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whinysteve · 2 days
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love language: gift giving
part 3/?
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remember-claim · 24 hours
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abarbaricyalp · 2 days
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Give Me Toothaches Just From Kissing Me
"But March 10th was two weeks ago!" Time doesn't exist. Happy Birthday to Bucky Barnes
The first time Sam had gotten Bucky a birthday cake, it was a joke. It was 2016, just a few scant months before their whole operation went to hell in a handbasket, and Sam had texted Bucky without expectation of a reply. Just a picture of the view from his fancy hotel balcony in Monaco or something, with a fancy chocolate cake on the wide balcony ledge. He was in town for a military tech conference, so his morning jogging schedule had been interrupted. Eating a whole cake on his own over four days would totally be in the realm of possibility. 
An hour later, when Sam was more than half a bottle of wine down and two albums in on a 'crooners' playlist, a shadow peeled itself off of the wall and greeted him with a, "Hey, birdbrain."
Sam, perhaps, did not do any work towards proving that nickname stupid by flailing dramatically and knocking the cake with his forearm. With twin movements, they watched the cake sail to the ground seven stories below and explode into a shower of sugar and cream. Then they turned to look at each other. There were three beats of shocked silence and then they both burst into laughter together.
"That was a really good cake," Sam whined in between the laughter as he leaned into Bucky's space and Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"Yeah, I could tell. You already had half."
"I didn't figure you were gonna actually show up," Sam pointed out.
"Why wouldn't I show up? You called."
"That hasn't stopped you before," Sam pointed out. He spent a few extra seconds staring at the mangled cake on the ground before he sat back on the balcony furniture. Bucky followed him down. He kept his arm around Sam until it was unfeasible, and then he let his hand fall to Sam's, fingers tangling together. Sam allowed it because it was his birthday, even though it was vastly out of the range of usual activities for them.
"Well, this time I was promised cake," he added after a few seconds of amiable quiet.
Sam looked over at him to discern if he was serious or not. The grin pulling at his usually severe mouth said all Sam needed to know. They burst into quiet giggles again.
“Good thing I got all the sweetness I need right here,” Bucky eventually conceded. He tucked a knuckle under Sam’s jaw and leaned in to kiss him beneath the moon and the lights and everything but a cake.
. . .
The second time Sam tried to give Bucky cake, it was a year later. It felt almost impossible that the world had slowed down around them long enough to justify an impromptu visit to Wakanda to check in on Bucky.
When their jet had touched down, Bucky was waiting for them with a wide smile that Sam had never really seen before. "Now, I know I told T'Challa not to do anything for my birthday, but he went a step further and got me everything I didn't want," he joked as he and Steve collided in a fierce hug, the kind of thing that always made Sam want to look away.
Then Bucky was extricating himself from Steve's hold so he could crowd around Sam instead, ducking his face down to Sam's neck as he squeezed his waist. If it was supposed to be a hug, it was like no hug Sam had ever had. He could get used to it though. After a few heartbeats shared between them, Sam pinched Bucky's hip and stepped back.
"Hey, old man," he greeted. Bucky grinned at him, boyish and a little smitten. It was a look Sam was more familiar with. "Happy birthday."
"Is that what this is about? You stop paying attention after 90," Bucky joked. For a split second, his fingers lingered over Sam's but he didn't take his hand--Sam didn't take Bucky's either--and he turned back to Steve to amble along together as they instantly fell into a conversation like they hadn't just been apart for the better part of half a year.
By the time they got around to dinner and a small party, Sam felt silly for bringing a dozen store bought cupcakes--hidden away in his room upstairs. The dinner had been more of a feast, despite Bucky's protestations, and the dessert spread that followed was unlike anything Sam had ever seen. No expensive wedding or VA event or Stark fundraiser held a candle to the cakes and cookies and sweet bars that were available. Sam ate more Wakandan desserts than he could name American desserts and each one was better than the last. Bucky, for all his talk of not wanting anything, had at least sampled every chocolate food on the table and gone back for full servings of most of them.
By the time they managed to crawl into Bucky's room--which branched off into Steve and Sam's rooms and connected bathrooms--all of them were groaning about stomach aches and sugar comas. Bucky crawled under his blankets, becoming nothing more than a groaning lump, and Steve settled along the bench at the end of the bed, laying back on it and resting a hand over his stomach, while burping and then apologizing every few minutes.
Sam ducked into his room while the others settled and grabbed the two bags from him and Steve, as well as the plastic carton of cupcakes. It was absolutely not going back with him at this point. His stomach hurt just looking at it.
Back in Bucky's room, he passed off the bounty. Bucky set aside the gift bags, but his eyes gleamed at the sight of more sweets.
"Come on, open the gifts," Sam jostled, sitting on the bed nearest where Bucky was sprawled.
"Nah, I'll look at them later," he said as he peeled the safety seal sticker away from the cupcakes.
"Oh, come on," Steve laughed. "You're still shy?"
"I'm not shy," Bucky snapped. "I'm civilized. Not everyone has to tear into their gifts as soon as they're within reach."
Sam snorted and tried to hide it from Steve.
"I do not do that," Steve objected, but not with much conviction. Actually, he wasn't that bad, Sam had to admit. But clearly Bucky had better stories than Sam.
“What are these?” Bucky asked instead of fighting a battle he knew he’d already won. He took the cupcakes and deftly opened the package without making a cacophonous sound, which meant he knew perfectly well what they were and clearly had had his share of them.
“I know they’re not anything special after that whole show,” Sam acknowledged, waving his hand in the general direction of the kitchens. “But these are packed so full of preservatives, you’ll be able to keep ‘em until his birthday,” he joked with a gesture towards Steve.
“Way to sell ‘em, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled. He was already halfway through one of the cupcakes and he held a blue one out to Steve. It was the middle of march, so most of the predesigned things were spring flavored. This set, blues and greens swirled around, was about as festive as Sam could find. “I love the frosting on these things,” he added around a mouthful of cupcake.
Steve shot Sam a knowing, slightly gloating look. He’d been the one to insist Bucky would enjoy these, no matter what else was going on with the day. Then he shoved the entire cupcake in his mouth just like Bucky because apparently manners hadn’t been invented yet back in the ‘40s. Sam shook his head at their antics, both of them trying to one up the other until almost the whole carton was gone.
Bucky reached over to snag a smear of frosting off of Steve’s cheek and sucked his knuckle into his mouth while Steve cried foul about uneven division of frosting.
“You two are gross,” Sam laughed and made sure his own face was devoid of any frosting before their turned their attention on him.
It didn’t work. By the time Bucky had turned his playful, teasing expression on Sam, his eyes had darkened just a little and one eyebrow rose in a challenge.
“No,” Sam warned, holding up the half of a cupcake still in his hand. “Whatever it is, no.”
But Bucky didn’t listen. He reached out to and shoved the cupcake against Sam’s cheek, frosting first, then pinned him back against the headboard with a broad hand across Sam’s shoulder and collarbone. Sam swallowed thickly, couldn’t help the way he went lax beneath Bucky’s weight as the other man settled across his thighs and leaned forward to lick a stipe of the icing off of Sam’s cheek.
“Stevie, you might wanna think about gettin’ to your own room,” Bucky warned without taking his dark, hungry stare off of Sam.
“Ah, come on. You two are gross,” Steve complained, but he did hustle out of the room pretty quickly. Took a cupcake for the road.
Sam tried to put some structure back in his bones, tried to posture up under Bucky’s hold. He reached up for the frosting, wiped most of it off of himself, and then smeared it across Bucky’s cheek, down to his mouth.
That mouth split into a grin before it was against Sam’s, lips parted, tongue hungry as he licked over Sam’s lips, chasing after the frosting he was depositing.
Sam had to admit: this may be better than the desserts downstairs.
. . .
The next time he actually got to sit still for Bucky’s birthday, it was a few lifetimes later. He had every intention of sleeping in just a little bit, skipping his run to get up before everyone else and make a cake, wake up the house to the smell of chocolate and buttercream, the way his mama used to always.
Instead, he slept in a lot a bit and woke up to the sound of nothing short of chaos in the kitchen. Sarah was out already, he surmised when he finally dragged himself upright and grabbed his phone from where it had fallen the night before to check the time. He and Bucky had gotten in late the night before, stuck in New York doing paperwork after some giant worm appeared out of a sinkhole in New Jersey. He had no idea how Bucky had the energy to get up, much less start making noise in the kitchen.
Groggily, maybe a little grumpily, he pulled on a hoodie and a pair of shorts that wouldn’t aggravate all of the scrapes he was covered in and went out to see what was happening.
Bucky did make it a point to clean up the kitchen any time he was near it. Especially after himself, but even when Sarah cooked. He insisted that she did the cooking, so he should do the cleaning. And somehow this reflected badly on Sam, as far as Sarah was concerned, which seemed unfair. Sam cleaned plenty.
The cleaning never seemed to justify the mess beforehand.
“What in the world is going on here?” Sam asked, leaning on the wide doorjamb that led into the kitchen.
Cass whirled around first, clutching a too large mixing bowl to his chest. “Nothing!” he exclaimed.
AJ, less practiced in the ways of subterfuge, said, “We’re making cupcakes! For Bucky,” he clarified
Bucky, who was remarkably clean for the amount of flour and egg otherwise splashed across the kitchen, grinned at Sam. “I didn’t ask, by the way. They brought it up. I dunno how you and Sarah say no to these little faces.”
AJ preened and gave another spin with the spatula, sent more frosting over the edge of his too-small bowl.
“You guys are working at a disadvantage, trynna listen to Bucky,” Sam said, coming into the kitchen. “I know you know how to use paper towels. Why does the kitchen look like this?”
Cass let out a little noise of guilt, but Bucky saved him from having to answer by producing a roll of paper towel from behind himself. “It’s probably supposed to be my job, but I’m a better taste tester.”
“Uncle Sam, is it true he can’t get salmonella ‘cause of the super soldier serum?” Cass asked.
“Can I have some?” AJ added.
Sam shot Bucky an unimpressed look, but he was nothing but cheeky smiles and not a shred of embarrassment. “I guess we’re gonna find out if it’s true or not,” he said. He snagged the paper towels from Bucky to begin wiping up at least the bits of cracked egg that lined every countertop. “Lucky it’s me in here and not your mama.”
Cass made the same kind of noise again as he searched for a place to put down his mixing bowl. It must be an oldest sibling gene, because Sam remembered Gideon making the exact same kind of sounds. Usually when Sam was about to do something like jump off the stair bannister.
“Mom’s out at the restaurant,” AJ said, unbothered. He was usually unbothered.
“Come here,” Sam said, gesturing more for AJ to make space than for him to actually move closer. “Bucky let you pick the wrong bowl, so you’ve gotta be careful,” he said, holding AJ’s hand as he held onto the spatula. “Go slow, like this.”
He looked up as AJ failed to do that, more frosting going flying, and caught Bucky’s eye. Bucky grinned again, soft and lovely in the mid-morning light coming through the kitchen window.
“A guy could get used to this view,” he said with a warm honey tone.
“A guy will not,” Sam said. “Get to actually cleaning.”
Bucky gave him the laziest of salutes and took the paper towels back.
By the time Sarah came home, with balloons and, hilariously, an ice cream cake, the kitchen was clean and they’d managed to make the best cupcakes Sam had ever had.
. . .
It took finding their own place, saving the world a few hundred times, a lot of missed events, and one perfect spring day for Sam to finally have a cake on the table on Bucky’s birthday. Handmade, from the same recipe he always got for his birthdays as a kid.
“Happy birthday, old man,” he said, kissing Bucky’s temple.
Bucky caught Sam’s hand against his shoulder, tugged him down to sprawl across Bucky’s lap. “Is that what all this is about?” Bucky teased, like he did almost every time Sam tried to do anything for his birthday, no matter how delayed the celebration was.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam laughed. He dragged the cake closer and lit the handful of candles–he was not putting a hundred candles on a cake–before sitting back a little. “Make a wish before you keel over.”
Bucky laughed, bright and loud, and his arms tightened around Sam. “I haven’t had to wish for anything for a long time, Sammy.” And he kissed Sam without even trying to blow out the candles.
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thatmexisaurusrex · 3 days
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Just Sam and Bucky, definitely not intimidated by the youths on the Young Avengers, nope.
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cyberdelph · 2 days
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by @toris_epic
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uhsolikethis · 18 hours
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Sam: Hey, Buck. We've been around each other a lot the last past few months and... Well.. I think I'm starting to like you and *deep sigh* I don't want to beat around the bush here but it would be nice to go at together sometime. You know a like a date.
Bucky:... Uuh-
Sam: Oh my god, was I reading into this wrong? I'm sorry this is so-
Bucky: We're not already dating?
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funsized-loser · 19 hours
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For the @sambuckylibrary TFATWS Anniversary Event 2024
Week 2: Victory Party | Rated T
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It's a party, but Sam isn't celebrating.
I'm so sorry, Sam. She's gone--sacrificed herself for the Soul Stone.
Steve's words ring loud in Sam's head. When he first heard it, it sent him to his knees, both Steve and Clint scrambling to his side in the dirt. Clint looked hollowed out next to him, while Steve held him like he might disappear again.
But now, there's music playing from a speaker somewhere, drinks flowing, and a joyous atmosphere after a hard-fought battle, and all Sam wants is to scream at the top of his lungs. 
He looks at old friends reunited and clinging to one another. He sees Pepper, Rhodes, and Banner huddled near the vehicle waiting to carry away Stark's body. Clint is on the phone, teary-eyed but happy. Sparkling portals still open here and there as the sorcerers bring in more supplies or a few people leave.
Sam takes in the destruction of the compound that he once, briefly, called home. He can picture morning runs around the property, silent breakfasts in the crowded kitchen (the Avengers weren't exactly morning people), and boisterous game nights in the lounge. 
And in every memory, Nat is right there in the thick of it. She'd always been a driving force in the group, a quick barb or joke at the ready, sharp eyes gleaming. Even while they were on the run; Sam swears she's the one that kept him and Steve alive. 
And to think he'll never see that smirk again--it hurts. It fucking hurts. 
He was gone, but came back. There's no coming back for Natasha. 
Sam wanders off to a secluded spot and drops onto a fallen slab of concrete. A sob works its way out as he buries his face in his hands. 
“Sam?”
He looks up and sees Bucky standing a few feet away, as though waiting for permission to approach. He quickly wipes his face and musters up something resembling a smile. 
“Barnes,” he replies quietly. 
“I think by now you can call me Bucky. And you look like you need this more than me.” 
He takes a couple steps forward to offer Sam a beer bottle. Sam plucks it from him and takes a swig. And promptly gags.
“What the hell?! This is not beer,” he eyes the bottle warily before glaring at Bucky. 
 “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he grimaces, “that talking raccoon gave me this. Regular alcohol doesn't do shit for me. But, you seem to need a stiff drink right now. You ok, all things considered?” 
“Not at all. You?”
Bucky just shrugs. “Been disappearing and reappearing for years now, starts to lose its shock value.” 
His grin slips when Sam doesn't respond, so he takes a seat next to him.
“Seriously though, is something wrong? Should I go get Steve?”
“No,” Sam shakes his head, “can you just– can you just sit with me?” 
Without risking a glance at Bucky, Sam can feel the concerned stare. 
“Sure.”
They sit in silence for a while, the noise of the party far enough away that it almost feels private. 
“I just can't believe that she's gone,” Sam eventually says. “She'd been a part of my life for years. And then, in what feels like a blink of the eye, she's gone. But not like us, y’know? We got lucky, we got to come back, but she–” he breaks off to wipe away more tears. “I'm tired of losing people. I just keep losing people that I love.” 
Bucky reaches out to squeeze Sam's forearm. 
“Hey, look at me.”
Sam turns to look at him and is met with wide, imploring eyes.
“I'm sorry you lost your friend. The way I heard it, she died so that the rest of us could return, right? So now, live a life that would make her proud. I know a thing or two about second chances, trust me, you gotta actually live. I'm sure you know that you can't dwell on everyone you lose. Live so that their memory lives on.”
There's a moment of guilt as Sam thinks about all the people that Bucky has lost. He knows everyone here has lost someone. Maybe that grief is what keeps them all in the fight: a need to keep others from losing people. 
Sam focuses on the feeling of Bucky's thumb rubbing circles into his skin where his hand still rests on Sam's forearm. Once his breathing evens out, he asks, “When did you get so wise, old man?” 
Bucky just grins and gives his arm another squeeze. 
“Thanks for that. I know all of this. It just never gets easier. But now it's a whole new world I'm facing, and I wish my friend was here.”
“You've got the rest of us though,” Bucky says and nudges him with his shoulder.
Sam chuckles. “Oh, we're friends now?”
Bucky gives a faux gasp. “Really, after everything we've been through, you still don't think we're friends? That hurts, Wilson.” 
That gets a full laugh out of Sam. 
When he looks over at him, Bucky's eyes are crinkled from how big his smile is. Sam's never gotten to see this side of him, and a small part of him hopes he gets to see more of it. 
“Pinky swear?” Sam jokes.
“Pinky swear.” Bucky's hand slides down so that he can lock his finger with Sam's. His eyes flick down from Sam's eyes to his lips for a second, but they are clear and sincere, and there's a softness that hints at something more. “You've got me; I'm not going anywhere, Sam.” 
Sam shifts his hand and interlaces his fingers with Bucky's. Neither of them say a word, but the look in their eyes speaks volumes. 
Bucky angles towards him and slowly lifts his left hand to cup Sam's face. Sam is surprised by the warmth of the vibranium, but when Bucky’s thumb brushes across his lower lip, he can't hold back anymore.
Sam surges forward and kisses him. They explore each other with a hunger that Sam prays is not just lust or grief and leftover adrenaline. When Bucky suddenly pulls away, Sam's stomach drops. 
“Steve's coming,” Bucky whispers with a frown. 
They let go of each other just as Steve calls out.
“Buck, you over here? Have you seen–oh, there you are, Sam. I've been looking for you. You alright?” 
Sam nods, “Yeah, feeling a little better. Thanks, Steve.”
Steve squeezes his uninvited self into the space between them and throws his arms over their shoulders, pulling them into his side.
“You two have no idea how happy I am to have you back!”
“If you don't squeeze us to death, you might have us around longer, pal,” grumbles Bucky from under Steve's left arm. 
They all laugh, but Steve does loosen his hold. 
“I know, sorry. I just keep thinking that at any moment you'll turn to dust again, so it's like I have to physically reassure myself you're actually here,” Steve says quietly. 
That comment causes both of them to wordlessly wrap an arm around Steve and give him a squeeze of their own.
They don't know what their friend went through without them. But he's got the same haunted look that everyone who wasn't dusted seems to possess. 
“We're here, man. Tell us what we missed,” Sam tells him.
And as Steve fills them in on the past five years, Bucky's hand is clasped over Sam's behind Steve, thumb rubbing soothing circles into Sam's skin.
Sam thinks he'll be just fine in this new world.
THE END
(Side note: did I make myself sad thinking about the six months of ghosting awaiting these two?? Maybe. Or the fact that they'll both miss their shared BFF?? Also maybe.) 
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sambuckylibrary · 2 days
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TUESDAY: March 26 - Reunite in Wakanda
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fandomlockedfan · 1 year
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13ag21k · 9 months
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What if I was a lonely brooding man but my features softened as I stared at you adoringly?
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kayvsworld · 9 months
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marvel bring them back i am no longer asking
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whinysteve · 2 hours
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love language: quality time
part 4/?
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panevanbuckley · 3 months
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soulmate au where your soulmate's thoughts appear on your skin except your soulmate has adhd and your body becomes a living canvas of nonsensical, never-ending, constantly entertaining trails of thought
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rainingbicycles · 1 year
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Me: I should really get back into a healthy sleeping pattern
Also me: Proceeds to open Ao3 instead and read about the same two people falling in love 151738515163 different times until morning
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thatmexisaurusrex · 2 days
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Just Sam and Bucky, filling in for the secretary at the Avengers' Campus while she's feeling under the weather.
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cyberdelph · 19 hours
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by @117_1969
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