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Bucky is in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, where his limbs are heavy and he can’t quite tell whether the sunlight is real or the lingering effect of a dream, but he recognizes the heaviness of the duvet and the heat of Sam’s body beside him, so it seems unimportant to take that last step into consciousness.
“Up so early?” says Sam. He doesn’t sound like a person planning to go for a run, thinks Bucky.
“All your fault,” Bucky turns towards Sam, “You’re the one who wakes up at the ass crack of dawn.”
“To go for a run, yes. Why are you awake?” Sam genuinely sounds confused.
“I like talking to you before lunch,” shrugs Bucky. “And you generally go to VA after your run. Not that I mind.”
Sam can’t help the smile that stretches across his features. “I’m not going today. You can complete the sleep I robbed you off, sleeping beauty.”
Bucky falls quiet, but Sam can sense his wakefulness. He slides a hand under Bucky’s t-shirt, thumbing idly at his stomach. It’s not with intent, Bucky knows now, or at least not the kind of intent his previous bedfellows meant to express with such a touch.
Bucky stretches out one arm, then settles it comfortably underneath his head. He’s careful not to dislodge Sam’s hand. Sam's fingers shift a little, brushing along his stomach, almost to his bellybutton, butterfly soft.
"You know, we could make a day of this," he hears Sam say.
"Huh?" It really is very early.
Sam huffs a laugh. "We're not needed for any superhero schtick nor do we have any meetings to go to. We could just spend time with each other, eat ridiculous amounts of food and watch movies."
"Let's do just that," Bucky says and promptly falls asleep.
***
Bucky wakes up to the smell of coffee. He pokes his head out from under the covers and sniffs the air. Coffee. Absolutely coffee.
He walks out of the room to find Sam drinking coffee, watching Peppa Pig.
“I’m pretty sure there are studies that suggest watching too much of that blasted show can convert you into a pig,” Bucky comments.
“Good, then I would be like Circe and would have the power to turn everyone who tries to harass others into a pig. That would be my new superpower. I’ll call myself Firce.”
“Cilcon sounds better.” Bucky frowns, looking around the kitchen, “You didn’t make any coffee for me.”
“No, I gave you the opportunity to work for yourself, to be independent and feel empowered,” Sam says without turning around. Bucky can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.
“I hate you.”
Sam turns around at this. He doesn’t seem affected by Bucky”s loss of affection for him.
“I was thinking we could watch either The Hobbit or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I can’t decide between the two. Oh! We could watch all four of them!”
“Steve has discussed The Hobbit with me at least a thousand times with me since 1937. My soul will abandon my body, travel to the underworld, find Tolkien and haunt him for the rest of eternity if I have to listen to either LOTR oh The Hobbit even one more time.” Bucky proclaims, making himself comfortable on the couch.
They’re settled on the couch. Bucky is leaning against Sam’s chest, coffee in one hand and a throw blanket tossed over their legs.
“Alright, you fucking drama queen, we’ll watch Charlie and the Chocolate factory, then. I should have left you for Steve when I had the chance. Now, he has Stark as his sugar daddy,” Sam grumbles.
“Yes, you should have. Now, I have trapped your soul and will never let you watch Lord of The Rings,” Bucky says deadpan.
“Exactly," Sam says with a smile. He’s already starting the movie.
***
Twenty minutes into the movie, Sam bolts upright and starts towards the kitchen, pausing the movie. Bucky rudely slips from his comfortable position on Sam’s chest.
“What, you bird?” Bucky snips, half falling off the couch.
“Nothing,” Sam says waving his hand. “I forgot about the stockpile of junk food that we are supposed to be eating right now.
He walks out with packets of chips, bars of chocolate and goes back inside to bring two cups of hot chocolate, complete with tiny marshmallows bobbing up and down.
Sam settles down on the couch once again and Bucky takes up residence beside him. With the arm not wrapped around Sam’s waist, he reaches for the mug of hot chocolate on the table beside the couch and takes a sip.
“There is no way this is the hot chocolate you had growing up.”
“Are you saying my family was not good enough to have made this?” Sam says with narrowed eyes. Bucky can see the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. They are the only tell when Sam messes with people. Or when he lies. They’re very subtle. He is very subtle.
Bucky shrugs in response.
“Natasha, Carol and I invented it,” Sam admits. “The trick is in the spice combination.”
Bucky takes another sip. “Nutmeg, vanilla… some peppermint? The rest I can’t make out.”
“I’d tell you, but then..” says Sam, taking a sip out of his own mug.
“Guess I’ll have to keep you around, then,” says Bucky.
“Guess you will,” says Sam. He settles back a little deeper into the couch and presses play.
They work their way through ridiculous amounts of chips and chocolates, order pizza and finish Charlie and the Chocolate factory.
“Violet should have gotten the chocolate factory,” Bucky decides once they’ve finished the movie.
“What? Why?” Sam asks, surprised.
“Okay, well. She has the most candy related knowledge. She can recognise a piece of candy from across the room! She is competitive, determined, hard working, willing to take risks and her father is a salesman and politician, she can pick up knowledge from him. She is sympathetic towards Oompa Loompas, who were basically enslaved and most probably not even paid, and therefore she would be a better employer. She also has good self control.”
“I will accept the thing about the Oompa Loompas, because yes. It’s not great how he treats them. And yes, they were certainly underpaid employees. I mean Willy Wonka is basically a metaphor for capitalism. But the rest is bullshit. Violet didn’t even listen to Willy Wonka when he told her not to eat that chewing gum.” says Sam.
“Okay, about that. Gum is her speciality and Willy Wonka was showing it off. So in the moments before she eats it, he misleads her. Then he tells her not to do it and we can’t forget that she really is just a child. Also, what the fuck. Why is Willy Wonka leaving an entire factory to a fucking child who he has never ever met in his life. He doesn’t really get to know about the child in that one day.”
“Bucket, no. That is literally the premise of the story! He has enough insight to understand children and decide who gets the factory. And anyways, it’s not as if he’s going to die that very week. He has years and years before he will die. Guess what he’s gonna do in those years? He’s going to make that particular a fit owner of a factory.”
“Yeah, sure, I get that. But can you imagine Charlie in Willy Wonka’s shoes? That passive, naïve boy? Also, hello? Willy Wonka’s lack of any health and safety standards? The liability issues in that factory, Sam! His insurance rates must have been through the roof.”
“You think a man like Willy Wonka had insurance?” Sam lifts his eyebrows.
“I haven’t even gotten started on Charlie’s grandparents.” Bucky trudges on, ignoring Sam. “What the fuck, Grandpa Joe, you can’t get out of bed to help Charlie’s poor struggling mother but you can sure as fuck run around good as new to take a tour of some sketchy chocolate factory?"
“You make a good point about Grandpa Joe.”
“I only ever make good points,” says Bucky. “That was a terrible movie. You have terrible taste in movies.”
“Hey! That was a good movie. It was better than that stupid Shutter Island movie you made us watch,” Sam protests.
“It absolutely was not. Let’s all agree to disagree and go eat our rapidly cooling pizza in peace.”
***
“Having concluded you have abysmal movie tastes, I’m going to choose the movie this time,” Bucky says over pizza and iced-tea. They haven’t even made their way to the couch, yet.
“My tastes are too refined for you,” Sam says, trying and failing to put on a posh tone.
***
They end up watching Pride and Prejudice. Just as Darcy starts to insult Elizabeth, Sam breaks out the roasted almonds.
He went out and bought a new jar specifically for this occasion, but now, sitting on the couch with the jar gripped between his knees, the lid won’t — fucking — come — off.
“I should have gone the full chestnuts-on-an-open-fire route,” Sam complains. “That would have been simpler.”
“Than buying a jar of almonds?” Bucky asks, his tone amused.
“It won’t open,” Sam whines.
“Sure it will,” says Bucky, patting Sam’s head. “Put your back into it."
“Oh, fuck you,” says Sam, and wrenches the lid off.
“There we go,” says Bucky.
***
By the time they finally finish Pride and Prejudice, darkness has fallen and the clock’s hands point towards eleven. They decide to forego dinner, stuffed to the brim as they are with their stockpile of junk food. They go to their room and start getting ready for bed.
Once in bed, Sam turns towards Bucky, “Did you have a nice day?”
“Yes, thank you for it,” Bucky replies with a smile. “What about you? Was it all that you expected?”
“It was better than expected. I enjoyed every ridiculous moment of it,” Sam says suddenly looking somber. “I realized a very long time ago that I am asexual. I just swore off romantic relationships for a while before you because I didn't ever want to have another conversation about what I am and am not willing to do. And I liked that. I have never regretted my decision. But, there was something different with you. I will always be glad that I took the chance with you.”
It’s maybe not what Bucky’s sixteen-year-old self would have predicted his future to be like, but as it turns out, his teenage self couldn’t know everything. He didn’t know about Earth’s mightiest heroes; he didn’t know about Sam.
Bucky now has an apartment. They can turn the heating on whenever they want and run the AC all summer. Bucky can buy whatever strikes his fancy without worrying about anything.
Sam would have been a surprise to his teenage self, though. Who could predict Sam? It’s hard to know about all the people the world has been brilliant enough to create. Bucky isn’t going to settle for fulfilling some wish list he made before he knew all of the options.
It turns out the truly fantastic, not-in-his-wildest-dreams option is not having sex with his fantastic boyfriend. Bucky has long ago made his peace with that.
There’s still Sam, and cuddles, and scatterings of PG-rated kisses.
“Hey, you’re intelligent, devastatingly attractive and very lovely. I hear you, I see you. You deserve everything you want. I will respect your boundaries, unquestioningly. And I fucking adore you so much. Never doubt that. If you ever feel unmoored, find me, wherever I am, find me and I will remind you. This is your life. I’m right here,” Bucky says to him, his voice fierce in the darkness.
Sam closes his eyes and breathes. Bucky’s knuckles brush up the side of his neck. Sam says, “I’m excited for everything that’s about to come, but I want you to know: I’ve been really happy. You make me really happy. You make everyday feel like the opposite of eternal damnation.”
He waits and he smiles at Bucky like he can’t believe his luck. Like he can’t believe he said the things he said. And Bucky. Bucky feels like he could be nourished by that grin.
"I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve," Bucky replies evenly.
The last thing he hears before falling asleep is Sam's fond laughter.