|| SamBucky (WinterFalcon Oneshots) ||

Never Get Bucky Drunk.

Plus, to save the confusion, this sorta links to the Vitligo chapter. I find th

A rule that came with living with Bucky was to not get him drunk. At all. Steve had left him alone for a drive around the city, warning him not to get Bucky drunk which was kind of a downfall because he has been invited to a party-

"Where are you going?" Bucky asks, eyeing the baby blue tuxedo his friend was wearing. It fit him perfectly and those pants, god-

"To a party." Sam answers, trying to fix his tie. He could never fix the tie properly, it was always wonky. Know, he's a man, he should know how to tie a tie. A grown man, in fact yet he still couldn't do his ties.

After struggling, Sam wants to give up. "Stupid tie!" He grumbles, loosening his tie.

"You need help?' Sam turns around, looking over at him.

"No, I'm fine-"

"Really? It looks like you're struggling there, Sam. Keep the tie, it looks nice on you." Bucky starts, shuffling his way over and tightening the tie once again, his minty breath tickling Sam's nose. The feel he got from it, he didnt know how to describe it. It made his heart race and his stomach erupt into butterflies. The only time had felt this way was Riley.s

Oh god, is he in love with Bucky Barnes? That would explain the sudden feeling of anxiousness around him, he blames it on his skin

He didn't know he was holding his breath until Bucky steps back, admiring his work. Or more like the piece of art in front of him.

Sam doesn't need to know that though.

"Am I coming?" Sam looks over his shoulder. "If you want. You're your own person, Barnes. I'm not the boss of you."

He nods. Despite being free for a while, he's still getting used to making choices for himself. Though it isn't surprising, someone with a terrible past like him takes a while for them to get used to it. To grow out of the old habits.

Hell, some people don't ever get over and Bucky's afraid that's going to happen to him. He doesn't want to feel weak.

What he doesn't get though is that Sam is always there for him.

"You okay?" Sam asks softly, noticing that he was lost in his own little world. Sam's soft smile is everything.

It isn't broken like his. It's bright and full of joy. With a little shadow of sadness but everyone is sad. Even the most happiest person is sad deep down, it's just that they know how to bottle it up, turning it into an unhealthy habit. Letting it build up the bottle explodes and leaves the ones closest to them hurt.

"I'm fine." He says and Sam nods, parting him on the shoulder before leaving, letting him be.

Twenty minutes later (Bucky was counting. Don't ask why, it's a thing he does) they arrive at the party and Bucky could already hear the thumping of the bass. Suddenly, he doesn't feel like going.

Too crowded and it would be hard to escape if need be. Though a pro of it, he still feels uneasy.

He feels Sam's hand squeeze his comfortingly before letting go and walking up the steps, Bucky following. The brain lights flew around the room, the hazy scenery invading his senses. Although he doesn't get drunk easily, he wouldn't mind drinking.

The tingly feeling he got when Sam's hand connected with his sent sparks up his spine as the feeling returns. "C'mon, I see the bar over there." He says, dragging him across and through the sea of dancing people.

He swore one person squeezed his ass. Do they know anything about privacy? Personal space?! He just walked faster, wanting to make sure he doesn't get touched again.