longing. [sambucky]

𝟐𝟐: touch, soldier

The fish film was fast-paced and filled with the most beautiful characters. Other than when Sam was making jokes about the fact Bucky was like Guilia's Dad, because he too had a missing arm, they didn't really talk. An unspoken tension hung between them.

Sitting at the back of the little theatre, Bucky and Sam had a view of the entire audience- the backs of everybody's head. Luckily, there was only about three other people there. Because who went to see a kids film at 10pm? Even with the freedom to be alone together, Sam left Bucky to his own devices.

Sam was fiddling with his hands in his lap for most of the film, letting go of Bucky's hand as soon as they'd sat down. Bucky watched his fingers intertwining with themselves, the light from the end credits making the scars on Sam's hands from fish-hooks visible.

Bucky was replaying the kiss from earlier, the promise the sweep of his tongue held, the desperation he felt from Sam's uneven breaths. Bucky wondered where those feelings were now, whether Sam didn't want this to be a date anymore. It was starting to feel less and less like one. Bucky dug his nails into his thighs whilst he waited for Sam to say something.

The other people in the theatre left and Bucky kept his blue eyes on the screen until it faded to black and the lights came up. Sam still hadn't spoken but his eyes flickered up to meet Bucky's.

"Did you like the film?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

A beat of silence.

"I found it hard to watch a kids film when all I could think about was your mouth," Sam stated bluntly, dark eyes on the blank screen.

Bucky let out a shallow breath that didn't achieve much at all. He was starved of oxygen but most importantly, he was starved of Sam.

"You don't like it when I say things like that?" Sam enquired with a raised brow, finally facing Bucky, shuffling so close their thighs brushed with a spark of electricity.

"N-no," Bucky replied breathlessly. "I like it, Sammy."

Sam said nothing but smirked, before brushing his hand across Bucky's thigh, giving his knee a squeeze. Bucky let out an embarrassing whimper that he tried desperately to contain. Sam laughed at him, withdrawing his hand and letting Bucky die of humiliation, burning red cheeks and uncomfortable pants. He felt like a teenager, Sam had hardly touched him.

"Let's go," Sam said as his eyes lingered on Bucky's lap.

That voice, laced with intent, sent a chill down Bucky's spine. His stomach turned. Because talking about it was all well and good, but the idea of actually doing anything more than kissing had Bucky breathing rapidly. He was digging his nails into his thighs again, as he swallowed the imagery taste of blood, the flashback of pain he felt in places that should be touched with care and clear permission. Not that HYDRA had ever respected comfort or consent.

"Hey..."

A voice was trying to get through to him but it was more of a distant echo, a flicker of hope, a shooting star he couldn't grasp.

"Jamie, baby, look at me."

He whimpered at the words, registering the tears trickling his cheeks and a painful neck. Bucky was crouched on the grotty cinema floor, his head between his knees. He was gagging when he became fully conscious, fully aware of Sam rubbing his back and an Italian first aider standing above him with wide eyes, because a first aider for an indie cinema probably didn't have work very often and a soldier having a panic attack probably wasn't what he'd expected.

"There you are, you did so good," Sam continued.

Bucky felt sick all over again, he'd ruined it. He'd well and truly ruined the one good thing...

"Luca? Bad bits?" the first aider tried speaking English. "We should... change the warnings?"

"No," Bucky whispered, voice croaky. "It wasn't the film."

He tried to look up at Sam but he wouldn't meet his eyes. The first aider hummed, eyes lingering on Bucky's neck.

"You stay home, soldier," he said. "Not ready for outside."

Bucky clenched his hand around his dog tags.

"I'm fine," he spat.

Sam didn't say anything, silently helping Bucky stand. He wrapped an arm around his waist, slipping it away once they got out into the cool night air. He folded his arms then, avoiding Bucky's eyes as they wandered home under the dim, old streetlamps.

"Say something," Bucky all but begged.

"No."

"You just did."

Sam didn't even crack a smile.

"Leave it, Barnes."

"So, I'm 'Barnes' now?" Bucky hissed. "When I don't want sex I lose 'Jamie' privileges?"

Sam stopped walking, facing Bucky. His mouth had fallen open in shock.

"That's bullshit!"

"Imagine how I feel!" Bucky snapped back.

"This has nothing to do with sex!" Sam shouted in the middle of the street with no remorse. "You could become a monk and I'd still lo- I'd still like you just as much. I just want you to talk to me! Tell me you don't want it, tell me when you don't like something. You give me no direction, you don't communicate with me. You've told me nothing about..."

"What, do you want to hear me say it?!" Bucky shouted, throat painfully closing up around his words. "You want all the details? You want to know everything HYDRA did to me? You want to know how it felt, when they lay me flat on my stomach and-"

"No!" Sam all but sobbed, eyes wet with tears as his hands came up to Bucky's face, hovering to hold it but unable to stop his hands from shaking.

"You can't even touch me," Bucky whispered, exhausted.

A light switched on in a house above them and Bucky turned away from Sam, walking home as quickly as he could. Sam grabbed his hand when they reached the promenade, Bucky couldn't shake it off because Sam's tears had fallen, his expression desperate.

"Let me hold you, please," Sam whispered.

Bucky bit his lip and buried himself in Sam's chest, arms wrapping around his torso. Sam held him close, the pair watching a lighthouse flickering across the bay, listening to the sounds of waves crashing against the shore. It was a calm night, so the waves were small, bareble, easy. On a windy night they'd be viscious and hard to control.

"Please stay," Bucky mumbled into the material of Sam's shirt. "Even when this happens, please stay."

Even on windy nights, Bucky wanted to cry.

Sam's lips ghosted his forehead with a kiss.

"You know, I made that promise to Rogers," Sam replied. "But I didn't need to. From the first time I saw you smile, I knew I'd always stay."