longing. [sambucky]

𝟏𝟎: you can't have it

With the sun steadily beating down on his back, he lifted items off trucks and onto the Wilsons' boat. Bucky thought that if he closed his eyes he'd feel like he was on an old, cramped dock in Brooklyn. Back in the year 1944, before he was drafted. If the sounds of laughter and chatter was replaced with the grunts and complaints of grumpy dockworkers, he'd feel as if he'd gone back in time.

Bucky used to love his job; the salt air that tangled his hair into knots, the sight of buff men lifting heavy items- not that he'd ever admit that he'd enjoyed that, the pleasant feeling of contentness when he'd return back to his and Steve's shared apartment, feeling productive and relaxed.

He hoped he'd successfully concealed his excitement from Sam when he'd offered for Bucky to help with the boat. Bucky didn't want Sam to see the softer, vulnerable side to him, as that would make it harder when Sam found something better to do. When their friendship- work agreement- ended. He hoped Sam hadn't noticed the way his breath had caught in his throat and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek to suppress an excited smile at the thought of working on a boat again after all those years.

The inside of his cheek had even bled a little but, as he ran his tongue over the small wound in his mouth, he realised it had entirely healed. It had healed almost as quickly as the self-inflicted scratches on his thighs. The ones Sam had been so concerned about. Bucky couldn't help but think that was stupid, he hurt himself to remain calm and collected and it healed fast anyway. Surely a little pain was better than an angry Bucky? Sam didn't see it that way. Sam had an infuriating gentleness when it came to Bucky, and it made him want to time travel back to the forties and apologise to Steve for all the times he'd been annoyingly worried about him. But Bucky couldn't help fawning over Steve back then; he was fragile and got into stupid fights. Bucky had protected Steve so much because he had loved him. So what was Sam's reason for worrying about Bucky?

Because Sam was a good person, Bucky decided. Because Sam Wilson was too good for this world, and certainly too good for Bucky.

He looked over at Sam then, as he leant against a wooden post on the boat, one that didn't look too sturdy but that was what they were fixing. Folding his arms, he watched Sam, who was trying to add something up, using his fingers like a little kid. His face was all screwed up in concentration; nose crinkled and dark eyes narrowed. Bucky bit his bottom lip and tilted his head as he watched him.
Seeing Sam always left a painful ache in Bucky's chest. He felt like a poor, starving person with a banquet placed before him, one that said, 'Look at all this. And you can't have it.'

Bucky suddenly felt his palms start to sweat and his heart rate pick up because he realised he was being watched. He always knew when there was a pair of eyes on him, perhaps it was something he'd picked up from his years at HYDRA. He looked around at the sky and the ground, anywhere but Sam. He couldn't get caught out drooling over his... colleague.

Bucky's eyes landed on a tall woman with braids that were pulled back elegantly in a ponytail. The shape of her eyes was almost familiar and Bucky thought she was very beautiful. Had he been attracted to women, he imagined she would have been his type.

The woman gave him a knowing look.

"You must be my brother's partner?" her eyes flickered with curiosity and Bucky noticed the way she glanced at his metal arm.

Everyone did that; got either frightened or fascinated by it. Everyone but Sam.

"Yeah," he swallowed nervously, wondering if she'd caught onto the way he'd been staring at her brother. "I'm Bucky."

"Sarah."

Suddenly, Sam was stood a few metres away from Bucky, glaring daggers at him and Sarah. He tugged on Bucky's shirt and pulled him away, Sarah started laughing behind them.

"I was just talking to your sister," Bucky said, brow furrowed as Sam let go of his shirt when they were around the other side of the boat.

"I don't want you to," Sam folded his arms.

"What?"

"Well, you aren't exactly available for relationships right now. So, I don't want you to lead her on or anything-"

"WHAT?!" Bucky snorted, bending over and clutching his stomach as he let out a burst of laughter.

Real laughs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard. It kind of hurt.

"Why are you laughing at me!?" Sam shouted, pouting like a baby.

Bucky wondered for a moment if Sam was jealous of the idea that Bucky would flirt with his sister. He banished the thought away as quickly as it had arose. His laughter faded away slowly.

"Did you even listen to me that night?" Bucky ducked his head, guilt twisting in his chest as it did everytime he had to admit it. "She isn't really my type."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I thought... maybe... Steve was just different... the history books always pegged you as a ladies man," Sam stuttered, eyes darting around everywhere but Bucky.

Bucky feared he was making Sam uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "I really am just a fa-"

He was cut off by Sam whacking his chest, brows pulled together and mouth twisted into a frown. Bucky lowered his head, clearly he'd misread the signals and Sam wasn't feeling any discomfort at the topic of Bucky's sexuality. That didn't answer the question as to why Sam couldn't meet his eyes, Bucky thought curiously.

For a moment, Sam's hand stayed where it was, the back of it resting against Bucky's chest. He turned it around slowly, so the palm of his hand brushed against the material of Bucky's tight t-shirt. His fingers stroked softly and Bucky watched Sam's face. He seemed almost entranced by Bucky's chest; lips parted, brows furrowed in concentration. It was exhilarating, Bucky felt... attractive.

He desperately wanted to ask Sam what he was thinking. But, all too quickly, Sam took his hand away, continuing as if his lingering touch had never even happened.

"There's a lot to do," Sam clasped his hands together, clearing his throat. "Better get to work."

With that, he span on his heals. Leaving Bucky with his heart in his throat, his skin tingling and his soul yearning. He clenched his fists together and let out a shaky breath.

He kept forgetting he wasn't allowed to want someone that deserved better than a destructive, emotionless monster.
More specifically, Bucky was not allowed to want Sam Wilson.