Sam Wilson (dothework) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-09-17 23:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel (tv/movies): bucky barnes, marvel (tv/movies): sam wilson |
Who: Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson
When: Rest week, morning of day one
Where: Bucky’s room
What: Sam wants to make sure Bucky’s okay, and have that talk before something else ridiculous gets in the way
Warnings: Hurt/comfort
Sam hadn’t exactly lingered in his room on waking up. In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to get changed - it was annoying starting every week back in his Captain America suit, but at least it meant that when your roommate was mystically brainwashed by a college campus in a giant snowglobe or whatever this thing was to try to take over the world and nearly killed your best friend, there weren’t too many complicated or time-consuming steps involved in getting out of the room before the possibility of having to awkwardly conversate became too large. He’d deal with Loki another time, preferably after he’d seen for himself that Bucky was as back to normal as he was. Right now that was his priority, and there was definitely a sense of deja vu around that. God, he hoped they were about to have a run of about a dozen weeks that he didn’t start with the immediate need to check in with-- well, anyone, actually. Bucky was already up and on his feet, scrambling for the tablet to check in with the others when the knock came. He glanced at his sleeping roommate before slipping out of the door, then to the dorm room, opening it, cringing slightly at the sight of Sam, still in his Cap uniform and handsomely rumpled. It wasn’t a surprise that Bucky thought he’d be mad. He should have been mad. Okay, he kind of was mad, but it wasn’t like he’d never tried to go up against someone who could probably beat him to a pulp armed with nothing more than words. Steve still - or at least he had, back in 2018 - gave him shit for opening his acquaintanceship with the fucking Black Panther by making fun of him, and then there’d been Karli. Sam wasn’t exactly someone who enforced his own limitations, instead constantly pushing beyond them, calling the world’s bluff and usually winning. The resignation, the vulnerability in Sam's voice made Bucky pause, looking carefully at his best friend. Bucky attempted a smirk. "Well, you know I've got a hero complex a mile wide. Gotta atone for my sins and all." Clearly a lifetime of chasing Steven Grant I-don't- like-bullies Rogers had left an impression. It was entirely possible they knew each other too well, with how easy it was for Sam to look past the smirk to see how thrown Bucky was. Then again there’d always been a bit of that, even when they’d hated each other - or acted like they did, anyway - and while he could rationalise that it was pretty natural after studying the guy for two years, old files and witness reports of brief sightings couldn’t really give that kind of detail. Maybe it was more of an indirect link, that he’d just always been primed to pay attention to him. Either way, the fact that he’d been here approximately two seconds and was already Being Weird made him self-conscious. The last thing he wanted was to make things awkward, and he worried that that was what would happen if he left that hanging there. Might be better to just… push through. Bucky withdrew his hand as Sam spoke, tucking them into his pockets as he gnawed his lower lip contemplatively. "Sorry," he said. "I had no idea." “Well, I more or less led with it when I met Steve, but you didn't seem like you were looking to be related to.” The mental image of trying anyway was one of those things that could get either absurd or extremely dark depending on what kind of mood he was in. Sam mostly tried to go for absurd these days; that they'd gone from that to this lent itself to absurdity pretty well, after all. Their relationship hadn't exactly taken any kind of traditional route, and Bucky's question was solid evidence of the fact that it was still poorly defined from habitual downplaying of what their connection to each other was. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, feeling heat in his cheeks. “Well, yeah… I mean. I’m all for being your wingman, but… if you wanted more of a…. Cribbage… partner…” For all that he'd wondered and speculated about what Bucky's intentions might have been, and had resolved to broach the subject himself, somehow the admission was still something of a surprise. Sam had no idea how that even worked; it was like something in the back of his mind had still believed he was wildly misinterpreting things and had been on track to get completely shot down despite all the vibes and looks and textual evidence that even Natasha had agreed at least suggested the possibility. Relief made him a bit giddy, and he couldn't help but grin despite the show of Bucky's insecurities, all much deeper than his own. “You're about as smooth as gravel,” he informed him, but that was fine, he wasn't looking for smooth, he was looking for Bucky. “I know about baggage. Hell, I know about your baggage, specifically. I read about a hundred files on you before we even had a conversation, remember? I'm not going to pretend it's not a big deal, but it's more of a big deal for you than it is for me, and it's not going to scare me away.” Bucky all but froze, looking hard at Sam, searching for any hint of mockery or good natured ribbing. But all he saw was clear, naked honesty, the same openness and trust Sam had always shown. Having someone so clearly in disbelief of his interest was definitely a novel situation for Sam. It wasn't like he didn't know he was objectively kind of a catch (insane work hours, constantly being on call, and the risk of dying horribly on live tv aside), but it had also been a long time since he'd had the freedom to even think about relationships. Between his time in the Air Force, the hard work that had gone into putting himself back together again afterwards, and then the chaos of life post-Insight… Well, most of his friends would probably be surprised at how few people he'd actually ever dated. Bucky watched Sam hold the metal fist and gently manipulate the fingers. So many people were frightened by that appendage, even if only subconsciously, but Sam was doing what he always did, treating it no different than any other part of Bucky. If he was honest with himself there were a few other ways he wouldn’t mind touching Bucky. Not right now, though. Sam kind of felt like someone had thrown him into a tumble-dryer with the way the last twenty four hours or so had gone, and Bucky’s hesitance in the face of the conversation they were having had him all tender and raw and a little bit surreal. He certainly didn’t have any qualms about wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer, clinging to him for much longer than would have been appropriate for the plausible deniability bro-hugs they’d had in the past. Oh. Oh, that was nice. Bucky felt his muscles relaxing, the near-constant coil of tension starting to give way. When the embrace passed the usual time for safe release, moving into intimacy, a soft sound escaped him, almost a purr. He nestled in more, limbs warm and relaxed, almost dizzy with the feeling of comfort and safety and care surrounding him. |