but what about second breakfast?

"Did you dice the ham?" Sam asked, which was less what drew Bucky's thoughts back to reality. Moreso it was the sudden cool that blew in between them when Sam stepped away.

"Yeah, it's on the center block," he said, turning too to grab the deli meat and a bowl of shredded cheeses. Damn, he should've made Sam do all the grating. He could've had a show all afternoon.

Zucchini, ham, and cheese all went into the batter and Bucky stepped away to let Sam do all the seasonings because, evidently, he wasn't any good at that part. It was beyond him why savory muffins needed extra seasoning, but whatever.

Bucky enjoyed watching the muscles in Sam's back move as he stirred everything together one more time, but once he was dividing the mixture into the muffin tin, the show was decidedly over. Bucky sighed and reached for an orange. Their orange tree was also a good investment.

"You ever been able to peel one of these things in one go?" he asked as he dug his thumb nail into the navel to start the process. "I used to be better at it, but I think they changed oranges since the 40s."

"You can't say that about every fruit. We're not doing the banana thing again," Sam sighed, but Bucky could tell he was grinning, so he didn't mind the ribbing. "Of course I can. Just give me a second."

Bucky got another orange while Sam put the tins in the oven. By the time Sam was done, Bucky had already broken the peel of his and was scowling at it like it personally offended him.

"There's a trick," Sam explained. "Watch this." He also popped out the navel first and worked his thumb under the peel. "You don't wanna pull it from the outside," he said. "You can't feel anything that way. Keep your thumb inside. Push it along the fruit, so you can feel the peel tearing against your knuckle."

Bucky's mouth was dry again. Sam had a way of dropping his voice down low when he was explaining something. He slowed down and got gentle, wanted to make sure people were keeping up with him. The problem was, he did the same thing when he was teasing Bucky too. When he was trailing his fingers over Bucky's abdomen and asking what he wanted and why he was whining and squirming and come on, sweetheart, just use your words.

"Just be gentle," Sam continued. "It's soft, y'know." And Bucky knew he was doing it on purpose at this point. He'd probably looked up and seen the way Bucky's eyes were rapt on his fingers, but dammit, the juice running down his thumb, dripping from the jut of his wrist had recaptured the attention of every thinking piece of Bucky's body.

"Just keep goin' 'round in circles, easing it back. Don't go too fast. It ain't a race." That carefully protected southern drawl was beginning to drip from his lips, heavy as the spanish moss outside.

"Fuck you," Bucky breathed, half a whine. He knew what he was doing to Bucky.

Sam's gaze lifted, bright and knowing. He was grinning from ear to ear. Bucky wanted nothing more than to back him into the corner of their cabinets, kiss that knowing, teasing glimmer out of him. It would come back and back and back anyway, refill for eternity if Bucky was around to rile up.

He looked away, pouting, heart racing, so full of need he could barely breathe. He pushed his thumb beneath the peel of his orange again, just to do something. Almost immediately, he felt his fingers hit a soft spot in the orange and juice spritzed across his face. He jerked back a little and reached up to wipe his eye.

"See, that's what happens if you get too excited," Sam laughed. His orange was bare, the peel a perfect spiral on the kitchen table beside him where he was leaning back against it. He popped a wedge in his mouth, delighted.

But Bucky knew what Sam liked too. He put his fingers to his lips, licked the juice from them slow, like he'd wanted to do to Sam's hands. Sam's eyes brightened. The next wedge, he bit in half, so juice spilled over his chin, turned his lips glossy.

Fuck it, Bucky was in no mood to play further. He'd been playing longer than Sam and he was over it. He crossed the few strides between them, boxed Sam in against the table, and kissed the juice from his mouth. Kissed him so fully, some of the orange actually ended up in his mouth. The rest of the orange rolled piteously as Sam got his sticky fingers in Bucky's hair and tugged him forward. Apparently, he didn't want to play either.

Despite pulling them flush in the first place, Sam was the one to shift back to sit on the table. He still urged Bucky between his legs again anyway, but it wasn't close enough. Bucky wrapped his arm around Sam's waist, pulled him close, leaned over him. He didn't trust their full weight on the table, but he was still chasing the tang of orange into Sam. Wanted to follow it to his belly until there was no coming back.

Sam's hands landed on either side of his face, holding him still so he could kiss across the spray of orange juice that Bucky hadn't wiped away fully. His cheek, his brown bone, the edge of his temple.

"This is a good smell on you," Sam breathed, which only marginally brought Bucky back down to the earthly plane.

"Desperation?" he asked with a furrow to his brow.

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. Their noses brushed, back and forth, and Bucky ascended again. "You pretty much always smell like that."

"Thanks." It was meant to be a dry sort of grouse, but Bucky was too distracted and too enamoured to get there.

"Smelling like our garden," Sam insisted between kisses, still holding Bucky's face but not doing a very good job of keeping him still. "Sunshine and soil and oranges."

"Better keep me here then," Bucky suggested. "Not gonna get that smell anywhere else."

"Yeah," Sam agreed breathily. "You're not goin' anywhere."