longing. [sambucky]

𝟏𝟑: come home

"You should go to bed," Bucky said.

Hours had passed since AJ had come down for gaming, a glass of milk and oreos. Sam had kept telling Bucky: 'I'll leave you to sleep soon.' He didn't leave at all. They stayed chatting away in the same spot, Sam inching closer until their arms and thighs were pressed together.
It was stuffy in the little living room and being so close they were sharing body heat wasn't exactly helping, but Sam couldn't pull himself away.

"Yeah, I guess I should," Sam yawned, stretching his arms out before casually placing his arm around Bucky, hand resting on his waist. He flashed Bucky a cheeky smirk.

"That is so old-school," Bucky laughed and Sam's heart pounded in anticipation.
All night they had been setting unspoken boundaries with what they could talk about, how close they could sit, how much touching was too much. Sam seemed to take the first big steps, waiting anxiously to see how Bucky responded...

His lips parted with a trembling breath and his brow furrowed, looking to his lap where he fiddled his hands. Sam loosened his grip on his waist, not that it had even been that hard of a grip in the first place, he always tried to be gentle with Bucky.

"I wish you'd just..." Bucky trailed off.

"What?"

Pressing his lips together, Bucky shrugged. Sam was usually good at reading his signals but when it came to this, he had no idea what Bucky was thinking about. Which sort of terrified him.

"I wish you'd just go to bed," Bucky teased, plastering on a grin. "Seriously, Wilson, I'm getting bored of you here."

Sam frowned, frustrated he'd come close to knowing what was on Bucky's mind but had missed the opportunity again.

He slipped his hand away from Bucky and stood up, ruffling Bucky's chestnut curls as if he were a kid. He'd intented to annoy him with the gesture, but Bucky leant into the touch. Sam's hand stilled and he looked down at his... friend, who stared at him with pleading blue eyes. Sam had no idea what he wanted, but he leant down, pressing his thumb against the indent of Bucky's chin to tilt his head up so he could place a chaste kiss to his forehead.

His hair smelt like saltwater with a faint hint of shampoo. Sam leant away slowly, trying to commit the feeling in his chest to memory as well as savoring the image of Bucky looking up at him like he'd given Sam the reins, like he'd do anything Sam told him to.

"Goodnight," Sam said, voice uncharacteristically hoarse.

"Night," Bucky replied with a dreamy expression still on his face.

Slipping under his covers, sleep came easy for Sam. A dreamless, pleasant sleep in his old childhood bed, in his small room where the posters were peeling off the walls and the furniture was dusty. It hadn't felt like home in years, neither had his apartment in DC. Nowhere really made him feel at home but that night, with the knowledge Bucky was downstairs safe and sleeping on his sofa, he finally did.

With the shield now Sam's own, at last, he came to the conclusion that, yeah, he'd probably have to get used to carrying it without being exhausted and suffering back pain.

Bucky stayed at the Wilson's for a few more days, giving him some tips, training with him. A few heart-to-hearts were shared but no about them, not about what Sam wanted to talk about. He left it alone, mainly because Bucky seemed reserved again and Sam didn't want to push it. So, he didn't protest when Bucky headed back to his own apartment.

Sam was being unprofessional, really. Well, as unprofessional as a Captain America without any government authority could be. He was distracted thinking about whether Bucky would prolong their friendship-relationship-thing, or whether it would be limited to time they'd spend together between missions. Sam prayed it wasn't the latter.

He trained hard, until every night his muscles ached and sweat clung to him until he showered. He'd buffed up more in those weeks than he had in his entire life and that included army training at boot camp.

Karli and the flag-smashers were set to raid New York, Torres established as much. Sam made his phone calls to Sharon and Bucky in preparation, before heading to his room.

He lifted the heavy Wakandian case Bucky brought him onto his bed that creaked with the weight of it. Holding his breath, Sam lifted the lid.

The plan of attack hadn't gone as expected. It never did, which was the entire reason why Sam never bothered making one. Karli lay dead and a part of Sam couldn't help but think it was entirely his fault.

Rather than turning his grief to rage, he tried to reason with the senators. With a speech Steve Rogers would be proud of, Sam turned away from them with his heart singing in his chest. He thought of Steve, he thought of Isaiah, he thought of all the people he'd proved wrong and all those he'd made proud.

But thoughts of other people all faded away when he saw Bucky leant against a van, the glow of the streetlights lighting up his beaming face, his smiling blue eyes.

"Sorry I was, uh, I was texting so," Bucky sighed, grinning playfully. "All I heard was 'a black guy in stars and stripes'."

They both chuckled, Sam shaking his head.

"Nice job, Cap," Bucky whispered.

Sam smiled wide, meeting his eyes and wishing he could just kiss him.

"Thanks," Sam replied shortly, if he prolonged their conversation he'd do something stupid in public.

Bucky patted his back, clearly trying not to let the touch linger. He failed.

"Come back, Buck."

"Where?"

Sam nearly said 'home'.

"Louisiana," Sam replied. "AJ and Cass would love to see you again."

"What about your sister?" Bucky wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Shut up," Sam whacked his chest, looking at Bucky with pleading eyes. "I... I know I said that I wanted this- us- to just end with a mission but everything's changed now."

Bucky nodded, eyes still on the ground.

"We can forget about us... whatever that was. If that's what you want-"

"That's not what I want," Bucky answered abruptly.

"Okay," Sam laughed, happy they were on the same page. "Then just come back, we'll take it slow."

Lifting his gaze to finally meet Sam's, Bucky responded with a short nod, "Okay, Sammy."