longing. [sambucky]

𝟐𝟑: still learning

From the kitchen came a deep voice humming the soundtrack from Luca. Sam was awake far later than usual, and he padded barefoot out of his bedroom.

Their apartment had an open-plan, so he caught sight of Bucky before Bucky saw him, emerging from the corridor. Sam's heart felt as if it was too big in his chest, and he couldn't help the smile that graced his lips, admiring the way Bucky danced back and forth from the fridge to get ingredients as he cooked something in a large pan. He wore cotton pyjama bottoms and a loose t-shirt, his hair messy from, what Sam hoped had been, a good-nights sleep.

"Jamie Barnes, is that my bacon you're cooking?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice that made Bucky gasp, spinning around with a spatula pointed at Sam.

Bucky's spooked expression turned into a smirk. He put his spare hand on his hip.

"And what if it is?"

Sam raised a brow, baffled to see him so... Bucky-like, after yesterday's incident. Not that it was an incident, it was a blip and blips were merely part of life. Sam was willing to accept Bucky's blips; more than that, he'd be honored to help him through them.

"I'll be expecting a plate myself," Sam replied, going to sit at the breakfast bar.

"On one condition," Bucky said quickly, reaching over to lightly grab Sam's wrist.

"Uh... w-"

Bucky cut Sam off with a kiss. Not a peck, a fleeting touch, a kiss that made Sam feel as if he'd just about collapse or melt into a puddle on the floor. Bucky dropped the spatula on the side with a clank and put his hands on Sam's chest, clutching onto the material of his worn pyjama top. Sam gasped in surprise, mouth parting slightly, Bucky only took advantage of that. It was then that Sam pushed him back gently by his shoulders.

"What was that?" Sam asked breathlessly over the sound of the sizzling bacon in the pan.

Bucky's expression turned from content, with smiling eyes and a flush on his cheeks, to a slight scowl. He lowered his hands from Sam's chest and turned away, picking up the spatula.

"Hey," Sam chuckled, stepping in behind Bucky and putting his arms around his waist so they were against one another. "It was just a bit unexpected, that's all."

"Why?"

Sam considered how to word it.

"You had a tough night last night," Sam decided on.

"I humiliated myself," Bucky deadpanned, "It won't happen again."

Sam frowned, putting his chin on Bucky's shoulder and tightening his hold on the man in front of him.

"If it happens, it happens," Sam said.

A silence settled between them and Sam could feel his lips, still tingling from Bucky's touch. It had him wondering how he'd feel when... if anything went any further.

"I do like sex you know," Bucky blurted out after a while, when Sam pulled away to get plates from the bottom shelf.

Swallowing awkwardly, Sam put the plates down and faced him. His cheeks were burning red and he glared at the food cooking in the pan, too embarrassed to meet Sam's eyes, despite the fact he was essentially his partner and he shouldn't be remotely embarrassed talking about sex in front of him. Bucky looked like a sixteen year-old virgin having his first sex talk from his parents.

"That's nice?" Sam raised a brow.

"Do you like sex?" Bucky squeaked, fumbling to put the food on the plate.

"Yes."

Bucky let out a short sound resembling a strange moan and an awkward gasp. Sam was growing increasingly suspicious on where the conversation was going.

"Hey. I know after last night you feel... perhaps... as if you're in debt to me. But that's not what happened. You didn't like what I did, you got nervous and that's perfectly fine."

Sam was lying, seeing Bucky having a panic attack had felt like death by a thousand cuts. He'd do anything to prevent it happening again.

"But I did like it!" Bucky snapped, Sam feared he'd break a plate.

He went over to pour them some fresh juice, giving Bucky a chance to speak because Sam knew how much he hated confrontation, especially when he had to look people in the eye.

"It's new, that's all," Bucky murmured.

Sam didn't quite understand what 'new' meant, but he decided not to pressure Bucky. He'd let him explain whenever he was ready.

"I don't want to stop touching, Sammy, I really don't," Bucky sighed, running his metal hand through his hair.

Sam took a step closer to Bucky and cupped his face, traced over his cheeks that had a healthy glow now he'd started eating, smiling, getting outdoors. Sam felt a small amount of pride at the possibility that being with Sam had made him glow like that. He ran the pad of his thumb along his bottom lip, the dip of his chin, the tops of his cheekbones. The gentle caresses could have lasted for minutes but Bucky didn't protest. His eyes had that strange glazed-over look about them, and his red lips looked red and plump. It took everything in Sam not to kiss him.

Sam knew this wasn't about kissing, it was about learning their love language again. Learning what different touches meant, understanding and exploring each other. Intimacy didn't stop at sex, certainly not for Sam and Bucky. It was far more than that.

"In my fantasies I never... I never dreamt of this," Bucky sighed, eyes flickering up to Sam's.

Sam held Bucky's face in his hands.

"What?"

"Just..." Bucky let out a sigh through his nose. "I always imagined caring for others. But I never imagined, I never could imagine, anybody caring back."

"Did you never imagine Steve caring back?" Sam wasn't being jealous. He was simply asking because it was the only other man Bucky had admitted he'd had feelings for.

"God, no." Bucky laughed, then his face turned sad. "I remember being too scared to imagine anything back then. I tried to... I tried to end it when I first started having feelings for men. I was seventeen, the first time, I didn't see a way out. Couldn't tell Steve."

Sam let out a shaky breath. For some reason, considering it had taken seventy years to brainwash Bucky, Sam had imagined Bucky's mental health had been close to perfect before HYDRA. Sam couldn't imagine Steve's young, bubbly best friend, from the way Steve had described him, ever having problems like that. Picturing a young Bucky trying to... Sam kissed his cheek.

"You're the bravest man I know," Sam told him.

"You are too," Bucky said, a cheeky smirk on his face. "I could snap your neck in an instant. I'm trained to."

"Hm. But if I..." Sam trailed his fingertips up and down Bucky's neck, leaning in until their lips brushed. "...distracted you?"

"Then I'm screwed. Now shut up and kiss me."