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*****
“Sam.”
The voice was somewhere. Coming from somewhere close.
“Sam, come on. Stay awake.”
Sam’s movements felt… sluggish. Like he couldn’t quite get a handle on himself. His vision was swimming.
Where was he going?
Where was he right now?
“Hold on. You’re – let me just – ” Sam heard near him and Sam felt someone pushing something on his arms, up to his shoulders, zipping him up in it.
Sam squirmed, almost stumbling into whiteness as an arm grabbed him by the waist.
“You got to buy me dinner first before you hold me like that,” Sam found himself mumbling, his words slushing into each other as he giggled.
“Maybe when we get home,” said the voice warmly… familiar.
Sam turned, his eyes focusing on Bucky Barnes right before the man picked him up. Carried Sam in his arms.
“You need to buy me three dinners to hold me like this,” slurred Sam as he heard his teeth chattering.
Felt his body quaking in Bucky’s arms.
Was it snowing? There was snow in Bucky’s hair.
“I owe you three dates then,” Bucky mused, and his smile made Sam smile, “Or would that be four?”
He was having trouble. Sam could tell Bucky was having trouble moving in something. Was it snow?
“Too cold for just a tactical jacket, James,” mumbled Sam into the leather as he felt Bucky radiating heat, “How are you so hot?”
“I get my stunning looks from my mother,” Bucky side-stepped, making Sam snort, “I’d ask you too, but I’ve seen pictures of your folks. Seen your family. All Wilsons just are imbued with beauty.”
Sam blinked as he felt something splash on him. A droplet. Sam blinked up at Bucky, stared, moved a shivery, mittened hand to Bucky’s face and turned it. Sam frowned.
“You have a cut,” Sam said, his words a little garbled from his chattering, “We need to sew it up.”
It looked as if Bucky had tried to super glue it together, but it hadn’t held.
Bucky let out a strained laugh.
“We’ll do something about it when we get to the safe house,” said Bucky as Sam started hearing the crunch of the snow under him, “It should be around here.”
“Safe house?” mumbled Sam as his mind tried to wrap itself around his current situation.
“The quinjet we were on – it was shot down. Remember?” asked Bucky as if he was asking Sam again.
Sam closed his eyes. Tried to think.
“Hey. Hey, keep talking, Sam,” said Bucky, and was there a hint of panic there?
“Wasn’t someone piloting the quinjet?” Sam asked, not sure how he remembered that.
“Yes,” said Bucky, a little too neutral, “Someone was.”
Sam remembered laughing with Bucky about something. A coat? About how puffy his coat was. Some turbulence.
A lot of turbulence.
“Who shot us down?” asked Sam as he looked back up at Bucky, “Should we be worried?”
Bucky’s hands tightened on Sam.
“Don’t need to worry about them anymore,” said Bucky darkly.
Sam knew he had to ask Bucky about that. But Sam could see that it was getting dark. They were in the woods. On a snowy mountain. And Sam was still swimming in and out of lucidness.
“I told you I’d need my coat,” said Sam as he felt Bucky’s hands relax.
Bucky looked down at Sam, amused.
“I can’t believe you actually brought that thing with us,” said Bucky warmly.
“You’re just jealous because I thought this through,” said Sam between chattering because fuck.
It was cold.
Sam was cold.
Was he hypothermic?
“It was so cold,” Sam said, his mind wandering to the past, “That first winter in D.C. I wasn’t prepared. I kept adding layers until I broke down and bought a good coat. This coat.”
“An unnecessarily puffy coat,” Bucky muttered.
“A subzero jacket,” Sam said, grinning proudly, “It’s the warmest thing I’ve ever owned. It has a media pocket.”
Bucky laughed.
“A what?” said Bucky between giggles.
“A media pocket,” said Sam, and he felt as if he had said this before, “It can fit an iPad. Several books. I fit two water bottles in it once.”
“Two water bottles, huh?” asked Bucky, clearly amused.
Sam didn’t care. He loved his coat.
“I fit an entire bottle of wine in it once,” whispered Sam, as if it were a secret.
Bucky snickered.
“Of course you did,” said Bucky, as if endeared by the thought of Sam wandering the streets of D.C. with a bottle of wine snuggly tucked into the inside pocket of his long puffy coat.
“Steve had said he’d only had wine in Europe. I knew a California wine I wanted him to try. Invited him and Nat over on their day off,” mumbled Sam into Bucky’s chest, “Had this game night. I think I was the only one who got drunk. Why had I thought it was a good idea to drink with Nat and Steve?”
“I’m sure it was fun, though,” Sam felt Bucky rumble.
“It was,” said Sam as he felt a tremor go through his body, Bucky pulling Sam closer, “I miss them.”
Sam did. So much. Sam barely had the chance to think about it. Not since he came back to life. Not after the stress about the boat and how busy rebuilding the Avengers made him. But there were moments. Times where he could feel that wave of grief. Think about Nat. Alone on some alien planet. Think about Steve. Leaving him for some horrible past. Choosing that. Doing nothing to make the world better. Fucking off to the moon.
Sam couldn’t think about any of that right now.
How long had Bucky walked? Where was the quinjet crash? They’d have to go back to it in the morning. Collect the pilot. Report their location. Check on whether there were any more Hydra members remaining.
What mountain range were they above again?
Europe.
They were in Europe. Somewhere in Europe. Sam and Bucky were going to help the French Chapter of the Avengers with a problem.
“Were they the ones Le Lumière Bleue told us about?” asked Sam.
“I think we solved the Hydra problem they were having,” said Bucky dispassionately.
Sam didn’t know what had happened. But there was an emptiness in Bucky’s eyes. Sam could see it on his face. Something grim.
Something sparked in Sam’s memory.
Sam felt it. Felt the cold metal of his twin guns. Felt the splatter. How he cut his cold, raw hands as he did a quick fix on his wing pack. Rigged a few impromptu traps. The scrape of bark on him as he clung to a tree branch, lying in wait for the second round of them. Watched their surprise before swooping in and kicking the few that managed to elude the traps.
At the start, he had adrenaline. Had energy. Or maybe just adrenaline. Sam found Bucky once he had the time to. Once the adrenaline wore down. Barely awake as he felt a dazed Bucky become keenly alert at Sam rasping his name. Bucky moving him. How Bucky gingerly placed Sam somewhere soft, wrapped him in something warm.
How he hadn’t noticed how cold he was until that very moment.
Sam had relaxed. Because Bucky was there. Sam could count on him. It was strange to know, truly know, just how much he trusted the man as Bucky told Sam to stay there. Sam wasn’t going to say no to that. He tried to keep his eyes open, but everything blurred.
Sam could hear what happened. In the back of his head. The sound of metal bending and breaking. A fire billowing out of control. Screams. The screams becoming fainter. There was a growing distance between the sounds of the fire crackling and the fight. A horrifying silence. Panicked calls for Sam as he heard metal moving and ripping.
Sam remembered calling back, croaky and tired.
They both had dealt with the HYDRA threat.
Sam’s mittened hands reached out to Bucky’s chest. Tried to hold onto him. Tried not to think about it.
“I can’t believe one of the French Chapter’s members is named ‘Le Cowboy’,” blurted Sam.
Bucky snorted.
“We really need to see how this Chapter is finding its members. I’m curious as to how that guy became part of their team,” said Bucky, the smile coming back.
Sam felt himself relax at that. He didn’t know when he had tensed. He found his mittened hands petting Bucky’s chest aimlessly. His eyes drifting to Bucky’s tactical jacket.
“How are you just in leather and not freezing your ass off?” asked Sam, “Look at you. Leather. All leather. You shouldn’t be dressing like that in this weather.”
“I’m a living furnace, remember? I could be wearing a speedo and still be warm up here,” murmured Bucky as he glanced down at Sam and added, “You’ve been looking at me, Sam Wilson?”
“No,” mumbled Sam, like a liar.
Sam had never looked at Bucky’s tactical jacket and pants. He had never noticed how the clothes were basically sculpted onto the man. Nope. Never.
“We made it,” said Bucky as Sam felt the sigh in Bucky’s chest, “It’s still here. I’m going to put you down for a second.”
Sam felt Bucky gently placing Sam next to a tree, leaning Sam’s back on the trunk so that Sam could see the safe house.
It was a log cabin. Sturdy. In the middle of nowhere. It didn’t look to be in bad shape. Not well maintained, necessarily, but it looked solid from where Sam sat.
Sam felt Bucky placing several layers of emergency blankets on him. Sam winced at how the light of the sunset reflected off the blankets.
Sam hadn’t even noticed Bucky carrying the emergency kit. But it was there. Bucky bent down in the snow and opened it up. He first carefully placed butterfly bandages over his cut, grimacing as he patted them down. Then, he pulled out a flashlight.
“Be careful in there,” said Sam, a little nervous about separating.
Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if Sam couldn’t defend himself. Sam knew there was nothing in that house that could really hurt Bucky. They could split up.
Bucky smiled.
“Will do,” said Bucky as he wandered into the cabin.
And for a brief moment, Sam felt panic bleed into him. Spread and stretch inside him as Bucky left his line of sight. Sam knew better. He knew even if a log cabin fell on Bucky, he probably would barely get a scratch. But then again, he got cut when the quinjet crashed.
Sam suddenly realized something.
Sam wasn’t wearing his coat when the quinjet crashed. Not when he was fighting the HYDRA members. He hadn’t been wearing mittens either. Or the snow boots Sam had on right now. Or the hat that fit him so snuggly and warmly. He had the pieces on the quinjet. But they were in his luggage. Bucky had to have sifted through the wreckage to find them for Sam. Had to have helped Sam into them.
Sam couldn’t think about that. Or how the damn flashlight Bucky was using was flickering because someone forgot to replace the batteries. Sam’s eyes followed the light in the cabin. Sam needed to focus on something. Sam needed something to help him with the anxiety building about Bucky being in there alone. The annoyance of not being able to help. To stop himself from thinking about Bucky getting him dressed for the cold.
“No holes in the roof or rot in the wood that I can see!” yelled Bucky from inside.
Sam let out the breath he was holding when Bucky walked out, the sun creeping down the tree line.
“Safe enough for us to use for the night?” asked Sam.
Bucky nodded.
“I think we’ll be fine for the night,” said Bucky as Bucky grabbed the emergency supply kit and bundled Sam up in his arms again.
The inside of the cabin was surprisingly cozy. Sam chuckled at the fact that it looked obvious that part of what Bucky did besides making sure the cabin was structurally sound was get rid of all the spider webs.
There were a few lanterns going. Oil lanterns. Sam was pretty sure oil went bad after a time, but he wasn’t going to question it.
Bucky had cleared an area near the now crackling fire and placed what had to be a mattress from one of the bedrooms down next to the fireplace. Queen-sized, if Sam could guess. And if Sam was in any other condition, he’d probably feel how lumpy and gross the mattress was, but Sam was just happy to lay down on something that wasn’t cold and wet. The pillows were surprisingly nice too. It looked as if Bucky found twenty somehow still in this cabin and placed them on the mattress.
Bucky dropped several sheets on Sam as well as a few comforters, all of them smelling like they’d been in this place for three-quarters of a century. Sam didn’t care, though. Not with how Bucky rubbed them, tried to speed up the warming process.
Sam glanced around the room, his eyes focusing on a projector. He grinned.
“That thing’s so old school,” said Sam, just looking at the thing.
Bucky laughed.
“I don’t even remember why this was here,” said Bucky as he lit the stove up with a spark from him snapping his fingers, began boiling something on an old pot, “I did find a reel. If you want to watch it.”
Sam grinned, still shivering under the blankets.
“Let’s see what you boys were watching,” said Sam as Bucky wandered into the hallway.
Bucky came back with a white sheet that aged yellow and an actual thirty-five-millimeter reel of film. Eleven minutes of some mysterious thing that the Howlies had hauled into the middle of nowhere to watch. Bucky glanced at the tape, oddly wary.
“What?” asked Sam as Bucky started to set up the reel in the camera.
“I don’t know. Something’s giving me a bad feeling about this reel,” grumbled Bucky as he taped the yellow sheet on a wall, “Not. Um. Bad bad. I don’t think it has anything violent on it. But. I don’t know. Something about this is telling me I’m going to regret showing you the reel.”
“I think you have to show it to me now,” said Sam, smiling through his teeth clacking as Bucky returned to the kitchen, “You can’t say something so vague and expect me not to want to watch this.”
Bucky walked over with some sort of rubber bottle, tossing a log into the fire before he bent down next to Sam. He peeled back the covers, sheets, and blankets. Sam shook violently as Bucky unzipped Sam’s subzero, securing the rubber bottle underneath.
It was hot. Sam’s arms hugged it to his chest after Bucky zipped him back up.
“Hot water bottle. Found one around here. Knew there was at least one,” mumbled Bucky as he carefully wrapped layer after layer on Sam once more.
“Thanks,” said Sam, a little surprised by it.
“Need to get you warm,” said Bucky, which was probably true.
Bucky walked back to the kitchen. Sam could hear him pouring the rest of the boiling water into tin mugs. Cracking open a can of something from the emergency supplies. Sam could hear it sizzling on the stove.
“I thought about mulling some wine, since I found some wine in the back, but I wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea in your condition,” said Bucky as he placed one of the steaming water mugs next to Sam, “Just drink when you’re up for it.”
Sam nodded, watching Bucky walk over to the stove and grimace at whatever was in it.
“We’ll bring the wine home. Maybe we can mull it in the eighty-degree heat,” joked Sam as he heard Bucky turn the stove off, pour what was in the pot into more mugs.
“I hope you like corn,” said Bucky as if corn had insulted his mom, Bucky absurdly offended by the option as he brought over the mugs of corn, “It was either this or MREs. I’m going to do a check of all of the emergency kits once we get back to the campus.”
Sam’s hands weakly went to grab one of the corn mugs.
Bucky’s hand caught Sam’s mug before it hit the comforter.
Bucky’s eyes offered help.
Sam conceded.
He felt Bucky’s hand behind his head. Bucky adjusting the pillows so that Sam sat up. He placed the mug on Sam’s lips and poured some of the corn into Sam’s mouth.
Sam should be laughing about this. Should be thinking of a joke as he chewed bland corn that Bucky was feeding him from a World War Two antique.
Sam kind of just felt happy that Bucky would do this for him.
“So,” Sam said as he watched Bucky chug his corn down while making faces, “Does this count as a date?”
Sam grinned through his teeth clattering as he saw Bucky choke and sputter.
“Dinner? A movie? A remote cabin that could double as both a romantic getaway and a murder cabin?” said Sam as he watched Bucky blush redder than anyone Sam’s ever seen, “You did say you owe me four dates.”
“I wouldn’t count this as our first date,” mumbled Bucky as he walked over to the old film projector, “I’ll make sure we’ll go on a much better date than this.”
Sam wasn’t sure if he actually heard that right.
Was Bucky going to take him on a date after this mission was over?
“Let’s. Um. See what’s on here,” said Bucky as he cranked the film projector, the crank moving on its own as Bucky settled on top of the covers next to Sam.
Sam turned his attention to the sheet that the projector was playing on, the film taking a moment to start.
An ornate title card appeared on the sheet.
The Meeting of Branchus and Apollo.
“Oh, fuck,” blurted Bucky.
Sam glanced over at a now ashen Bucky.
“I remember what this is,” said Bucky as Sam saw Bucky in all his silent movie glory.
He was dressed in what Sam could barely consider a G-string. It somehow matched the leather gladiator sandals he had on as well as the laurel wreath in his hair. His hair was tasseled, expertly so, and he was shining with oil. He looked young. Definitely in his early twenties. He was a little out-of-focus, but Sam was very sure that was Bucky Barnes.
“You were in a movie?” asked Sam, a little surprised.
Bucky seemed frozen, maybe in horror or shock as he watched himself flex.
“Art school was expensive. They were offering me way more money than I’d ever seen before,” mumbled Bucky as Sam found his attention drawn back to the projection.
Saw this younger Bucky strike various bodybuilder poses amongst an ethereal forest backdrop before the next title card appeared.
Young Branchus. Succulent and Virile.
Sam raised his eyebrows as they showed “Branchus” in a few more poses. Because that could just be a difference in time and how diction was used.
Lush Branchus finds his way into the woods, something calling to him… or perhaps, someone.
Sam blinked.
“That’s a Black man,” Sam said, not expecting this turn of events.
Bucky’s smile was distant. They gazed at the slightly out-of-focus naked man who classily positioned himself so as to not be full frontal on screen. The man draped himself on a chaise lounge that seemed to be grown out of the plants in the forest. Glitter accentuating the man’s muscles as basically naked women who looked to be nymphs fed the man grapes.
Apollo. God of the Sun. A Vision of Beauty. The Most Alluring of All the Gods and Goddesses on Olympus.
“It’s not the first interracial porn on screen or anything. There were works before this, though, most of those probably didn’t age well. Haven’t seen any recently, but I feel like that’s a pretty solid assumption. I was just. Um. Part of one. Not to say that it wasn’t extremely dangerous for all parties involved. It was very dangerous. All pornography was, especially something like this. That’s why the film doesn’t say who’s in it or who made it. But it paid well. I wasn’t against it. I actually had fun performing in it. Sorry. I’m talking too much. That’s Cecil. He was really sweet, actually. Bonnie and Rachel were too. They had all worked together on a few sets like this one. Were patient with me. I liked working with them. Surprisingly one of the nicest work environments I have been in,” said Bucky as he blushed a bit.
“Apollo” stretched provocatively, almost showing the audience everything before he settled in on his chaise once more, looking bored as he ate a few more grapes.
Stunning Apollo awaits what his visions foretold.
“Wait,” said Sam as Bucky’s words sank in, “Bucky, were you in a nineteen-thirties porno?”
Bucky nodded sheepishly as they watched “Branchus” appear on the scene. “Branchus” held his hands to his heart for a second before half an arrow was added between the hands to show that “Branchus” was smitten.
Verdant Branchus, enchanted by the Ambrosial Apollo, approaches the divine being, impressed by his flawless form, hypnotized by his heavenly gaze.
“A few. I’m surprised this survived. I thought the American government burned them all once the Smithsonian decided to make that Captain America wing,” said Bucky as he blushed even harder, “I looked into it a while I was lying low in Europe.”
“Branchus” accentuated every step with a flourish, a sense of shyness yet need oozing from “Branchus” as he bent his knee. Took “Apollo’s” hand and kissed it softly. “Apollo” smiled, gazing down at “Branchus” elegantly.
The Effervescent Apollo accepts Sumptuous Branchus’ kiss and offers more.
“I actually did a photoshoot. For a… magazine,” said Sam, as he felt Bucky’s gaze on him, “I needed some extra money when I was younger. It was an easy shoot. I’m surprised no one in the press has leaked it yet, actually. I’ll show you the centerfold of me when we get back to Delacroix.”
Sam watched as “Apollo” gestured for “Branchus” to come closer.
“A centerfold?” Bucky breathed.
Sam smirked. Thinking about it. How good he looked in the magazine. How something he had been worried about actually made him feel confident in the end.
“I have a few pictures in it, but I did also get a centerfold,” Sam said a little proudly.
And who could turn down the Handsome Apollo?
The “Nymphs” left the stage as “Branchus” climbed between “Apollo’s” legs, kissing “Apollo” deeply. “Branchus” kissing down “Apollo’s” neck. And it was hard to tell since the two of them were at least a yard away from the camera, and the image wasn’t very crisp (maybe on purpose), but Sam was pretty sure “Branchus” was beginning to enter “Apollo” and –
The images stopped.
They ran out of film.
The two of them stared at the blank screen in silence.
“It was a two-reel film,” said Bucky, “I only found one reel in the cabin.”
Sam couldn’t stop laughing.
“What the fuck?” wheezed Sam between cackling, “It was a two-reel film and the Howlies only got to see one reel? That’s such a tease.”
“Hey, I didn’t bring the film,” said Bucky, laughing along with Sam, “Jim Morita became friends with this smuggler dame who used to specialize in pornography before she joined the French Resistance. She said I looked familiar the first time I met her. Then she sent this to Jim. Jim asked if he could play it but I totally forgot it was a two-reel film then too. Blame Jim for the blue balls.”
Their laughter died down as Sam slowly realized that he might have a boner. A boner from watching Bucky Barnes in half a blurry porno.
“It’s getting late,” said Bucky with a yawn, “I know it’s a little awkward, but it would be a good idea if we were skin to skin as we slept. Less of a chance of you going hypothermic again.”
Shit.
“I feel okay,” said Sam halfheartedly, knowing full well that sleeping naked together would be better for him.
Bucky made quick work with his own clothes, because apparently he didn’t wear anything under the leather besides some boxer briefs which was definitely going to haunt Sam's dreams. Sam’s brain short-circuited when he saw how big Bucky was, Sam gaping at the sight of Bucky’s dick. Bucky burrowed into the old comforters and sheets and emergency blankets.
“We can both be adults. I promise, I won’t do anything weird to you,” Bucky said as he began stripping Sam down under the sheets, then paused.
Sam knew why he paused. Sam felt himself spring out of his boxers, hard.
They were close. Sam could feel Bucky’s breath on him. If Sam wanted to, he could lean up and steal a kiss.
“… Unless you want me to do something weird,” murmured Bucky, shy and blushing again.
“What if I did?” asked Sam quietly.
Bucky leaned down and kissed Sam. Soft. Sweet. Sam melted at the feeling of want, even with how modest the kiss was.
“The Effervescent Apollo accepts Sumptuous Branchus’ kiss and offers more,” Sam blurted, opening his legs immediately.
Bucky snickered into Sam’s shoulder for a good five minutes before looking back up at Sam.
“And who could turn down the Handsome Apollo?” asked Bucky, his voice thick as he leaned in for a longer yet still delicate kiss.
Then jumped out of the bed stark naked, Sam yelping at the bite of cold before the covers settled again.
“Sorry, sorry. Need to get the condom and lube,” said Bucky as the man searched the emergency kit.
Sam cackled.
“There can’t be condoms and lube in the emergency kit. You’re lying,” said Sam, gasping as he saw Bucky pull out condoms and lube.
“Supplies for safe sex count as an emergency. There are also a few dental dams in there,” said Bucky as he walked back to Sam, his dick filling… and filling… and filling.
Fuck.
Bucky burrowed back into the covers, settling in between Sam’s legs. Sam laughed as he watched Bucky chuck the rubber water bottle all the way to the other side of the room.
“Are you okay with this?” asked Bucky.
From inside the covers.
“Yes, covers ghost. I’m okay with you fucking me,” snickered Sam as his laughs turned moans at the first prod of Bucky’s fingers.
Bucky was slow. Gently pushing one finger in, making sure Sam was comfortable. Sam felt himself moving with every pump, Sam groaning as Bucky finally found that spot inside of him that made him see stars.
“There,” moaned Sam as Bucky experimentally thrust his finger in that same direction, “Yes, there.”
Sam was lost in the feeling as one finger became two, became three, Sam fucking himself onto the fingers.
“Okay. Okay, I’m ready,” breathed Sam, wanting more, needing it.
Bucky obliged as Sam felt Bucky lining up with him. Sam mewled. He mewled and whimpered, overwhelmed as he felt Bucky’s tip dip into him, hot and thick. Warbled as he felt Bucky patiently press forward, giving Sam time to adjust and breathe. Sam was thankful. Sam really needed it. Sam didn’t understand how Bucky kept delving deeper inside him. How there was more of him to burrow into Sam.
Maybe Bucky was just infinite, Sam deliriously thought. Maybe he would never be done. Just had an infinitely long dick that would never stop. Sam could only groan, though, as Bucky sank into him, carved a place into Sam as he finally, finally fully sheathed himself inside Sam.
Bucky was above Sam now. His arms keeping him right off Sam. As if Sam wouldn’t want to be as close to Bucky as physically possible right now. Sam rolled his eyes, pulling Bucky down to his chest.
“Skin to skin, remember?” murmured Sam into Bucky’s ear as Bucky chuckled.
Sam smiled as he felt his laugh reverberate inside of him. Moaned at how it made Bucky’s dick move.
“Sorry,” whispered Bucky as he gave Sam an oddly polite kiss on the cheek.
“No, you’re good,” said Sam, his hands holding Bucky’s face as he pulled Bucky down for a kiss.
And another. Bucky swallowed Sam’s moans as he began to move. Dragged inside Sam, then slowly plunged back in. Sam found his legs falling to his sides, completely relaxed. Found himself consumed by the feeling of Bucky languidly kissing him as he tenderly sank into Sam over and over again.
Sam could feel Bucky’s hand wrap around his shaft, leisurely stroking Sam to the rhythm of each unhurried thrust. Sam could feel it build in him. Knew it was coming. With every kiss, every thoughtful thrust, with every tender stroke, all Sam could do was allow his feelings to engulf him until he reached that peak. Sam toppled over, painting Bucky’s and his own stomach and with his release, tightening around Bucky as he heard Bucky groan, felt him pulsing as he filled his condom.
Bucky relaxed atop Sam, the both of them too blissed out to do anything else.
“I like you,” mumbled Bucky into Sam’s chest, “A lot. As in I do actually want to take you one all four of those dates. And more dates. All the dates.”
Sam chuckled, his jello limbs somehow wobbling around the man and pulling him closer.
“I like you too. Though, I think you owe me a coat now,” said Sam, very sure that the wet spot they moved away from was where his coat was.
“I’ll buy you a better coat,” grumbled Bucky as he snuggled close to Sam.
There was business to deal with tomorrow. Things that had to be squared away. People to get in contact with. But Sam was happy to fall asleep in Bucky’s embrace and deal with everything together in the morning.