longing. [sambucky]

𝟐: anakin & padme

"You shouldn't have done that," Bucky said when Sam sat up from the grassy ground, rolling his shoulders back and clicking his neck with small gasps of pain.

"Well, I did," Sam tugged his goggles off before he rested his hands on his knees, brushing away the dirt.

It felt weird now. Sam couldn't stop replaying the scene in his head; the way Bucky looked down at him, biting his bottom lip. The guy really gave off mixed signals sometimes, his anger could easily be mistaken for lust, if Sam didn't know he was an hundred-and-six year-old, mentally unstable, probably homophobic ex-assassin.

Sam sort of wanted to test the water.

"That was a nice romantic roll around. My question is who's Anakin and who's Padme?"

Bucky stared at him with a blank expression, head tilted like some lost puppy.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, dark eyes focused on Bucky, "Star Wars."

"I haven't seen it," Bucky said.

Sam stood up abruptly. He hadn't exposed Bucky as a homophobe but he had exposed him as a Star Wars virgin. Which was just as bad. Sam continued marching away and did not bother looking back.

"Wait up!" Bucky called, he sounded momentarily vulnerable, as if he was genuinely scared Sam would leave him behind. "I'm sorry."

Sam froze, before they reached the road, looking back at Bucky where he stood with his grey-blue eyes wide, almost pleading. He looked... guilty. It felt as if there was something Bucky was keeping from Sam, which wasn't uncommon but this felt different. Something was left unspoken between them. And Sam didn't think he was apologising for not watching Star Wars.

"Sorry about Redwing," Bucky said, his pleading eyes going cold again as he stared at the ground, beginning to walk.

Sam walked beside him, on his right.

"No, you're not."

Bucky shrugged, expression neutral again. Whenever Sam thought he was close to breaking down walls, Bucky built them right back up again. It was enfuriating.

"What's going on in that big cyborg brain of yours?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Bucky glanced at him briefly before his eyes flickered down again.

"It's computing," he replied.

"You know what? I can actually see it," Sam chuckled, pointing to Bucky's head. "I can see the gears turning. Uh-oh they're malfunctioning, shutting down, they're on fire!"

Sam was laughing until he realised how drastically Bucky's mood had fallen. If Sam didn't know better, he'd think Bucky was on the verge of crying.

"We've got to find out where the serum's coming from," Bucky whispered sternly.

Sam understood how he felt, betrayed, lied to, confused. Typical avenger feelings. But this wasn't just about the supersoldiers, this wasn't even just about Walker carrying the shield. Bucky was holding back, beating himself up over something.

"Yeah, and how in the hell, after eighty years, are there eight super soldiers running lose?"

Bucky walked a few metres ahead for a short while, his head down. After looking at the back of his head for a while, Sam had noticed some grass from the field, sticking out of his soft brown hair. He took a few steps closer so he was beside Bucky again. He pressed his lips together in concentration as he removed the grass. Sam's fingers barely touched Bucky but he tensed, eyes widened in terror. He'd stopped walking.

"The hell was that?"

"You had grass in your hair," Sam whacked his upper arm as they started walking again, "I wasn't doing it for your benefit it was pissing me off."

Bucky didn't say anything but his fists were clenched at his sides.

"Buck-"

"Just let me think. Can't you shut up for two minutes?" Bucky snapped. "And don't call me that."

Sam was only slightly taken aback by his outrage. He wasn't offended, just fed up of how ridiculously petty Barnes was being.

"God, anybody would think Steve was your sweetheart or something, 'don't call me Buck, only Stevie called me Buck,'" Sam teased meticulously in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I said shut up!" Bucky shouted, face red and shoulders tensed.

This time Sam went silent. For a while, the only sound was their feet against the ground and the wind rustling in the fields they walked beside. Bucky was still staring at the ground.

Sam wasn't lying when he said he could see those gears turning. Part of him couldn't help but wonder how much Bucky had opened up to his therapist. She probably knew a whole lot more than Sam, whose knowledge was limited to: Bucky often resembles a grumpy cat, he misses Steve, he doesn't like talking about Steve, he's defensive of Steve, he loved Steve like family. Everything Sam knew about Bucky linked back to Steve.

Perhaps that was all Bucky knew about himself, his identity limited to this one person. His only good memories were Steve, the rest were of war.

Sam had spoken to enough veterans and soldiers and avengers to know why Bucky was like this. And a part of him couldn't help but feel guilty that Bucky was back in the fight, although Sam had advised against it.

"Steve wasn't my sweetheart," Bucky muttered after a long while, his voice booming in contrast to their previous silence.

"I was just joking with you," Sam said.

"You shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because..." Bucky trailed off, shaking his head.

He was swallowing hard, eyes darting around everywhere. Bucky looked like he was being eaten up by his own feelings. He started walking faster but Sam kept up with him.

"Because I'm-"

A car horn honked behind them but Sam kept his eyes on Bucky, waiting for him to continue. He didn't, his eyes were focused on the truck that pulled up beside them.

"So, that didn't go as planned, huh?"

Captain America's imposter asked.
Sam's hatred towards that man grew, because he'd just crushed his one chance, his first ever chance, at getting Bucky to open up. And judging by the way Bucky was having a staring context with the ground again, he didn't think he'd get a chance again any time soon.