Chapter Text
After fishing the final Flagsmasher out of the water, Sam left him with the police. The next few hours of handshaking and smiling were a blur. He felt heavy. The weight of all that came with picking up the mantle was now resting on his shoulders. As the adrenaline of the fight wore off, it only got heavier. He needed to get away from the flashing lights of the police and rescue cars. He should have asked Bucky to stay. Sharon could have found her own damn way to wherever it was she was going—if she was too stubborn to get medical attention that wasn’t his fault. These past few weeks, he didn’t realize how much having Bucky helped. Even if he would have just stood there glaring and not saying a word. Though that may have scared away all the people shoving microphones at Sam’s face.
He hated that glare. That stupid, obnoxious, impossible to read glare. I mean, the guy left him naked and alone on a hotel room floor, disappeared for months, and bulldozed back into his life glaring at him like he was the bad guy. At first, Sam had felt a little guilty. He felt like he fucked everything up by giving in to Bucky’s pleas. Told himself that if he had just supported him as a friend, Bucky would have stayed. Then, after being ghosted for so long, he realized that Bucky just didn’t want him around.
Or at least that’s what he thought, until Bucky showed up in Louisiana, all tight shirts and smiles. He almost got the courage to bring up that night when they were practicing with the shield. Instead, he stupidly agreed to them being just “a couple of guys.”
But now, after everything, he felt himself looking to his side for Bucky, only to find no one there. An explosion went off in the distance. The reporters and first responders rushed away and he flew up, seeing the van transporting the Flagsmashers had been blow up. He landed at the scene. Sending redwing into the wreckage. There were no survivors. There were no other devices on any of the other vehicles. Local law enforcement told him they could handle the rest.
Without a second thought, he told redwing to take him to Brooklyn.
***
Bucky could have waited until tomorrow to talk to Yori, but Bucky was afraid he would chicken out again. It was late, but right now Bucky was still high enough on adrenaline and inspired enough by Sam’s speech to get through this. And he did. It was hard. Probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. And when it was over, he didn’t feel any relief, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Hopefully, now that he knows, Yori will find peace.
Except now, Bucky is back in his apartment, still in his tactical gear, crying alone on the couch, and the empty walls are closing in on him. Yori and Leah are the only two people he’s connected with, though that connection wasn’t very deep, and he severed that. No more lunches or terribly awkward dates. It had been nice, having people to just say hello to. People who treated him like a person.
The only other people like that were in Wakanda, and he ruined that, and Louisiana, and well, it was separate long vacation time, right? He shouldn’t have left Sam to deal with everything. But Sharon was bleeding and he couldn’t just let her go off God knows where. So he drove her to some address she said was safe in Manhattan, and walked her up to a swanky penthouse, before coming back to Brooklyn. It’s not like he could have done anything to help Sam, but he didn’t like the idea of him being out there alone. Actually, he didn’t like the idea of himself being in here alone. There was so much he should have said to him, but instead he made a dumb joke about texting.
A tap on the window snaps him out of his thoughts. He jumps up, holding a knife back ready to throw it at the intruder. He lowers it when he sees the familiar gap toothed grin and goofy wave. Sam closes his wings as he is standing on the fire escape. Damn that outfit looks good. And if Shuri ever tells Sam how specific he was in his directions about the suit, he may just have to jump out of another plane without a chute, much higher up, above very, very pointy rocks.
He opens the window and Sam climbs in. He looks tired. Despite his smile, his shoulders hang low. “Hey man – don’t really feel like flying all the way back to Louisiana, mind if I crash on your…” Sam looks around…”Only piece of furniture.”
Bucky shakes his head, “couch is all yours. But take a shower first. You smell like you just went for a swim in the Hudson.”
“Is that anyway to talk to Captain America?” Sam teased.
Bucky groaned. “Out there,” he said pointing to the window, “you’re Captain America. In here- you’re my annoying house guest. Now be nice if you want me to lend you something to sleep in.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow, “you saying you don’t want me walking around in my birthday suit?” The implications of his quip hit him after he’d said it. His face immediately dropped into a more solemn expression and he could hear Bucky swallowing at the air.
They never talked about that night in the hotel room after the funeral. Sam called Bucky later that day. and the day after that. And sent him countless messages – first daily, then weekly. And Bucky never responded. He felt bad, sure, but, what was there to say. Eventually, he hoped, Sam would admit Bucky was a lost cause and stop trying to save him. Then he saw Walker with the shield, and planned to just go ask Sam about it (yes he could have done that over the phone but…maybe he wanted to see him). Then Sam was yelling about Gandalf and there were super soldiers and he just wanted to get this stupid mission over with and never see the guy again. And somewhere between Munich and Louisiana that changed.
“I’ll go get you something,” Bucky said dismissively. He came back with a tshirt, boxers, and sweat pants, on top of a towel. He shoved them at Sam without making eye contact.
Sam started walking toward the bathroom and suddenly stopped. “You haven’t changed,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Bucky asked.
“Your clothes,” Sam clarified, realizing that Bucky had likely taken the statement as having much more significance than he intended. “You left a while ago. Why haven’t you changed?”
“Made a pit stop.” Bucky answered.
Sam leaned on the arm rest of the couch. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope,” Bucky shrugged, ignoring Sam as he rummaged through his fridge for a beer.
Sam sat quietly for a moment watching him. He had the beer in his hand and was clearly pretending to look around still so he didn’t have to turn around. Sam waited him out. Eventually he closed the door and turned. He leaned against the fridge. “Not right now,” he said defeated, “I want to talk about it. Just not right now. Today has been long enough.” He opened the beer and took a sip.
Sam nodded. “Wanna take a shower with me?”
Bucky turned and spit the beer into the sink. “What?”
Sam smiled. “Do you want to take a shower with me?” Sam repeated slower. Bucky just stared at him, slack jawed. Sam walked up closer to him, cornering him against the fridge. “Look you were right…today was a long day. And I don’t know if I should feel glad we technically won or sad that the win meant lives were lost or terrified that tomorrow the whole world is going to be criticizing every decision we made and every word I said on that camera.” He put his fingers under Bucky’s chin to tilt his head up. “I just know that for some reason, you’re the only person that somehow makes days like today better. And I really want to feel better right now.”
“Sam…I... ”
“It’s okay,” Sam said, slowly taking his suit off. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, steeping out of the pants. “You can join me, if you want.” He grabbed the towel and clean clothes and walked away in just his underwear, leaving Bucky speechless.
The bathroom was as barren as the rest of the apartment. There was a bar of soap and a bottle of 2-in-one shampoo and conditioner in the shower, and a single tooth brush and toothpaste on the counter. Everything was white and one of the fluorescent lightbulbs was flickering. It was annoying so Sam loosened it, leaving the room half darkened. Sam had seen more homey bathrooms while he was on the run staying in shitty motels. At least the shower was pretty spacious. He turned the water on, stepping under once it was warm enough. The room quickly filled with steam and Sam let the hot water run over him, relaxing his tense muscles.
Some of the steam escaped as the door slipped open. Bucky silently walked in, closing the door behind him. The glass of the shower door was fogged up enough that they couldn’t really see each other. Bucky was just standing there, quietly. Sam opened the glass door half way and after a moment, Bucky stepped in.
Sam gave him one of those soft smiles. The kind they shared in the hotel room. The kind Bucky missed like crazy even though they were sparingly flashed at him while they were fixing the boat or practicing with the shield in Louisiana. But those had been quick, neither man brave enough to hold that feeling, quick to cover it up with a joke or a jibe. Bucky didn’t even realize he was smiling back until Sam said he liked his smile, which only caused it to widen.
When Sam crowded him, he thought he was going to kiss him, but he just reached behind Bucky and grabbed his shampoo bottle. Bucky tilted his head in confusion, unsure why Sam would need shampoo. Then Sam poured some in his hands and began working it into Bucky’s scalp. Bucky had to grab Sam’s waist to stop his knees from buckling at the gentle touched. Sam moved his fingers slowly, but with pressure, for what felt like either 5 seconds or 5 hours, before guiding Bucky’s head under the water. As Bucky was under the steady stream, his eyes closed tight, Sam leaned in and kissed him. Bucky was pliant in his arms, quickly parting his lips to grant Sam entry, and moaning into his every touch.
After a few moments, Bucky tightened his grip around Sam, pushing them out of the water and taking control of the kiss. Sam probably would have just let himself suffocate if Bucky hadn’t pulled away and left him gasping for air. Before Sam could lean back in to the kiss, Bucky dropped to his knees. He kept his blue eyes wide open and stared at Sam as he took him all the way into his mouth without warning.
Sam’s head made a thud against the shower tile when he felt the back of Bucky’s throat. He wanted to close his eyes and stay like that, but he couldn’t, not knowing what he would be missing. So he looked back down to watch as Bucky bobbed his head, Sam disappearing between those gorgeous lips.
Sam wrapped his fingers in Bucky’s short hair and pulled him off, tilting his chin up. “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.”
Bucky licked his lips and pouted, looking back down at Sam’s cock. Pre-cum was dripping out of it and Bucky leaned forward slightly, lapping it up with his tongue and moaning, without breaking eye contact.
“Good god,” Sam whispered, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”
Bucky smiled and stood up, kissing Sam. Sam could taste himself on Bucky’s tongue. Without breaking the kiss, Bucky slid the glass door open and opened a small drawer in the sink, shuffling his hands around. Then he closed the door and plopped a small bottle of lube into Sam’s hands.
“I see we’re more prepared this time…” Sam teased.
Bucky responded by turning around and placing his palms flush against the tile, then looking back over his shoulder. “You know,” Bucky said and winked, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to get fucked by Captain America.”
Sam slapped his ass, hard. Bucky whimpered. “That’s for making me think about Steve while we’re doing this.” He slapped him again. “That’s for breaking Zemo out of jail without telling me.” The third was hardest. “That’s for leaving me alone in that hotel room in Georgia.” And then another, “That is for not answering any of my texts for six months.”
Bucky was about to look back when another slap didn’t come, but he didn’t get the chance. Sam shoved two lube fingers into him without warning, immediately finding his prostate, and massaging it relentlessly as Bucky shook and moaned. “And this…” he said, pulling Bucky up by his hair and whispering in his ear, “this is for helping me with the boat.” Bucky was already a moaning mess and he let his head drop back on Sam’s shoulder. The hand that was in his hair came around and gripped his cock. “This is for the suit,” Sam whispered as he began stroking him.
Bucky was biting his lip trying not to scream. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make baby,” Sam said, “you had no problem letting Clint hear you scream for me.”
“Oh god Sam…I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” Sam added a third finger as he bit down on Bucky’s shoulder and he could feel Bucky spill onto his hand. His whole body shaking as he yelled Sam’s name.
Before Bucky had a chance to fully catch his breath, Sam removed his fingers and replaced it with his slicked up cock, eliciting a loud moan from the oversensitive super soldier when he was fully sheathed. “You okay baby?” Sam asked. Bucky looked back at him and nodded. “You have no idea what those blue eyes do to me,” Sam said as he began to thrust in and out slowly.
“Want to…see you…” Bucky said, struggling to crane his neck.
Sam slipped out of Bucky and let Bucky turn around. Bucky was immediately grabbing his face and kissing him. Sam backed them up to the wall and patted Bucky to wrap his legs around Sam. He entered him again, their foreheads pressed together.
“Better?” Sam asked.
Bucky nodded and kissed him again. Sam began to pick up his speed, and Bucky gripped onto the top of the shower with his left hand, holding most of his body weight up on his own, allowing Sam to use his strength to thrust into him. He felt a tightness and warmth building in him again and his vibranium fingers shattered the ceramic tile as he came for a second time, spilling onto Sam’s torso. “Fuck!” Sam yelled as he thrust harder, ramming into Bucky’s prostate over and over chasing his own orgasm, and milking every last drop out of Bucky. Bucky was still coming untouched across his chest when Sam found his own release, spilling into Bucky.
Bucky let his legs fall to the ground as Sam rested his head on Bucky’s cool, metal shoulder. He felt Buck moving, but stayed still, humming when he felt the bar of soap sliding gently across his back. When they were both clean, Sam shut the water off. Bucky walked out and grabbed one of the towels he brought in, handing the other to Sam.
Sam walked out of the shower and grabbed Bucky’s face, kissing him on the forehead. “Since this is your apartment…is it safe for me to assume you’ll still be here when I wake up?”
Bucky nodded. “Sam, I’m sorry that I—“
“No,” Sam shook his head. “I asked because I really want to talk about this. We need to talk about this. But we can do it tomorrow. Right now I just want to go to sleep next to you….You do have a bed right?”
“Yes,” Bucky answered, “Never actually used it but…can’t think of a better person to share it with.”
Sam shoved at him. “Dork.”
Bucky shoved back. “Jerk.”