#mysambuckythoughts

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I still can't get over Sam saying "That's what you wanted, right?" when he slid his legs in between Bucky's.

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Sam texting this to Bucky and Bucky tearing up because his boyfriend literally sent him poetry and he’s so in love, it’s crazy

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Nothing feels better than lying in bed with Sam. Nothing feels better than feeling just the silk sheets on his bare skin, the breath of his boyfriend by his ear, and a fingertip making lazy trails across his chest.

It could almost put Bucky to sleep, his eyelids droop lower as Sam loops his finger in a circle, then stops around his collarbone.

“This one’s new,” Sam says, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?” Bucky mumbles, not fully paying attention.

“This freckle, here,” Sam says, pushing his fingertip deeper into the skin. “It’s new.”

The freckle Sam’s pointing to is too close to his neck. Bucky can’t look down and see it, he doesn’t try to move anyway.

“You probably just don’t remember that one," Bucky argues noncommittedly.

“Nope. I’m certain,” Sam says, resting his head down on the cushion of Bucky’s left pec. “I know all your freckles.”

Bucky huffs out a breathy laugh. Sam must register the disbelief in it.

“You don’t believe me,” Sam says.

“Course not, how can you remember every single freckle on my body?”

Sam picks his head up, stares straight into Bucky’s eyes.

“Cause I kiss them every night. I’ve counted them, all fourteen.”

“Fourteen?”

“Now fifteen,” Sam says and puts his finger back on the one by Bucky’s neck. The one he just discovered tonight.

And that’s when the moment hits Bucky. Sam’s studied his body, paid such close attention to each inch so carefully, he’s even counted the imperfections.

It hits Bucky unexpectedly, makes his eyes water a little too quickly because he’s only had very bad people pay that close attention to him. He’s only had insane people write down every detail of his existence so they can’t forget them and even they didn’t count his freckles.

Bucky closes his eyes slowly hoping the tears will dissipate and hugs Sam against his chest to get his boyfriend’s eyes off him. 

He considers for a moment whether he should admit that he’s touched by the sentiment. And he wants to believe he knows Sam’s body just as well, better than his own, but he fights the instinct instead.

“Stop counting my freckles,” Bucky murmurs.

He feels Sam smile against his skin, press a kiss to his collarbone, and then sigh. 

“Can’t.”

Bucky's mouth pulls into a smile and that only makes him want to cry more but he swallows through the tightness in his throat. He only hugs Sam tighter.

He won't say it, he can't, but he knows how lucky he is. To have a man who's counted all fifteen of his freckles.

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after Sam and Bucky "break up" they decide they don't want to give up their shared bed. Bucky tells Sam it still comforts him to have someone near him when he sleeps. Sam likes the extra warmth Bucky adds and they splurged on the mattress anyhow. So they agree to keep sleeping in the same bed, ignoring all the signs that they don't want to break up at all and will be back together much too soon

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Bucky goes weak anytime he sees Sam smile but I have to believe Sam goes weak at Bucky's grumpy little scowl. His pouting man

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but what if Bucky hacks into the gym security cameras to watch Sam work out and zooms in on all the angles he likes what then

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Um so I was just thinking about the scene where Bucky is cleaning his vibranium hand on the jet, using a cloth to get any dirt or blood out from inside the crevices. And what if this takes him hours sometimes. Because there's not an easier way except to go over every inch up to his shoulder blade especially when the fight gets dirty enough. Sam has watched this routine countless times. Until one night, Bucky's just too tired. He doesn't wipe a thing and just drops down on the bench in the Quinjet. So Sam does it for him. Against all of Bucky's protests, Sam tells his partner to just rest and he cleans the vibranium from shoulder to fingertip.

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really random au thought. I was just thinking about Bucky meeting a modern Sam and finding out he's a closet organizer. He's so smitten that Bucky hires him on the spot. Only for Sam to find out he barely uses half a closet for his puny collection of tight t-shirts, jeans, and jackets. Sam tells him he has nothing to organize and he'll give Bucky his money back. Bucky tells him to take him to dinner instead.

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Most nights, Sam and Bucky lie in bed together as Sam recaps his day in full to Bucky. It's not boring, far from it, but the steady calmness of Sam's voice never fails to lull Bucky to sleep each night.

Bucky always wakes a few hours later to the sight of Sam sound asleep beside him. He has to lean over and kiss Sam's shoulder, nestle into the crook of his neck, and breathe in deeply to soothe himself back to sleep. He won't fall back to sleep if he doesn't.

In the morning, Bucky sleeps in later than Sam so he doesn't feel when Sam wakes each morning and kisses him on the forehead before and after his run. But Sam won't have a good run without it.

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Sam has always loved grocery shopping and Bucky has always hated it. But now that Bucky knows all of Sam's favorite things, he's come to enjoy it. Because he's no longer there for himself, he's there for Sam. Placing every item in the cart knowing it'll put a smile on Sam's face when he gets home brings Bucky more joy than he ever knew a grocery store could.

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"Hey Buck, you see this quiz?"

Sam shoves his phone in front of Bucky's face, the screen showing an online quiz where the public has guessed what the Winter Soldier might call his lovers in bed.

Bucky takes a moment to digest the absurdity of it all. That people even need to speculate on... this. But then he scrolls down to read the winning response and it's good girl.

Bucky scoffs, pushing the phone back toward Sam, "They got it all wrong."

Sam's smirk extends a mile wide, "Oh yeah, what'd you say?"

"It wouldn't be good girl. It wouldn't even be a..." Bucky pauses then finishes shyly, "girl."

"So, good boy?" Sam teases immediately.

Bucky deflates with mild relief like he was unknowingly waiting for Sam to freak out over the revelation Bucky never properly shared since returning to the 21st century. The general public clearly hasn't caught on...

"No," Bucky shrugs. "Just doll and mainly, sweetheart."

Sam's quiet for a beat long enough that Bucky looks over.

"You're so old school," Sam shakes his head but there's no heat in his voice, not even teasing anymore. He sounds almost fond like he might care for the pet names, might want to take them for himself.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you call — you know, in bed?" Bucky asks, surprised he's not more flustered asking it.

"Why, you curious?" Sam grins.

Bucky loves that grin, it makes him smile too, but it also shakes his confidence. He turns his gaze away, drops his smile.

"I'm not..."

"You're wondering what I'm like in bed now," Sam interrupts smugly.

"No, I never said— never mind."

Sam sits down next to him on the couch, close, and leans toward his ear. Still not as close as Bucky would like but close enough to break their usual, unspoken boundaries of male friendship. Bucky ceases from it. His breath across his ear.

"It's baby," Sam whispers. He leans back again and smiles, "I ain't original."

It's not but Bucky's never loved the way a word sounded more on the man's tongue.

Baby.

He wants that name to be his.

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after seeing Bucky's hair in the Thunderbolts trailer, I have a whole new craving for the fics where Sam cuts Bucky's hair. I'm just imagining the tension like they haven't seen each other, haven't touched each other and Sam's carding his fingers through Bucky's hair, cutting it, muttering under his breath how much better Bucky will look when he's done

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Bucky reads not only because he loves it but because he can get lost in it. He could honestly believe no one sees him when he reads, that he just fades into the background when he's sitting quietly in a corner. So when Sam stops in front of a bookstore and asks if Bucky wants to go in, Bucky's speechless. He can't believe anyone would have noticed him reading, but Sam noticing, Sam remembering he likes books, Sam offering to spend his time doing something that would make Bucky happy, makes it all the more difficult for Bucky to process. Because if there's anyone Bucky wants his story to be about, it's Sam.

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every time I listen to this song, I just imagine Sam saying this to Bucky, calling himself a southern delicacy (since he is 😅)

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Bucky doesn't like how clunky his body feels when he tries to dance. He used to know how to do this. Now his limbs feel like weights dragging him down.

Sam moves so easily. Every time Bucky sees him dance, he wishes he could join him. When Bucky signs up for private dance lessons, he doesn't tell anyone.

One day, he's playing music on his phone in the kitchen, practicing the steps he's learned. It's not smooth enough, he tells himself. He tries again.

Suddenly, Sam's standing in the doorway. The sight makes Bucky jump. How did he not hear him? He's off his game in more ways than one.

"I can teach you," Sam offers.

Before Bucky can resist, Sam laces their hands together, gets close, and sways his hips. Bucky follows — or tries to. Sam's staring at him with a little smile on his face.

"I used to know how to do this," Bucky says then he trips up on the next step. He blushes.

Sam tightens his grip, pulls him closer, sways again.

"I'm the best teacher around," Sam declares smugly.

Bucky's head drops, his cheeks go hot. He doesn't look at Sam when he tells him.

"The dance lessons were for you."

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Sam yawns.

Bucky's mind: Sam needs rest. I should scoop him up in my arms and let him lie peacefully against the warmth of my chest and I won't move until he gets all the sleep he needs so he never yawns again.

Sam: What?

Bucky: Stop yawning.