Tfatws Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

bestie pls write a bff/roomate!bucky + mutual masterbating blurb🫣 i love him so much😭

Caramel Kisses || B.B

Pairing: roommate!bucky x reader

Content warning: fluff, little angst, SMUT (mutual masturbation)

Word count: 2.9k

A/n: are you trying to kill me?… I kind of gave up at the end bc I was tired:( anyways, enjoy!!! masterlist

It happened one, two— far too many times. It started with small butterflies, shared glances, then it transitioned to small touches, shared kisses; those kisses somehow always ended in both our pants off, sweating and moaning, praising each other with curses.

Every time it happened, we swore it wouldn't happen again. Our friendship was too valuable. But someone always broke. It was either him or me, sneaking out of each other's rooms just to go about the day like we hadn't committed something sinful.

I sulked with a champagne glass between my fingers, ignoring the countdown in the background. People shouted along until it finally ended at zero, then everyone cheered; couples kissed, friends hugged— all I could think about was Bucky in that small ass apartment, spending New Years alone.

“Babe!” My friend yelled from across the room, approaching me with wobbly steps. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?” She slurred, wiggling a finger in front of my face.

“The realistic one or the unrealistic one?” I smiled.

Her lips pinched to the side, contemplating. “Surprise me!” She replied bubbly.

“To stop sleeping with my roommate,”

“And which one was that?”

I snorted, “we’ll never know.” I chugged down my champagne before getting dragged onto the living room floor to dance.

Truth was, I was determined to stop. Because all those nights keeping each other warm made me feel something else for him; it made me fall for him. Hard. Like I was on the tallest building and his soft voice calling my name was what tipped me over.

My heart cracked a tiny beat to hear him leave every night before the morning; acting normally throughout the day, until the night, then repeating the same thing all over again.

I didn’t know if he felt me the same way, and I wasn’t planning to risk our friendship over a feeling that I would forget in two to three years (if I was lucky).

One hangover and a flight from home to New York later, I found myself pushing my keys into the lock of our front door and opening it.

The familiar smell brought me comfort. It was unique. Bath & body works holiday candle unique, but the scent would always be engraved into my mind. It was our scent.

A cat meowed behind me, followed by another pair of keys jingling. I froze, already feeling the heat rush to my face and my hands growing clammy.

“You’re back.” He said breathlessly. The door shut.

A cat circled my legs, meowing for attention. I crouched down and set aside my luggage.

“Hi, Alpine, I missed you.” I cooed, scratching the back of his ear. He purred.

“Hoping you missed someone else too.” Bucky chuckled awkwardly. I straightened myself and forced a smile for him.

“A little.” I admitted, finally coming face to face with him. His eyes captured mine.

“Alpine missed you too.”

“I’m glad to hear.” I said.

It was hard not to stare. His hair grew a couple inches since I was gone, and I wasn’t gone for long. It fit him well, he looked handsome.

“I’m gonna-“—my back crashed into the island, I scurried around it and avoided his stare—“gonna get some sleep, I’m jet lagged.” I laughed, hoping it would hide the tremble in my voice.

“Sure, I’ll be out here-“

The door shut behind me. I was quick to lock it and flop face-first onto the bed to muffle a groan.

It was harder than I thought, and I thought it would be really hard. Sweat trickled his forehead and the neck of his shirt— I didn’t miss it. I was cursed to somehow notice every attractive detail about Bucky Barnes. His lips, his chest, his hair.

I’d eventually have to face him again, have long conversations with him, say good morning and night.

He was the only thing that racked my brain that whole week away— despite ignoring his messages; selfies with him and Alpine, followed with “alpine misses you” or “how’s it going?”

It was never I miss you.

It was the littlest thing that upset me and drove me to ignore him.

Yet he wasn’t at all ignored in conversations. I mentioned him to my family. They snapped their fingers, asking what was wrong. Instead of giving them a straight answer, I told them about Bucky.

Stories about how he does this annoying thing where he eats with his mouth open just to catch my attention, or how when we walk around the city, he always stops at a comic store, telling stories of when he was younger.

I would retell those stories to them, they would listen with wide smiles and stupid grins. The rest of the holiday, they teased me about my boyfriend.

But he wasn’t my boyfriend… yet he took complete and utter control of my mind, and I hated it.

The sound of the door knob rattling brought me to sit up, watching it turn side to side slowly as a shadow lingered. His shadow.

After a few seconds, he disappeared.

With a thrashing heart, I shut the front door just as he was exiting his bedroom. I stared at my phone throughout the day, wondering if he would send a message, or call. He didn’t.

But that’s what I wanted, right? This was easier for me.

By the time I was back from work, it was pouring outside. I was drenched, standing in front of our door again, trembling in damp clothes. I knew he was in there, for some reason, he always was when I came home.

Alpine’s meowing spilled through the door. He was never too fond of the rain— especially thunder.

I opened the door and Alpine hissed, cornering himself under a cabinet in the kitchen.

“Alpine, get over here please.” Bucky groaned from the living room. He got up in sweats and a Henley, his broad chest perfectly outlined through the shirt.

“Oh you’re home.” His eyes went from my feet to my head. “And soaked.” His voice raised, “Shit, how many times have I told you to pack an umbrella just in case? Did you leave it in your room? You’re gonna get sick.” He trailed off to the restroom. The faucet ran, then he came out with towel on his shoulder.

His hand took mine, leading me into the single bathroom. “Strip.” He said. I stared at him.

He wanted me to strip? In front of him?

“I’ll turn around if you want me to.” He huffed. He turned to the mirror with shut eyes.

It wasn’t like he’s never seen me naked— he’s probably licked every inch of my body…

I discarded every article of clothing, watching as Bucky kept his eyes closed. He was growing impatient, I could tell. His hands rested on his waist while his head tilted towards the ceiling. His breaths got heavier, slower, and he looked so fucking go—

“I don’t want you getting sick.” His voice softened. He peeked an eye open to look at the tub. He shut the faucet off quickly and turned back to me, not daring to look below my shoulders. He motioned to the tub and I stepped in, sliding down until the warm water stopped my shivering.

He left the bathroom and I let out the breath caught in my throat. But my heart still beat rapidly.

He came back with a stack of clothes in his hands, setting it on top of the toilet lid. “Dry clothes.” He attempted to leave the room, but I held him back by the hand.

“Thank you.”

“Alpine will be waiting for you.” Alpine “I made caramel popcorn,” my favorite “your favorite.”

He left, shutting the door behind him.

A dick, that’s what I was. Ignoring my best friend the last couple of days just to not end up in the same bed as him. Because I was afraid to get hurt— but I was just hurting us both.

I wrapped myself with the towel and creaked the door open, catching him cuddle next to Alpine with an arm stretched against the couch. A red bowl, filled to the brim with popcorn, sat on the coffee table. The whole apartment smelt like caramel, I missed it on my way in.

He made caramel popcorn. For me.

I rushed my pajamas on and strode into the living room. He stared straight into the television, not even sparing me a glance; not when I took the seat next to him, and not when Alpine crawled onto my lap from his side.

“Buck—“

“You had your door locked last night.” He cut me off, voice monotone.

“I was—“

“And you ignored my texts during the holidays,” Then he looked at me. “Did I do something?”

“No,”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice raised. Alpine let out a small meow.

“I—” his eyes scanned my face, wandering a little longer on my lips. “Because of that!” He looked back at my eyes, brows creased. “You’re driving me insane with the looks, the touches, t-the kisses, I’m just so confused, Bucky.”

“Then let me help you understand.” he shook his head.

God, I felt like I was in marriage counseling. Alpine being the therapist with all the judgmental looks, bouncing his head from one to the other.

“Bucky…” I inhaled deeply, pleading my heart to slow down. “I love you— and not the friend love, the I-don’t-want-to-be-friends kind.” His brows furrowed, but he quickly caught on.

He nodded, letting the room fall quiet. Only the rain splatters and television noises leaked through. My heart finally steadied, but I feared the longer he stayed quiet, the tighter the knot in my stomach would grow.

He kept his stare on me, smile threatening to break on his face. “Jesus, that’s what you’ve been holing up?” He smirked. “You had me thinking you had cancer or something.” He laughed.

He laughed until a tear slipped down his cheek. I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

But my brows stayed furrowed. I still had a shit-ton of anxiety curling up inside me. His laugh let me loose only the tiniest bit.

He caught my tense shoulders and grabbed my hand. “I love you too,” he laid a kiss on the back of my palm, “and more than just a friend, more like I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you kind of way.”

Then that anxiety came crumbling down.

He reached for my chin and hovered his lips over mine, kissing me and slowly kneading his tongue through.

We’ve kissed so many times, but this felt different. Butterflies burned in my stomach and my heart felt whole again.

I pulled back. “Be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widened. “I’m used to me asking—“

I groaned, “Be my boyfriend, James.”

“Ok, ok, yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He laughed, taking my lips into his with a smile. The same butterflies flourished in my stomach. He teased his tongue on my bottom lips and I couldn’t help my grin from widening. He kissed my tooth.

“But I want to go slow.”

“I know slow.” He nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Alpine jumped from my lap to the coffee table. Bucky took the red bowl onto his lap before something inconvenient took place. He pushed it towards me. “Caramel popcorn?”

My mouth watered with just the smell of it. “Mhm,” I hummed gleefully, falling back into the warmth of his chest and taking a handful of popcorn into my mouth. We watched another episode of whatever show he had on.

But if I were asked what took place during those 30 minutes, I wouldn’t be able to answer. I was filled with euphoria; thinking of all the kisses he would give me and being able to call him mine, how those luscious lips now belonged to me, and how now, I wouldn’t need to worry about waking up to a cold bed.

The sounds of his breathing was like white noise, it eased me, reassured me that we were okay now. Established.

Eventually, we put the popcorn aside. His fingers drew figures on my waist, sneaking his cold thumb up and under my shirt. My fingers tugged at the hairs on his nape.

His mouth nearly devoured my face, taking my lips hungrily and forcing his tongue with mine. He mounted over me, but I nudged his chest back. My lower lip dragged between his teeth, slowly, before allowing it to fall.

His lips tasted like caramel.

“Slow,” I panted. He nodded, falling back to where he sat before. His chest heaved rapidly, slowly easing with the time.

Our attention drew back to the tv until he said, “hand stuff is slow.”

My mind was saying no, but the way my heart and core throbbed screamed yes.

I took another look at him and the grin he had gloriously displayed. He gazed at the tv, stealing tiny glances.

He laughed. “Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to give me an answer?”

“There was no question.” I retorted, leaning over to him to kiss the edge of his lips. He took this opportunity to wrap his arm around my waist, letting the other slide the side of my thigh. He didn’t let me fall onto his lap, he laid me flat on the cushion, forcing his lips onto mine.

His groan muffled into the kiss. One of his fingers teased over the fabric of my shorts, drawing a moan out of me. He smirked, not hesitating to slip my panties to the side and slide a finger down my folds. He groaned again, retracting his sleek fingers to get a better view.

“You’re so wet.” He looked up at me, fingers directing themselves to his mouth, licking between them and over. “Fuck.”

His finger teased its way in slowly, thumb rubbing against my clit. He curled his finger inside me, reaching just the right spot and causing me to whimper.

He slid out his finger and added another, curling them both inside of me.

“Fuck, Bucky—“ I kept my eyes shut, feeling as they lunge into me, following a slow rhythm that gradually fastened.

He rammed his fingers into me over and over, building tension in my lower stomach. His lips worshipped the skin just below my ear, having the opportunity to hear every breathy moan that escaped my lips.

I cupped his bulge, pulling a curse from him. He placed his arm over my head, giving me more access.

My hand palmed over his crotch. He inhaled sharply. His fingers froze inside me. “Doll,” he laughed breathlessly, “don’t tease me.”

“No fun.” I groaned, making him smile and take his my back into his.

I reached into his pants, wrapping my hands around his hard cock. He smirked against my lips, once again, continuing to plunge his fingers into me. A low moan muffled into his mouth.

My hand tugged the skin of his cock, slowly leading my thumb to his tip to spread pre-cum down his shaft. I swallowed every groan he let out while jerking him off.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Doll.” He rasped against my lips.

The pressure in my lower stomach intensified, I could feel my pulls on Bucky’s cock getting slower and slower as the muscles in my thighs spasmed. I clenched around his fingers, enduring a white streak to blind me.

“Fuck, Bucky!” I cried. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, feeling Bucky’s fingers spread my release to my clit, rubbing it slowly, adding to my pleasure.

“Good girl.” He praised, placing a kiss to my jaw.

Slowly, I started caressing his dick again. His glistening fingers traveled to my mouth, as he fucked my hand, slipping them between my lips. I licked every inch of his two fingers, watching his mouth open in amusement.

My strokes got faster, Bucky helped himself with small thrusts. He bit back his lip and let his head fall. His hands plunged to my waist and shoulders for leverage, grunting as my hands ran from the base to the tip rapidly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, spurts of his cum, shooting onto my stomach. His arms shook, he fell on top of me for just a second before recollecting his weight again.

I pushed small strands of hairs from his face. He had is eyes shut, breathing deeply before spilling out a laugh.

“You’re something else,” he huffed, finally opening his eyes to look at me. “I love you.” He kissed me sloppily.

Alpine meowed from afar. I peeked an eye open, breaking from Bucky to look at the bathroom door, where alpine sat with his head tilted.

“Please tell me he didn’t just witness us having sex.” Bucky hid his dick back into his pants.

“Alpine!” He shouted. The cat cowered further away into the restroom, followed by Bucky. I heard whispered shouting as I waited patiently for Bucky to return.

He shut the door behind him with a huff. “Made quite a mess on you.” He sighed, lifting the towel he had in his hand for me to see.

He spread my legs delicately to slide my shorts down and wipe me clean. From between my legs to my lower abdomen, where his cum lied.

Once he was done, he sat back and took me into his arms, peppering kisses on my neck. “I’m glad you’re my girlfriend now.”

Same. I’m working on one now. Sam is so precious. Also we know most everything about Bucky, so there’s more potential to learn about Sam. I think entering Sam’s world from Bucky’s POV would be really fun.

sambucky fics from bucky's pov are so great because it's like yes, i too am in love with sam wilson

SamBucky TFATWS Pre-Slash, Canon Compliant to 1x02

 3.2k words, Bucky POV

(excerpt of a 4-part AU fic, unfinished)

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes didn’t know how it happened. Maybe he admired Sam Wilson more than he could admit. Maybe the younger, normal man reminded him of who he used to be, some seventy years before HYDRA stole his mind and identity. Bucky used to understand the rare human heart. He’d had it, once. But now, when Sam spoke, within and without the EXO-7 Falcon suit, Bucky was only able to wonder how someone so humorous can suddenly regain sobriety on the battlefield. Bucky could count on him not to be distracted. Bucky was the reckless one, now. Sam was so damn effective that Bucky laughed when Sam called his bluff about the Flag Smashers’ numbers in their lair in the Kazarian countryside, and he laughed when his grasp missed Redwing on the way out of the lair, and he laughed when Sam teased him for getting his ass kicked by a super strong girl in the group.

He wouldn’t have noticed Sam’s effect, because he never thought about his own heart. Not even after he glimpsed peace while farming in Wakanda. Not even after Steve came back from returning the Infinity Stones to their original locations, having lived out a long and satisfying life in the past as Peggy Carter’s husband.

Bucky thought of his heart only once when he watched Sam donate Steve’s shield to the Smithsonian Museum on the television.

Once, again, only when Sam refuted the convincing nature of Bucky’s overextended life.

And once more, at that moment, when Sam snatched him out from underneath the speeding loot truck and shot them both out to tumble through the adjacent field.

Bucky was so afraid of being separated, of finding Sam half a mile away with irreparably broken bones, that into the other man’s ear he yelled, “Don’t let go of me!”

Between breaths Sam responded, “I. Won’t!”

One hundred yards became two hundred yards. The wind was knocked out of Bucky’s lungs at three hundred yards. His fear peaked, and he placed his fleshy hand to the back of Sam’s head and held tight until they finally stopped rolling at five hundred yards away from the paved road. Under those ridiculous flight goggles, Sam blinked dazedly at the blue sky. Bucky huffed an anxious breath, tugging short curls between his thumb and index finger, waiting for Sam to prove that he was alright.

Sam then turned his gaze to Bucky’s and shifted his head. Relieved, Bucky removed his hand, curled his fingers into the fertile soil and smiled.

“You could have used the shield.”

A moment became two, before Sam’s humor rose again. “Get off of me.”

With the strength he had left, Bucky too landed on his back.  

“They were Super Soldiers, Sam.”

“I know.” There was a pause, followed by an amused huff. “You’re welcome by the way!”

After another minute, Bucky rolled onto his side and watched Sam regain the rest of his strength. There was nothing else to say. Sam shot disapproving glances his way and shook his head. Bucky nodded to him warily, rose to his feet, and helped Sam back to his. Once they reached the road again, they eventually ran into the enforcement pair from the U.S. Armed Forces—including the one posing as Captain America, the one using Steve’s shield.

John Walker.

After much convincing, the Avengers hitched a ride with them. Bucky didn’t even have to stare to know the imposter was also a loser. But if it unnerved him and Lemar Hoskins a.k.a. Battlestar too, all the better.

Suffice it to say, Bucky didn’t give thought to his heart again until their long day drew to a close in Baltimore, Maryland. It took six hours to fly four-thousand miles west by the Quinjet. But it was still daylight out, so he led Sam to Isaiah Bradley’s home. After being screened by who he guessed was Bradley’s grandson, Bucky introduced the men to each other.

He wanted Sam to meet Bradley so he could understand this whole Super Solider stuff was more complicated than either of them thought. It was no valid excuse that Bucky had been under HYDRA’s mind control when they’d engaged in the battlefield during the Korean War. At the reminder of having lost half of his vibranium arm in close-combat, he spoke with regret, and to his amazement Bradley talked with them, in his own home, for far longer than Bucky had expected, before tossing them out. Bucky had found out what happened to him—a thirty-year U.S. prison sentence and extensive U.S. Super Soldier experimentation—during one of his lucid spells, after HYDRA’s latest mastermind Alexander Pierce used the codewords on him for the last time in 2008. What his research on Bradley uncovered broke his heart something fierce, but Bucky had tucked it away until now.

“Were you the only one who knew about him?” Sam demanded as they walked down the street, toward the setting sun. Bucky’s heart was hammering in his chest. His mouth had gone dry.

“I couldn’t tell anyone…he’d…he’d been through too much, Sam.”

The reasoning had seemed good enough to him. Yet Sam now insisted, “No! You don’t think he could have had hope? You don’t think he could have been someone else’s hope?”

Sam glared disbelievingly at Bucky. He tried not to flinch. Had he been wrong this whole time?

“I asked you a question, Bucky.”

“I know.” He was looking for an adequate response.

When he took too long, Sam snapped. “Why didn’t anyone tell me there was a black Super Solider? After all this time?”

Just then a police cruiser pulled up and blocked their path in the street, the engaged siren painting the sidewalk in red and blue light. Before Bucky knew it, the cops were asking to see Sam’s I.D., which the other man said he didn’t have on him. Exasperated at being interrupted, as tense as the situation was, Bucky urged him to stop playing around, to show them his I.D., but Sam refused hotly.

“What do you want? We’re having a conversation.”

The second officer shifted his weight to his back foot, placed his hand on his hand gun and addressed Bucky. “Is this man bothering you, sir?”

“No!” he snapped and gestured to Sam with a hand in his jacket pocket. “Don’t you know who he is?”

Their attention returned to Sam. He stood still, fists clenched at his sides. When Bucky stepped forward, to lean in, to help somehow, Sam cut his eyes at him; as if he should have known what was happening. Bucky had been around long enough—one-hundred-six years to be exact—so he did know racial profiling when he saw it. He lowered his eyes to the gun on the officer’s hip—but it wouldn’t help the matter. Shame flooded his senses.

“We’re sorry, Falcon! Mr. Wilson!” the officers said after conferring with each other. “We didn’t recognize you without the goggles, man.”

Bucky frowned more deeply. It could have been true, but it felt wrong. What if his companion hadn’t been another Avenger? Sam was rightfully raging. What should they do?

The pair went over to the cruiser and returned suddenly with a warrant for Bucky’s arrest.

“Mr. Barnes, you missed your court-mandated therapy,” they informed him. Bucky closed his eyes wearily, only now recalling that it had been scheduled for two days ago. “It’s like missing time with your parole officer. We gotta take you in.”

Even after the police then carted him into the backseat, the haunted look in Sam’s eyes stayed with him as they drove off.

Of course, the waning day grew worse when he learned that John Walker, aka “Captain America” had vouched for him to get him released on bail. In fact, with his government clearance, Walker wiped Bucky’s schedule clean of appointments with Dr. Christina Raynor and fully expected him and Sam to see him after his last session with her.

“Now?” Bucky asked her, with exasperation.

“Yes,” she stressed, and looked toward Sam. “You, too. Come on.”

And well, it went worse than it should have gone. That happens sometimes, right?

She led them into an interrogation room and they took their seats. When the Morning Miracle Exercise failed, Dr. Raynor went on to use the Soul-gazing Exercise reserved for married couples. They were Avengers, charged with superhuman-enhanced work that meant life or death, so neither were surprised their fellow military officer used it on the pair. But Bucky couldn’t help but lean into the self-deprecation he knew Sam expected when she made her suggestion.

This time, Bucky wasn’t laughing. It wasn’t funny. It was serious.

“You’ll like this,” Sam mocked.

He returned the glare. “Of course I will.”

Dr. Raynor then ordered them to get closer. Bucky froze, so Sam took the reins and slotted their thighs together.

“Are you happy now?” he asked.

“It’s a little close.”

“It’s very close,” Sam snapped. “But that’s what you wanted, right?”

Bucky had refused to leave his side all day—so what? Although he wanted to turn his gaze to the floor, Bucky held Sam’s eyes. Having already noted Bucky’s “staring problem,” the other man caught on quickly and returned his competitive stare.

“Blink!” Dr. Raynor ordered, causing them to break. “Sweet Jesus! Now, James, tell me why Sam aggravates you so much.”

Bucky was aware there was no time to be surprised—after all, she had found out that up until today, he’d been ignoring Sam’s text messages—and with nowhere to hide from Sam’s insistently offensive gaze, Bucky leaned forward just a bit, so Sam would understand that he’d only say this once.

“Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.”

“Shut up.”

Bucky refused. “So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, maybe he was wrong about me.”

“Alright,” Sam replied swiftly. “Are you done?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, good.” In his seat, Sam drew himself to his full height. “Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right?” Sam stared hard, and Bucky gaped, not knowing what to say. “You know what? We don’t have time for this. We have some real shit going on. So how about this? I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we’re done, we both can go on separate, long vacations and never see each other again.”

Bucky sat back in his seat, feeling defeated. Sam just barely held himself from rolling his eyes and addressed Dr. Raynor. “You know what, Doc? This was great. A great exercise.”

“I’m glad,” she said genially, as he moved to his feet and swiftly headed for the door. Bucky’s brows furrowed, as he realized how unlike him it was for the ever-polite Sam Wilson to depart from anyone rudely. Dr. Raynor continued, “I think it went well. You two seem to talk more than his ignored texts of yours would lead someone to believe.”

That halted Sam’s steps enough for him to throw a bewildered glance at her over his shoulder. And then he was gone. Bucky briefly held his fingers to his brow, before moving to his feet to follow.

“What is it?” Dr. Raynor asked. Bucky quickly turned for the door. “I know that look. James.” After a huff, he turned around to face her. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky frowned at the linoleum and crossed his arms at his chest. Sam’s pain was at a level he never could have imagined causing. Bucky did that. The possibility of never seeing Sam again was a sudden strike to his heart, and it made him feel empty.  

“What was rule number two, Doc?”

Christina raised her brow disapprovingly. “Don’t hurt anyone.”

“Right.” He smiled sadly at her to convey his meaning. Her frown softened to concern. “Goodbye, Doc.”

He found Sam just a dozen yards from the front entrance, waiting for Bucky expectantly, when police sirens drew their attention. Walker and Hoskins called them over, resulting in a battle of wits Bucky would be proud to say they won. Sam was correct in that those two would need security clearance he and Bucky wouldn’t need.

“Then, stay the hell out my way,” Walker snapped, causing Bucky to frown, equal parts unsurprised and disturbed by his repeated demonstration of lacking respect for power.

When he and Sam exchanged glances, he felt they were on even footing again. Bucky’s strategic mind half-wanted to plot a trap for the irritating pair and also wanted to learn more about how those new Super Soldiers received whatever kind of serum they had and the details of their motives for illegally transporting vaccines across central and eastern Europe.

As they walked away, he figured it was best to let Walker fall into his own net.

After all, pride comes before the fall.

“Bucky,” Sam hissed, halfway down the nearest alley. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Do you understand why I brought you to see Isaiah Bradley?”

“In a way, yes,” he huffed, long-suffering. “He’s like you and Steve.”

“Right. Well, he said that when the U.S. held him as a prisoner, even my people got to him.”

“He didn’t mean it like that. Not…’white people.’”

“No, I know. He meant HYDRA agents in disguise.” Sam’s mouth thinned at their mention. “I’m gonna go see Zemo.”

“Not a chance, man.”

“Walker doesn’t have any leads,” Bucky stressed, holding his gloved vibranium palm open. “Zemo’s the only one left alive who knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?”

“Of course, I remember. He’s the only one left alive because he personally saw to it.” Sam halted. Bucky turned back to him. “Now, since you’re so good at taking care of yourself, I will thank you for coming on this mission with me—although no one asked you to. And I expect you to thank me for coming with you.”

“What…are you saying, Sam?”

“We’re gonna see Zemo.” Bucky blinked, and then he chuckled, and even managed to smile his sudden, wild pleasure and gratitude. But somewhere along the way, Sam had gone somber. He shifted his feet and gestured to Bucky with his hands in his jacket pockets. “So, Dr. Raynor knows you’ve been ignoring my texts?”

Bucky squinted into the nearest streetlight. “I don’t think a picture of a busted up sheet of metal on the side of the road and the question, ‘Is this you?’ is worth noting.”

“It’s not to you, smartass, but okay. I’ll take that.” As he kicked at the ground, Bucky grimaced at himself. “Well, I realized you were avoiding me, so I haven’t called and I haven’t texted. What was so different about today, that you had to find me on the airstrip at Fort Meade?” When Bucky opened his mouth, he said, “I mean it. Really. If we’re gonna do this together…”

At first he scoffed, affronted that Sam would make him say it. But at now seeing the light come back into the other man’s eyes, at a shadow of friendliness, Bucky took the chance to make up for the pain he’d caused.

“Of course I can’t speak for Steve. But if giving up the shield really was the right thing to you, I can try to accept it. I do accept it.” Sam was reluctantly surprised. Bucky stepped closer. “But you don’t give away gifts that were intended for you. No matter what you’re afraid of happening.”

Now, that brought Sam up short. “Excuse me?”

Bucky pressed on his point. “That shield is still yours.”

“No, dammit,” he said, springing forward and pacing around agitatedly. “I don’t want the shield!”

“But—“ Bucky turned with him.

“I just want a day, post-Blip, where it feels like I’m not falling apart! Just one day! And I will get it—”

Bucky started, suddenly confronted by the weight of his own offense.

Wanting to take responsibility, wanting Sam to just stop so Bucky could help, he grabbed the front of the other’s man’s jacket, causing Sam to swallow his words. Sam moved to remove his hand but Bucky blocked the blow and held fast.

“Dammit, I’m sorry,” he whispered urgently. “I’m sorry for today, Sam.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. He was tired. More than anything he wondered what Bucky was doing.

“Do you see me? I’m right here, Sam— “

He tried to pull away. “I didn’t want you here.”

“Well, it’s too late, now. I’m on your side. That’s what I meant when I said I’d accept your decision.”

As he loosened his hold, Sam looked at him with a mixture of emotions: mostly dubiousness and something cautious, like the fear of slipping off of a dock and into a lake. He tugged the rest of his jacket out of Bucky’s grip. Always aware of his own imperfections, Bucky nodded to the younger man wearily.

After at times spending decades on Cryo-ice at the HYDRA Siberian base, Bucky understood that his history of mental stability was short; seven-years-long at most. But it was a good history, much of which Sam had seen to himself, and a future which he trusted Sam with.

“I’ll even make tomorrow better. That’s a given. I’m on your side,” he repeated. Sam was gazing at him with a soft tick between his brow, an expression Bucky had never seen. He smiled, and Sam looked away, flexing his hands in his pockets.

Bucky stepped backward to the edge of the alley and leaned his weight on the building behind, watching and waiting patiently for Sam’s reply.

Dr. Raynor was right. They were going to reach Helmut Zemo, because Bucky didn’t have to fear ever being subject to the Winter Solider codewords again. He was new now. He was free. He could do this.

Ever the pragmatist, Sam said slowly, “Well, I’ll know it when I see it.”

Surprised by his own amusement, Bucky inclined his head to hide his smile. Then he pushed off the wall and followed Sam’s lead to where he’d parked their rental car.

“New York’s only a four-hour drive,” he said once they found it. Sam was already shaking his head. “You should take me home.”

“You’re an idiot, if you think I’d ever do that. You’re also way more talkative than usual.” Bucky shrugged, trying not to feel exposed. Sam glanced at him from the driver’s seat and chuckled as they pulled off. “Like I said.”

But Bucky didn’t reply, instead choosing to peer out of the passenger window. Sam caught his smile after a few minutes, but Bucky just shook his head, aiming to keep the peace.

He didn’t mind an exchange of insults at all anymore, if it meant things between them were fine: a foundation to build on. Secure in this, he remained silent on the short drive back to the fort, where the Quinjet was waiting.

________

I couldn’t resist. My shipping goggles slid into place when Sam said, “He didn’t mean it like that,” and Bucky said, “I know.” It was so precious. 

I wrote this out last week, very dry pre-slash canon compliance stuff, before episode 3 aired. 

The entire fic will definitely be AU--Canon Divergent after episode 2. The plan with the plot is for Sam and Bucky not to reach Zemo so easily, because I rather think he’s involved in the rise of the Flag Smashers. *spoiler*-->Even if not in canon, that’s the case here. 

Title: Love to Burn (Phases of the Moon)

Summary:

It takes a month for Sam and Bucky to reach the Avengers’ old Sokovian rival, Helmut Zemo, somewhere the evil mastermind shouldn’t be. In that span of time, everything changes between them.

*or*

When the Falcon takes a pause, the Winter Soldier learns to stay.

Relevant Tags for what’s to come: 

MCU, TFATWS, Post-Captain America Movies, Post-Avengers: Endgame, Episode Coda, Post-Episode 1x02, AU—Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Accidental Boyfriends, Slice of Life, Getting Together, Drama/Romance, Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, HYDRA (defunct), SHIELD (defunct), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Nightmares, Recovery, Loyalty, POV Bucky Barnes, Sam is a wet dream, Bucky is a consuming fire, Since this is a ship, Based on a song

Rating: M

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Sam Wilson, Diane Raynor (Marvel), Sarah Wilson (Marvel), Sharon Carter (Marvel), Helmut Zemo (Marvel), Pepper Potts (mentioned), James Rhodes (mentioned), Steve Rogers (mentioned)