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buckybarnesowl · 2 years

Text

You with me?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson Setting: FATWS AU - Engineer!Bucky and ExArmy!Baker!Sam Words: 5,234 Summary: Bucky is trying to make a difference despite every roadblock his shitty employer throws at him. His only light is seeing his baker crush weekly. Sam has watched his favourite regular customer approach burnout for over a year and just wants to help him find the confidence to finally break free from his awful job and follow his dream. And if Sam is part of that dream, well, that wouldn’t be the worst thing. Tropes: mutual pining, idiots in love, with a pinch of angst and hurt/comfort, plus a fluffy ending because it’s me Warnings: some allusion to anxiety, burnout, and PTSD, but nothing too heavy or detailed

A/n: I don’t know what this is or where it came from. All I know is that @nexusnyx’s #nightskychallenge inspired me to start writing again for the first time in months. Nyx, you are an incomparable writer who has filled my dash with the most incredible fics during this past year. The detail, depth, and realness you achieves with your characters and AUs is, in my opinion, on another fucking level and we are not worthy. So this one’s for you, BB.

#nightskychallenge prompts used:

The night I just couldn't take it. ["I usually keep quiet, but... not today."]

The night when our love shone like the brightest star in the sky. ["Just—just up and kiss me. Oh my god."]

The smell of butter and vanilla and caramelized stone fruit assaulted Bucky’s senses as he opened the door to Wilson’s Just Desserts, otherwise known as his favourite way to end the work week. Mind you, it was Wednesday so grabbing his go-to slice of peach raspberry cobbler mid-week was completely out of character. But fuck it, Bucky’s boss had been riding him so hard he wasn’t sure he’d make it through the remaining few days without it.

Or without seeing the owner of the late-night dessert shop, Sam Wilson, who Bucky could only describe as… beautiful. But that was another matter entirely, and there was only so much indulgence Bucky would allow himself. So peach raspberry cobbler on a Wednesday it was.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. On a Wednesday, no less! Your usual?”

A faint blush surfaced across Bucky’s cheeks at the complement. His heart beat pick up at Sam’s greeting, almost in time to the brassy jazz playing quietly throughout the café.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Bucky replied softly, his stomach joining his heart to form a chorus of giddy attraction.

Gods this man.

He couldn’t keep from staring as Sam pulled the takeout box down from the shelf. Suddenly his lips were moving before his brain could stop them. “Actually, uh, I’ll have it for here.”

Sam’s chestnut eyes blew wide momentarily before softening once more. “Coming in on a Wednesday and eating in? You feelin’ alright, man?” he teased as a spread across his jaw.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Bucky muttered, accompanied by a playfully exaggerated eye-roll. “I got some sage advice recently that I should try switching things up once in a while, so…” Bucky trailed off, their last exchange suddenly running through his mind, in which Sam had lectured him on falling victim to monotony and overworking oneself.

Last Friday, Bucky had showed up to the café even later than his usual leaving-work-late-on-a-Friday routine. He had been so disoriented after having fallen asleep at his desk. But being a creature of habit, his heart feet had made their way to Wilson’s all the same. Sam was just about to lock the door when Bucky had slinked in at 10:58 p.m., shoulders curled in and looking like he was about to collapse.

“I was referring to taking a vacation, getting away from work, you know, not leaving the office at 10:30p.m. on a Friday? But, I guess baby steps are still steps.” He shot a wink at Bucky as he deftly swapped out the takeout box for a plate before lifting a Pyrex dish out of the display case. “Go sit down, I’ll bring it over to you.”

Bucky gave Sam a grateful nod before finding a worn mid-century wingback next to a window at the back of the café. Tucked in the corner, he could keep an eye on the comings and goings outside the shop. The sidewalk flooded with orange from the street lamp above, setting any passerby ablaze. A young couple holding hands. A scruffy tan dog on a leash being walked by it’s owner. A woman pushing a stroller. All lighting up with an orange glow as they passed in front of Bucky’s view.

Inside, a large potted banana leaf towered next to the chair, offering Bucky some much desired privacy from the few customers chattering quietly. As he removed his coat and put his bag down, he became defenceless against his brain’s new favourite habit of cycling through his workday, then workweek, then work year, which quickly led to spiraling questions about his life choices. On cue, Bucky became acutely aware of the familiar suffocating feeling in his throat. The one when suddenly everything became too bright and too loud and the thought of having to work one more day for his horrible excuse of a boss at a horrible excuse of an engineering firm made his chest tighten and his feel as if they were being cast in concrete.

He lowered himself slowly into the chair and closed his eyes while he took a few calculated breaths.

Not here, Barnes, not now. Just chill.

The self-pep talk and breathing routine worked, and oxygen started flowing more easily. A defeated sigh left his lips as he sunk into the high back of the chair, firm but with sides that wrapped around him as if to say, don’t worry, I’ve got you. Feeling like he could breathe again, he actually took in the space he’d been frequenting weekly for the last year and a half. He’d always been too distracted by Sam his thoughts to notice the decor, but now that he was sitting he could fully appreciate all the details of the shop’s interior.

Vaulted ceilings with simple industrial light fixtures, each with a single Edison bulb offering a subdued glow. Plants of varying shades and sizes found homes on any surface available. Colourful paintings of jazz musicians lined the maple wood paneling of the walls. Velvety deep green curtains bunched up on either side of every window, framing the view to the shop-lined street outside. It was busy, eclectic, yet somehow it all synthesized to create a warmth that felt almost homey. It was a stark contrast to Bucky’s nearly barren apartment, and he more than appreciated the change.

Why have I never stayed to eat here before?

He knew the answer, and he vowed to change his habits as of that moment. Or at least try.

Bucky had first come to Wilson’s about six months after Alexander Pierce had headhunted Bucky to join the engineering team at Hydra Solutions Inc. Inspired by a meme he’d seen about deserving a treat, he had waked into the dessert shop and was immediately cheered up by the black man with a megawatt smile and twinkle in his eye. It quickly became Bucky’s light at the end of the workweek tunnel.

Treating himself had never been a priority for Bucky. He had kept a full time job throughout his engineering degree, followed by his masters. He needed to support his sister after their parents both passed away in a car accident. It took him longer than most to get there, but Bucky eventually successfully defended his masters thesis on the first go. Not long after, Pierce had lured Bucky to Hydra with the promise of developing new pipeline technology that could bring clean drinking water to remote Indiginous nations in the states—Bucky had written his thesis on the issue after learning that one in ten Indigenous Americans lacked access to safe tap water or basic sanitation.

Well, two years into his employment at Hydra and Bucky finally accepted that Pierce’s promises were as hollow as the pipes he spent his work hours developing. It was all bitumen and crude oil pipeline technology that stood to pollute the very communities he was so determined to work with.

To appease his guilt, Bucky began staying late to work on preliminary plans for different drinking water and sanitation technologies. High level ideas of course, but eventually he hoped they could be worth submitting to some of the higher-ups. Pierce had caught him working late one night and threatened to fire Bucky when he found out he was using company property to work on a “personal project.” Bucky was finally able to convince Pierce to let him continue staying late to pursue his ideas on the condition that he would never submit overtime and would take on extra projects when needed.

Bucky had felt like he won a small victory and had an extra jump in his step that Friday when he had practically skipped into Wilson’s.

“Who’s this chipper version of my favourite Friday night customer, and what have you done with the real version?” Sam had teased.

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from gushing about his project ideas and the permission he had gotten to continue working on them. It led Bucky to open up about his studies, then his sister and the loss of his parents, which led the two of them to talking well past the shop’s closing time, exchanging stories about their respective backgrounds and struggles.

That was the night Bucky learned that Sam was a retired special ops veteran, who served three tours overseas before being discharged with PTSD.

“Took a lot of therapy, and convincing from my nosey sister, but I finally followed my dream and this place was born,” Sam had confided.

If Bucky had been on the fence about his crush before, there was no doubt in his mind after that night.

He was practically floating the entire weekend after that, even allowing himself to indulge in a few daydreams of coming home to a certain baker husband after successfully installing another water and sanitation system. Though the fantasies were short lived. First thing on the Monday after the best weekend he’d had in years, Pierce began piling on extra projects. The new deadlines forcing Bucky to work later and later in order to make time for his “personal” one.

It was gradual at first, but the late hours started to wear on Bucky. He stopped jogging with his best friend Steve on the weekends. He bailed on game nights with his sister. He fell asleep at his desk at least once a week. He even nearly stopped going to Wilson’s. But at this point, the sight of Sam’s glowing smile get a touch brighter every time Bucky walked through the glass paned shop door was the only thing keeping him afloat.

Just as he was about to embark on another thought spiral of doom, the sound of a plate making contact with the small side table next to his chair brought Bucky back to the present.

“You with me, James?”

Bucky’s cheeks still heated at Sam using his real name. It had started the night they swapped their origin stories. Sam had announced he would be calling him James from then on, something about honouring the name his mother gave him. Bucky nearly broke into tears then and there. Sam was the first person to use Bucky’s real name since Winifred Barnes had passed away and it unfurled something in his heart, a simultaneous ache and warmth that he didn’t have the emotional capacity to address. So instead, he would blush and try to calm the fluttering in his stomach every time he heard it.

“Yeah, yeah. Just lost in my head I guess,” he smiled, his eyes flitting bashfully between Sam and the abnormally large portion of cobbler he had just placed next to Bucky.

“Well, if you need help finding your way back, you know where to find me,” Sam offered with a sincere tone before returning back to behind the counter.

The ache and warmth returned to Bucky’s chest tenfold with Sam’s words. Instinctively, he began drawing the sensation with bite after bite of the cobbler. Only so much indulgence, remember?

Maybe it was the hominess of the café, the instrumental rendition of “The Very Thought of You” playing softly in the background, or the like-grandma-used-to-make quality of the dessert Bucky just devoured, but he found himself drifting into a daze. He leaned back into the chair after finishing the last bite and exhaled long and slow. But this time it wasn’t defeat. For the first time in months, he felt completely and utterly relaxed. He was so high off the silence in his head that he allowed himself to close his eyes and simply be for a minute… or maybe two wouldn’t hurt…

┉✪┉

Sam started the end-of-day process on the till after the last customer settled up and left the shop. Well, the last one aside from his favourite customer—who was still sleeping soundly in Sam’s favourite wingback.

“What am I going to do with you, James?” he muttered under his breath. Chuckling to himself, as if was a response to his own rhetorical question. It’s not like he could ask the guy out. Sam had made it abundantly clear how he felt about Bucky. If he was interested in dating he would have made a move by now. So Sam settled for fantasizing about his crush in between weekly visits.

Sighing, he continued on with his closing routine. Sure, it was thirty minutes before 11:00 p.m., but another glance at the sleeping beauty in the back of his shop did something to Sam’s chest and he resolved that Bucky needed a friend tonight. He flipped the sign on the door, turned off the main lights, and finished setting things up for the next day.

Twenty minutes later, Sam was turning off the display case lights, the final task of his mental closing checklist. Then he padded his way to the back of the café where Bucky was now snoring softly.

“James… Jaa-aames.”

Bucky didn’t even stir.

Sam hesitated before placing a hand on his shoulder. “James, it’s time to wake up.”

A sudden intake of breath sent Bucky recoiling away from the touch as his eyes shot open.

“Shit, man, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Way to go, Sammy.

Bucky rubbed both his hands over his face then sighed as he dropped them to his sides before looking up at Sam. “S’all good. I’m really sorry for falling asleep. Shit, are you closed already?!”

Sam watched as panic flooded Bucky’s ice blue eyes before shooting up and out of the chair.

“I’m so, so sorry, Sam. I’ve got cash, I can pay cash so you don’t have run the machine and, fuck, I’m so sor—”

The sound of china shattering on the dark mahogany hardwood cut him off.

Sam could only watch as Bucky knocked the side table with the frantic gathering of his belongings. While he couldn’t save the plate in time, registering the transition from panic to horror that spread across Bucky’s face, Sam attempted to save something much more valuable from breaking.

The rise and fall of Bucky’s chest was coming at a speed far too quick for Sam’s liking. His army background and experience with his own mental health struggles kicked him into gear. This was something he could help with. A firm but assuring presence. Grounding.

“Hey, it’s just a plate. I’ve got dozens. Let’s take a deep breath, yeah?” he suggested with a steady tone. Then, taking a risk, he guided Bucky’s hand to rest on his own chest. “Just try to match mine. Think you can do that?”

Bucky nodded, gulped hard, then released a shaky breath in time with Sam’s.

“Good, doing real good, man. Let’s do a few more, ‘kay?”

Bucky nodded and continued on, blinking as glazed eyes stared through Sam.

“I want you to sit back down,” he directed softly as he let go of Bucky’s hand. “I’m just going to go grab something. Keep breathin’ and stay seated until I get back,” Sam commanded, followed by the warmest smile he could muster so Bucky would hopefully understand he wasn’t angry.

It was unclear if he got it by the pained look on his face, but Bucky obeyed and lowered himself back into the chair.

Well, shit, that was not how I hoped that would go.

Sam shook his head as he quickly flicked a kettle on before heading into the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. Relief flooded his chest when he returned to Bucky still sitting in the chair, albeit looking like a scared puppy.

“Can I help? Please, I—”

“No way, man,” Sam retorted, voice smooth and warm. “You just sit there and look pretty.” His stomach fluttered at the immediate blush that tinted Bucky’s cheeks.

Sam made quick work of sweeping up the shards before rushing back behind the counter to discard the broken plate and broom. Then, in one seamless motion, he unscrewed a jar, popped a teabag each into two large mugs with one hand while grabbing the now boiled kettle in the other, before filling the mugs and carrying them back to where Bucky still sat.

“It’s chamomile mint. Helps with the nerves,” Sam stated matter of factly before moving a mismatched wingback and sitting down to face Bucky. “Take as much time as you need. I closed up early so I’m usually not even done cashing out yet.”

Bucky was rubbing his fingers together, an anxious twitch Sam had noticed over the course of Bucky’s weekly visits to his shop. “Y-you,” he paused to clear his throat before continuing, “I’m sure you’ve got better places to be.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be than right here,” Sam said firmly, though not unkindly.

Bucky scoffed at that.

“What?” Sam prodded.

“Nothin’. Just, I’m not the best company.” Bucky directed the meek words towards his lap.

“Look, James. I don’t generally share my life’s trials and tribulations with every customer, you feel me? I like you, man.” Sam took a sip of his tea before setting the mug back down. He gave himself a beat to process his surprise at his own admission and simultaneously find the courage to continue. “And I usually keep quiet on these things. Your business is yours. But not today.”

“Sam, I—”

“Let me finish. You’ve been comin’ in here for over a year now, yeah?”

Bucky nodded, his brows furrowed and his head tilted slightly.

“And over that year and change I’ve watched you shuffle in later and later, shoulders bunched up tighter and tighter, and that crinkle you used to get next to your eyes when you smile all but disappear. That company is destroying you, man. They’re using you, turning you into something you’re not. You’re a good person, James. With a good heart. You deserve to work somewhere where your talents are appreciated, where your big ideas and creativity are seen as assets not threats. You hear me?”

Bucky sat still for a minute, clearly processing the unsolicited advice Sam had just dumped on him.

“I, I don’t know what to say…”

Sam couldn’t get a read on Bucky anymore. His face had gone blank and he just kept staring down at his hands.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until suddenly, Bucky was on his feet, once again gathering his things. “I’ll pay you for the tea and cobbler next time,” he muttered as turned away from Sam and beelined towards the door.

“James, wait! I didn’t mean to upset you, I just wan—”

“Well, you did!” Bucky spat back, turning on his heels to face Sam one last time. “I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t ask for your charity. And I certainly didn’t ask for your pity. You don’t know me. You don’t know the horrible things I’ve done at that company. The communities I’ve helped destroy.”

“James, that wasn’t you. You were just following orders.”

“That’s bullshit! I could have quit! Found another fucking job! But I didn’t.” Bucky’s voice got louder, more heated with every word. “Now that land is permanently damaged because of the pipelines I helped build. So yeah, it was me, Sam. I’m part of that machine.” Bucky sighed, then turned back towards the door. “I… It’s late, I’m going to go. I’ll see you around.”

Sam stood speechless as he watched Bucky walk out, a few Edison bulbs glowing softly while the rest of the café filled with shadows cast by the street lights outside.

┉✪┉

“Let me get this straight. You fell asleep in his shop. Then he helped you through an anxiety attack. Then he confessed that he liked you. And then you threw a temper tantrum and stormed off?”

Bucky winced at the laughter coming through his headphones following his sister’s harsh, but not untrue summary of the night before.

“I don’t think he meant it like that, Bex.”

“Are you kidding me?! That man is crushing on you as much as, if not more than you are on him.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Bucky replied quietly.

“If I know anything, it’s that, brother. Seriously, trust me on this. When was the last time you went on a date, hmmm?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Oh I think it’s absolutely relevant. You’re so caught up in your self-loathing-pity-party that you can’t see when a man is so obviously into you. He closed his shop early so he could bring you tea and confess his love and concern for you, for fucks sake!”

“He said ‘like’ not ‘love’,” Bucky corrected.

“Oh, whatever! You know what I mean!.”

Bucky sighed. “So what am I supposed to do then, huh? I bet he doesn’t like me much after how I behaved last night. I’m clearly falling apart. As if he’d say yes if I asked him out now. And what am I supposed to do about Hydra? Just quit? This is all such a fucking mess,” Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead to quell the dull ache that had made itself at home since he woke up that morning.

“You really are dense, Buck. Yes, it’s that fucking simple. You waltz into work tomorrow knowing you’re better than those climate-change inducing scumbags, submit your two-weeks notice, then when you’re off, head straight to Wilson’s and ASK. SAM. OUT.”

Lying on his back in bed, Bucky shifted his hand to behind his head and allowed the weight of his sister’s words to sink in. The black screen of his phone was reflecting the nearly full moon shining through his bedroom window and he had to adjust the angle to avoid being blinded.

“What about finding another job, hm? I have bills I need to pay. I have… responsibilities.” Bucky didn’t want to make his sister feel bad about the fact that he also still paid for half of her student residence rent and her phone bill while she finished her degree.

“Yeah, about that, Buck. I don’t need you to pay for my shit anymore. I mean, it’s been nice, don’t get me wrong. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it—”

“I know you do, Bex. I know.”

“Good. But seriously, I’ve only got one year of school left. I can get student loans for this last one. I’m good, I promise. The only thing I’m not good about is you running yourself into the ground working for some company that is killing your soul all because you don’t believe you deserve to find better. Do something for you, Buck, for once in your life.”

A silent tear streaked down Bucky’s cheek as he exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’ve really grown up, huh?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you. Thanks for finally noticing,” she huffed.

Bucky chuckled at his sister’s attitude. It was impossible to win an argument against her.

“Mom and dad would be so proud of you.”

Bucky heard a sniff on the other end.

“I love you. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. Love you too, brother. Now go get some fucking sleep. The exhaustion in your voice is making me tired.”

“Ha-ha. G’night, Bex.”

“Night, Buck.”

Bucky pulled the headphones out of his ears, made sure his alarm was set, then set his phone on his nightstand. Within minutes, he drifted into the most undisturbed sleep he’d had in over a year.

┉✪┉

It was 10:52 p.m. when Bucky finally walked into Wilson’s. Sam had been certain he wouldn’t see Bucky in the café for a while after Wednesday. So when he looked up and saw those piercing blue eyes—with the crinkle at the corners returned in full—well, his heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

“Hey there. Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Bucky looked around the café, making sure no one was waiting to be served. He released a sigh of relief at seeing it empty.

“Yeah, well, there’s someone I needed to apologize to,” he replied softly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

Sam’s lips spread with his signature warm smile, striking up the familiar song Bucky’s stomach and heart played every time he saw it.

“Give me a sec, then. I’ll lock up and shut ‘er down. You want anything?”

“Nah, man I’m good. Except, wait, I owe you for—”

“Don’t even think about taking your wallet out. The other night was on me, and that’s that.”

“Jeez, I’m not winning any arguments this week,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what I thought. Now, go sit your ass down and I’ll be there in a sec.”

Bucky followed Sam’s orders again, though not before moving the mismatched wingbacks into the same position as Wednesday. Grinning from ear to ear, he took a seat and waited. Once his closing routine was done, Sam took his seat, returning the smile upon seeing a happy looking Bucky.

“So, what’s this about an apology?” he asked with a teasing look, until he noticed Bucky’s face turn serious.

“Yeah, I… look, let me just say what I need to say. When I’m done, if you don’t like it or want to chew me out or kick me out then I’ll understand. But just… I thought about this all day and I need to get it out or—”

“James, I haven’t had to kick a single customer out of my shop since I opened, and I ain’t about to start now. Take your time, man. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam gave Bucky his most sincere look before leaning back into his chair. He hoped he had conveyed as much relaxation and openness as he could to counter the obvious nervousness vibrating through Bucky.

“Okay, here goes then,” Bucky breathed out, running a hand through his short chestnut waves. His knee bounced and his hands were bunched into fists. “You were right. About everything. And I’m so sorry for yelling at you. You’ve been so fucking nice to me and all you did was share your concern and I blew up at you.”

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing.

“For the past year and a half I’ve been fooling myself. Justifying my unhappiness in staying at Hydra with a bunch of excuses. Because I needed to take care of my sister. Because I needed to gain some more experience before I moved on. Because they were letting me use their software after hours, so really they were doing me a favour, right? But then my stupid boss starting piling on projects as if I owed him something more than the work I was already doing. And suddenly I was working later and later. I started having trouble sleeping. Getting anxiety attacks. I started bailing on my friends, my sister…..myself. But the one thing that I couldn’t seem to bail on was coming to see you.

“So following some advice from Bex, I quit my stupid job today and now I’m about to follow the other half of her advice. You and your fucking cobbler has kept me going this past year and half. And I don’t know if it’s what you meant when you said you liked me the other day, but man oh man, do I like you. And if I’ve misread the situation, then I’m sorry, but if I haven’t and you do like me that way, well, then, I’d like to take you out on a proper date if I haven’t royally screwed things up already, and—”

“James. James.” Sam was out of his chair and kneeling between Bucky’s thighs in an instant, uncurling his fists gently. “Just—just shut up and kiss me, oh my god.”

Sam’s fingertips pressed into Bucky’s thighs. Bucky lifted his now uncurled hands to cup either side of Sam’s jawline so that he could pull him closer. Their mouths connected, transforming into a tangle of teeth and tongues and saliva. Bucky tried to savour every second, imprint it into his brain, as he explored the curve of Sam’s lips before reluctantly breaking for air.

“So does that mean you accept my apology?” Bucky asked breathlessly, pressing his forehead into Sam’s.

“You even gotta ask? Whoooooo, you’re a better kisser than I imagined.”

“Oh, so you fantasized about me, hm?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t.”

“Alright, guilty,” Bucky admitted, pushing his lips into Sam’s once more. This time softer, slower, with purpose.

When they broke apart a second time, Bucky leaned back slightly, his thumbs caressing the apples of Sam’s cheeks. Sam had turned off all but the front lights in the café, and the now full moon was flooding the space. Sam’s face glowed almost blue as the sheen of his skin glistened in the moonlight.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Bucky said, not a hint of doubt or exaggeration in his tone. As if it were a well known fact, common knowledge.

Sam’s cheek’s were on fire and he ducked his head out of Bucky’s hands at the compliment.

“Don’t get all bashful on me now,” Bucky whispered, tilting Sam’s chin up with a knuckle.

“Well, you’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen so I guess we’re well matched then,” he retorted, gazing back into Bucky’s eyes.

“Guess we are.”

With that, Sam pressed a final kiss into Bucky’s lips before lifting himself off the floor. His knees cracked as he got up, reaching a hand to help Bucky out the chair once he was standing.

“How about a drink then? The night’s still young.”

“I thought I was the one asking you out,” Bucky huffed teasingly.

“You did, and I accepted. Now I’m telling you what I want to do on our first date. I’m a control freak, James, better get used to it.”

“Oh boy, story of my life. You and Becca will get along swimmingly,” Bucky chuckled at the thought of his sister and Sam together as he led him towards the exit.

He could already picture it. Sunday dinners at their shared apartment, their sisters swapping stories about growing up with the two men. Laughter and music filling a dining room that was already full of signs of a life built together. Too much food on the table, but everyone saved space for one of Sam’s desserts. It was domestic, comforting. It was perfect and Bucky simultaneously couldn’t wait to get there and wanted to slow down time so he could feel every moment.

“You with me, James?” Sam’s eyes searched Bucky’s face, a furrowed brow that relaxed as soon as Bucky replied.

“Yeah, Sam. Don’t think you’ll ever get rid of me now,” Bucky replied softly, leaving a lingering kiss behind Sam’s ear.

A shaky breath escaped Sam’s mouth, “That’s… that’s all I’ve wanted for a while. C’mon, let’s go celebrate. I know a place not too far from here.”

Sam grabbed Bucky’s hand and their fingers locked, like it was a gesture they had adopted years ago. With a small tug Bucky began to follow him down the sidewalk, returning the directive with a squeeze.

The city was just starting to come alive again, 11:30 p.m. on Friday night. Club goers dressed up, friends screaming in excitement. Neon signs and street lamps and the light from late night eateries all melding together. The full moon added itself to the mix, as if to light their way. Not that they needed it. The two men were already glowing, an inextinguishable light radiating off them as they strolled into the night.

la fin

┉✪┉

The ongoing lack of access to clean drinking water in Indigneous communities across North America is a serious issue that every citizen should be outraged over. Want to learn about it? Here’s a place to start:

In the US: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2021/apr/28/indigenous-americans-drinking-water-navajo-nation

In Canada: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/apr/30/canada-first-nations-justin-trudeau-drinking-water

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