The point is Bucky hasn’t been drunk since the forties. So it’s a little disconcerting to feel a ball of warmth radiating out from his stomach all the way down to his toes and to hear all the conversations whirling around the room at a distance, kind of like there’s an invisible wall between him and everything that’s happening. Steve warned him about this, said their bodies couldn’t metabolize this particular liquor fast enough, but Bucky didn’t think much about it. It’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal. There’s no threat here, no need for him to have his guard up. Besides, even with the lag that comes from a slight buzz, he’s still probably more lethal than ninety-percent of the people in this room. It’s fine. He’s fine. And it feels kind of nice anyway.
Or it would if he could just get rid of that annoying pulling sensation in his gut, the one that yanks at him every time he looks up to see Sam smiling openly at that man. Who is that man? And why has Sam been cozying up to him all evening? Sam’s the one that convinced Bucky to come to this stupid party. “It won’t be that bad,” he’d said, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair before sinking his teeth into the scarred flesh of his shoulder, trying to suppress a moan so Steve wouldn’t hear just how much Sam likes having Bucky inside him.
Sam was adding a tempo notation to his music when he heard it: a sultry, husky tenor voice filtering from the adjacent practice room. Sam knew the song, and– he opened his book to play the piano part, and Sam and the stranger made music. Gloriousmusic.
The knock came before it had faded.
“Are you interested in–” Sam said, smiling, turning…freezing. Oh, he was beautiful.
“Yes,” the man breathed.
“—an accompanist?” Sam finished.
“Oh, uh. Yes.”
“What did you think I meant?”
The man blushed and ran his hand through his hair.
Sam just noticed first signs of Buck getting older - couple of grey hair on beard, crow’s feet etc - and got weirdly domestic and sappy about it (like ‘wow i love this old man’)
To the surprise of everyone, Bucky is the one who wants a big wedding. No, he doesn’t give a damn about weddings in general, and he always kind of thought the spectacle of a big wedding was a little silly. But, that was before Sam. That was before the wedding in question was his and Sam’s. See, Sam would be content with a family ceremony in Sarah’s backyard followed by a seafood boil and some barbecue. Sam just wants to be married to Bucky. And, while Bucky just wants to be married to Sam too. He also wants the world to know. He wants to show off a little. Hey, it’s not everyday you get the greatest guy in the world to say he’s yours forever. So, Bucky feels like he can’t really be blamed for wanting to brag a little.
The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.
Sam/Bucky, rated G
—
The forest ahead was unsettling, maybe spellbound. Bucky — Sir Barnes now — rode ahead protectively, and Sam frowned. His crown didn’t make him helpless. The look Bucky gave him back was adoring, though. Swoon-worthy.
“Pathetic pining.” The admonishment came from Sam’s falcon, Redwing. “Where’s a true love’s kiss spell when I need one?”
“Unfashionable,” Sam replied. “Magic swords are trending.”
“Ooh.Are you sure?” Redwing asked, likely because Bucky had…vanished.
Before Sam could panic, his own falcon-sharp vision revealed a frog sitting on the saddle of Bucky’s horse. The frog looked grumpy in a Bucky-ish way.
post-tws where sam is following a lead on bucky in some european city but the trail has gone cold by the time he gets there and he can’t find him and he’s tired of constantly chasing these leads but never finding bucky so at the end of the day he’s like well, i might as well have some fun while i’m here. just this once. and goes to a gay bar but ten minutes in he turns around and sees bucky across the room and bucky sees him and they just stare at each other like
“What does this mean…” Sam whispered, setting his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder.
“We could…” Bucky trailed off, then he became silent, “What do you want?”
or
Sam, an amateur artist, and Bucky, an international nude model, blur the lines of work, ending up being unprofessional to the point that they’d need to end it.
Why did i draw hands when i hate drawing hands? Why specifically Bucky’s when i abhor drawing his metal arm? Because i would do anything for sambucky thats why
nothing here, just some soft, sleepy sunrise comfort
I really need these two to get a good long rest and take a nice, relaxing break from everything, please and thank you
Sorry to be posting this for like the 106th time, but i really want it to appear in the tag cause I’m really happy with how it turned out… pls tumblr, pls
