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buckyismybicycle · 3 years

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I've been lookin' (part 1/2 Roommate AU)

Title: I've been lookin' (part 1)/ meet me under the mistletoe (part 2) Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson Rating: Teen Tags: FLUFF, Roommate AU/no powers, Summary: It’s an ongoing thing in their group that Bucky and Sam are polar opposite ends and everyone got sandwiched between them.

But maybe, their friends have got it wrong.

Sam has never felt better, happier, than right now. Where he’s surrounded by his friends, and they’re all done school (finally, Clint!) and they’re all employed and happy. It’s great.

They’re relaxed. They’re having fun, god forbid.

Steve sits across from him, marker in hand and whiteboard at the ready. Natasha, sitting beside Steven, has dug up some partners quiz (“relax, it can mean work partners too!”) and her and Clint had crushed it. Obviously.

“What’s Sam’s favourite comfort food?” Natasha asks, just as the apartment door opens.

“Lobster mac and cheese, why? What happened now?” Bucky responds, kicking his shoes off and not even looking at them.

Sam’s back goes ramrod straight because what the fuck? Natasha has a smirk on her face, which Sam does not like, and she’s having a whole conversation with Clint using just her eyes.

“No reason, just settling a debate,” Natasha lies smoothly (thank you, Nat). Bucky snorts.

“There is no world where beer chili is better than gourmet seafood mac and cheese, anyway,” he says with all the confidence in the world.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” she plays along. “Thanks, Buck, I knew I could count on you.” Bucky squints at her for a second but then just shrugs because, honestly, weirder shit has happened and goes to his room, closing it behind him like he always does. Steve, who hasn’t moved a muscle this entire time, just looks flabbergasted.

“Really?” He asks Sam, looking almost offended.

“Um,” Sam says unintelligibly.

“Why? What’d you put down?” Natasha asks, leaning back to look. Steve flips the board around to reveal Chili (with beer).

“I mean, that’s also correct,” Sam says immediately, so Steve doesn’t feel bad about not knowing, since Steve feels bad about almost everything all the time.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha wags a finger. “Pick one. Absolute comfort, which one do you go for?”

“Well,” Sam starts and then he thinks for a second. “I would’ve probably also said chili, you know my Ma makes it with beer, the whole damn house smells amazing…”

“But,” Clint waves his hand for him to continue.

“Lobster Mac and Cheese was… just not something we could have all the time. You seen the price of lobster these days? Absolute robbery,” Sam shakes his head. “So, I’d only get it if I was really looking for something to hit home…Ma saved it for the… special days. Days when I really needed it.” Like when dad passed away.

“Sorry Steve, but you don’t get that point,” Natasha jabs him in the bicep and Steve is already nodding along.

“You sure you don’t want Bucky as your partner instead?” Steve jokes and Sam rolls his eyes. It’s an ongoing thing in their group that Bucky and Sam are polar opposite ends and everyone got sandwiched between them.

When they finally wrap up their game ,Natasha, Sam and Clint leave Steve and Bucky to go across the hall into their own shared apartment and Clint takes his hearing aids out, says he’s going to sleep. Which leaves Sam wide open for attack by one Natasha Romanoff.

“So.”

“Can I help you?” He sasses back, reaching for orange juice in the fridge. It’s clearly got “SAM” scribbled on it in Sharpie, because she thinks drinking from the carton is gross, but Sam sees it as a win if he gets a whole carton to himself.

“Bucky is paying awfully close attention to you,” she singsongs. “Never thought I’d see the day he’d know your secrets better than me.”

“Okay, first off, mac and cheese is not some deep dark secret,” Sam snorts. “And secondly, it was a random instance. Lord knows his memory is crazy scary, he probably picked up a conversation I had one time.”

“And deemed that fact important enough to remember forever, gotcha,” she says nonchalantly before heading to her room, because she’s infuriating like that.

“I hate you!” Sam yells at her retreating figure, but he feels like the losing one. Even when Figaro saunters into the kitchen to rub up against Sam’s leg, which usually makes him feel infinitely better, seems judgey right now. Sam scoops him up to bring him to bed and when they pass by Lucky, who lifts his head off the couch, Sam just glares at him.

“Don’t even,” he squints at the dog, who flops back down on the cushions.

The thing is: Sam cannot stop thinking about it. He tries, with maximum effort, to recall the conversation where he would have mentioned it when Bucky would have been around, because he definitely didn’t mention it to Bucky. It literally gnaws at him. If he was the type to keep secret journals, he’d accuse Bucky of reading them to spite him or something.

Natasha, of course, picks up on it.

“Are you still upset over this macaroni and cheese thing? Jesus Christ.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Sure. Why does it bother you so much that he knows something about you?”

“I’m not bothered!”

“Sure,“ she repeats.

---

It takes a few days, but Sam eventually lets it go. He chalks it up to someone that he did have that conversation with telling Bucky offhand. There. Done. Everything is fine.

Then he gets a picture from Clint, who’s at Target, with four different Dove body washes.

What colour again??

He's about to write back, but his door opens and the man in question is hauling two alarmingly big bags and Sam realizes the text came in over two hours ago.

“Don’t worry about the body wash man,” he tells Clint easily. “Sorry I didn’t text back.”

Clint looks confused for a second before he sets down the bags.

“Oh! The body wash. Yeah, no problem, here,” he says, tossing a bottle at him. Thankfully Sam’s reflexes can keep up. “Bucky said it was this one.”

And, having no idea the impact of his words, Clint unpacks some other items from his shopping trip into the kitchen before carrying the rest to his room. Sam is still standing there looking at the blue label on the bottle in his hands wondering how and why Bucky would know that.

The next time they all hang out, Bucky’s not around (as usual). It’s dinner and games, which is their usual MO, but when it hits 11:30pm, Clint asks “where’s Bucky?”

“Working late,” Steve answers. “Some client in Russia, who doesn’t respect time zones.” Sam realizes he actually has no idea what Bucky does.

“What’s he do again?” He asks, going for casual.

“Uh, he’s a fancy translator, I guess is the best term,” Steve thinks.

“Contract interpreter,” Natasha corrects. “Translates in international meetings, mostly.” Steve nods along.

“Yeah. But translates documents too. Reports, meeting minutes, that sort of thing.”

“Transcribing shit,” Clint offers helpfully. “Sucks that he’s working so late though. Damn Russia and your five hundred time zones,” he says accusingly at Natasha, who just snorts.

“There are eleven,” she rolls her eyes. “Not as bad as that World Expo in Shanghai, at least.”

“God that was the worst week of my life,” Steve grumbles, recounting their opposite time schedules.

Okay, so, he's the only one who doesn’t know anything about Bucky apparently.

Why does it make him feel like shit? It’s not like he doesn’t hang out with Bucky, it’s just that everyone else seems to have a thing with him. Steve is his best friend and roommate, and Natasha is his ex-girlfriend for fuck’s sake. Clint had met him at the shooting range, and immediately became enamoured by the fact that Bucky knew sign language. Sam’s fairly certain Clint had a crush on Bucky, before Bucky introduced him to Nat. Bucky and him… they just don’t have a thing.

And even when they get to hang out as a group, Bucky is missing half the time, which Sam only just realized was due to his schedule and not that he hated people (though, Sam is pretty sure Bucky does hate people).

---

It takes him a few days to get over that feeling too.

Life carries on, and Sam finally makes his way to case worker status, instead of just a temp agent. The gang decides to celebrate with dinner, and to Sam’s horror/delight, Bucky is also coming. The five of them pile into Steve’s Volkswagen and it’s absolutely hell on earth because Sam can practically feel Bucky’s knees in his back from behind his seat and he tries to move up as far as he can but Bucky just taps him on the shoulder and says “don’t worry about it”.

They go to one of Sam’s favourite restaurants, The Fox and the Fiddle, where he’s dying to order the chocolate lava cake before they even get to entrees but he behaves himself. They start with drinks and appetizers, chatting as though they don’t talk every damn day. He’s across from Bucky with Natasha and Clint on his right, Steve beside Bucky. He tries not to stare at Bucky, because it makes him uncomfortable, but it’s hard when the sunset catches Bucky’s eyes just right, so he studies his menu intensely even though he practically lives at this restaurant. The alcohol catches up to him though, and he excused himself to go inside to use the bathroom.

Not a moment after Sam goes, the waitress appears to take their orders for their main course.

“Did Sam say what he was getting?” Clint asks, after ordering the home burger combo for himself. Natasha orders a curry bowl before she shrugs.

“Probably the fish and chips,” she guesses. “That man has an unhealthy obsession with fish and chips.”

“Only if they’re from Lenny’s or Duckworth's. It's the chicken and waffles here,” Bucky intervenes. “Not that it matters, he only came here for the cake.” He orders tacos for himself. Steve orders a grilled chicken wrap combo.

“Well? Waffles or fish or chips?” Steve tries to reach a consensus.

“Waffles,” Bucky says the same time Natasha says “fish and chips.” Bucky considers for a moment.

“Sorry, can I change my order? I’ll take the chicken and waffles, and our friend will take the fish and chips.”

“Sure thing,” the bubbly waitress smiles, obviously enamoured by their little group. Sam comes back a few minutes later and picks up the conversation again. Steve sees the waitress coming back with their order.

“Oh, forgot to tell you the waitress came by. What were you gonna order again?”

“Steve, man, I just want like ten lava cakes. But I guess if we’re doing real food I’ll order some chicken and waffles. Shit, they’re sauce is so good, I don’t know what it is about it.”

He doesn’t miss the way everyone's eyes dart around the table, except Bucky’s, who is firmly staring at a spot on the table.

The waitress comes with another server in tow, helping her carry everything, and hands everyone their order. “Alright, I’ve got the wrap for you, a curry bowl for you, burger combo here, the fish and chips-”

“Sorry, those were mine,” Bucky interrupts, and the waitress switches trajectory, puts the plate in front of Bucky instead.

“Oh, sorry about that! I could have sworn-“

“No, no, it’s - we probably just mixed it up,” Bucky brushes her apology away, and she smiles at him again, accepting the white lie, and maybe checking him out.

“And that leaves the chicken and waffles for you, then!” She says to Sam. “Enjoy your meal everyone, I’ll be back with your dessert menus after.”

“You guys are the best,” Sam smiles, digging into his plate with gusto. Steve, Natasha and Clint don’t miss the way Bucky’s mouth curves upward in a small smile before he tucks away into his-but-not-really-his order. Steve whispers something in Bucky’s ear and he shakes his head with some sort of look that only Steve can interpret. Whatever it is, Steve doesn’t press.

Sam does end up ordering his lava cake, and an extra one to go. Everyone is full and cheerful, and when they step out of the elevator, Bucky just makes it to the top of the stairs (he never takes the elevator). They say goodnight, Clint and Natasha heading in first and Steve ahead of Bucky.

“It’s the dill,” Bucky says to Sam in lieu of a goodnight before blinking and turning around to follow Steve.

It takes Sam almost an hour to figure out what the hell Bucky meant by that.

“… I’ll order some chicken and waffles. Shit, they’re sauce is so good, I don’t know what it is about it.”

Dill. Huh, he’d never really thought about it.

---

Sam comes home from work one day, feeling exhausted. He loves his job, and his vets, but hearing their stories overwhelmed him sometimes. He’s only seen half a tour and he’s been out of combat for years now, it shouldn’t be weighing on him so much anymore, and he starts to doubt his choice getting into his line of work. Can he hold himself together?

When he nears the door, he hears Steve laughing and realizes he forgot about the plans they’d made today. Not wanting to let his friends down, he took a few breaths, and rolled his shoulders, making sure he had a smile on his face.

“SAM! Oh, we’re just watching Jo Koy. Do you wanna start from the beginning?” Steve offers.

“Nah, I’m good, I’ve seen his specials at least half a dozen times, I’mma just get changed,” Sam waves him off and takes stock of his living room. Natasha is sitting in Clint’s lap on one of their recliners. Steve and his girlfriend, Sharon, are on the couch with Bucky sitting on the other side of Steve. He looks kind of miserable, but he looks like that pretty often so Sam can’t be sure. Sam sets his stuff down in his room, changes into a more comfortable shirt and heads back out to claim the other recliner. He’s still unwinding, so his friends are laughing away and he feels a little out of it. Tired. Bucky’s laugh is surprisingly light and it’s - shit, it’s kinda beautiful. Sam has to consciously not look in the direction of the couch but when Steve starts to choke as he’s laughing, Sam has an excuse to look over and Bucky’s face has lost some of its usual tension, an easy smile on his face.

He might’ve been staring a little too long, because Bucky looks over and they make direct eye contact and even as Sam tries to look at everyone else, he knows he’s caught. He looks back though, because he can’t help it, and Bucky just mouths at him, with a scrunch of his eyebrows, “you okay?”

He just nods and smiles, but maybe it’s not convincing enough. After a few minutes, Bucky picks up the empties on the table and wordlessly heads to the kitchen. Sam knows better than to think a beer would help, so he hasn’t bothered.

Bucky comes back and hands out his foraging - a cider for Sharon, a Guinness for Steve, Klinskoye for Nat and a hipster craft beer for Clint. He has to make a second trip apparently, and takes an awfully long time. He comes back with - tea?

Sam gives him an odd look, but accepts the steaming mug and instantly knows the calming scent of chamomile. It’s actually perfect, for the day he’d had.

“Really guys, tapping out?” Sharon ribs them. Bucky just chuckles and takes the attention off Sam.

“I’m an old man alright, and I’ve got a consult in two hours,” he says. “Sorry Sam, but since all our friends are alcoholics I’m going to need you to drink this with me in solidarity.” Sam has no idea if he’s lying or not, but he puts his mug up to salute Bucky and takes a sip, appreciating that Bucky put honey in it just how he likes. It’s… Sam’s sure that Bucky doesn’t actually need the tea, but the thought of Bucky putting on a front for him makes that squiggly cloud of confusion in his mind return.

“Midnight? Ew,” Clint makes a face and Sam remembers that there’s a conversation happening.

“Kazakhstan,” Bucky sighs, like that explains everything (and apparently it does because almost everyone else just nods solemnly).

Sam finds himself spending a little more time watching Bucky, but in his defence, he has seen this special a few times.

---

Unfortunately, someone must have had something because in the days following their hangout, Sharon and Steve are sick as dogs, and Clint starts to come down with it too. Natasha had quarantined him in their room while she took the couch but it was too late, and her fever caught up to her by morning. Nobody thought anything of it until Sam heard Clint throwing up at 2:00am one day and yeah, no thanks. Sam resolutely avoids the common areas and basically locks himself to his room.

The group chat is absolutely dismal with their primary chatters down for the count so he’s surprised when Bucky texts him separately. There’s no “hi” or “hello” which makes Sam kind of amused because it’s just like Bucky to cut to the chase.

Sam is kind of dying at the image though, and he knows he can’t just keep typing LOL but Bucky’s actually got a sense of humour that Sam’s not sure he’s seen before.

And Sam feels like a dick because he’s obviously taken too long to respond and making Bucky feel awkward about it. The thing is, it’s actually a really thoughtful proposition.

Has Bucky ever called him pal before? Sam can’t remember. He hears Bucky say it to Steve, a lot. And Clint, too. Sam kinda feels warm about it. He texts Steve anyway, even if Bucky’s probably already caught him up to speed.

He basically packs as soon as he can, blames it on the fact that he’s going a little stir crazy in his room. He’s knocking on Bucky’s door and Bucky opens it, sweating through the front of his t-shirt and a few shorter strands of hair loose in his face having escaped from his bun. His hair - a manbun -

His entire brain short circuits while Bucky is opening the door wider and apologizing so he misses half of what Bucky says but regardless, it is still unacceptable because wow.

“What, no! No, I mean, I kinda just popped in -“

“Well I did kind of invite you -“

“And I totally forgot to tell you I was coming like, right now, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“It’s okay, I was actually just finishing up,” Bucky shrugs, locking the door behind Sam. “Um, I’m gonna go shower, but you already know where everything is, so, make yourself at home?”

Bucky looks a little embarrassed and Sam really does bad for interrupting the man’s workout but the image of Bucky flushed and breathing heavily is now permanently stuck in Sam’s brain. He’s not sure if he’s grateful or if he’s doomed himself.

Objectively speaking, Sam knows that Bucky is a physically attractive individual. He’s pretty sure that he accidentally said so out loud to Rhodey at some party years ago when they were all still young enough to party without feeling like garbage the next day. Steve had been all “hey is it cool if my buddy comes for a run with us” and Sam said “sure” not thinking it’d be The Bucky.

Back then, Bucky had worn a plain baseball cap low on his head the whole time and didn’t talk.

Steve introduced them and Sam shook the man’s hand politely and then Steve pulled Sam ahead, striking up conversation like he always did and Sam couldn’t help feeling a little awkward knowing his friend was left out.

“It’s… he just got back,” Steve had explained and then suddenly Sam understood the feeling of being forced to do activities he didn’t really want to, and how the last thing Bucky probably wanted was idle chit chat. Sam just nodded and kept pace as best as he could, but he couldn’t help checking over his shoulder every now and then. When all his muscles were on fire and he tapped out, Steve had also plopped his ass on the grass while Sam sucked in air greedily, hands on his knees.

“If - you want - Buck, go for - another - lap. I’ll just - wait here,” Steve had panted out. Bucky’s chest was also rapidly rising and falling, his prosthetic gleaming in the sunlight. Sam remembered not knowing how Bucky could possibly physically manage but the man just nodded once and then took off on the same circuit, even faster.

“What the fuck,” Sam said, out of both jealousy and awe.

“Yeah, he’s been a bit restless since he got back, but doesn’t know how to burn all the energy. He comes with me to the gym sometimes but between the two of us, we’ve broken enough equipment that I think they’re seriously going to ban us.” Sam just laughed and shook his head while Steve laid down enjoying the shade from the trees.

“The arm, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. I… they almost lost him. Saved him, but not the arm.” Sam didn’t want to pry. He knew of Bucky already, Steve had mentioned a lot of childhood stories but not in great detail.

“He’s back now,” Sam assures, because he knew sometimes people just needed to hear it.

“Yeah,” Steve closed his eyes. His breathing is starting to even out. Bucky comes around the corner again and slows his almost-run to a nice jog.

“Another?” Steve asked and that time, Bucky paused, hands on his waist as he breathed deeply. He gave a small shake of his head and Steve got up, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Good run, boys.”

Sam snaps out of his reverie when Bucky raps a knuckle on his doorframe; Sam hadn’t even heard the shower turn off. Bucky’s hair is still a bit damp despite his efforts to towel dry it and it’s kind of haphazardly strewn across his head which makes him look softer.

“Dinner?” Bucky asks and Sam realizes he hasn’t eaten all day. He tells Bucky as much and is disarmed by the charming grin on the other man’s face.

Bucky passes him some fresh sheets, offers to help him but then Sam orders him into the kitchen and Bucky leaves him to unpack, not that there’s much to it other than setting up a work desk with his laptop.

It doesn’t take long before the apartment starts to fill with the telltale sizzling of something being fried and Sam pops into the kitchen. On the other side of the island, Sam can definitely see chicken happening and there’s batter in a deep bowl, on the counter and on Bucky’s arm.

“Are you making what I think you’re making?” Sam asks, because he doesn’t want to presume but…

“I’m gonna beat The Fox and the Fiddle, mark my words,” Bucky states confidently and Sam’s stomach swoops at the cocky smirk on his face.

“Now that I can’t wait to see. Can I help with anything?” Bucky considers for a moment and then hands him the tongs.

“Take over? I’m gonna start on the sauce.”

“If you make a sauce better than the one at the Fox, I would eat my hat.” Bucky laughs, and Sam memorizes every tone.

“If we’re making bets here, I’m sure we can get more creative than eating a hat. Which you don’t wear. Ever.” And maybe Sam’s been spiralling lately because it sounds almost flirtatious but tries to just focus on not burning the chicken. Bucky alternates between the waffle iron and the sauce. Sam tries to peek at what Bucky’s sprinkling in but the damn bastard keeps blocking his view, almost as if he knew. He does smell the dill though when that comes into play, no hiding that.

When the chicken is done, Bucky boots Sam out of the kitchen back to the other side of the island and he plates everything like a damn chef.

“Beer?”

“Sure.”

Sam is thoroughly impressed, enough that the first bite literally leaves him speechless. Bucky swallows his bite and tilts his head to put his face in Sam’s direct line of sight.

“Sam?” And Jesus, Sam needs to get a grip on himself.

“This is sinful,” Sam finally finishes his first bite. “You’ve been holding out on us man, I didn’t know you could cook like this!” Bucky pretends to be offended.

“You guys thought Steve did the cooking? Are you nuts?!” And then he proceeds to launch into a story about how Steve once microwaved bowl noodles but forgot to add water first, and the time he forgot that he was boiling water, turning the pot black as coal. Which leads to Sam asking for more stories, and by the end of dinner, the two of them are laughing their asses off.

He learned a lot about Bucky, a lot of things he didn’t know or ever think of in the same breath as Bucky.

“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly says once they’ve stopped exchanging the funniest stories in their armoury trying to get the other to choke on their food.

“Sure?”

“How’d you know about the mac and cheese thing?” He thinks he kind of sounds like an idiot. “I just - even Steve didn’t know that.” Bucky takes a deep breath.

“Your sister - when she came that day,” Bucky says, like he’s carefully choosing his words. And Sam has to think about the last time Sarah had flown to visit him. It wasn’t that often - she had a business, kids, which meant she came up for the Big Stuff.

Like when Riley -

Oh. Oh. Despite the circumstances, Sam smiles at the memory. He was so relieved to see her, remembering how weak and exhausted he felt, clinging to his sister like she could save him. She kind of did, replicating Ma’s recipe, and they had the whole tray over the span of 6 hours with a white wine for her and (too many) beers for him. She couldn’t stay long, but he remembers that she came, for him.

“That… makes a lot of sense.”

“Was it buggin’ you that I knew or something?” Bucky asks, a little confused. Sam lets out a kind of bitter laugh.

“No, not like - it just surprised me, that you remembered,” Sam admits. “So, what’s your comfort food?” Bucky laughs again, and Sam loves how easy it is for Bucky now - that maybe he’s just always been this open, friendly guy one-on-one and Sam’s lost out on all of it because he was too much of a chickenshit to just ask Bucky to hang out, just the two of them.

“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” Bucky stares off into the distance. “There, uh, was a bit of time where I didn’t really… like eating? I ate of course, because I wasn’t trying to like, starve myself, or anything like that. Christ I thought Steve was going to get me committed. It’s just - I don’t know.”

“You had a complicated relationship with food.”

“Yeah, that. I mean, I was POW, they weren’t exactly feeding me gourmet meals, so anything kind of tastes great after,” he said a little dryly. Then he winces like he realized that his joke was distasteful. “Sorry.” Sam just shakes his head.

“The fact you can joke about it at all is an amazing feat, you know,” he says honestly. “And I’m sorry you went through that, I can’t imagine…” Bucky just smiles sadly.

“I’m home now,” Bucky just shrugs, and continues his meal. It reminds Sam of when he’d said that to Steve on their first run.

“Yeah, you are.” Sam realizes how strong Bucky truly is. To go through what he went through, not just with being captured but losing his arm and reintegrating, rehabilitating, and still functioning at such a high level. He tells Bucky as much, while they’re being open and all.

“It’s not - I’m really not,” Bucky stammers. “I still have bad days.”

“I think we all do,” Sam assures him.

“You never seem to,” Bucky blurts out. “I mean, like, you always seem - you smile, all the time. Help people. Talk to people. Everyone goes to you with their problems and you just fix ‘em like it’s nothing. Always knew you’d get the case worker position, it was a no-brainer.”

“I like helping people,” Sam shrugs, like it’s no big deal, even though he’s really surprised that Bucky was talking about him in such a light. “Helping people is what makes me happy.”

“Yeah, ‘course you’d say that,” Bucky grumbles with a smile before finishing his beer. “You just always seem to have it together, even after going through… well y’know. I always wished I was more like you in that sense.” Sam was a bit floored by the sudden admiration. Or… had he been a bit blind this whole time?

“That’s awfully nice of you to say, Buck.” The man doesn’t say anything, ducks his head instead and they finish the last few bites in a companionable silence.

He bullies Bucky into watching something on Netflix with him, since he’s been watching off his laptop for the past few days, not daring to even sit on the couch. It doesn’t take much, and Bucky one-ups him by cracking out ice cream and two spoons.

They sit close enough to share the tub between them, and Sam realizes how easily they’d spent the day together. Why hadn’t they done this before?

“Steve thinks it’s gross to eat ice cream straight from the tub,” Bucky grumbles.

“Uh, didn’t he sneeze on you?”

“Yeah, he fuckin’ did.” And the two of them laugh, easy and free, light and breezy.

“If it makes you feel any better, Nat writes my name on the orange juice because she thinks drinking from the carton is barbaric.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“She thinks that way about a lot of things. You ever try to get a spoonful of peanut butter for yourself when she has the tub out?”

“Suicide,” Sam nods solemnly so he can see the crinkle of Bucky’s eyes as he laughs.

The show finishes and Netflix, bless, autoplays the next episode as they finish with the carton and chuck it on the table.

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t just do it himself,” Bucky complains about the protagonist.

“Right?” Sam practically yells. “I can’t stand it."

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” He turns to find Bucky facing him, his eyes a terribly beautiful shade of blue in the dim room, the lights from the TV flickering in them.

“Think maybe I could be reading this wrong but…” His voice and eyes trail off as he swallows thickly, his arm that’d been slung over the couch making its way to rest by Sam’s shoulder.

Sam’s heart thumps strongly against his chest, and the feelings he’s had these past few months just make sense. He can’t possibly think it’s anything else when Bucky leans in ever so slightly and Sam makes up the rest of the distance.

It’s slow and soft, vanilla-sweet and perfect as their bodies inch closer and closer until Sam’s able to get his arms around Bucky, the cool metal of Bucky’s hand cradling his face in return.

“Definitely not wrong,” Sam whispers when they break apart, foreheads resting against each other’s.

“Thank god.” Bucky’s thumb gently strokes across Sam’s cheek. “I’ve… I didn’t think you’d ever even look my way, to be honest.”

“You’re outta your damn mind,” Sam grunts before sliding his hands up Bucky’s torso, making the other man shiver, and resting them against his neck, thumbs just against the hard set of Bucky’s jaw. “Let me show you how much I’ve been looking.”

Bucky’s soft chuckle gets lost between them as Sam brings them together again. The stubble under the pads of his thumbs, Bucky’s arms around him, the laugh track coming from the TV - he’s not sure why it’d taken them so long to realize they were this perfect for each other.

And so, when Steve announces that he’s moving in with Sharon and Bucky is suddenly on the market for a new roommate, he doesn’t hesitate when Bucky hands him Steve’s old key.

For WinterFalcon Bingo 2021! [Bingo Square: Roommate] See also: [overall masterlist] & [Giveaway]

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buckyismybicycle · 3 years

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never asked anyone to save me, but if it's you, i'll take it - Alpha!Bucky/Omega!Sam

Title: never asked anyone to save me, but if it's you, i'll take it [AO3 Link] Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson Rating: ❗NSWF/Explicit❗ 18+ only Warnings/Tags: Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Sam, cockwarming, unexpected fluff? Summary: I’m bad at summaries, but Bucky is an Alpha on the brink of going feral, denying himself his body's needs. Steve is someone who only just got his best friend back and can't bear to lose him to this, but can't help him being an Alpha himself. Sam is an Omega that could save him, but can he?

Fic: for my Bingo Square "Sam Wilson" (BBB) Chapter 1: for my Bingo Square "Alpha/Beta/Omega" (WFB) Chapter 2: for my Bingo Square "cockwarming" (WFB)

CHAPTER ONE

Sam enters the break room at the Wrong Time for a conversation he never wanted to hear.

“He can’t keep hiding in his room forever.”

“I know, Tony. I know. I’m working on it.”

“I only spared you because he’s your best friend, but I can’t anymore, you gotta know. You know what? I’m just gonna say it. I’m just gonna tell you, because it’s ruining my life and I can’t -”

“Tony,” Steve uses his Tony Voice, which is somehow exasperated yet still patient.

“I am literally afraid to send anyone into his room after his rut. There! Happy now? They come out scarred for life! It’s carnage in there, Cap, absolute carnage. Like a fucking hurricane. He needs to get his dick in an Omega like, yesterday. It’s literally costing me a fortune. I’ve had to buy four mattresses since he moved in here!”

The look on Steve’s face very clearly indicates he is not happy about it at all, and just closes his eyes, still standing with his arms crossed, like he’d simply fallen asleep standing up. Sam doesn’t blame him, because the image is terrifying.

“I’m sorry Tony,” Steve snaps. “But I don’t have any spare omegas lying around, do you? Besides, I’d rather it… not be a person on the receiving end. I’ll pay you for the mattresses, or whatever you need, he just needs more time. Please.” The edge in his voice is gone, leaving a defeated-looking Steve.

The way Tony huffs and throws his hands in the air as he walks out would normally tell anyone that they’re shit out of luck, but from where Sam’s standing, Steve actually has a good point right now, if he understands the story correctly.

“Sorry,” Steve sighs as he turns to him. “You need me?”

“Uh.” Sam had kind of forgotten what he’d come to see Steve about, but it certainly hadn’t been about his rampant Alpha best friend upstairs and now that’s all Sam can think about it. “That was… intense.”

“I know, I know. It’s bad, but you know how Buck is about letting people in,” Steve complains. “The worst part? I can’t do anything to help him. If I could, I would, I swear. But I… The serum changed me, and I can’t be what he needs. Sam, I don’t know what to do, it’s killin’ me to see it tearing him apart.”

And also his room, apparently, Sam thinks to himself while trying to tell Steve that there’s got to be a solution.

“He’s near feral, Sam,” Steve whispers, afraid and baby blue eyes downcast. “I just got him back, and I’m this close to losing him all over again.”

Hell in a handbasket, Sam can’t believe what he’s about to do.

---

He knocks on the door to Bucky’s room, a place he’s never set foot in and had never intended to. To call Bucky a hermit would be an understatement, and Sam is mildly concerned that the room is utterly trashed, and should’ve asked what hazards he might find in there.

“Access Denied,” FRIDAY’s voice rings out unhelpfully.

“Gee thanks, I hadn’t noticed,” Sam rolls his eyes. “This is a wellness check FRIDAY, you know it overrules security preferences of the resident.”

“Access granted, though I must caution you against entering,” she replies. An AI is warning him against going into an Alpha’s room, how is this his life? But the doors click and Sam waits for them to slide open, revealing a dark cavern. Sam nearly falls over from the scent alone as he stumbles into the wall and holds his breath just to think straight as his mind begins to throb.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, Alpha

Clearly, Bucky’s not on suppressants, though Sam supposes there’s no reason he should be, given that he spends a total of 0 hours outside these very walls. Still, it makes it annoyingly harder for Sam to concentrate.

Alpha, Alpha…

He’s spent a good chunk of his life hiding the fact that he was an omega. Not because he was ashamed, but because people treated him differently when they thought he was a beta. Nobody in the Avengers towers knew, except maybe Nat. He just had to assume that she knew everything. Usually, people just assumed and Sam didn’t bother to correct them.

“James?” It feels too personal to call him Bucky, not when they don’t actually know each other that well.

Alpha?

There’s a shuffling noise somewhere in the room, though Sam’s eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness yet.

“I came to check up on you,” he calls out again. “Steve’s been worrying about you.”

“Tell that punk to mind his own business,” a gravelly voice snaps harshly.

“You’ve met Steve, right?” Sam asks rhetorically. “You know it’s impossible for him to turn away. Especially not from you. I… I thought maybe I could try to help.”

Even in the pitch black of the room, Sam can see a silhouette of someone tall and broad, shoulders squared and body built like Steve’s.

“Ain’t something therapy can fix. Stop trying to help me,” the voice rasps again, like he’s not used to talking so much, or maybe he’d screamed himself hoarse at some point. “Just leave me be.”

“Do you want to go feral?” Sam thinks he understands a lot of what Bucky feels. It’s different, of course, but the principles are the same: guilt, trauma, questioning one’s self-worth. A veteran is a veteran, just that nobody on Earth has gone through what Bucky’s gone through.

“Maybe Steve will finally let you put me down.” It’s not really an answer, but it’s something that makes Sam’s heart twist uncomfortably.

“You’re not an animal to be put down,” he responds calmly.

Alpha, Alpha

“We’ll see.” There’s more rustling and Sam takes a few steps forward before a low growl rings in the mostly-empty room. Just as quickly as it comes, it stops.

“You’re... Not an Alpha.”

“I wouldn’t have come in here if I was,” Sam retorts. Seriously, did he come off as an amateur or something?

“Can you pass the memo along to Steve then,” Bucky mutters. Maybe if the situation weren’t so dire, he’d see that Bucky’s humour is a lot like his: laced with sarcasm. Sam can see the man’s shadow move, but hears no footsteps - it’s eerie, deadly, and it reminds him why it took SHIELD so long to find him in the first place.

“He’s just worried about you,” Sam tries again. “He… He’s devastated at the idea of you going feral.” As far as anyone knew, the only thing Bucky cared about was Steve. He had surrendered, for Steve. Agreed to be detained, cuffed, locked up, put on trial, for Steve. It’s the only bargaining chip they’d ever had on the assassin, the only leverage Sam could hope to use.

The silence that follows is tense and there's obviously a very fine line of what was ‘using Steve to get through to Bucky’ versus ‘using Steve to get to Bucky’ and Sam honestly isn’t sure where he’s toeing the line until Bucky makes a rumbling noise. It’s not exactly a growl, but not a content sound either.

“And what exactly is it that you’re proposing, counsellor?”

Sam’s a little flattered that Steve clearly talks about him to Bucky, then wonders how much Bucky knows about him, if it’s as deep as what he knows in return from the files that SHIELD’s collected on him, all the HYDRA secrets that they’d archived.

“Well, can we start with a light? And a window?”

“You shouldn’t’ve come in here without a filter,” Bucky chides, though there’s no harshness as Sam would’ve expected. Still, Bucky reaches behind one of his blackout curtains and cracks the window open. The breeze makes the curtain flutter, and for the briefest moment, Sam catches pale skin and light eyes surrounded by dark hair and it’s a glimpse of the Bucky that Steve would rave about. Beautiful. Bucky disappears and Sam hears a closing door, and before Sam can ask what he’s doing, he hears the shower run. Sam is baffled, but takes the time to step closer to the fresh air coming in, hoping it’ll help him clear his head. He tugs the curtain, just a little bit, just enough to see where he’s stepping, and he realizes Bucky’s room - his furniture - is just as dark even with the light. It only takes a few minutes, but the bathroom door opens again and the overpowering smell of Bucky has toned down, just a bit, though Sam can still smell something akin to a fresh breeze rolling off him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

“You looked like you were going to pass out,” Bucky answers. “I don’t wanna be responsible for dragging your ass back into the hallway for clean up.”

“How considerate of you,” Sam deadpans. Bucky snorts, and Sam thinks it should be gross, but it’s kind of cute, actually.

“When’s the last time you knotted?” He cuts to the chase, trying to focus on his task at hand before his DNA starts to make him look for a life-mate in this mysterious man.

“A hundred years ago.”

“You’re only a hundred and seven, try again.”

“1943.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” It’s banter. Sort of. It’s easy.

“It was summer of 1943, we were just outside of Sicily and Steve was no longer an Omega. I told him we shouldn’t - we couldn’t. Dumbass insisted I knot him anyway, and it was dreadful.” Sam has no idea if Bucky is actually serious, but he thinks that if Bucky were going to joke about something, it wouldn’t be this.

“It’s the last time I remember, anyway. Properly. I know my body’s knotted, but I couldn’t tell you what decade to be honest. Or with who.” Bucky sounds resigned, cold, like he’s trying to detach that part of him and something about that ignites a fury inside Sam, that HYDRA violated Bucky’s mind, body, and also the intimacy of a mating, something that the man clearly cared for, given his history with Steve.

“I’m not really sure if I can, any more,” Bucky adds a little softer, voice unsure for the first time since Sam’s been here.

“That’s fucked up,” Sam says bluntly. “Your - it’s your body, your -”

“It wasn’t, back then. Not really, anyway.” Bucky’s tone is flat instead of angry, and Sam’s not really sure how to feel about Bucky being so nonchalant about his past trauma. The wind picks up and flicks the curtain again, a beam of light just catching half of Bucky’s face, where Sam now pieces together the strong, defined jawline with maybe a day-old stubble, his hair still a bit damp from his impromptu shower, and a glint of metal. Sam realizes that Bucky’s not even wearing a shirt, must’ve walked right out of the shower in god-knows-what.

He looks different from the photos Steve has in his room, but different from the ones in his SHIELD file, like the ones HYDRA had stored.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Sam braves. Though still uneasy, he feels a resolve settling in his bones, a determination born out of want and less out of desperation.

“I’m not - no,” Bucky refuses. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a Beta, it won’t work. I can’t. Even with Steve being enhanced - I told him it wouldn’t work. I… I hurt him. And I don’t want to hurt anyone, I promised I wouldn’t, never again.”

There’s something fragile and tender in his admission, a tone underneath the spiced bravado of an Alpha is someone scared and timid, someone who never wanted to hurt people but was forced to anyway. Bucky is someone who drowns in guilt for the sins that he’s convinced he committed, and it makes Sam blurt out, “I’m not a Beta.”

It stuns Bucky into silence, apparently.

“I’m an Omega, nobody knows,” Sam adds quickly. “But if there’s anyone who can help you, it’s me.”

“Why?” Bucky drops back to a growl this time. “I told him I’m not worth all this, Sam.”

“Because I want to.” Sam realizes alarmingly that he does want to, and not just for Steve’s sake. His name sounds too natural coming out of Bucky’s mouth, something he’d never thought of before now. “So let me.”

“You shouldn’t -” Bucky hisses sharply as his nostrils fill with the sweet scent of Omega, a scent that he doesn’t remember smelling for decades now, and it’s enough to make him fall on his knees, doubled over. Sam pockets the pheromone blocker that he’d snapped off his wrist, a neat little invention of Tony’s, and stays still. It’s a bit of a cheap shot, to entice Bucky with his scent, but if it’s the best way to convince him, so be it.

“Why are you…” Bucky loses his train of thought as his next breath just short circuits his brain again. Omega.

His body craves it, and he’s thankful for the darkness surrounding him as he feels himself getting hard from the scent alone.

“James, can I come to you?”

Come for me, Bucky’s traitorous brain supplies.

“Ngh,” is the noise that comes out of his mouth, but he’s too dizzy to be embarrassed. Sam’s scent grows stronger and Bucky shivers as he curls his fingers into fists against his carpet. He wants, and it’s bad - this is what it feels like to go feral, he’s sure of it. To want to tear something - someone - apart and sink his teeth in until he tastes blood.

“James?” Sam’s voice is louder now, closer, honey-sweet just like his scent.

“You need to get out,” he manages through gritted teeth as his body aches with a fire he can’t control for much longer, and it burns, burns, burns. “I - I’m there. I’m there, it’s too late, just tell Stevie I’m sorry -”

“Oh hell no, you are not giving up on me,” Sam chastises before dropping to his own knees in front of Bucky, legs parted and it makes Bucky shudder as the heady scent of sex becomes stronger. “C’mon, bed.”

CHAPTER TWO

Bucky’s been in the army, he’s been good at taking directions, but it turned bitter when HYDRA forced them upon him, and yet he doesn’t think twice about following Sam, letting his arm be yanked on until he’s somewhat standing, realizing that Sam has a hold of vibranium but hasn’t let go.

“I’m going to hurt you,” Bucky tries again to plead with Sam when they make it to his bed, but the other man isn’t having it. Bucky feels strong but gentle hands on his shoulders, pushing backward and down. He sinks easily atop his mattress as he feels every inch of Sam’s legs sliding against his own when the man straddles him.

“Someone who’s feral doesn’t worry about hurting others, James,” Sam whispers softly, his breath hot against Bucky’s ear. “You’re okay, we’re both gonna be okay. Now kiss me.”

Bucky doesn’t mind Sam’s commands as he caves into his urges, his hands on Sam’s hips and Sam’s hands cradling his face. Sam tastes as delicious as he smells, sweet and spicy, like cinnamon apple pie and hot cider. He moans unabashedly into the kiss and there’s no doubt about whether or not Sam can feel Bucky’s cock swelling in his pants, or the strong waves of arousal rolling off of him.

“Sam - please -” Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but somehow, Sam understands.

“I got you, it’s okay,” Sam assures him and down they go, rolling against Bucky’s sheets where Sam is surrounded by the scent of wilderness, like a hot spring in the mountains and fresh pine, but also something sharp, a scent he doesn’t quite recognize.

“Fuck, come here, c’mere.” Bucky’s losing the battle against himself, the warmth and weight of Sam’s body too much for him to resist. He’s spent the past few months trying to tamper down the super soldier within but he can’t help it when he hauls Sam further up the bed and flips them around so he can bracket Sam’s body with his own. He catches a glimpse of dark brown eyes, with long, curled lashes fanning out. He kisses Sam again, hungrily, his member now throbbing with the rush of blood, and he nips softly at Sam’s lips to test the waters. When Sam’s fingers dig just a bit harder into his hips, he dips his tongue in, dragging out the most beautiful sounds he’s heard in ages.

His torso is bare and lit up like a livewire when Sam’s hands skim up his sides, fingers tracing patterns into his shoulder blades, nails grazing against skin. The rush is too much to bear, and he takes Sam’s shirt off with enough gusto it almost rips, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind.

Even frantic with hunger, it’s not entirely rushed, just two strangers trying to figure out a rhythm even if it feels like their bodies fit perfectly. When Sam finally reaches down Bucky’s pants, there’s a suppressed groan and Sam’s eyes widen at the weight he feels.

“Jesus Christ,” he curses as Bucky tries to breathe steadily through his nose.

“I won’t be able to stop myself,” Bucky rasps, body quaking with restraint. “You won’t be able to stop me either, and I don’t know how fast someone’s gonna be able to get here. I can’t… Can’t promise that I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Sam replies easily and gets the rest of their clothes off. He still can’t see Bucky very well, but he maps out Bucky’s entire body with his hands. This close, he can see the dull ring of red around Bucky’s irises, and he’s sure his eyes have blue bleeding in too. His eyesight sharpens and Bucky becomes less of a shadowed figure as the details in Bucky’s face come into focus. He studies the cleft in Bucky’s chin, the bow of Bucky’s lip, the way his eyes are burning with desire and he keens. Bucky isn’t the only one with a body that’s on the verge of breaking - it’s been years for Sam, too. He’d lost too much to love again, and then never had the time to try, even if he was ready, so wrapped up in being an Avenger, being a good friend, being a fake Beta. But he can feel Bucky’s cock, hot and leaking against him and he doesn’t bother trying to hide the steadily growing pool of slick that’s gathering between his legs.

“Fuck, you - you smell...” Bucky noses his neck, right under his ear and breathes deeply. When he licks a stripe up Sam’s neck, it’s unexpected and pleasant, something in Sam’s brain saying your Alpha is pleased has him smiling.

He wishes he didn’t succumb so easily to his genetics, but he has a feeling Bucky would be the last one to judge him. Rolling his hips, he urges Bucky to get on with it, but it appears the Alpha has different plans. What Sam isn’t expecting is for Bucky to slide down the planes of his abs all the way down to where an obscene slurping noise has Sam arching off the bed. Bucky’s tongue is patient and persistent and it turns Sam into a panting mess within minutes.

“For someone who - fuck - claims to have not had sex in decades, oh my god,” Sam moans. “You sure seem practiced.”

Bucky doesn’t respond with anything except a hum, which travels all the way up Sam’s spine, and he can feel Bucky’s lips curl into a smirk against his skin. Cocky bastard.

“Need. Your. Knot,” Sam punctuates.

“Patience,” Bucky says, voice almost low enough to be a command, but he doesn’t do that to Sam, doesn’t once use his Alpha voice. Sam doesn’t know how or when their roles got reversed, how he became the one frenzied with lust. He doesn’t know where Bucky summoned this willpower from, he’s never met an Alpha with an Omega laid bare beneath them who could stop themselves from just taking and taking.

Yet, Bucky slips his fingers in, and he barely gets to scissoring them before Sam feels the rush of an orgasm that explodes when Bucky’s tongue licks a hot stripe right up against him, and he bites back a strangled cry as his body shudders beneath Bucky’s ministrations.

“Bucky, c’mon,” Sam says softly. It’s the first time Bucky hears Sam say it, instead of James, like they’re past the formalities and it’s so soft that Bucky can’t help but plant a kiss to Sam’s thigh while his fingers continue to work Sam open. He refuses to hurt Sam, a man that’d come into his gloom to try and save him before he drifted off into madness. Reluctantly, he withdraws his hand, Sam’s fluids an intoxicating scent and crawls back to Sam, who brings him down for a hungry kiss. Sam’s legs pull Bucky flush, Bucky’s cock rubbing against Sam’s entrance.

“Gotta go slow, trust me,” Bucky murmurs before he finally lines himself up. He’s nervous all of a sudden, because he knows without a doubt that he’s going to knot Sam, that he feels safe enough and good enough that he couldn’t stop it if he tried.

Sam very nearly tries to rush him again, but is glad he doesn’t when he feels the stretch of Bucky pushing inside him, even with the copious amounts of slick he’d produced. He moans with each small rock of Bucky’s hips as the Alpha sinks in, inch by inch.

“Takin’ me so well,” Bucky sighs happily when he’s bottomed out, and Sam feels so full, so whole. “Sam… M’not sure I can hold back any more.”

“Please,” Sam digs his heel into Bucky’s thigh. “I can take it.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky manages before rearranging them so he could hitch Sam’s ass up, reaching impossible deeper and Sam’s toes curl at the shift in angle. He doesn’t get to ask what Bucky’s apologizing for because the first snap of Bucky’s hips punches the air from his lungs and Bucky’s resolve has completely crumbled. He buries his nose in Sam’s neck, teeth just grazing Sam’s scent glands and with one arm underneath Sam’s hips, he starts to pick up the pace. He never brings his teeth down, no matter how badly wants to. Sam goes from feeling full to being ravaged, and there’s a twinge of pain that comes with being unaccustomed to being with someone.

“Bucky,” Sam whines in his ear, pitching higher than usual. He feels more than hears Bucky’s purr, a low, constant rumbling from Bucky’s chest to his own. In Bucky’s space, his bed, nonetheless, and knowing that Bucky’s comfortable enough to let himself purr makes Sam’s heart swell. Bucky’s purring is all-encompassing like a weighted blanket, as he thrusts with abandon, Sam’s body burning up from the inside as his body stretches to accommodate Bucky.

“Ah, Bucky, Bucky!” Sam cries, his nails pressing hard enough to leave crescents in Bucky’s skin. His muscles clench in anticipation, gripping Bucky’s cock and he almost sobs as Bucky carries on harshly. He tries to relax his body but Bucky lifts him off the bed, arms wrapped protectively around Sam. Chest-to-chest, Bucky sits on his haunches and bucks upward, driving himself as deep into Sam’s womb as he possibly can with each snap of his hips. He clings to Bucky’s shoulders like a lifeline, knowingly planting himself on top of Bucky’s glands there, and wills himself to stay conscious even when the daylights are being fucked out of him. Each drive of Bucky’s dick inside him makes him gasp for air, feeling raw and delirious.

“Mine,” Bucky hisses. He has to force himself away from Sam’s neck, away from where he wants to put his mark so badly. Instead, he clamps down on Sam’s collarbone, close to the shoulder, and feels the tidal wave of his orgasm come crashing into him. He comes for what feels like ages, a release that was years in the making. His body instantly feels lighter, his mind less hazy than it’s been the past few months.

“Bucky,” Sam says again, slurring. It’s the only word he remembers right now, so it comes out as a mantra, over and over, as his hands tangle in Bucky’s hair. He comes to rub their noses together, and their scents mingle with each other in perfect harmony. It makes Sam’s brain foggy with pleasure, the Omega inside screaming mate, mate, mate.

“M’sorry, sweetheart, hang in there,” Bucky whispers as he lays Sam back down gently, his knot twitching as he’s finally emptied the last of himself in Sam. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to be tired as an enhanced being, but he feels it now: a bone-deep exhaustion mixed with content that brings him closer to sleep than anything else. The euphoria is almost enough to make him close his eyes and sleep, but he has to take care of his Omega, first.

“Don’t apologize,” Sam says, petting at Bucky’s hair while his heart tries to calm down from Bucky’s ‘sweetheart’. It feels too close to a claiming, too much like he already belongs to Bucky. “Why do you keep apolo - oh!”

Bucky’s knot is slow and steady, Sam hadn’t even noticed it growing until now, pressed against his walls and growing still.

“Fuck,” Sam whines. “Holy shit.”

“I told you.” Bucky’s voice sounds wrecked and pitiful. “I told you I could hurt you! You shouldn’t have - fuck.” The pillowcase tears beneath his hand.

It’s impossible to describe the feeling; of Sam being filled to the brim and pushed further still, of Bucky being gripped so tightly he feels like he just might come again.

To Bucky, it feels like Sam is milking his cock for every drop, and the Alpha in him preens with the thought of plugging Sam up, making sure there’s not a single drop spilt. HYDRA may have destroyed any part of him that could sire children but they didn’t, couldn’t, burn the thought out of his mind. He has Sam beneath him, legs wrapped around him, and he irrationally thinks about how perfect this breeding would be, pictures Sam carrying his children, and his heart beats a little wilder.

Sam can’t process any words, just bites his lip to silence himself while he focuses on not moving whatsoever, afraid that any movement might literally tear him. Bucky’s knot was huge. He knows the Alpha is already feeling guilty, so he’s careful not to whimper, not to mewl. His legs feel weak, so he lets them drop, slowly, but even that’s enough to make him lose his breath, and for Bucky to shudder above Sam.

It takes a minute for Sam to realize that Bucky’s staying perfectly still above him, in what has to be the least comfortable position possible. He gently pats Bucky’s side, tries to coax the other man to lay on him, and tells Bucky that he can take it. The stubbornness is evident when Bucky just kisses the top of his nose, and doesn’t change positions. At least, he doesn’t actually seem to mind holding his own weight, super strength and all that.

“You’re making me tired just looking at you, come on, I got a better idea,” Sam says as he’s careful to only make small, slow movements to get Bucky on board. “I’m assuming you can take my weight, yeah?” Bucky nods, so Sam has him gently flip their positions, with Bucky leaning against his headboard, lap full of Sam. Bucky’s knot has finally stopped growing, but it seems they’re going to be bound for a while, which gives Sam a lot of time to think about what had just transpired between them.

“Can I… See you?” Sam asks. It’s not like an Alpha, in the midst of his serotonin rush could possibly deny his Omega anyway. He lazily swats at the curtain behind them, making Sam smile before he moves it aside properly. The Sun is almost setting, so the light isn’t too harsh, and when Sam looks down at his partner, finally gets a good look at him, he smiles brightly.

“You…” He trails off, because he wants to say you’re so fucking beautiful but he’s not really sure how Bucky would feel about that. He studies the sharp edges of his features but the softness of his expression, tries not to stare at the scarring on his shoulder that he’s already got burned into his brain from studying Bucky’s file. He traces the lining between vibranium and flesh, and Bucky’s eyes fall shut, but doesn’t go to stop him.

“Angel,” Bucky rasps, his arms pulling Sam closer, until Sam’s rested in the crook of his neck and he shuffles them carefully down the bed.

Did Bucky just call me an angel?

Sam wants to talk, to figure this out, but Bucky throws a blanket over them, and Sam can hear a content humming noise, along with the steady beat of Bucky’s heart. Bucky’s releasing pheromones that scream to him as an Omega, his scent so alluring that Sam takes deep, long breaths in, and eventually falls asleep.

---

When Bucky wakes, Sam is still atop of him, a comfortable weight and soothing presence. Sam’s scent is sweet as ever, sweeter than before, even. The Sun’s gone down, leaving the sky streaked with purples and oranges that shine on Sam’s face. The Omega looks peaceful - a sort of peace that Bucky’s not sure he remembers experiencing. Somehow, they’d both drifted off despite being essentially strangers. He’d always thought of Sam as Steve’s friend, imagines that Sam knows him as the same thing if he was generous, or maybe that half-feral brainwashed assassin, if Sam was the honest type.

He can’t pinpoint when he’d broken down, when he thought it would be a good idea to get involved with an Avenger, for Christ’s sake. But Sam, bundled in his arms, felt… right. When he and Steve had met on the war front, they had still loved each other, but things were… different. It'd taken some fumbling, but they found their footing again, as friends. That, they were still familiar with.

This, with Sam, was the first time he’d felt that sense of want and the possibility of something more again, his body functioning like he remembers it to. The endorphin rush had left him a boneless, happy mess, but now that it’s over, Bucky begins to worry.

An uncomfortable feeling stirs in his belly at the thought of Sam waking up, patting himself on the back for a job well done and leaving. Maybe he’d report to Steve that Bucky would be stable for at least another two to three months, maybe Steve would do something stupid like set up a.. A rotation of Omegas for him and -

“Bucky?” Bucky’s eyes widened after realizing he’d been so lost in thought.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies. True to his word, he’d kept entirely still, hadn’t moved an inch since he awoke, still seated inside Sam even if his knot had since deflated and he’d gone soft. He’d been afraid that any movement at all would dislodge the slumbering Omega.

“What time’sit?” Sam mumbles sleepily.

“Just after sundown.” Bucky’s voice sounds strange to his own ears, soft and gentle, just like his fingers that trace an unknown pattern into Sam’s shoulder.

“Mm.”

Bucky wants to ask if Sam’s going to stay, and if not, a part of him is tempted to keep him here anyway. Instead, Sam shifts onto Bucky’s other side, and Bucky breathes shakily through his nose as his cock twitches with interest again.

“Y’need to go again?” Sam asks nonchalantly, like he isn’t possibly saving Bucky from spiraling into an aggression-filled, lust-fueled frenzy and like they hadn’t just gone from barely knowing each other to basically mating sex. From the moment Sam had walked in, Bucky’s body had started reacting. At first, he’d thought it was simply trying to get him to knot anyone but Sam hadn’t even had a scent. Then he’d considered that his body was so touch-starved it didn’t matter who it was, until Sam started talking and Bucky could feel a tremble down to his very bones. He’d speculated, but when Sam had taken off his scent-blocker, Bucky knew.

“No, I’m -” He hisses through his teeth when Sam clamps down around his half-hard cock, the wet, hot pulsing making him scrunch his eyes shut.

“I can go again,” Sam offers.

“Wait,” Bucky pleads. If they go again, Sam won’t have a reason to stay. He’ll be done with his mission, and Bucky doesn't know if he’ll ever come back. Sam leans back to look at him, but he hangs onto Sam tightly, not wanting him to see the desperation in his face, the ruby red of his Alpha eyes, glowing with satisfaction.

“Can we stay like this, just for a while?” Bucky likes the feeling of Sam around him, on top of him, in his nest - he knows his body is commanding him to mate, but he bites his lip hard as he can manage.

Sam begins to purr, a pleasant buzzing noise in Bucky’s ear, reverberating against his skin, and his whole body melts in an instant. He can’t help but purr back, and even that sounds like a melody to his ears. Sam closes his eyes again, lets Bucky stay inside him until he softens, and wonders if maybe, just maybe, Bucky would let him stay in this nest in return.

For WinterFalcon Bingo 2021! [Bingo Square: Alpha/Beta/Omega & cockwarming]

For Bucky Barnes Bingo 2021! [Bingo Square: Sam Wilson] See also: [overall masterlist] & [Giveaway]

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