It’s silly, Sam thinks.
He’s too old to be feeling butterflies fluttering around in his stomach when his crush looks at him; he’s too old to feel the growing warmth of his cheeks when his crush steps in too close.
Except, well. It’s not a crush, can’t be. It’s something much bigger, much deeper.
Bucky walks into the kitchen in the morning, hair ruffled and eyes heavy-lidded, voice deep and raspy as he says good morning, and Sam’s entire being warms at the sight of him, something vague that takes a more certain shape inside him with every look, grows and grows, until it’s all he feels, all he is.
And Sam thinks, again: it’s so silly, they’re both so old, but Bucky looks up at him as pours himself a cup of coffee, smiles softly, looks back at his cup, his cheeks reddening.
Then he leaves his cup where it is, steaming over the counter, and walks over to where Sam is, hip leaning against the sharp edge of the counter on the other side of the kitchen, right next to the window.
Bucky’s arms frame his waist, the sunlight making his eyes that much more blue and bright.
Sam takes another sip from his coffee, hides a smile as Bucky leans in closer and closer, until Sam has no choice but to place the cup down.
“Good morning,” he finally replies, sneaking his hand up to push Bucky’s hair away from his face, runs gentle fingers through it, smiles when Bucky leans into the touch, eyes falling shut.
Mornings like this are new and precious, this whole thing is new and precious. It’s something Sam never thought of having, not after everything, but here he is, running his fingers through soft hair, letting Bucky’s body warmth surround him, seep into him.
Bucky steps in even closer, until their chests are practically touching, and he tilts his head down, lips hovering over Sam’s.
Sam closes his eyes, smells the mint of their shared toothpaste, and leans in to close the gap between them for a small, gentle peck, as his hand falls to the nape of Bucky’s neck.
Bucky exhales loudly, presses even closer, deepening the kiss as his hands take hold of Sam’s waist.
And Sam’s heart flutters, again and again, as he wraps his arms around Bucky, because maybe he’s not too old to feel like this, maybe neither of them are.
Bucky hums as he pulls away, and Sam chases his lips just a little; except, he holds Sam in place, presses quick kisses to Sam’s nose, cheek, forehead, before he steps out of his arms, a smile on his face, a little cocky, as he goes to grab his coffee and plops himself down on a chair.
Sam gives him a flat look. “Just for that,” he says, “you’re making breakfast.”
Bucky smiles brightly, as if this was his plan all along, and also that this is not the punishment Sam thinks it is.
Sam rolls his eyes, takes a seat as Bucky gets right back to his feet and goes to the fridge, begins taking out ingredients.
Sam watches, gives instructions every now and then that Bucky mostly ignores, his coffee cooling down and his smile hurting his cheeks.
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Just Sam and Bucky, debating how to best reheat leftovers.
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go save the world, I’ll be around
forever and ever
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@ all of you
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how do i draw so well you ask? well, i wanted to see my favorite characters suck face
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Safe Place
SamBucky | Rated G | 1,735 words | Complete | AO3
Written to fulfill square O5: Sharing Clothes for All Caps Bingo 2023, Round One, from @allcapsbingo!
Summary: Sam learns that he has become Bucky's safe place.
Excerpt:
It had become a common occurrence, every time they return to the Quinjet, for Bucky to lay his head on Sam's shoulder. Sam knew this meant something. Coming from a super soldier who needs half the rest Sam does. Coming from his stubborn partner who never lets down his guard. For Bucky Barnes to willingly let his eyes fall shut and place his head on Sam's shoulder means everything.
Sam didn't make a big deal out of it. And like dealing with a cat, Sam never moves until absolutely necessary when Bucky's in contact with his shoulder. He doesn't want to disturb the peace or break the idea that this is okay, this is allowed. And so, it becomes routine. Every time they return to the jet.
See the thing is, most people don't know this about Bucky Barnes. There's a softness to him. It took a while even for Sam to see. Took months to break the cold, rigid exterior but once it was gone, Bucky is all soft underneath. He doesn't like to show it and for the most part, he never does. But when he lets someone see it, he's like a puppy with big round eyes begging you to cuddle.
Read on AO3
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I ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO KNOW THE SHIPS AND IF THOR GAVE AGENT MOBIUS A TALK ABOUT NOT BREAKING LOKI’S HEART IF THAT IS ONE OF THE SHIPS pretty please?
ok so lokius isn’t canon in my au bc i honestly don’t ship them but i can’t lie it is pretty cute,, but if it was canon thor would SO do that amdnsjsjsj
anyways anyways, S H I P S
(quite a few of these ships are considered controversial, please don’t hate on me for them. ty!)
r o m a n t i c
pepperony (pepper potts x tony stark)
sambucky (sam wilson x bucky barnes)
parkner (peter parker x harley keener)
sylki (sylvie laufeydottir x loki laufeyson)
danbeau (carol danvers x maria rambeau)
starmora (peter quill x gamora)
bugborg (mantis x nebula)
fosterson (thor odinson x jane foster)
brutasha (bruce banner x natasha romanoff)
bishova (yelena belova x kate bishop)
sifkyrie (lady sif x valkyrie)
wandavision (wanda maximoff x vision)
p l a t o n i c / f a m i l i a l
yelena x bucky
valkruce (valkyrie x bruce banner)
peter/mantis (peter parker x mantis)
bucket (bucky barnes x rocket)
science teens (peter parker x shuri)
science boyfriends (bruce banner x tony stark)
clintasha (clint barton x natasha romanoff)
black pepper (natasha romanoff x pepper potts)
valcarol (valkyrie x carol danvers)
witch family (stephen strange x wanda maximoff x loki laufeyson)
revengers (thor odinson x bruce banner x valkyrie x loki laufeyson)
irondad (peter parker x tony stark)
nebora (nebula x gamora)
maximoff twins (wanda maximoff x pietro maximoff)
science family (bruce banner x tony stark x peter parker)
j o k e
rocket x bucky’s arm
bucky x plums
mobius x jetski
loki x tesseract
and like, so much more, AIJSIWJEIWJW
don’t be afraid to send in any asks about my au, i LOVE infodumping abt it :3
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Itchin’ For Your Smile
Summary: Bucky has some...creative methods to deal with hard-to-reach itches. Sam inherits his curse. Domestic, romantic WinterFalcon. They’re dating but they don’t know it yet.
Watching Bucky is by far Sam’s favorite activity. It’s like people watching, but one person, and the person in question never ceases to be utterly fascinating. Even now, when he’s slumped over the kitchen table like a sack of potatoes, unmoving and half-asleep, Sam likes to watch his little mannerisms. Bucky hides in his arms from the sun but snuggles into the warmth of it. When the glare off his arm starts to annoy him, he makes a grumbly, defeated noise and sinks deeper into the table.
This is the same man that could catch a knife in mid-air and return it to the sender with just as much force. Same guy.
“Coffee or juice?”
“Juice is fine.” Bucky sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His dog tags bounce rhythmically against his bare chest, catching the morning light and scattering it across the room. His hair sticks up in all directions, sorta like a hedgehog, and Sam has to duck to hide his smile.
“You look like you slept well.” Sam turns the eggs over once more, for luck, and pushes them onto two plates. He scrapes the extra cheese onto Bucky’s plate. He likes when it crisps in the pan.
“I did.” Bucky stretches, voice straining with his muscles. He’d finally started sleeping--and on the couch, no less. The first few days of staying with the Wilsons were utterly restless. Sam had to pretend he didn’t hear the back door creaking when Bucky came in, drenched in sweat not entirely from the exercise, drinking from the tap like a man who’d been lost in the desert.
“Good.” Sam turns his attention to the bacon--nearly done, but not quite crispy enough. A bit of grease pops on his hand and he curses softly, running his hand under the faucet.
A strange scraping noise, dull and slightly muffled, grabs Sam’s attention and he spares a peek in Bucky’s direction.
Bucky’s dragging his back against a corner in the living room, scraping the sharp point of the wall from shoulder to shoulder. Every once and a while he does a little shimmy and rubs his spine against the drywall.
Sam knows how much effort and trust it takes for Bucky to even sleep in the house, let alone feel comfortable enough to do whatever Yogi Bear nonsense he was doing at the moment, but he has to say something. He has to. A super soldier—Bucky specifically, the king of severity—is scratching his back like a forest creature...in his living room. A better setup would never come again.
The image of Bucky’s haunted face flickers across Sam’s mind. If Steve was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.
Hm. Not worth it.
In a herculean effort, Sam bites his tongue, pointedly fixing his attention on serving breakfast without another burn. The bacon pops threateningly at him a few times and he stabs it with the fork, beating back the mighty beast.
Bucky crowds into his space back-first without a word. Sam stares. Bucky shuffles a little.
“Can I...help you?” Sam chokes back a laugh.
“Scratch.” Bucky clears his throat. Asking without asking.
“Big bad supersoldier can’t reach his back?” Sam grins.
“Forget it.” Bucky goes to leave but Sam pulls him back by the bicep. He does a gingerly test-scratch near Bucky’s lower back and he visibly softens. Bucky’s walls recede and he opens up slowly, like a flower.
“Where…?”
“Middle.” Bucky shimmies again. Sam scratches his fingers upwards, tripping along the knobs of his spine like a ladder.
A breathy “holy shit” drips from Bucky’s lips. Sam never expected to see a supersoldier’s knees go weak during this lifetime, but he commits the sight to memory. Bucky leans back against Sam’s chest a little. Sam works around him.
“Good?” Sam hopes his voice doesn’t come out too strangled. Bucky’s warm where their bodies meet. His fingers navigate delicate scars with grace and care. He drinks in the dizzying privilege of this domesticity and holds it tight. His fingertips buzz as they roam.
“Great.” Bucky’s voice trembles on a sigh. There’s getting an itch, then there’s satisfying an itch. If the full body shiver that Bucky does is any indication, Sam’s damn good at his job. He’s supporting Bucky’s full weight while he indulges him.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, now. You’ve still got a whole shed to paint.” Sam chuckles softly, giving Bucky’s shoulders a fond squeeze.
“Hm?” Bucky’s voice actually does sound a little lax and rough with sleep. “Oh, yeah. I’ll do it.”
Sam feels like the worst person in the world. He sets aside their breakfast with reckless abandon, slamming every knob on the stove until he can ensure there’s no fire, and then he slides back into Bucky’s space.
“Get back here.” Sam goes back to gently scritching at Bucky’s back, hoping the feeling is enough to keep him from asking questions.
“‘Kay.” Bucky hums and stays right where he is, content to bask. Sam’s fingers roam a little too close to Bucky’s side. He jumps, breath hitching. A lazy smile takes over Sam’s face. This is too good.
“Ticklish, Barnes?” Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder.
“No.” Bucky tenses minutely. Sam grins. He reminds him of the rabbits that dart around the house in the mornings, like he’ll become invisible if he stops moving. Cute.
“Okay.” Sam pats his hands against Bucky’s stomach and lets go, chewing furiously on his lower lip to not give himself away. Bucky’s still tense, not-so-discreetly watching Sam over his shoulder. Sam starts to fiddle with the stove, not really doing anything, and waits…
“Come eat.” Sam tilts his head towards the pan. Bucky huffs softly and slides past him, reaching up for the plates in the cabinet. Sam slips behind him and burrows his fingers into Bucky’s stomach.
“I-I am gonna kill yohohou.” Bucky’s laugh is a shooting star jostled free from between his ribs. His hands immediately fly to circle Sam’s wrists and he squirms like there’s no tomorrow. Sam plants his feet so they both don’t topple over.
“Well, then I definitely can’t stop.” Sam’s fingers trip lower, grazing Bucky’s hips. He yelps and looses an incoherent string of noises before he doubles over in Sam’s arms, laughing so frantically that his body trembles with it. Bending over just pushes Sam’s fingers in deeper, really, so he takes advantage and gives the bones a test squeeze.
Bucky’s head crunches back into Sam’s nose. He stumbles back into the kitchen counter and his vision blurs for a second.
“Shit,” Sam laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose. A slight dribble of blood starts gathering in his hand and he fumbles for the paper towels with his free one. Bucky’s hand brushes his as he helps grab some—way too many, Sarah’s gonna kill them both. He hovers and stares intently, gripping handfuls of napkins like he’s gonna clean up a semi-truck-sized spill.
“M’fine, Buck. Suffered far worse for stupider things.” Sam sniffs and dabs at his nose with a napkin from Bucky’s stash. It throbs dully, but he’s lucky it’s not broken. Probably. He’s had worse.
“Can’t think of anything stupider than trying to tickle a super soldier.” Bucky huffs a laugh, light and easy. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his hip against the counter.
“Huh. I can’t think of anything better.” Sam grins. He throws away the napkins and washes his hands, watching as Bucky turns rosy pink.
Goosing Bucky’s side as he walks by is well worth the revenge of getting tickled within an inch of his life, pinned underneath the man whose orbit keeps him steady. They’re both immature children, but they’re safe. They’re home.
…
Sam finds himself suffering The Itch just two days later. No matter how he contorts, he can’t reach, and his shoulder’s starting to scream with that ‘dislocation risk imminent’ type of burn. He’s starting to understand the appeal of using walls for backscratchers. This shit’s excruciating.
“Buck!” Sam groans loudly into the couch.
“What?” Bucky bristles, nearly sloshing his tea onto the hardwood. He slams his copy of The Two Towers shut around his thumb. He’s become one with the leather armchair.
“C’mere.” Sam flaps his arm in his general direction.
“Why?” Bucky narrows his eyes.
“Just get over here.” Sam waves him over frantically. When Bucky sits down his tea and steps cautiously into reach—it takes literal years—Sam snags his wrist and slaps Bucky’s hand bodily onto his back.
“Scratch. Right there.”
“Seriously?” Bucky chuckles at him.
“Do it.” Sam wiggles insistently.
“You’re ridiculous.” Sam can hear Bucky’s eye roll but he doesn’t care. He’s a desperate man. Blunt nails scritch at the center of his spine and Sam melts into the couch. He lets out a shivering little breath and clutches a throw pillow for dear life.
“Up, up—okay now left—yeah, that’s it,” Sam sighs. The silence from Bucky is suspiciously fond.
“I hear you laughing at me,” Sam mumbles into the couch. If his bones hadn’t turned to jelly he’d lift his head to glare, but Bucky’s slowly taking him apart at the seams. He’s sand free of the hourglass. He’ll have to be surgically removed from these cushions.
“Me? I would never.” Bucky’s other hand touches down near Sam’s shoulder. His fingers pass over Sam’s shoulderblade and he yelps, rolling over quicker than he ever could in the air. He raises his hands in preemptive surrender.
“Bucky.”
“Sam,” he grins. His eyes glitter with a manic sort of playfulness.
“Bucky.”
“Sam.” They stare at each other for a long, tense moment.
Sam throws himself over the back of the couch, knowing the bruises will be well worth it if it means he’ll escape. A cold grip clamps around his ankle and pulls him backwards into two strong, foreboding arms. He manages to spin around and face Bucky, but then there are traitorous hands tickling up his spine and he can’t do much else.
“Your back? Really?” Bucky muses. Sam starts to slide down under him to get away. Oh, this is so stupid. He thought he’d outgrew this.
“Y-You’re one to talk!” Sam’s voice crackles around his laughter and he writhes. Bucky finds a spot on the back of his ribs and Sam jumps. Bucky makes a thoughtful sound, the bastard, and keeps his fingers wiggling steady there until Sam’s throwing his head back
The crossed wires in Sam’s brain spark and he pulls Bucky down into a kiss before he can think better of it. They both freeze and pull apart. Bucky hovers in his space, his dog tags dangling between them. He doesn’t look at Sam as much as he looks into him. His gaze flits to Sam’s mouth and he darts in to pull them back together.
Sam’s knee slides up and his hand sits heavy on the back of Bucky’s neck. His thumb swipes at the short buzz of hair there and he slides his fingers fully into the scalp. Bucky makes a quiet noise into his mouth and tilts into it, licking gently at his bottom lip. He’s solid and sweet as his hands roam down Sam’s chest.
Bucky pulls back first, but he doesn’t pull away. He cradles Sam like a heroine in a romance novel, which is fucking ridiculous but not unwelcome. He looks down at Sam with glittering awe and a well of fondness. A gentle hum resonates in his chest and passes through both of them.
“What?” Sam huffs. He feels dizzy. Bubbly. There’s an addictive buzz beneath his skin that he wants to chase. Bucky smirks. Sam resists the urge to kiss him again.
“Nothin’. Just can’t believe you thought that would work.” Bucky shoves his hands under Sam’s arms and he flails. Fucking traitor. Sam cackles and writhes under every twitch of his fingers. He honest-to-god snorts at one point, curling in on himself. Bucky laughs.
“Don’t--”
“Oh, I will.” Bucky’s eyelids lower and he presses back in, searching for the sound again. Sam slams his head back. He’s vicious, gentle, and precise, and Sam might be losing his mind a little. If not now, definitely for future him who’s never gonna win another argument in his life. If there’s anything Bucky has besides jokes, it’s audacity.
Bucky leans forward, a teasing grin dancing on his lips, and tickles just so at Sam’s top rib. Sam flinches forward so hard that the room spins.
Crunch.
Sam pulls back with a gasp as his laughter dies, sudden and startled. Bucky holds a hand underneath his nose but he’s grinning. Blood drips onto his fingers and he tries to catch it. Sam’s soul leaves his body. He pushes a chuckling Bucky into the kitchen.
“Sam, I’m fine--”
“Sit. Shut up.” Bucky does as he’s told, but not without a token eye roll. Sam pulls out way too many paper towels and shoves them in his hands. Bucky giggles, a bright and delirious sound. Sam wants to capture it in a jar and let it light his life like a firefly.
“Eye for an eye, nose for a nose. We, uh. We match.” Bucky squints at him with a ghost of a smile. His voice is kind of nasally. Sam snorts.
“You’re ridiculous.” He puts a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bandaid over the red line starting to form on the bridge of Bucky’s nose.
“You love me.” Bucky rolls his eyes and sniffs. He balls up the paper towels and throws them at the trashcan. When he makes it--of course he does--he gives Sam a cheeky grin.
“Yeah, I do.” Sam shakes his head and lets his smile run wide. Bucky’s gaze turns soft and mottled with surprise, like he’s slowly melting into the emotions rolling over him. His eyes drop to Sam’s lips, then flick back up through his lashes. His mouth falls open slightly.
He leans forward dangerously on the stool, gripping it to keep his balance, and presses his lips to Sam’s oh-so-gently. He falls forward onto his feet and manages to keep the stool from falling without breaking the kiss. Warm hands raise to tenderly cup Sam’s jaw. Their bodies fit together beautifully.
“Hi,” Sam breathes, watching Bucky’s eyes flutter open. He’s starting to freckle from the constant touch of the Louisiana sun. Sam brushes a thumb over his cheek.
“You love me,” Bucky repeats again, slowly, and his eyes frantically take in every aspect of Sam’s face. It’s the same tone he uses to reassure himself of the world around him. As if Sam and all his love might disappear. Like there’d be anywhere worth going without him.
“Don’t let it go to your head. Your ego’s big enough as it is.” Sam lightly swats his chest. Bucky catches his hand and presses it to his chest, right over his dog tags. Bucky’s pulse flutters under Sam’s palm. His grin is small and bashful, threatening to bloom fully.
Sam could cry, really. Tender is the word turning over and over in his brain, fresh and warm like a blanket out the dryer.
“You’re a sap.” Sam wiggles his fingers and Bucky chuckles with a flash of teeth. Oh, the cities he’d burn to protect the sanctity of that smile.
“You lo—“ Bucky gets a cocky little look to him. Sam kisses him before he can finish.
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A loud crash wakes them up in the middle of the night. Bucky sits up so fast he almost throws Sam off the bed from where he was sleeping on top of him.
More crashing noises and the sound of cluttering comes from the kitchen. They scramble to get off the bed and free of the sheets and dart towards the noise. Bucky's not even wearing pants.
There are broken parts of Sam's favorite mug scattered all the way to the hallway. Sam takes the lead as they turn the kitchen corner, his emergency gun held up in front of him.
"Betty" Bucky gasps behind him, sounding scandalized and betrayed.
Right, of course, there she is, Betty, flapping its orange wings clumsily in a futile attempt to fly up on the counter.
Sam sighs and lowers his gun.
"Told you not to coddle her" Sam chastises Bucky as they stand and watch the chicken fumble around in their kitchen.
"I don't coddle her" Bucky denies, offended, as if it's not true.
"What else do you call cuddling a chicken on the couch then?" Sam deadpans, leveling him with a look from behind his shoulder "See, now she thinks she's a house chicken and keeps getting in" Sam gestures at her with a guns still held in his hand
"Maybe she keeps getting in because she's searching for all the children you steal from her" Bucky says grumpily and pushes past Sam, moving towards Betty slowly, murmuring softly at her in hopes of catching her. "come here pretty girl, come on missy, let me snuggle you, okay?" Sam scoffs, and he says he doesn't coddle her.
"The only reason we have her is because she lays eggs, Bucky" Sam protests, throwing his hands up as he's watching Bucky advance towards the frightened bird "she gets in because you always leave the back door open"
"Got'cha" Bucky yelps and turns towards Sam, presenting him with a chicken held tightly in his hands, his expression stupidly proud. Sam will never admit it, but it's painfully adorable how much Bucky loves this stupid chicken.
"Whatever" Sam says, fighting back the smile "I'm going to bed. You take her back to the coop and she better have eggs for my omelet in the morning"
"Sam! shut it" Bucky quickly shushes him, putting his pointer fingers over Betty's ears "Don't traumatize her"
"God, you are so weird" Sam says fondly and turns around, walking towards the bedroom with a small smile on his face.
"Can she sleep with us tonight?" Bucky yells after him.
"Absolutely not!"
"Sam" Bucky whines "she's frightened"
"I swear to god, I'm gonna make you sleep in the coop with her"
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Sam and Bucky, driven by the need to put down roots, moved out of Brindleton Bay to the newly re-settled Newcrest. Bucky, tired of streaming all day and night, decided to revisit his interest in the outdoors. They bought a farm and Sam, seeing the need, decided to run for mayor. He won the election, of course, and he is leading Newcrest to become the most successful city in SimNation. Bucky won't tell the other animals, but Bluebell the cow is his favorite.
While Sam is at work in City Hall Bucky tends to the animals and his garden. He even has spare moments often enough for him to continue his Plopsy store selling clothes for farm animals with wool from his very own llama, Tina. Sam is still subject to Figaro completely ignoring his requests to keep off of counters. Bucky is no help because he doesn't care if the cat put his paws where they don't belong. After dinner, Bucky asks Sam outside to stargaze and they close the day out staring at the stars.
for @buckybarnesbingo
Bonus:
Not only is Bucky's farm full of veggies and fruit, but he also has a couple of patches dedicated to ensuring that he's always got his favorite herbal supplement. Monica, Joaquin, and Karli saw how great Newcrest was when visiting the farm that they went and bought the farm next door! If not with his animals, Bucky can also be found watching the romance channel with Monica. Joaquin still doesn't like Bucky much, but at least they've stopped fist fighting.
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Just Sam and Bucky, watching Sam's Good Morning America interview together.
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by land, by sea, by dirigible (chapter four)
They’d had a neighbor, back when Sam and Sarah were little, who would tell them all sorts of stories when she came over to keep an eye on them: stories about New Orleans before it was New Orleans, about magic imbued in the earth and the many brinks that the city had come back from. She’d told them how New Orleans had its own protectors, always chosen in twos and more powerful than anyone would believe.
Sam wishes, in retrospect, that he’d listened just a little bit better.
Five times that Team Cap crosses paths with the Divine Pairing and one time they don’t.
----
There’s still a week left before Sam can fly again and he’s feeling every second of it, energy coursing through his veins with absolutely nowhere to go. He does everything he can to keep busy: reads books, repairs porch rails, takes apart and reassembles three alarm clocks and a toaster.
When that doesn’t work as a distraction, he does a brief stint as Sarah’s prep cook, chopping vegetables and clearing away the mess so she doesn’t have to. It comes to a dramatic end when she threatens him with bodily harm if he comes anywhere near her sauce with the lemon zest that he keeps insisting it needs. Sam decides, for once, not to take the unnecessary risk and escapes into the backyard instead.
The early evening sky is comforting in its familiarity, even if it’s further out of reach than usual, and Sam tips his head back to admire the way the oranges and pinks have spread into the blue. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the soccer ball coming his way until it thwacks against his good arm.
When he turns to glare at the culprit, Bucky is looking innocently back, hands in his pockets and about three seconds from batting those eyelashes at him. Sam tries his best to look unimpressed, chips the ball up with his foot, and catches it one-handed.
“Pretty good form, for someone who offended AJ by getting Ronaldo’s name wrong yesterday,” says Bucky.
Sam’s not sure whether the warmth it brings to his cheeks is from embarrassment over yesterday’s slip-up or something else, sparked by the less than subtle once-over that Bucky gives him along with the compliment. He decides not to think too hard about it.
“Have you really got nothing better to do than hassle me?” he asks instead, throwing the soccer ball back. “I’m sure there’s some fish around here that need gutting; I could ask Sarah.”
( chapter 4 on AO3 ) | ( start from the beginning )
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October Drabble Challenge
Day 16- Domestic
"Things were a little tense and awkward while they were trying to figure out how to live in the same space without killing each other."
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living in blissful domestic sambucky rn. how are you guys going? :)
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I'm supposed to be revising for my selection test but Sambucky being disgustingly domestic won't get out of my mind
Bucky may be allergic to spices (as most white people of the 40s were, sigh), but he bakes really well and makes killer waffles and cakes. Doesn't even help that Sam has a sweet tooth
Bucky absolutely hates detergents for clothes except the detergent Sam uses because it doesn't smell like absolute dogshit (it smells like Sam)
Both of them prefer fresh groceries. The canned peaches are Bucky's only exception even though Sam convinces him otherwise ("Fresh peaches are everywhere!" "But the canned ones—")
Sometimes their dates are just Bucky riding the motorcycle with Sam sitting behind, holding on to him while they talk and laugh
Bucky knows every order of Sam, in every restaurant and diner, by heart
Figaro likes wrapping himself around Sam's shoulders, and Alpine likes being wrapped up in Bucky's jacket. When they switch people, Figaro perches on Bucky's shoulder, and Alpine curls up in Sam's lap or arm crook
Bucky either puts too much creamer in his coffee or none at all. It all depends on the mood
Bucky liked Starbucks until Sam convinced him they could buy their own coffee machine ("the kind for professionals and addicts, you know"). It all goes downhill from there for both of them
Sam still gets his pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks, though
Bucky can't sing to save his life. Sam really likes karaoke
Sam kinds of hate tailored clothes because of how long they take and the many people that clamber over him to get his measures. Bucky always gets Sam's measures before they go to a tailor shop.
Sam thinks the industrial strawberry milk flavor is disgusting. Bucky digs it anyway
Bucky doesn't like fair food, but getting to kiss the sugar off Sam's lips after a shared cotton candy is really great
Sam is terrible at dancing. As in the kinds from the 40s and older. Bucky teaches him and fakes exasperation when Sam accidentally steps on his feet (he really wants to kiss his laughter at those times)
Bucky did the robot dance out of spite because of that one time Sam called him a cyborg. And then he does it again and again just to hear Sam laugh
Bucky is the most horrible tourist. The kind that buys "I love New York" (with a red ass heart for "love") shirts and the ugliest caps and those blurry hideous keychains of tourist attractions
They definitely buys dumb couple things in secret. Like those socks that hold hands
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