Good Talk | Sambucky

the hypothetical

James stood on the stairs of the Wilson residence as the old hope grew stronger by the second, making him dizzy. To think that he can have something he hadn't dared to think of for decades. To live a life free of guilt, to have reciprocation from someone so...so mesmerizing.

Carefully, like opening a book that crumbles from its age, he unfolded the idea of him and Sam. He thought of the black-brown eyes, of the dark skin, of the low, comforting voice. It got harder to breathe and the fear, unknown for so long, has seeped into his veins again.

He told himself he needed the night to entertain the thought but hope had already occupied all of his being and he could hardly wait till morning. It scared him how quickly he wanted to cling onto the chance of having this life. The love-starved years had amounted to such a vast, hollow space in his chest that even a slim ray of light filled it with glow.

He couldn't wait. Bucky went back up the stairs, brain fogged by the very thought of what he's about to do, but determination was stronger than doubt. He opened the door quietly and sneaked in. Sam was sleeping heavily, a sour beer smell filled the room.

"Sam," whispered James, shaking him by the shoulder. Captain America was very much asleep.

"Come on, Sam, wake up," James tried to move him over but got no response. He sighed, dragged the bedspread onto the floor next to the bed, and nested there. James thought he'd be wide awake all night but the long day took its toll and he drifted off almost immediately.

Bucky woke up when the sun was already up. Sam was still sleeping, rolled up in the blanket, wearing yesterday's clothes.

"Ok that's enough, I'm trying to fix our lives here," announced Bucky in a fake-cheerful tone, as his whole body filled with anxiety. "Here goes everything," he shook Sam by the shoulder and this time got a response.

Sam blinked disagreeably, "What the hell?" He opened one eye. "Oh hey Buck, what's up, man?"

"We need to talk, Sam," Bucky sat on the bed next to him.

"Ugh, that sounds way too serious for how hungover I am," the one eye closed back.

"Come on," thought Bucky, digging metal fingers into his leg. "Come on, just do it, fuck, there's too much at stake, I can't do it, I need to." With all his strength collected, his mind racing, he stretched out his regular hand, shaking slightly, like he's 14 all over again, and took Sam's hand.

Both eyes open, Sam sat straight up, immediately regretted it and leaned back on his elbow, staring at their hands in surprise, "What's going on?"

"What do you think?" asked James, not able to look at him. 

"Where is this coming from? Why?" asked Sam, shifting his hand to lightly stroke Bucky's with his thumb.

"Sarah thinks we already are."

"She what now?!"

"Told me to look after you," Bucky smiled to himself.

"Fuck's sake," Sam rolled his eyes.

"You should thank her."

"Did you sleep here?" frowned Sam, noticing the bedspread on the floor.

"Kind of," the man shrugged. "Can I walk you through a hypothetical?"

Sam chuckled.

"Say we give it a go," Bucky was still looking straight ahead, absolutely, physically unable to meet Sam's eyes. Which was unfortunate because the biggest, happiest grin was stretching the corners of Sam's mouth as he tried to contain it to match Bucky's seriousness. Sam waited a bit to see if the shy guy had anything else to say,

"That's a good hypothetical Buck, that took you all night?"

Appalled by the gleeful tone, James turned around, ready to explain how he had tried to wake him up earlier, when the other man pulled on the hand he was still holding to bring Bucky closer.

"That's a really good hypothetical," he repeated quieter, before lightly pressing his lips against Bucky's.

A chaos of joy, fear, lust, hope, shame, and fear again made Bucky feel more than he'd felt since the times when he was only human. He pulled away, breathing heavily.

"I...I've never..." he stuttered.

"I figured. It's fine." Sam's hand moved to stroke the metal shoulder.

"No not that, it's...I've, I might be awful at this," he admitted, it just occurring to him as he spoke. He had been so focused on the possibility, he hadn't thought of what to do if it came true. "It wasn't really something to talk about when I was growing up."

"It wasn't something to talk about in my community either, Bucky." Sam moved his hand up, carefully running it through the short hair on the back of the man's head, "Tell you what, I'll hit the shower because I smell like fish, and when I'm back, we'll talk about how awful we're going to be at this."