Love that Lasts Forever

like breathing

A/N: words: 2651. ehehehhehe. ehehehehehhe. EHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHE. anyway. sorry not sorry for any of this. chapter 11, 12, 13 of this fic are just SO GOOD. anyway, enjoy!

 "Sam, you just got back from a mission, let me handle it."

"Bucky, c'mon." Sam stood helpless in their bedroom doorway, watching as Bucky rummaged through their room in search of his tact gear. Bucky was right, he had been on a solo mission for the past 3 days, only getting back two nights before. The party was only 3 weeks ago, and a sprained wrist, along with 2 broken ribs, reminded Sam how fast his life kept moving.

"I got it, Sammy, go back to bed."

"But I'm Captain America, Buck." Bucky zipped up from his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulders. He looked at Sam, even through the darkness of the early morning, Sam could make out what Bucky's eyes were trying to tell him. The brunette was walking over to him, a slight shake of his head.

"You have a broken rib." He pointed out, the cool vibranum pressed against Sam's jawline. "You know I don't wanna go." His voice was softer now, like he wanted only him and Sam to hear these words. Like if anyone else heard them, the two men would be split apart. Only the early sunrise peaking through was their witness.

"I know, Buck." Sam sighed.

"It'll be a few days. Stay off the news, and I'll be back before you know it."

"You promise me?" Sam asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Bucky smiled, a smile that reached his eyes. A smile that looked as soft as velvet, but felt like the early rays of sun washing over him.

"I promise."

Sam brought his lips to the cool vibranium. A farewell, maybe. Gratitude, perhaps. Or maybe he just wanted Bucky to feel a loving touch on his metal arm that was destined to soak in the cruel battle of blood.

Bucky brought his forehead to Sam's, basking in the other man's warmth. Basking in the wish of forever. Basking in the feeling of Sam's lips pressed to the vibranium palm. It's not the same as his flesh hand. The sensation is different. It's delicate, it's a feeling so fragile, it makes Bucky yearn to feel like he does in this moment forever. The gentleness, the silence, the wish for peace but knowing peace was never a realistic choice anyway.

But, the moment ends, and in the end, Bucky has to go. "Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, sugar."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sat up in his bed while the rest of the night fell to the rising sun. He couldn't bring himself to fall asleep, between the uncomfortable sprained wrist and ever present broken rib. He had nothing he could really do, which was the most infuriating part of it all. He couldn't help Sarah, he couldn't do anything to help their god awful garden Bucky had said he was going to get started on. He hadn't.

This is the first mission Sam hadn't taken since he took up the mantle. He was tempted to turn on their local news station, open twitter, see what anyone was saying, but he knows, logically, he shouldn't. So, he finds himself in Sarah's kitchen, with his sister clicking her tongue at him, a clutter of Christmas decorations scattered around, as November has come and gone.

"You have a broken rib Sam, go home, get some rest." She tells him, grabbing an ice pack from her freezer. Sam rolled his eyes, sitting down at her kitchen table, wincing slightly.

"I can't. I got nothin' to do."

"Rest." Sarah repeated, sliding an ice pack across the table to her brother. She looked at him with a bit more perception. "Where's your guy?" She asked, causing Sam to shake his head.