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firstelevens · 2 months

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and if yes, then for the taylor swift lyrics prompts: sambucky and nr. 13 and 14 (not necessarily combined, more so you can choose which one you like best or do both, i don’t know :)) 🩵✌️ btw I love, LOVE your sambucky f1 au 🫡

This is part of a canon divergence AU that I'm hoping to write more of this coming year. It just fit the spirit of the prompt, if not the letter of it, so I had to throw a little standalone prologue out there. Hopefully you'll see more of this soon!

13. never called it what it was

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

The voice comes from behind Sam, and he mentally congratulates himself for not jumping out of his skin in surprise. He knows that Bucky almost can’t help how quiet his footsteps are, but if Sam keeps getting snuck up on like this, his blood pressure is going to suffer.

“I know,” says Sam, and leaves it at that. He and Bucky have had this conversation a hundred times in the past two days, and the hundred and first is unlikely to be any different. He keeps his eyes on the lake in front of them and changes the subject. “Pretty sure it’s bad luck for us to see each other right now.”

“Pretty sure that only applies to real weddings,” is Bucky’s quiet reply.

Sam doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he doesn’t. He has the stray thought that they should work on the communication thing, maybe. His parents could have whole conversations in a single look across a room, in one touch of the arm. Sarah and Aaron would tie up the phone line for hours when they were first dating, even Sam and Riley had developed a language entirely their own.

In fairness, Sam thinks, those relationships had all had years to grow, and until forty-eight hours ago, Sam had no idea that he was getting married at all, much less to whom.

Privately, he thinks he might have jinxed it. After a five day period in which he’d re-materialized into existence, fended off an apocalypse, attended a funeral, and watched his best friend disappear to live seventy years of life without him, Sam had been certain that nothing could catch him by surprise anymore.

Then a woman in a crisp pantsuit had appeared at the lakeside property where they were hunkering down, carrying stacks of paperwork and photocopies of birth records from a hundred years ago. She’d sat down in a meeting room and reported to them what she’d discovered five years ago, right before being Snapped out of existence: that Bucky might have been from Brooklyn, but he hadn’t been born there, or anywhere else in America, and that the information had been easy enough to find that Ross’s people were sure to locate it as soon as the motion for a pardon was submitted.

It wasn’t hard to make the leap from there. Calling Bucky’s citizenship into question would be silly, but it would be enough of a distraction that Ross could mire the proceedings in bureaucracy and take Bucky back into custody in the interest of public safety. Sam didn’t imagine it would take too long for the paperwork to suddenly get lost after that, and with it would go any notion of Bucky’s freedom.

He remembered watching the Raft rise up out of the ocean for the first time. His whole life, the water had been home to him, but the desolation of that place had warped it somehow.

That’s what Sam had been thinking of when he wracked his brain for a solution. That’s what he’d been thinking of when he turned to the lawyer and asked, “Well, what if he was married to an American citizen?”

Bucky, who’d spent the entire meeting until now sitting concerningly still, had suddenly whipped around to look at Sam, eyes wide. He’d felt Rhodey’s eyes on him, too, but the lawyer hadn’t blinked. In a few seconds, she’d sketched out a game plan on a legal pad, laying it out on the conference room table alongside all the other options she’d presented.

The first ‘You don’t have to do this’ had come shortly afterwards. Sam’s response had been the same then as it was now.

He feels Bucky come to stand beside him, his left hand resting on the railing a few inches from Sam’s right. The gold threaded through the vibranium sparkles in the sun, and he has the childish urge to trail his fingers over it.

“I’m disappointed,” says Sam, just to stop himself from reaching out. “I would’ve expected Princess Shuri to make a flashy black-tie addition to your arm for the wedding.”

“She added strobe lights, but they only work when it’s dark,” says Bucky, dry as a bone, and it startles a laugh out of Sam.

“At least we know the reception will be fun.”

Bucky hums in what he assumes is agreement. It’s quiet again for a moment, but he can sense Bucky shifting uncomfortably and he knows that there’s more.

“While, um– while we wait for the strobe lights to kick in, she did make us these.”

A crown of flowers suddenly appears in front of Sam, jasmine and jacaranda woven together with some kind of vine. He gingerly takes it from Bucky’s hand.

“Is…is this traditional? For a Wakandan wedding?”

“No,” comes another voice from behind them, and this time Sam does startle, nearly dropping the crown in the process. They both turn to Princess Shuri, dressed for a wedding and grinning cheekily at them both. “They’re not Wakandan tradition, but they are the kind of thing that Americans do when they get married abroad. I thought it might make the wedding pictures more believable.”

Sam laughs and perches the crown on his head. “You really do think of everything.”

Shuri’s mischievous smile softens. “I’m glad you’ve joined us here, Sam Wilson,” she says. “Nobody else appreciates my foresight.”

“Putting a bluetooth speaker in my arm is not foresight, Shuri,” says Bucky. “It’s just the product of a weird dream you had after staying up for forty hours in your lab.”

“It could be both,” protests the princess, laughing, and Sam can’t help but look over at Bucky, tired of sticking to peripheral glances.

He’s got the flower crown on his head, too, purple and white just like Sam’s is. His suit is a deep burgundy to complement Sam’s rust colored brocade, and Sam can only guess that Bucky received a visit similar to the one that Sam got from Ayo this morning. He’d opened the door to his quarters to find her holding a garment bag. She’d offered it to him and told Sam that she would be honored to see him marry James—it had taken Sam a moment to remember that his husband to be wasn’t actually named after a college mascot from Wisconsin—in the reds of her tribe. Sam, who’d spent the morning missing his family something fierce, had almost been too overwhelmed to thank her.

Now, he can see that it was a two-pronged attack, and while Sam’s suit fits him pretty well, there’s clearly a tailor in Birnin Zana who had all of Bucky’s measurements stashed away on file somewhere, because the way that that jacket sits on his shoulders and hugs his arms could not possibly happen by accident.

When Sam manages to tear his eyes away, he only barely catches the end of Shuri’s sentence.

“...whenever you are,” she’s saying. “But I can stall, if you two want another moment here.”

“I think we’re good,” says Bucky. “How much time does anyone need to get ready for a fake wedding, anyway?”

Shuri tsks at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask that question to someone who knows how long your spent on your hair this morning.”

Bucky makes a face at her, and Sam’s pretty sure that she blows a raspberry in response, but he’s distracted. Something about Bucky’s words feels wrong, even though all he’s doing is telling the truth.

He can’t get all caught up in that now, though. Instead, Sam turns to the princess. “I’m all ready to go, too.”

“Good!” says Shuri, clapping her hands decisively. “I’ll escort you in, Sam, if you will allow me. Bucky will follow shortly with Ayo.”

Sam tells Shuri that he’d be honored to walk with her and offers her his elbow, which she takes. They start to make their way to where the ceremony will take place, but Sam hesitates for a moment, looking back over his shoulder.

Bucky’s name comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and Bucky’s gaze immediately lands on him.

“Yeah?”

It’s not a fake wedding, Sam wants to tell him. You marry someone because you want them to stay and I think you should be able to stay. That’s not fake; that’s as real as anything else.

But he loses his nerve and just taps the flower crown on his head. “Your crown’s crooked. Just so you know.”

“Oh,” says Bucky. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

They look at each other for another beat, and Sam is so sure that Bucky is going to say something, but then he looks away, reaching up to fix his crown, and all Sam can do is let Shuri lead him away.

#sambucky #marriage of convenience fic is just so FUN y'all there's so much room for pining deliciousness #but also nobody ask how many versions of this prologue I wrote #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics #anon you sent this to me in November thank you for your patience #my fic #anonymous

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plantswithme · 5 months

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someone should write a fic where sam and bucky get interviewed by buzzfeed as they play with kittens

#idk how that format would work in a fic but i want it so bad #imagine like 11 kittens just climbing all over them #bucky loses his mind and turns into this absolute smiley mess and sam’s got 3 kittens asleep on his lap bc he’s so warm and cozy i can’t 😭#i’m weak for cat dads sambucky #they end up talking about alpine and figaro too & all the kittens they play with are from a shelter be that's where they got piney and fig #i imagine they also do what chris evans did and meet some adult and senior cats 🥺#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes

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livingincolorsagain · 4 months

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i have a very strong urge to write a little fluffy winter-vibey sambucky fic

#sweaters and hot cocoa and cuddling for warmth and snowfall yeahhhhh #i finally have some free time so im gonna slowly get back into writing #hopefully #also i genuinely miss writing and especially writing sambucky a lot #let’s see #a rambles

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mystic-insightss · 10 months

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Early Morning ☕️

#bucky barnes #sam wilson #sambucky #sambucky art #i am.. so unwell for them #tfatws #mcu art #also i cannot stick with a consistent style for them #i apologize #it will happen again #my art

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martianbugsbunny · 5 months

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Sam accidentally confessing to Bucky bc whenever they're in the same room he unconsciously taps out the Morse code for "I love you"

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violetfaust · 2 years

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I’m just going to assume that they kept Anthony and Sebastian separate at D23 because if they interviewed together they WOULD spill the beans that there’s Sambucky in CA:NWO or Thunderbolts or both.

#bucky barnes #sam wilson #sambucky #mcu #canwo #captain america 4 #thunderbolts #anthony mackie #sebstan #op #stackie #ok I wrote this before I saw the interview in which seb said specifically that Sam isn’t in thunderbolts #but they also literally said they haven’t even seen the script yet so………#and I love seb’s unbroken streak of bringing up mackie in every interview when literally no one asked

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crepuscularqueens · 6 months

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as a follow up to my previous poll

below are some works that i have available (you can also message me if there's a particular work of mine you would be interested in that you don't see here, i can only add ten at a time)

*note: these are all physical watercolor paintings or sketches. once they are gone, i do not have the means or equipment to make/sell prints of them that i would find satisfactory.

#btw if anyone is interested the recent painting of bucky is available i just don't currently have a picture of the unedited bg #and i want to be honest about how it looks #majority of my recent works would hypothetically be available tbh so if you have something in mind don't hesitate to ask abt it #(also those two nightwing ones do have edited bg but in reality the bg is still white i just wanted to get rid of shadows from the pic)#black sails #sambucky #interview with the vampire #symbrock #clint barton #wayne family adventures #dick grayson #jason todd #veddie

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the-girl-who-cried-wolf · 11 months

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the city always hangs a little bit lonely on me, loose

#so i've had this moodboard sitting in my drafts for a while now. but i think i may as well post it #i was messing around with a sambucky moodboard but this one.... it just worked so much easier #anyways. pls enjoy the result of one of my midnight bucky breakdowns <3 #bucky barnes #bucky #mcu #moodboard #my moodboard #new york #aesthetic #also HEY FOB LYRIC #the mb is half based on that one line so there u go #marvel #i have no fucking clue how to tag this can u tell

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firstelevens · 3 months

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Hi! For the Bake Off AU, I'm begging for a look back at two things in particular (because I'm greedy, no apologies): what was Sam and Bucky's first encounter like? And what was Bucky's final straw that made him realize he actually had feelings for Sam? If you don't get to these that's fine--seriously, thanks for the AU in the first place!

Thank you so much for reading and always having such kind things to say about the AU! As far as realizing his feelings for Sam, rather than a single moment of realization tipping over into big feelings, I think that Bake Off Bucky—to borrow a phrase from Jane Austen—was in the middle before he knew he’d begun. Here’s a first encounter, though!

Admittedly, when Sam had flirted with the Prince Charming looking dude who he met on his morning run, he hadn’t meant for it to be anything more than that. They’d tossed a little friendly trash talk back and forth and that should have been the end of it, except then they’d run into each other while heading back towards the hotel, and it eventually came out that they were both in town for Bake Off.

When his new running buddy—Steve, apparently—had asked whether Sam wanted to join him for breakfast, it had been an easy yes. Other people might not be on reality shows to make friends, but Sam has been cracking jokes for weeks now about Bake Off essentially being summer camp, and what’s summer camp without camp friends?

They’d chatted companionably on their way to the diner that had apparently been recommended to Steve by a friend (it had sounded like his name was Dumb-Dumb, but Sam was fairly certain he’d misheard it), and Sam had asked whether Steve had run into any other fellow contestants yet. He’d been expecting to hear about a run-in in the lobby or a shared ride from the airport, but instead Steve had lit up and animatedly begun explaining how his best friend had applied for Bake Off, too, just so Steve wouldn’t have to go through the process alone, and they’d both ended up getting cast in the season.

It’s an admittedly sweet gesture, and from the other ways that Steve describes his best friend, Sam is expecting the person who’s joining them for breakfast to have the same golden retriever energy that Steve does. Their booth has Sam facing the door, so he glances up at it periodically as he and Steve get their coffee and look through the menu.

The first time the door opens, it’s an elderly lady who takes a seat at the counter.

The second time, it’s a delivery..

The third time, it’s a broad-shouldered dude wearing all black and a scowl.

Sam turns to Steve, who’s busy stirring cream into his coffee. “Are you sure your friend didn’t get lost? Should you call him or something?”

“I’m sure he’s fine; it just takes him a while to get moving in the mornings,” Steve says, waving a hand. “He once called me a masochist for getting up before six to run.”

Sam starts to laugh, but breaks off as he watches Tall Dark and Broody whip off his sunglasses, craning his neck to look around the restaurant like maybe if he squints hard enough, a patron will appear who’s not Sam or Steve or the old lady at the counter. His eyes land on their booth and he makes eye contact with Sam, who offers a bland but pleasant smile.

It’s not meant to look inviting, but the guy walks over to them anyway, looking as wary as Sam feels. Finally, Steve seems to realize that something is happening, and he follows Sam’s gaze, peering over his shoulder to see who’s coming towards them.

As soon as he spots Broody, he brightens, waving him over.

“You made it!” says Steve, and Sam feels his eyes widen slightly in realization. “I thought for sure we’d have to wait another hour.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” is the all but growled reply, but Steve seems undeterred.

“Sam,” he says, “this is my best friend Bucky. Buck, this is Sam. He’s going to be on the show with us.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” says Sam, smiling at him like he’s not completely baffled.

Bucky—which, what the hell kind of a name is Bucky? is this guy an animated woodland creature?—looks at Sam with wide eyes for a moment and then grunts a, “Likewise.”

Before either of them can say anything else, Steve’s phone rings.

“It’s Peggy,” he says, as he checks the screen. “I’ve gotta take this. Sorry guys, just order without me; I’ll be back in a second.”

They don’t have the chance to agree or disagree; Steve has the phone to his ear before he’s even halfway to the door. Both of them watch the door swing shut behind him, then make eye contact.

Bucky looks away first, sliding into the side of the booth where Steve was sitting. The server materializes to fill up his coffee cup, and he quietly thanks her before grabbing the sugar shaker.

The silence drags on for another minute, both of them drinking their coffee without a word, before Sam can’t bear it anymore. Because Steve is the only thing the two of them have in common, and Sam knows like, three things about him, he chooses to ask, “So I’m guessing Peggy is the fiancé?”

He gets another wide-eyed look of surprise in response. Bucky’s eyes are very blue, he notes.

“Steve mentioned his time in the Army.” Then, not that he thinks it’ll make a difference either way, Sam adds, “I was Air Force.”

“Oh,” says Bucky. “Uh, yeah, Peggy is Steve’s fiancé.”

“Cool,” says Sam. “I guess maybe planning a wedding makes a baking competition look like a breeze by comparison, huh?”

There’s a vague grunt of assent from Bucky, but in fairness, he’s taking a sip of coffee.

Sam follows suit, just to have something to do that isn’t asking inane questions, but Bucky isn’t exactly doing the heavy lifting, and there’s no way that Sam can bail without being rude, so he puts on his interviewer hat and plows through. “So Steve said y’all are from New York?”

Bucky nods. “Brooklyn.” After a second, miraculously, he adds, “What about you?”

“Just outside New Orleans,” Sam says, grinning just at the thought of his hometown. “Little place called Delacroix, but I live up in DC now.”

He hears Bucky draw in a breath like he’s going to say something, but then the server appears to take their orders. Bucky orders for Steve just as easily as he did for himself, and he’s polite enough to the server that Sam concludes his lack of conversation is more to do with the fact that it’s before 8 AM than some personal grudge.

“Should we have ordered for Steve?” asks Sam, once their coffee cups have been refilled and the server has walked away. “I kind of get the feeling it’ll be cold by the time he finishes up.”

“Just keeping things moving,” says Bucky, shrugging.

“What, you’ve got somewhere you need to be?”

“No, but if Steve has to wait for his own food, he’s gonna eat mine.”

“Ah, and you never learned to share in kindergarten. Got it.”

Bucky’s voice is dry. “Spoken like someone who’s never offered Steve Rogers a single fry and watched them all disappear in thirty seconds.”

Sam laughs, partly in amusement and partly in surprise, and Bucky’s face immediately goes pink as he looks back down at his coffee cup.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” says Sam. “Now I know ‘sharing is caring’ doesn’t apply to Steve.”

There’s a huff from the other side of the table that might be a laugh, but it’s muffled by Bucky’s coffee cup, so Sam can’t be sure.

He’ll take the win anyway.

#sambucky #me: this one will be shorter #also me: [writes 1100 words]#that night Sam ABSOLUTELY scrolls way too far back on Steve's instagram and finds a handful of gym and beach pics featuring Bucky #and he is So Normal about that I promise*#*I'm lying #zainab does ask meme things #the gbbo au #funsized-loser #THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN!!!#my fic

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philtstone · 1 year

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Ok but I’d die for 37 Bucky and Sam. Platonic or otherwise I’m die

#37 -- you know you're still holding hands, right?

this prompt is so old and this prompt fill is so unhinged i have to genuinely apologize. @firstelevens the worm paper is dedicated to you but more importantly @foolgobi65 the rest of the fic is dedicated to you. the KD featured in is hot cheetos flavoured just so everyone knows. inspired by life events. love yall

They cross paths at like two a.m. when Sam has long since stopped being able to read the words on the university website in front of him. He's reading through legal jargon and policy that no one wants him or any other student to understand, so he can bring that exact fact up with devastating accuracy at the next interdepartmental mental health policy seminar. He's interrupted when the alarm goes off from bedroom number two and Bucky shuffles out of its depths with an awful wrenching noise. His door sticks, because their building is old and decrepit. Sam watches as his roommate walks wordlessly into the kitchen, digs out an ancient pack of kraft dinner and mangles the plastic covering the top before he sticks it in the microwave. Bucky's pulled the hood of his sweater up to cover his hair and has wrapped their rattiest grey bath towel around his shoulders like he's an ailing king in one of those sci fi fantasy novels he keeps on the shelf. It flaps lopsidedly on the side where he's not wearing his prosthetic, because it's two a-fucking-m.

He notices Sam while taking the KD out of the microwave, and stands there in silence to stare at him in faint but not quite concerned bafflement for a good minute in the half dark, like he forgot something important.

"Sup," says Sam.

Bucky blinks. A tuft of dark hair pokes out of his hoodie, flattened downwards to point towards his nose.

"Worm paper," Bucky says, sounding like he hasn't slept in twelve years.

"Ah," says Sam.

Bucky nods, and disappears whence he came.

"Take the garbage out tomorrow!" Sam calls after him.

He's rewarded by a loud knocking noise from upstairs, as if those fuckers aren't already wake too, trying to tell them to be quiet.

The third year sitting with her arms crossed in front of him looks as overtly suspicious as it is possible for one person to look. Her eyes, which are narrowed, keep pinging between the people in the room. Sam sighs. He hates wrangling undergrads, sometimes.

"Kate, put your notebook away, you're weirding her out."

Kate does, looking sheepish. She volunteered with them so she could learn more about trauma-informed organizing, and Sam's not sure if he's doing much of a good job teaching her anything, but Clint recommended her and even baby steps are good. Parker, who is their other undergraduate member, the only one of them who's a real live actual science student, is at the end of the table working on the graphics for Sam's upcoming presentation to the faculty board, which Sam is not dreading at all. It didn't help that when he told Sharon about it last week, she laughed in his face. Then again, Sharon is getting a business degree; Sam's not sure what he should've expected.

"My aunt passed," says the third year. "Student services fucked me over for a final because they didn't process my accommodation. I had to have pictures proving she'd died."

Bastards, thinks Sam.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam says. "We're here to help. When did she die?"

Her eyes narrow another four degrees. It would be kind of intimidating if she wasn't like, eighteen, with the worlds biggest bush of red hair and freckles literally up to her ears. She's trying to hide it all under a ratty hoodie but it's mostly unsuccessful.

"Look, kid," says Sam. "This is a safe space. I wanna help you, but you gotta help me out first, okay? Everything you say stays in this room."

Beside Sam, Kate nods enthusiastically.

"What about him?" asks the girl.

They all look over at the lanky figure sitting on the couch. Bucky is deeply embedded; he's almost horizontal and his legs are extended all the way to the table, which wouldn't be so bad only it puts the giant hole in the toe of one of his socks on display. The Social Work department's cat is sitting on his head. Sam thinks she's fully betrayed them for Geological Sciences at this point. Or whateverthefuck department Bucky's with -- none of them quite know. Bucky's wearing the same hoodie from the other night, which is still in hood-up mode. He's been staring so intently at his laptop without writing anything for the last ten minutes that Sam is impressed the poor electronic hasn't combusted.

"That's just his process," Sam says.

Bucky reaches a hand out and types one single letter. Then very slowly he reaches out again and deletes it.

"You said I'd get to talk to you alone," the girl grumbles.

"Is this the worm paper?" asks Kate tentatively, from Sam's other side.

Sam thinks of the many paragraphs of his thesis he's been neglecting. He rubs at the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"No, you are absolutely not moving in with us next term," Sam says into his phone. He writes down another note for Chapter 1b, Theoretical Underpinnings and then writes himself a reminder to email Todd from the ombudsperson's office. And also that lady with the student mental health alliance. And -- fuck, Professor Bradley too, probably. Sam was supposed to answer that email like a week ago.

"Why the hell not?" says Sarah. "It's economical. It's close to campus. Undergrad dorms are disgusting, it's safe, Mr. Big Brother who was worried some chad white boy would get me last year, and I know for a fact y'all need a roommate."

Okay. So maybe Steve fucked off to finish his degree in Boston so he could be with his perfectly wonderful girlfriend, whom they all love, but that's not really the point and they still haven't found a third roommate who can. Like. Put up with them. Bucky glares at the empty room whenever he passes it. It's really not that dramatic. But also,

"And even with all of that, you ain't moving in here. There are -- principles."

"For the twelve hundredth time Sam, your sad roommate is not gonna secretly seduce me."

Sam wouldn't put money on that.

"You could definitely seduce him, though."

"Oh my God! Forreal, Sam --"

"We just got a lot going on!" His frustrated attempts at organizing the mental health policy council under the umbrella of the social work department, for example. Bucky's term paper on prehistoric worms.

"Is Bucky there?" Sarah demands.

"He's in the middle of something."

Bucky is talking at the voice to type software on his laptop in the next room and sounds like he is five minutes away from flinging said laptop out of the window. Still, Sam feels fondness in his chest; Bucky used to put towels under the door to stop the noise from travelling before. There's no embarrassment involved anymore. Not for disability accommodating paper writing practices or for playing Taylor Swift songs out loud on a fucking vintage record player, which was bequeathed to them by the great betrayer himself.

Steve left a really nice note with it and everything.

"Tell B to force feed you a granola bar," Sarah says. Then, "I could always get myself a sexy boyfriend and move in with him."

She hangs up to the sound of Sam spluttering loudly. To calm himself, he checks off talk to Sarah from his notes app to do list anyway, then sends Bucky a text.

We got any granola bars left?

The door to the second bedroom opens -- it sticks, because their building is old and decrepit -- and a box of granola bars is flung out with shockingly precise aim to land skidding on the kitchen table in front of Sam.

"Thanks, man!" Sam calls.

"FUCK!" Bucky yells at top volume, and slams the door shut again.

The phone rings a second time; Sam has to pick up, legally, because it's his mom. She wants to know if he talked to Sarah, and also how things are.

"You know how grad school is," Sam says. He opens a granola bar. It is extremely stale. "Yeah. Uh huh. No. Just my presentation next week. Well, we'll see if it'll actually make any difference ... No, mama, I have not been forgetting to shower. Whatever Sarah tells you, don't listen to her. I'm a grown assed man, okay?"

Sam sits in the industrial flickering lights of the MHPC's reserved library room and lets a modicum of peace soak in while the undergrads chatter.

"Well, at least the board presentation went well. It was like, fruitful discussion, right?"

"It was pretty badass. I liked the bit where Sam lost his shit and yelled at the dean."

"He didn't yell at the dean ..."

"You know you guys are still holding hands, right? It's been like, an hour."

Sam doesn't respond right away, because he's trying to figure out why the hell the sentence in front of him doesn't read like a sentence.

"They're exchanging long protein strands," says Parker. "Like in the Simpsons."

"No one watches Simpsons anymore," says Kate's girlfriend, who seems to be eating a pack of lunchables with a pocket knife.

"Well --"

"I'm holding his elbow," Bucky mumbles, which might be the longest string of words he's spoken for two weeks. He's swapped his hoodie out for a clean one, at least.

"Emotional support," Sam agrees, still with his eyes narrowed at the screen. They are actually holding hands, but semantics become irrelevant after the month they've had. "Man, what the fuck is this supposed to say?"

"You're the editor," says Bucky.

"You're the writer! It's due in two minutes!"

"It's about the genealogy," Bucky says, levelling his free, prosthetic hand in front of him for emphasis.

"Of the worm?" Parker asks, in a whisper.

"Just let me submit the fucking paper, Sam!"

"No! This is degree defining!"

"Says the guy who's neglected his thesis for three weeks -- gimme the laptop --"

"No -- ow!"

"I don't think I ever wanna do grad school," Kate says solemnly, to the room at large, while somehow, despite the tangled heap they make on the couch, Sam and Bucky are still holding elbows. But then, who else would they hold elbows with, in such a moment?

Sam gently raises this topic with the next struggling undergrad who comes to them for accommodation help; in many ways, that's really all you need to make it through college.

#my writing #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #touch prompts meme #karli morgenthau #sarah wilson #kate bishop #peter parker #yelena belova #sam x bucky #i am going to tag this as #sambucky #so the sambucky girlies can enjoy it #however it is also just literally based on me and maya and if we ever dated we'd kill each other within a week so.

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