. Sam keeps going out to save the world, Bucky makes his wrist movements more fluid with sign language along with Wanda, and Wanda often takes walks around town when Sam is early at also takes Bucky's hand and leaves it on his lap while they are together, Bucky sleeps with Sam and Wanda is still in the guest presses buttons until he gets enough sounds from Bucky to die at that moment, Bucky kisses Sam's back and seeks to trace with his fingers cheesy words that Sam doesn't dare say out loud,he writes nicknames and then traces over and over again the word 'I love you' along his back,that does things to Sam's stomach and neurons.
Things don't stop being complicated because Sam and Bucky are Sam and Bucky, they don't love each other and they're cotton candy, no, they're little shits, annoying and then they love each other, that's how they work, that's why they're here, because first they're friends and then they're everything. That's how it is and they're not going to change it, so fights are inevitable, and they're a headache when Sam gets no more response than sharp eyes and absolute silence.
You have to understand that Sam can't start screaming because then he would be the madman, of course, him and not the guy who just denying and turning his back on him without saying a word.
But that's how they work. And Sam's heart isn't small enough to leave Bucky alone on his side of the bed. He couldn't do it even if he wanted to.
So, he kisses his neck, mutters: —It's okay—even though it looks like nothing is okay and falls asleep with his arms wrapped around him.
Because that's how they work, and Sam has simply begun to make peace with what is his life now.
WhenWanda meets them one morning to talk, Sam knows she is leaving, he recognizes a strange glow in his eyes that makes him understand that she has already caught what she was following, that now she only needs to reach it with the rest of her it's Sam and Bucky's turn to understand and let her go with Strange.
"Call me if you need anything, okay?" whispered in Sam's arms, which nodded and thanked until Wanda stepped aside to fly out into the knows much more than she lets see, almost like a mother does with her children.
And again, it's just Sam and Bucky. They manage so that the change in routine doesn't leave a hole in their chests and dedicate themselves to taking advantage of the time they have together. They make their lives one and build it day byday, with words on paper, kisses on the skin, drowned sounds, another pair screamed, subtle touches, brazing touches, smiles pressed on smiles and a lot of things that are not said, that they find themselves in the eyes of the other.
That's how their life is, and they keep it until it seems like it always was this way, until suddenly the house feels theirs again and anniversary gifts adorn shelves, walls and they have their own language of looks, strokes on the skin and sounds that don't need to be words all the time.
But then there's a specific night, when Sam is already more than used to talking and receiving the pen-against-paper sound in response, where Bucky isn't in sight and Sam doesn't know what to do about it. Bucky comes out, yes,now he does it without the fear of being forced to talk, but Bucky always leaves notes toSam. And this time there's nothing.
When Sam is considering taking his wings and going out to look forhim, the door opens andreveals a Bucky in sweaty sportswear and a disoriented gesture before Sam's worried eyes.
"Where were you?" he asked with what must have been indignation. Bucky smiled and showed him the badge of agym. With that easy smile and those sweaty clothes, God, Sam can't be as angry as he'd like. "Areyoufucking me?" Sam moved his eyebrows in a funny wayand denied with wide eyes. If he didn't take away his stupid smile Sam would haveto turn his back onhim, only to concentrate on what he was saying and not on what that smilesuggested. "Why didn'tyou leave a note?"
Bucky shrugged his shoulders and took the backpack off his shoulder, rummaged through a side pocket until he found his notebook, the last one he had bought to talk to Sam,handed it tohim unopened and went into the bathroom.
'I'm just trying something again,'the last line read. Sam snorted and resigned himself.
This was a new routine, Bucky going to the gym in the afternoon and waiting for Sam in the shower. Sam has no complaints, only the lack of notes, but usually forgets about them when Bucky holds himaround the bathroom wall and his body is the only thing that makes sense. Sam really doesn't complain, he appreciates the changes that are appearing in the body of the other and enjoys it, he draws on the new muscles, on those that were already there and on all the skin that can reach.
And then Bucky makes another change.
'Would you like to train with me? I don't mean torun'.
"Thenwhat? You want to learn how to use the wings?" Sam hinted with a funny smile. Bucky grimaced and effusively denied as he wrote on a napkin.
'Combat, Sam'.
"Combat" he repeated, following Bucky's hasty move to write something else before he continued to speak. He tried. "Hand-to-hand? That kind of combat?"
Bucky gives him a smile between defiant and embarrassed as he nods and slides the napkin on the table until Sam catches it along with a pair of fingers that he won't let go even when he already has the napkin in front of his eyes.
'Showme what Captain America knows how to do without the shield'.
"Okay, I'll show you" he promised, taking his fingers to his lips and leaving a kiss on his knuckles,pretending he's not ashamed to do that kind of cheesy thing in exchange for pretending that that color on Bucky's cheeks isn't an adorable blush.
And then they start the fight, in and out of the gym, in and out of bed. The important thing was the hand-to-hand combat and showing what Captain America knows how to do, wasn't it?
Well, both had movements to prove.
His routine is good and is sometimes interrupted when Sam becomes a superhero, but whenever he returns, he discovers that Bucky has matched and improved some of his techniques. That gym was wonderful and he's not ashamed to check it when he walks through each muscle with his fists or with his tongue, it depends on the scenario.
Sam just loves it.
Until it doesn't.
"I'm not going to train with you, Buck, not today", he said confidently, barely looking away from the waffle machine. Bucky snorted and wrote in his notebook until Sam had finished ridiculously adorning his dishes.
'I know today is an anniversary, I remember it perfectly, that's why I want to go to training. I have a gift for you',Sam read. He blinked to words before sighing dramatically and reluctantly agreeing. An anniversary is not meant to be spent sweating for training, specific and definitelynot fortraining in the gym.
But there they were, standing in front of each other, on guard position, with arrogant smiles on their faces and bright eyes of fun.
"Will you keep going around or will you come for me?" Sam scoffed, gnawing his head waiting for a move, just got a widersmile. "Will youfight decently this time? Is that my gift? A fair fight, super soldier?"
Bucky shakes his shoulders in a mute laugh and denies before throwing himself at Sam.
Most of their fights are serious, truly meant to improveanother's technique, but there are times when they make combat child's play, and it ends up being a tangle of lovers.
This seems to be one of those fights.
He knows this by the way Bucky doesn't seek to attack his weak points, no, he's looking to leave him on the ground. And being fully aware of his weak points, as well as the buttons that bend his knees, Sam doesn't take long to be under Bucky, trapped between his legs and with his hands on either side of his face.
"Oh, yeah? And now?" he snorted, letting his eyes show affection and not annoyance at the impending defeat. Bucky held his hands in place and leaned over to kiss his lips, just a rubbing that invited to be so much more than a lip pressure. "We're in a gym", he whispered on his lips,but didn't make the slightest attempt to stop the wet kisses on his chin and jaw. "But if you ask me, I could pretend we're in the room", he gasped.
Sam was very awareof the words he used and what they might mean, but he didn't withdraw them. Bucky nodded and let go of his hands slowly and carefully, considering that maybe Sam would change his mind or bring him down if given the then he pulled away enough so that Sam could see his face andhe smiled
Bucky moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue a couple of times before opening his mouth, looking ready to speak, to ask whatever Sam meant.
Except that Sam didn't mean it, he doesn't want this.
He doesn't think at all before taking Bucky by the shoulders and rolling over him to interrupt the moment. Sam leans over and presses his lips against Bucky's while denying just noticeably.
"Sh" Sam whispered, putting a finger on Bucky's lips and denying with more emphasis, he looked for blue eyes and tried to show him everything hefelt, tried to tell him everything cheesy he didn't dare. "Sh, don't", he repeated shortly. "It wasn't serious, you know I wasn't. I love you and I want you anywhere, Buck, don't need to ask me for anything, you get it? You don't have to".
Bucky slowly nodded and kissed the finger on his lips before again moistening them with the tip of his tongue. He took a deep breath and opened his lips, nothing came out of them for several seconds, in which Sam was sure he would die because his heart was slipping out of his chest and the emotions of his hands.
"It's okay, baby, you don't have to talk to me. I understand you, I promise", he insisted, letting the broken voice escape by his words and not be ashamed of it. Sam had no idea how to explain to him that there's no need to talk, that he's okay with this, that they can be happy like that.
But Bucky just shows a pretty smile and shrugs his shoulders.
"I want to fight with you" he finallylets go, letting the words come out hoarse, deep and half understandable, as they may have been, Samcan't help the knot in his throat and the tears in his face. "I mean, go back to the field with you, I want to be your partner again, Sam".
Oh, fuck. Sam didn't even knowhow much he wanted to hear his name until he did, and now he thinks he can die in peace.
"Can I be your gift, sweetheart?" Bucky continued speaking,caressing the increasingly wet face of Sam.
And again, oh, fuck, Sam knew he missed listening to Bucky, of course he knew, he just didn't imagine how much he needed to do it. Apparently, a lot because now it's him who doesn't form any words, he's just there, touching Bucky to make sure it's real while tears fall shamelessly down his face.
He manages to nod to Bucky's question, because shit! Of coursehe wants to fight again at hisside. Of course he can. And he'd yell a thousand times to him a 'yes', but Sam is still incapable of being anything more than a bunch of scrambled emotions.
Bucky wraps his arms around his waist and neck, leaving Sam on his chest as the crying continues and continues.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I'm, sorry", he heard Bucky whisper.
Sam denies and clings to Bucky as much as he wants to hold on to every word that comes out of his lips, every tone, every emotion, every dye, everything. Sam almost wants to record it and play it until he fell asleep, almost.
"Why?" Sam asked after what seemed like hours, he joined in releasingBucky's body and watched him with bright red eyes.
Bucky blinked confused and for a brief moment, the briefest of all, Sam felt a hole pierce his chest imagining there would be no more words again,but then realized that his question wasn't very specific.
"Why do you apologize?" he reformulated.
"For hurting you" Bucky responded immediately,hollowing Sam's hands between hisown. "I didn't realize I was hurting you by not talking, Sam, I... I... forgive me.
"Sh" Sam hissed again, raising one of his hands to touch Bucky's face gently, touching his lips with his thumb to stop him from talking.
It's ironic shit, he knows it, all that time trying to get usedto Bucky's silences, clinging to the only sounds he could get and now that he comes to talk to him again, Sam just wants him to shut in a bad way, Sam wants him to talk, yes, but not to apologize.
"It's okay"heinsisted,ignoring the tears in his eyes and squeezing a smile on his lips. "It was okay, Buck, it's always been okay, don't have to apologize for anything".
And after so much time in silence, after so much time learning to read him, so he doesn't need words, Sam knows that Bucky understands, that he believes him, and that he trusts him. There are no more shy and frightened looks, only Bucky and the infinite blue which show him without hesitation everything he wants to say.
Bucky nods towards Samand smiles against the finger of his lips.
If they weren't that close, Sam would've missed Bucky's little and strangled murmur declaring: —I loveyou, maybe more than a little bit —but Samwouldn't need it anyway because the metal hand traces on his chest the same words he just heard, and they mean everything.
Sam loves Bucky's voice, of course he does, but he didn't demand it when Bucky refused to use it and that in no way preventedSam from ending up that in didn't need them to stay and accept that Bucky makes him happy, with words or without was smiles, kisses and strokes on the skin with cheesy statements.
That stroke of 'I love you' on his chest is everything, and hearing him say it so surely, with so much happiness and honesty makes it more.
"I love you, too, baby".
And maybe he can imagine how much.