longing. [sambucky]

𝟐𝟎: i didn't ask for perfect

author note:
HELLO. HI. I AM SO SORRY.
I've had countless messages asking if longing had been abandoned... I guess me posting a chapter answers that question. I've been so busy but I'm back!

Thank you for all the support with this story! Some of you are saying it's the best Sambucky story on Wattpad and like??? I can't??? tell you??? how happy??? that makes me???

And they're back! So, enjoy them. Because I miss Sambucky. A lot.

"Formal," Bucky said to himself, looking between his naked torso and his selection- a very limited selection- of clothes on his bed.

Sam had gone out, Bucky wasn't sure where but he had a feeling he'd left to give him space to get ready. Perhaps his intention was to make Bucky less worried, but Sam's absence only increased Bucky's anxiety. Not just in this context, his mood generally dropped without Sam around.

"I can do formal," he tried to convince himself, pacing around his bed.

The sheets were crinkled for the first time since they'd moved into their little apartment in Italy, and it wasn't because Bucky had actually slept in the bed, it was because he'd sprawled every item of clothing he owned across it. The beds were a fraction better than the ones back in the US- Italians didn't make their mattresses like the ridiculous marshmallows at home- the bed was sturdy. And yet, Bucky still slept better on the floor.

Sam didn't sleep much either. Bucky heard him creeping around like a ghost at night, on 'facetime' to Sarah and the boys until the early hours of the morning. Bucky didn't mind. When Sam called them he'd sit against his bedroom door and listen to Sam's soft voice as he chattered nonsense to Sarah- usually about how he ought to teach the Italians how to catch shrimp. Perhaps it could be viewed as creepy, listening to Sam, Bucky pretending he was a part of his family. But it made him feel less alone.

Of course, Sam would let Bucky join in on their calls but things had been too strange for that.

"Have you and Bucky broken up?" He remembered AJ asking Sam, a few nights ago on a call.

Sam's deep laugh rattled the walls of the apartment, laced with a hint of uncertainty.

"We weren't... he's not my... he's..." Sam had replied, Bucky sitting upright from behind the door, desperate to hear his response. "AJ, are you eating more oreos?!"

The matter was dropped. Bucky wouldn't admit it, but Sam almost saying 'he's not my partner' or whatever it was he was going to say- had pissed Bucky off. Perhaps Bucky was to blame for the awkwardness of the past few weeks after all.

Upon realising he had wasted over half an hour mindlessly day-dreaming, he sprinted into the bathroom. Filling up the sink with hot water- he dampened his face and tried to shave with his trembling hands.

Bucky hadn't had his hair cut in a while. Chestnut curls that had lightened in the sun now sprawled across his forehead, at a length where it ended at his jawline so he had to tuck his hair behind his ears. Shaving was used as an attempt to make him look slightly less homeless, but- in Bucky's eyes- it was proving insufficient.

Yanking open the cupboard under the sink, he searched for some hair gel, settling on combing his hair out of his face like he used to in the forties. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror- his smooth face and brushed back hair- Bucky thought for a short moment that he looked quite handsome. Until his eyes landed on the scaring of his shoulder, twisting into his Wakandian metal arm.

Bucky closed his eyes, recalling how a member of The Dora Milaje had managed to remove his arm. His fingertips brushed the cool surface of the metal and he took a deep breath as he unclipped it.

[♡]

Sam hadn't been on dates with men before. Ever. He'd been with men, but dates were different. Nevertheless, he had every intention to treat Bucky right, because there was no chance in hell he was losing him again.

He'd left their apartment about an hour ago. The sun was low now, at that sacred position in the sky where it allowed light to peak through all the right places, casting shadows on the cobbled streets of the old buildings and market stalls. Sam hadn't quite appreciated the little Italian town and all it had to offer yet, it was hard for any soldier to settle down after a fight, never mind years of fighting. The night Sam took Bucky out, Sam decided, would mark the night of their exploration. A chance to finally acknowledge everything peace had to offer, together.

He held the flowers he'd bought close to his chest as he took the walk up to their apartment, one that he'd taken almost every day after his strolls down by the sea, yet it was different now. The air around him smelt faintly damp, with a hint of floral shower gel and aftershave. His knuckles brushed the wood of the door, paint that had chipped away slightly over the years, faded in the bright sunlight.

He knocked.

A sharp intake of breath.

Sam wasn't sure if it was him or Bucky from behind the door. Probably both.

The doorknob turned and Sam swallowed as his eyes adjusted from the brightness of the outside to the shader inside of their apartment.

Bucky stood dressed in a white shirt and slacks, the colour a stark contrast to his slightly tanned skin. His piercing blues were the first think Sam noticed, they always were, followed by his expression of total adoration as Bucky looked Sam up and down.

Sam had changed when Bucky had scurried off to his bedroom, just before he left to buy flowers. He only wore a navy blue floral shirt with plain pants, but Bucky looked at him like he'd hung the moon.

Sam held out the bunch of wildflowers, a nervous gesture, unsure of how to respond because his dates never aesthetically appreciated him in this way. It was only when Bucky raised his hand to take them that Sam realised the other was missing. The short sleeve of his shirt was empty where his metal arm should be.

Sam raised his hand, lips parting as he placed it cautiously on Bucky's waist, looking him right in those ocean blue eyes.

"James Buchanan Barnes," Sam put on a fake British accent, "may I say you look simply exquisite."

Bucky bit his lip, leaning into Sam's embrace, with only the delicate wildflowers he held to separate them.

"You've never called me James before."

The corner of Sam's lips quirked up.
"How's Jamie?"

Bucky blushed.

"I think I like Jamie," Sam declared, eyes lingering on Bucky's missing arm. "Is it more comfortable like this?"

Bucky took a moment to respond.

"I just wanted to remind you I'm... not... you know... perfect," he shrugged.

Sam narrowed his eyes, leaning in to press a kiss on Bucky's cheek. He smelt like summer and sweetness, the touch lingered like perfume.

"Good thing I didn't ask for 'perfect', I asked for Bucky Barnes," Sam said.