#soft!sambucky

[logicheartsoul]

Closeups of Sam Wilson & Bucky Barnes Staring at the Other from Deleted Scenes from the trailers of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

[uhsolikethis]

At the start of Sam and Buckys relationship, things are a little rocky because Sam's love language is quality time, which is weird for Bucky because people usually don't want to be around him (unless they want to hurt him) so he's used to being alone.

Buckys love language is acts of service, which is weird for Sam because he's usually the one doing everything for others at the cost of his own mental health, so he's used to being independent.

Eventually they work things out.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Soft, Warm Tortilla Baby

@amethyst-loves-bucky brought this to my attention and I had to make a fic based on it, I just had to. So, be prepared for some domestic, tooth-rotting fluff! Also, this is for @sambuckylibrary's SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024 for the prompt "Cookout". Enjoy! 🥰

Soft, Warm Tortilla Baby

| Pairing: SamBucky | Rated: G | WC: 1.5K |

Summary: A baby bird is found during a Wilson Family Cookout.

Excerpt:

Bucky almost lost track of what he was doing. He couldn’t stop staring at Sam and thinking – how did I land such a heaven sent hunk? “Bucky?” Bucky. Snapped out of his dazed thoughts, focusing on Sam’s words; on Sam. And, yes, Gideon and Sarah were definitely laughing at him, but whatever. Bucky got lost in Sam’s mere presence sometimes. Leave Bucky alone. “Y – yeah. Right. Uh. We have a bird problem,” Bucky announced. “A bird problem?” asked Sarah curiously. “Is that code for something?” stage-whispered Gideon. “It’s – it’s a baby bird. I think it’s a baby Barn Owl? Maybe?” explained Bucky, and Sam was immediately taking him seriously now, “I don’t know birds as well as you. But the baby fell from the tree and the baby’s alive. She’s breathing. Or he. I’m not sure, I didn’t get a proper look. I didn’t want to get too close. But I think the baby’s been orphaned – I saw a nest, but it looked in bad shape. What should we do?”

READ THE REST ON AO3!

[m0rim00]

Some Sambucky Summer Camp Au stuff

[mystic-insightss]

idea that just came to me like a prophetic vision in the middle of the day where house husband bucky figures out social media and makes an anonymous blog where he talks about the things he does during the day (sometimes catering his content towards coping mechanisms for people who also struggle with trauma & figuring out how to occupy themselves) and fun little things he does to make his and sam’s apartment look nice and sometimes he just posts little things about sam and how happy he makes bucky and he gains an unexpected popularity online and he starts connecting with other people in similar situations and he has hobbies and interests that he loves and he’s happy and sam’s happy and they are fluffy and wonderful and nothing is wrong in the world because they are so happy together

[siancore]

After the smoke settles and the screams die down. After the battle is over and those who fought on the right side of history bury their dead and care for their wounded. After the news reports and unsolicited opinions of those who had never taken a stand in their lives are forgotten. They find each other again in the aftermath. In the twilight; in the soft light. In the warmth of the other's forgiving embrace.

I drew this for the @sambuckylibrary SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024 Loving Card - Square Fill: Angst with a Happy Ending. How I imagine Sam and Bucky reunite after the Divorce Era.

[wenellyb]

I love that we got a whole show about Sam and Bucky but I'll never forget the feeling of watching Sambucky interactions in Avengers: Endgame.

Obviously Sam and Bucky shared scenes because they have a common friend, Steve and also because Sebastian and Anthony have great chemistry together but the writers could have chosen to have them do funny scenes like in Captain America Civil War, where they had these funny one liners and buddie cop movie dynamic.

But no, what did they choose to do? They chose to put two very serious and soft scenes and showed how Sam and Bucky were there for eachother.

Sam comforting Bucky at Tony's funeral.

And Bucky reassuring Sam when Sam didn't know what to do after Steve gave him the shield.

And then THE LOOK! The Sambucky look that could convince any non-shippers.

I just know there was a Sambucky shipper in that writing room and they gave us everything!

[firstelevens]

sambucky + 53 !

53. holding the other's jaw

also on AO3

Sam is floating.

He knows what it is to feel weightless. He’s flown before, of course. He’s spent time on space ships and in zero gravity and once, when Dr. Strange needed to get him out of the way fast, gotten telekinetically pushed out of the path of an alien.

This, though—this isn’t just weightlessness. This is being unburdened, being held, being cradled. It’s familiar, too, not that Sam can remember exactly why at the moment. He just knows that it’s the sensation of floating, and it feels amazing right now. 

He has a vague memory of something that happened earlier, something not-amazing but loud and involving a lot of smashing and yelling. He’s sure that must be a mistake, though, because there’s no way he could feel this good if something smash-y happened. Surely, if something smash-y happened, he’d be all kinds of uncomfortable. Sam can’t bring any examples to mind right now, but he’s sure that he knows that from personal experience.

There’s a soft laugh from beside him and it occurs to Sam that his eyes are closed. He’d open them, maybe take in his surroundings, but what if that makes the floaty feeling go away? It’s best not to risk it, not when he feels like he got the best massage of his life and then got wrapped in silk like a cocoon. Or maybe like a burrito. 

Yeah, he decides. Like a silk burrito. A silk burrito with a really, really nice silk tortilla.

“I’ll pass on your compliments to our weavers,” says a lilting voice at his side. There’s a trill in the accent that Sam can’t quite place. He’s more bothered by that than the fact that he didn’t realize he’d been speaking out loud. Then the voice grows a little distant, pointed elsewhere as it says, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Sam appreciates the voice leaving him to be a burrito in peace, so he mumbles a grateful response when it wishes him a speedy recovery. There’s the creak of hinges and the click of a door after that, and Sam is left to debate whether or not he should open his eyes yet.

The pro-eye-opening side is losing the debate pretty badly when Sam hears rustling beside his head and then feels someone press a kiss to his forehead.

“You get as much sleep as you need to, sweetheart,” says a man’s voice, warm and affectionate. There’s just a touch of hoarseness there, like the he’s just woken up, or maybe he hasn’t spoken for a while. It tugs at something in Sam’s chest, but it also makes something stir low in his belly.

He opens his eyes.

The man with the warm voice is just as appealing now that Sam can see him, even as he levels an exasperated look down at Sam. “You never can take my advice, can you? A twelve foot magical robot throws you through a building and you’re still gonna insist on waking up earlier than you need to.”

Sam wants to say something suave, something to convey that the man should stick around a little longer even though Sam woke up too soon and has no memory of the magical robot. He might’ve led with the fact that he’s Captain America, but it seems like Blue Eyes over here already knows that, so it won’t have the impact that he wants it to.

“You call all the patients here sweetheart or am I just lucky like that?” is what he goes for in the end.

The man’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and Sam thinks he might’ve blown it, but then those eyes crinkle at the edges with a grin and it sends a pulse of comfort throughout Sam’s body.

“You’re the only one I call sweetheart,” says the man. “But you can’t be all that lucky if you ended up here.”

“I don’t know. I feel pretty lucky right now,” he replies, hoping he looks as suave as he feels. “I’m Sam.”

He gets another grin for his trouble, not as eye-crinkly but still fond somehow. “Hi, Sam,” says the man. “I’m Bucky.”

And Sam really is aiming for suave, but you have to draw the line somewhere, even when the guy in question is really hot. He wrinkles his nose. “Your name is Bucky?”

But instead of looking offended, Bucky just laughs a little. “My name is James, actually. Most people just call me Bucky.”

“Oh,” says Sam, as understanding settles over him. “Well, what should I call you? James or Bucky?”

It feels like a reasonable enough question, but Bucky—or James, maybe?—laughs when he hears it. “You don’t really call me either.”

‘Well, what do I call you, then?”

“A lot of the time, you go for ‘Buck’, and if you’ve been down in Delacroix long enough, it’s usually Sugar,” he says. “But mostly, you just call me baby.”

Sam feels his eyes go wide. “And you just let me?”

“You’re allowed,” says Bucky, with a shrug. “I like it.”

“It just seems unprofessional, is all,” says Sam. “Am I creating an uncomfortable work environment for you? Do you need to go to HR about this?”

Bucky lets out a weird cough that almost sounds like a snort. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Sammy,” he says. “We don’t really work together anymore.”

Sam furrows his eyebrows. “If you’re not here because we work together and you’re not here because you work at this hospital, how’d you get in?”

But instead of answering his question, Bucky just rounds to Sam’s other side and lifts up his hand where it’s been fiddling with the blankets for the past few minutes. He uncurls Sam’s fingers and holds Sam’s hand up so it’s in his eyeline, palm facing away from him.

At first, Sam doesn’t understand what’s happening. Then his gaze lands on his ring finger, where he can see a ring made of a dark metal, shot through with gold veining.

“I’m married?” he asks, his eyes wide. And then, because he’s nothing if not tenacious: “How does my spouse feel about me calling you baby? Do they know?”

“Trust me,” says Bucky—and Sam finds that he does, without question or hesitation—, “your spouse knows exactly what you call me, in the field and out of it and everything in between.”

“And- and they’re just fine with it?”

“Sam,” Bucky laughs, and gently sets Sam’s hand down before holding up his own hand—right this time—where his ring finger bears a ring in titanium colored metal, with distinctive red hatchmarks across it.

“Oh my God, you’re married, too?” asks Sam, eyes wide. “And you still think this isn’t a problem?”

Sam might be inclined to do a little more freaking out, except that apparently whatever he just said is so funny that it makes Bucky laugh out loud, his head thrown back and his eyes scrunched up with mirth. Apparently, whatever Sam just said is so funny that it takes Bucky a full minute to gather himself afterwards.

“They have you flying really high, don’t they, sweetheart?” he eventually asks, the corners of his mouth still upturned.

It’s been a long time since Sam was any kind of high, and he’s about to point that out when he remembers the floaty feeling and how it hasn’t dissipated at all, in spite of all this conversation. Still, he’s not willing to admit anything until he has more information. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asks, his eyes narrowed.

But his suspicion seems to have no effect on Bucky, who just smiles and gently takes Sam’s face in his hands, reaching out with careful fingers to pluck something away from Sam’s cheek.

 “Eyelash,” he says, in response to Sam’s furrowed eyebrows, his hand still braced across Sam’s jaw. His thumb sweeps a gentle arc over Sam’s cheekbone, and Sam feels his eyes flutter shut of their own accord, that floating sensation rearing its head again.

“Bucky,” Sam says, as he forces his eyes open again, and he has the sudden sensation that he’s definitely said that name in that voice before.

“Samuel,” says Bucky, mimicking his tone, “you know why your spouse isn’t threatened by you calling me baby?”

“Obviously not,” says Sam, frowning. He goes to cross his arms and only belatedly realizes that his right arm is in a splint. How long has that been there?

“A few hours,” says Bucky, answering yet another question that Sam didn’t realize he’d asked out loud. “The robot had this weird flail; it left some alien magic signature in the wound. They had to put you under to heal it.”

“Is that why…?” Sam gestures vaguely to his head, wiggling his fingers like that’ll convey how he feels. Somehow it isn’t a shock when Bucky nods in understanding.

“Valkyrie told me you might be a little spacey while the Asgardian anesthetic wore off, but I’ll be honest; I didn’t think it’d make you forget marrying me.”

Sam feels his jaw drop. “We’re married to each other?”

Bucky grins, and there are those eye-crinkles again, setting off warm flutters all over Sam’s body. “Yeah, sweetheart. Two years this September.”

“So you’re not my side piece,” says Sam. “I locked you down the right way.”

A snort. “You sure did, Cap.”

“Good,” says Sam, nodding in approval. “That’s good.”

“I mean, I think so,” Bucky says. “How are you feeling otherwise, now that you know we’re not cheating on each other with each other?”

“Good,” Sam says—or tries to say, before it’s swallowed by a yawn. “I’m good. When can I leave?”

“When you’ve had more than two hours of sleep after your magical alien surgery,” says Bucky, his voice firm, but somehow that doesn’t disrupt the floaty feeling either. “And when you can wake up without immediately hitting on me.”

“Might have to wait a while for that one,” says Sam, with an exaggerated leer at Bucky, who just shakes his head.

“Relax, Casanova,” he says, gently pushing Sam back against the bed. He leans in to fluff the pillows and the smell of his cologne settles something in Sam’s chest. “I’m a sure thing. You actually getting some rest is the real challenge here.”

“Fine,” huffs Sam, settling in against the pillows. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Of course,” says Bucky, his voice soft. 

He waits for Sam’s eyes to close, then brushes another kiss across his temple. When Sam finally drifts off again, he’s pretty sure it’s not just the Asgardian magic that’s got him floating.

[questinwitchface]

Happy Birthday, Cher

Summary: Bucky surprises Sam with a vacation for his birthday. Follows "Pet Names" and "Sam and Bucky Discover that KYJ Is a Thing," but this is a standalone fic, you don't need to read the others to get it.

A fluffy, smutty fic to celebrate Sam's birthday! SamBucky, Rated E, Multichapter WIP fic. Here's a snippet:

“Hey Sammy,” Bucky murmurs before kissing Sam’s cheek. Sam grumbles but doesn’t open his eyes. He rolls over enough to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck and pull Bucky down until he’s half-on-top of Sam like an extremely weighted blanket. Bucky laughs and crawls the rest of the way on top of him, straddling Sam’s hips and wrapping his arms around Sam’s torso, his fingers digging under Sam’s bare shoulders. Bucky’s hair tickles Sam’s nose, but it smells clean, like he had just washed it. Sam can’t be bothered to lift his arm to move Bucky’s hair away. Sam breathes deep in spite of Bucky’s weight on his chest. Sam’s almost fallen back asleep when Bucky speaks again. “Sammy, sugar, you gotta wake up,” Bucky coaxes. “No,” Sam groans, still trying to avoid the clarity of consciousness. Bucky’s so warm, and if he’ll just stay quiet for a minute or two, Sam could slip peacefully back to sleep. “No?” Bucky asks, mischief in his voice. He drops a kiss to Sam’s other cheek, his hair flopping down and tickling Sam’s forehead. “But we have plans today.” He kisses Sam’s nose. “Cancel the plans,” Sam mumbles even as Bucky continues peppering his cheeks and nose and forehead with soft kisses. His stubble scratches Sam’s skin, and Sam feels an involuntary smile spreading across his face. It’s not often that Bucky wakes Sam up in the morning, and the combination of soft-tickle hair, scratch-tickle stubble, and breath-tickle kisses is undeniably sweet, even if Sam would rather be sleeping. “We can't cancel the plans, bumblebee,” Bucky says before kissing Sam’s chin, bumping his nose against Sam’s lips. Sam kisses the tip of his nose before Bucky moves away, and he can hear Bucky’s grin when he says, “I've been working on these plans for three months.” Sam finally opens his eyes at that, meeting Bucky’s icy blue eyes. Sam rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks a few times to bring Bucky into focus. Bucky’s got that sneaky look on his face that spells trouble, but the warm affection in his eyes softens the expression. “C’mon, doll, I can’t cancel just because you’ve decided to sleep in for the first time since I met you,” Bucky continues. “Any other time, and you know I’d let you sleep.” Sam turns his head and yawns, and Bucky takes advantage by kissing the soft spot just below Sam’s ear. “If you’ve had these plans for months, why am I just now hearing about it?” Sam asks when he turns back to meet Bucky’s eyes. Bucky grins. “You do remember what tomorrow is, right?”

Read it on AO3

[tomoeakatsuki]

Sambucky/Winterfalcon before TFATWS:

Full of fluff, Bucky recovering and being soft, Sam being quite sarcastic but caring deeply and helping Bucky in every step.

Sambucky/Winterfalcon after TFATWS:

Pure chaos.

[livingincolorsagain]

Hey a! For the SamBucky ask - either 🛥️ Meanwhile, on the Boat... or 💕 Who Fell First please

hey mexi! thanks for the ask and for this very fun ask game! <33

(i know you said or but why choose when i can do both?)

from this list: SamBucky Romance Asks

Sam isn’t sure how they got here.

The day started normal enough. No urgent calls in the middle of the night, no world-ending catastrophes, not even the odd nightmare they both still get sometimes.

Scratch that, the day started incredibly well, actually. Sam let himself sleep in, and was awakened near noon with soft brushes of lips and the rasp of a beard against his neck, Bucky’s deep voice in his ear, his hand slipping under Sam’s loose t-shirt, then lower and lower.

They didn’t leave the bed for another hour.

Now, with the sun in the middle of the sky and burning bright, Sam is standing on the boat, hand on his hips, staring incredulously at Bucky, who has his arms crossed across his chest and a stubborn expression on his face.

“What,” Sam asks again, “are you talking about?”

“I fell first.”

Sam takes in a deep breath. “No.”

Bucky’s face gets a little redder, and Sam doesn’t know if it’s the sun or his indignation.

“What do you mean, no? I’m telling you!”

“It doesn’t make sense. You didn’t even want to talk to me for six months!”

Bucky’s face does a complicated thing, and something twists painfully in Sam’s stomach.

“I did,” Bucky says softly, a little brokenly. “Want to talk to you. I wanted to see you. I just… didn’t think it was good for you. Thought you were checking on me outta pity.”

“Pity for myself, maybe,” Sam says, looking away at the open ocean, something bitter burning its way through him.

The day is beautiful, endless blue skies, gentle waves rocking the boat and a light breeze, the world quiet and safe for a change, and here they are, arguing about something that doesn’t even matter, opening up old wounds like they don’t know how to let go of the hurt.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, because it doesn’t; it shouldn’t.

Bucky makes a frustrated noise and steps closer to Sam. And when Sam doesn’t turn to him, he says, “Hey, look at me.”

With a sigh, Sam does. Bucky’s face keeps doing these fleeting complicated things, so many emotions trying to make it to the surface.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “for every second I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I can’t take it back, no matter how much I wish I could, but I can promise that it won’t ever happen again, that I’ll always be there for you from now on. Long as you want me, sweetheart, because I’ve loved you long before I knew what it was, long before I knew I ever could.”

Sam’s vision gets a little blurry, his breath catching in his chest as he bites his lip to hold back the pitiful sound trying to escape.

Bucky’s hands come up to cup his face, his touch so tender it hurts. “Hey, no, don’t cry. Lord, this is not at all going how I wanted.”

And that makes Sam laughs. “And what were you trying to do?”

Bucky sighs, letting his hands drop to Sam’s waist and pulling him closer. “Was trying to be romantic, had this big romantic speech ready, then ya started arguing with me. Should’ve known better, really.”

Sam snorts, head resting on Bucky’s chest and arms around his waist.

It’s a little too hot for them to be standing this close, with the sun beating down on them, but this closeness was a reassurance Sam cannot step away from. Something he’s been craving long before he realized it, or wanted to admit it.

And now, it doesn’t matter who wanted it first, because they both have it, and that’s all that matters.

Still, though—

“I fell first,” Sam says.

“You’re wrong,” Bucky says, voice cracking with humor, “but that’s okay. At least you’re pretty.”

Sam gives his side a pinch for that.

[katatonicimpression]

Hi! 🌹pretty please!

Sambucky Prompt Game

Sorry this took me so long! I was away at a wedding and then I just cba for a few days but I got there in the end lol. Hope you like!

“I’m sorry I waited til the end of the world to do this.”

“I don’t think the world’s gonna end,” Sam replied, only half believing his own words. They had a shot, he believed that. They could still win this fight.

“Come on,” Bucky said, leading Sam further into the trees.

They were in the woods behind the compound. Although “woods” was a generous descriptor. There were just enough trees to hide the building from view, but not enough to fully muffle the sound of the road, or the quinjets flying overhead.

It was getting dark, and everything was bathed in that dusky orange glow. Sam could almost pretend they were out in nature somewhere, and maybe that they weren’t ten hours away from an alien invasion that could kill them both.

Idly, he wondered if they’d be out here long, if whatever Bucky had planned would last until it was dark. Sam imagined having to trudge back to the compound to try to get some sleep, stumbling in the dark on the way over. He felt Bucky’s hand in his and he didn’t mind.

“Here.” Bucky stopped, and Sam snapped out of his thoughts to look around.

“When did you even…”

There were a few blankets laid out on the grass, pillows strewn atop them. A couple of lanterns too, and fairy lights up in the trees. He turned to see Bucky fiddling with his phone, and suddenly Billie Holiday was ringing out from the speaker on the blanket.

Sam’s speaker, he noticed. One that he’d left in Bucky’s apartment three years ago and hadn’t seen since. 

It was adorable, and, Bucky was right; it was wrong that they had never done this before. That it was only when they were waiting on a battle at the end of the world for them to just… have a date.

They’d managed other things, of course, which was why it was no problem at all when Bucky stepped closer to him and kissed him. Short and sweet. Why his hands on Sam’s waist felt so familiar.

But it had been years, and Bucky had been gone, on a whole other team. They’d never made anything of it.

And now, with everything going to shit, here was Bucky - his Bucky - being all corny romance and soft jazz. He wanted to dance, Sam could tell. Maybe they should. 

He let Bucky kiss him again.

“I thought this was over,” Sam said, stupidly. His dumb mouth was determined to ruin the moment.

Bucky, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He kept his hands steady on Sam’s waist.

“It’s never been over for me,” he said plainly. Something like determination in his face, maybe stubbornness.

“Good. That’s-” Sam smiled, laughing at himself. He looked down, away, and bit his lip.

Bucky lifted his chin with two fingers and Sam got over his giddiness enough to look up into his eyes again.

“That’s good.”

“Dance with me,” Bucky said.

Sam put his arms over Bucky’s shoulders, leaning in closer to him. 

“Yeah. Let’s dance.”

[thatmexisaurusrex]

In the Middle of the Night

This is for the SamBucky Secret Santa 2024 hosted by @magnificent-buckless-butt for @cobrafantasies. This is also for the @sambuckylibrary's SamBucky Seasonal Bingo 2024 for the fill "Gift Giving". Enjoy this very fluffy Christmas fic! 🥰

In the Middle of the Night

| Pairing: SamBucky | Rated: T | WC: 2.5K |

Summary: Sam Wilson gets a surprise visitor while wrapping a few Christmas presents.

Excerpt:

“Is it a long or a short visit?” Sam whispered into the liminal time between late night and early morning, just knowing who would be there without looking his way. “I wish it could be longer,” seemed to be the compromise Bucky had, his voice soft as he walked silently through the living room. Sam gazed up at Bucky. He looked a little haggard. Sam knew that he was supposed to look like he wasn’t taking care of himself as well as he should. He knew that was part of the gambit of it all. But it still hurt to see it. Though. That look on Bucky’s face. As if he had been waiting for this all year; like this was all he could think about; as if everything could be solved if he just drank everything that was Sam in. That hurt more maybe. But it also made Sam just want to live in this moment forever. Because Sam wanted that too. Sam just wanted to take a snapshot of this moment and hold it close; keep it with him for the rest of his life. “You’re always so gorgeous,” murmured Bucky; practically gushed as quietly as he could as he walked closer to Sam.

READ THE REST ON AO3!

[ao3feed-sambucky]

In the Middle of the Night

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Ztv4oB3 by Writer_Lethogica Sam Wilson gets a surprise visitor while wrapping a few Christmas presents. EXCERPT: “Is it a long or a short visit?” Sam whispered into the liminal time between late night and early morning, just knowing who would be there without looking his way. “I wish it could be longer,” seemed to be the compromise Bucky had, his voice soft as he walked silently through the living room. Sam gazed up at Bucky. He looked a little haggard. Sam knew that he was supposed to look like he wasn’t taking care of himself as well as he should. He knew that was part of the gambit of it all. But it still hurt to see it. Though. That look on Bucky’s face. As if he had been waiting for this all year; like this was all he could think about; as if everything could be solved if he just drank everything that was Sam in. That hurt more maybe. But it also made Sam just want to live in this moment forever. Because Sam wanted that too. Sam just wanted to take a snapshot of this moment and hold it close; keep it with him for the rest of his life. “You’re always so gorgeous,” murmured Bucky; practically gushed as quietly as he could as he walked closer to Sam. Words: 2466, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of SamBucky Seasonal Bingo 2024 Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson Additional Tags: no beta we die like men, POV Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Eve, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, Sort Of, Dorks in Love, Bittersweet read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Ztv4oB3

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! For the kinky/spicy prompts I'm gonna give a few options because that whole list is wonderful: SamBucky #34 or #57 (Thunderbolts era) or #59, pretty please!!!

Thank you so much for your patience with this prompt from literal weeks ago! When I say I started all of these... You have no idea how many drafts were born from this. Congrats to the winner, but I'm almost positive I will finish the other two major ones as well. I hope you enjoy this one!

#34 In the Kitchen // AO3 Link

Where Love and Feeling Good Don't Ever Cost A Thing

Sam had to take a second to wonder if he had actually sustained a concussion on the last mission and was hearing things now. It’d be a delayed response for sure. He’d been home for three days now and there’d been no other symptoms. Still, he was sure that the boys could not have possibly cried out what he thought they did as they untangled from the water-balloon filler and went racing across the backyard to the side gate. Because what they had shouted was:

“Uncle Bucky!”

Sam flipped a burger poorly in an attempt to look up faster than his muscles would actually allow. It sizzled in irritation and malformed into some kind of lopsided beef monstrosity, but he didn’t care. Because Bucky was coming through the gate with presents that he set aside as he squatted down and held his arms wide to catch two bear hugs at once, grinning wider than the whole state and laughing when he got taken off his feet.

For a second, Sam wondered again if this was a hallucination. Bucky was dressed like he had been for the very first cookout–dark glasses, dark pants, dark jacket. But, no. His hair was longer and AJ had already taken his glasses, so Sam could see the fading bruise that bracketed his left eye. And he’d foregone his stupid ice cream cake this time.

It had been months since they’d talked. An explosive argument about the Thunderbolts, the simmering, angry acknowledgement from them both that there were secrets they weren’t sharing, the clandestine order of operations they were working under, all added up to months of silence and a building resentment that Sam thought he’d carry with him for the rest of his life.

But now Bucky was back, holding both Wilson boys in each arm like they were still small, and Sam couldn’t find any of that resentment at all. In fact, he couldn’t find any of those hard feelings at all.

One of Sarah’s friends had come around behind Bucky to gather the gifts he no longer had hands to carry and Sam saw him turn to talk to her. Then he was looking right at Sam, easy grin falling into something so desperately soft that Sam had to look away.

Someone fussed at him in one of the more Spanish based Creole dialects, and Sam jumped a little, hastily removing burgers from the grill. He didn’t speak any of the Creole languages, most people didn’t, but they all knew the bad words and there were a couple in there.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized and passed off the slightly charred–but that’s what made them good–plate of burgers. Not the Blob Burger. That one, he tried to press down into shape again. It didn’t really work.

When he looked up again, Bucky was right beside him. There was about a half second between Sam recognizing his face and Bucky putting his hand on Sam’s waist to get his attention.

“Hey,” Bucky said, all soft and low. He’d lost his hangers-on and it was just them by the grill. Sam was actually surprised by that. The neutral, no-go zone for the water balloons was by the food. He figured more people would be around.

Sam pushed Bucky’s hand from his waist. “You should go talk to the boys. It’s their party,” he said tightly.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathed. Sam could hear the reluctance, sorrow, pain in his voice. His hand raised again but fell without Sam having to bat at it. “You’re seriously not even gonna look at me?” he asked. He tried to do that head tilt thing he did where he tried to put himself in Sam’s line of sight, but the grill was in the way.

“Why are you here?” Sam asked.

“You called. I came,” he said.

“I’ve been calling,” Sam snapped. “Why did you pick up this time and not before?” His eyes cut up to Bucky, which was a mistake because then he just crumbled away all over again.

“You know what the parameters of my deployment were,” Bucky said. “I didn’t get a chance to do anything until this time. I wanted to be here for their party. Cass is a teenager!”

Everyone had been playing up this party more than was necessary. Mostly to keep the boys from getting at each other’s throats about having to share a party. Partially because everyone was always looking for a reason to throw together a cookout or a potluck or a barbeque or a boil. Sam had texted Bucky about it without even really thinking. It had felt like back before the Flagsmashers, before Bucky and he had bought a house together, for those few weeks when they were still apart but sharing everything. The boys are having a birthday party. You should come.

He hadn’t even thought Bucky had his real phone.

Before Sam could wrangle any of those thoughts into a coherent sentence, Cass was next to them, yanking on Bucky’s arm and excitedly explaining the rules of the newest water slide game. Bucky shot Sam one more look, dug his heels into the soaking wet grass for just a second. But Sam just lifted his eyebrows and pointedly looked at the slip ‘n slide.

Bucky did a pretty good job not letting his sigh show as he let Cass pull him away. He was already shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it aside as he ask for a reiteration of the rules.

“I’m not gonna tell you not to be mad,” Sarah said from behind Sam, which really made him jump because there was not that much room between him and the house.

“Why would you do that while I’m working with an open flame?” he asked. He gestured to the grill with the spatula in his hand.

Sarah looked skeptical. “It is hardly an open flame.”

Sam grumbled and turned back around to arrange the next batch of hotdogs on the grill. “You’re really gonna defend him?” he asked.

“I literally just said the opposite. Go clean out your ears and wash off your attitude while you’re at it,” Sarah shot back. She leaned against the folding table next to him. It’s where the done food was supposed to go, but people kept coming up and taking trays of burgers and dogs directly from him before he could even set them down. “God knows Cash and I had more than a few stupid fights.”

“You’re taking his side,” Sam surmised. “You think I’m being stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. Takes two to have a stupid fight.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam argued back. Just to be irritating.

“You’re right. When you would get mad at me for ‘not being in your room’ when I stood in your doorway, you had sole rights to the stupid half of the fight.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Sam accused. “You were so annoying when you did that and you knew it! I reacted like any normal person would.”

Sarah didn’t try to hide her grin, except to look away from him. Sam assumed she’d found Bucky in the crowd again, based on the way her eyes tracked around the play area. “You should at least talk to him. Stupid fight, justified fight, hurt feelings, whatever. He came back for you.”

“You’re so on his side,” Sam groused.

“Telling you to talk to your partner is not choosing sides. It’s just being intelligent. I know I got the looks and the brains in this family, but you must’ve absorbed at least a few stray brain cells.”

Sam glared at her and then glared harder when she gestured for him to roll the hotdogs over. He did it, but not because she was right. 

“He’s home, Sam. Talk to him, if nothing else.”

Home. Sam would’ve scoffed at the idea, but watching Bucky show AJ how best to throw a water balloon from behind a tree only proved the point harder. And the way his eyes kept finding Sam any time he had two seconds to himself wasn’t helping matters any.

For the rest of the party, they didn’t get to see each other one-on-one. Sam had caught Bucky trying a few times, but for as often as Bucky got pulled aside to play a new game, Sam was getting pulled aside to settle neighborhood gossip or play a different game that was much better than the game everyone else was playing. Kids were weird.

It wasn’t until everyone had made their way out of Sam’s backyard and all of the blowaway trash had been gathered and the boys had made them promise they were coming to Sarah’s for the campout and s’mores and catching fireflies that Sam and Bucky finally were alone. True, it was Bucky’s house too, but Sam didn’t like how he just let himself inside. True, also, that Bucky had been in and out all afternoon anyway. But this was just them now and there was no real reason for Bucky to let himself inside before Sam. Except that he lived there.

Sam watched him veer directly into the kitchen and begin to wash all the dishes that had piled up throughout the afternoon. The draintray was already full and there were more spread out across kitchen towels on the counter. How had they made this much mess?

Without a word, Sam freed a towel and began to dry and put away the dishes. He wasn’t helping Bucky. He was saving his kitchen. In fact, he gave Bucky as much of a cold, silent shoulder as he could while they pantomimed domestic bliss.

The sun was setting as slow as a dog on a hot day. It bathed the kitchen in stark oranges, exactly the way they’d known it would the first time they saw the patio style doors to the backyard. Sam leaned against the counter around plate number 56 and just let himself bask in the warmth of the sunset.

Then there was an even warmer hand on his jaw and neck and a mouth on his. Bucky had never been able to resist Sam when he was pretty. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed as he shifted to kiss Sam’s cheekbone instead.

Sam indulged him for another two kisses–they were in quick succession, it didn’t count–and then pushed him back. Bucky hit the counter with the sink because they weren’t as far away as Sam had thought.

“You don’t get to come here and act like everything’s normal,” he said. “It’s not normal. You were gone.”

“It wasn’t like it was my decision,” Bucky answered. They were going to have this argument verbatim again and get nowhere.

“You chose to go.”

“There was no choice, Sam. This wasn’t a moral stance I could just take.” Bucky’s voice was hard as steel and twice as sharp. “You still have no idea what you’re talking about. Which is insane since you keep buddying up with the guy who engineered half of it.”

“Who the hell do you think I’m buddying up to?” Sam demanded.

“You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been tailing Ross like a shadow? I had internet access.”

“You could’ve fooled me, since you never answered your damn phone.” Sam threw the towel down on the counter, which was less dramatic than he wanted it to be. “And I’m not buddying up to Ross, you asshole. He’s trying to put a leash around the shield and I’m trying to stop him.”

“Oh, you can tell when someone has a leash on you, but not when it's on me?”

Sam did walk into that one. He narrowed his eyes on Bucky. The man looked tired. He’d hidden it well at the party, but now the shadows beneath his eyes and the tint in his skin was so obvious to Sam, even with the sunset glow. It had been a long time since he’d seen Bucky look like that. It’s not like he’d been on a vacation for these last weeks.

“You think I wouldn’t have been here if I’d had any choice, Sam?” Bucky insisted.

“I think you have a self-flagellation issue that leads to you taking punishment you don’t deserve,” Sam corrected. “I think you invite pain and loss in whatever form it visits without fighting it. And I think you're not used enough to other people in your life who get caught in the explosion.”

“I think you have a self-flagellation issue that leads to you taking punishment you don’t deserve,” Sam corrected. “I think you invite pain and loss in whatever form it visits without fighting it. And I think you're not used enough to other people in your life who get caught in the explosion.”

Bucky’s jaw worked harshly as he stared at Sam. He had this habit of closing his expression off, face going as blank as a slate rock. But it had been a long time since he’d deployed it on Sam. Even now, it was absent as he steamed. 

“I’m loved for the first time in eighty years. You think I’d just walk away from that?” he asked finally, voice flat and hard.

Sam stopped. His whole body felt bow-string taut. A video paused in mid-motion. He knew Bucky was loved here, but he hadn’t considered that Bucky understood the depth of his belonging. He’d meant it when he said Bucky had an innate need to be held accountable over and over and over again for his past. It coupled well with the idea that he thought he was a burden here, on the Wilsons. But Sam didn’t actually know that Bucky felt like a burden. And if he didn’t, if he wasn’t excising himself because of some misplaced idea of making things easier for them, then what the hell had all of this been about?

“Then why did you go?” Sam asked. His voice had gotten quieter, but no less harsh.

“I can’t tell you that. Why won’t you trust me on this?”

Sam had spent months thinking it was Bucky who hadn’t trusted him. Hadn’t wanted to talk to Sam about his thought processes. Hadn’t even tried to listen to Sam’s arguments, his pleas, for Bucky to stay. He’d asked Bucky the exact same question before.

“Why can’t you tell me? We don’t keep things from each other.” It was only a half truth and the way that Bucky’s eyes flashes towards him told Sam Bucky knew it too. There were plenty they both did that they didn’t tell the other about. But not things like this. Things that separated them.

“Because it involves leverage you don’t need to know about,” Bucky answered. “I just need you to trust me. You’ve trusted me for more with less. Why are you fighting this?”

“Because nothing else ever took you from me!”

They stood facing each other, both breathing hard though they hadn’t gotten very loud or very fast in their argument. There wasn’t much room on this half of the kitchen and the mess of drying dishes and dishes waiting to be washed made it feel even smaller. The sun stretched between them, painting everything nostalgia-orange.

“I’m coming back,” Bucky said evenly. He sounded fucking exhausted and Sam hated it. “I’m keeping an eye on you, on home. Nothing is going to stop me from coming back.”

“You don’t know that. Anything could happen and I wouldn’t be there.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Bucky insisted. “I wouldn’t let it. I’m hard to kill when I don’t care what happens to me. Having a family again makes me a lot more dedicated to staying alive.”

Sam thought Bucky stepped forward to kiss him, but when he put his hands on Bucky’s waist, the countertop was still behind him and Sam had stepped into the sunbeam.

Bucky’s hands came up to either side of Sam’s face and he smoothed out the desperate, choppy kiss. God, Bucky was a good kisser. Sam kind of hated it sometimes. Hated that he craved these moments. Hated that he couldn’t argue while Bucky’s tongue was in his mouth.

“Promise me you’re coming back,” Sam breathed into his mouth as one hand clutched at Bucky’s shirt over his chest and Bucky leaned into him, using all two extra inches to his full advantage.

“I’m right here,” Bucky insisted. Then, when Sam pinched him, he added, “I’m coming back.”

Read the rest on AO3

[siancore]

🃏 for the sambucky prompts, if you'd like?

Thank you! This is for the ‘Are you joking right now?’ Prompt. Enjoy! 

The look on Bucky Barnes’ face was one of shock and hurt. His eyes darted between Sam and Steve as they both stepped out of the walk-in pantry. His gaze finally settled on his best friend, Steve. 

“What the fuck?” asked Bucky while pushing past the other revelers, stomping through the kitchen, and walking up to Steve. “Are you joking right now?”

In that moment, Sam remembered why he didn’t much like going to parties as he stood awkwardly in the kitchen and watched his classmates, the pair of best friends, apparently at odds. The jovial mood in the room had shifted quickly. The game of Seven Minutes in Heaven suddenly paused as the other teens found the confrontation in front on them much more entertaining. 

“Buck, come on, man,” said Steve, holding his hands up. 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed on his friend, before he looked over at Sam who was standing there wearing a confused expression on his handsome face.

“Y’know what? Screw you,” said Bucky as he poked Steve in the chest and then walked away.

The whispers and oohs of the bystanders blurred as Bucky hastily made his way outside into the backyard. He felt like his chest was caving in. How could Steve do that? How could Steve agree to go into that pantry with Sam for that stupid kissing game when he knew how much Bucky liked Sam? How could he be such a shitty friend? 

Bucky was fuming but he also wanted to cry. Just then, the sound of his name being called got his attention. It was Sam Wilson. 

“Fuck,” said Bucky under his breath as he tried to calm his heart, fight back tears, and smooth back his hair. 

“Bucky? Are you okay?” asked Sam as he came to a halt nearby. 

Bucky turned and saw the look of genuine concern in Sam’s pretty brown eyes. He stood there with his arms crossed over his front. He looked adorable in his oversized hoodie. Just his presence made Bucky feel calmer.

“I’m fine,” Bucky lied, his voice cracking and betraying him. 

“Steve doesn’t think so,” said Sam. 

“I don’t care what Steve thinks,” Bucky snapped, then immediately regretted it. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just – I can’t with that guy right now.”

“What happened?” asked Sam as he stepped closer to Bucky. “You seemed really mad at Steve. I don’t know what he did to upset you.”

Bucky looked at Sam, all pretty in the soft glow of the overhead fairy lights. He looked shy as he added, “But I – I really don’t like seeing you upset. I mean, I don’t like that you’re upset. It’s – yeah, I just want you to be okay.”

Sam’s genuine concern chipped away at the hurt that Bucky was feeling only moments ago.

“Thank you,” Bucky said softly. “You’re a good person, Sam. A better friend than Steve.”

Sam frowned then and asked, “What did he do?”

Bucky looked at Sam and then dropped his head, before saying, “Ain’t it obvious?”

Sam shrugged and said, “Maybe, but my Mama always says I got my head in the clouds so I kinda sorta might’ve missed it? I mean, it’s cool also if you don’t wanna tell me –”

“It’s you,” Bucky blurted out before Sam could finish what he was saying. “It’s because of you. I’m pissed at Steve ‘cause o’ you.”

“Oh,” said Sam, suddenly taken aback. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between the two of you. I don’t even know what I did, I just. I’m sorry.”

He stood there looking more confused than before, maybe even a little hurt. Bucky couldn’t stomach that. He stepped closer to Sam then. 

“Hey, it’s – you don’t have to be sorry, okay?” said Bucky softly; his own hurt fell away as the need to comfort Sam took over. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam.”

“Then why were you so upset at Steve, and what did I have to do with any of it?”

Bucky sighed loudly and then ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want the moment that he told Sam how he felt to be like this. He imagined it would be a lazy afternoon hanging out in Sam’s bedroom with soft light streaming through the curtains. Bucky would call him pretty and tell him how much he liked him more than a friend. And maybe Sam would say he liked him back. And then they’d hold hands, and maybe share a kiss or two. And maybe he would ask Sam to be his boyfriend, and Sam would say ‘yes’ and then everything would be right in the world. But that wasn’t going to happen, now, because Sam was standing in front of Bucky looking for answers. 

Bucky took a deep breath and finally said, “Because I – I like you, Sammy. I mean, it’s gotta be obvious. I’ve liked you for ages now, and Steve knew that. He knows how much I fuckin’ like you, but he still – he still went into that room with you and played that stupid kissing game with you, even though he knows how I feel about you.”

“Are you joking right now?” asked an incredulous Sam. 

Bucky knit his brow and said, “What? Of course not. I’m serious. I’m like so fuckin’ crazy about you, and Steve knew that, and still made out with you.”

“Bucky, Steve and me didn’t make out or anything like that,�� said Sam, now looking slightly amused. 

“You didn’t?” asked Bucky. “But that game – doesn’t it – don’t you have to kiss the other person you’re locked in the room with?”

“Nope, you don’t have to.”

“Oh,” said Bucky, letting the realization set in. “So, what did the two of you do in there for seven minutes that had Stevie smiling like that?”

“We umm just talked,” said Sam. “Well, actually, Steve listened while I did most of the talking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I was actually ah y’know, telling Steve about my crush.”

Bucky’s heart clenched but he urged Sam to continue, “Your crush? That’s umm that’s cool.”

It was not cool. Bucky felt like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

“Yeah, Steve thought so as well.”

“Course he did. He’s a good guy and I’m a dumbass.”

“You are,” said Sam with a smile; it was contagious, and Bucky smiled too. “Such a dumbass.”

Bucky laughed then, and so did Sam. 

“Why’re we laughing?” asked Bucky. 

“Because of your dumbassery,” said Sam. “Because you thought me and Steve Rogers, of all people, were making out when I was there with him talking about my crush the whole time.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly then.

“Right, your crush.”

“Yeah, my crush,” Sam replied with a grin. “He’s pretty cool. He’s passionate and sweet. He’s a protector. He’s kind. A good friend. He’s a huge nerd and a complete dumbass.”

“Sounds great,” said Bucky as he placed his hands in his pockets and averted his gaze. 

“He is,” said Sam. “You are.”

“Uh?” asked Bucky, glancing at Sam once more.

“It’s you,” said Sam. “You’re my crush. I was literally in that room with Steve talkin’ about how much I like you and how cute you looked tonight and how I was feeling brave enough to finally tell you how I felt.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes!” said Sam while smiling wider. “I know what it looked like, now. And I get why you’d be upset at Steve. But we were in there talking about you the whole time.”

“You were talkin’ about me? For the whole seven minutes?” asked Bucky, looking stunned. 

“Yep,” said Sam, and then added a little coyly, “But I could probably talk about how kind and sweet and dorky and cute you are forever, to be honest.”

Bucky stared at Sam for a beat, just taking in the boy standing before him. 

“Wow,” said Bucky just over a whisper. “I really am a dumbass.”

“Yep, but you could be my dumbass if you wanted,” said Sam, shyly as he dipped his head. 

“You askin’ me out?” asked Bucky, as he inched closer to Sam. 

“Yes,” Sam replied coyly. “So, would you wanna go out with me?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes,” Bucky replied eagerly.

Sam laughed and then so did Bucky. 

“Cool,” said Sam with a dopey grin that warmed Bucky to his core.

“Cool,” Bucky replied, with a grin matching Sam’s. “So, I should go apologize to Stevie then, uh?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Sam. “But first, can we – I mean, can I please – kiss you?”

Sam looked so shy and adorable that Bucky could not help reaching up to caress Sam’s face. 

“Not if I kiss you first,” Bucky teased as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam’s.