#freespace

Sam pinches his brow, eyes retracing the same sentence he's read about five times now.

He's reading the words in his head, sure, but everytime it just doesn't seem enough. He can't seem to catch a feeling that he's comprehending any of it beyond face value.

Which, a tiny part of him is trying to tell him that he's alright to move on to the next sentence. Maybe even the next page, wondering why this worn down studybook is even on his desk considering he's got a thick study guide sitting to the side that the professor so generously gave out in an attempt to offer some more help to their students.

Yet Sam still hasn't reached out for it. He's gone through the whole thing multiple times and rechecked his work. The majority of him itches to check it again, but he hasn't read through the book far enough. He doesn't think so, anyway, so he doesn't turn the page yet, he doesn't close it shut, and just tries to focus his brain even more. Attempting even harder at understanding the written material just in case it'll help. It has to help, he thinks.

He's made the progress of two sentences further when there's an abrust orchestra of noises, shuffling of sheets and short huffs from movement. He blinks to his side, catching his boyfriend adjusting his position where he resides on Sam's bed, flipping through a comic book Sam probably picked up when he was fifteen. He scans over it briefly, then fixes his hair after he sets it back down neatly.

"Wanna eat dinner?" He asks, casual, distracted as he leans back into the softness of one of Sam's pillows. He lifts a hand to the ceiling and pretends to throw a dart at the imaginary target he's set in his mind.

Sam looks away from it and blinks down at the mess of papers, sticky notes, and images splayed across the wooden surface of his desk. "Uh, later, Bucky. I'm busy."

Bucky hums. "With what?"

Sam's lips twitch, he glares harder at the words on the page and forces his brain to soak them in. A couple seconds past by and he finishes two more sentences.

"You know what," Sam says, obviously Bucky knows he's too busy with uni. He's got to be prepared when he walks in and takes the final exam. He faintly hears Bucky click his tongue.

The man sighs and crosses his legs, knees hanging off the edge of the bed as he lays on his back. "Busy dreaming about a delicious meal? Some stuffed bell peppers, perhaps?"

Sam carries on reading, restarting the sentence when the voice reading in his head stumbles and says a word twice.

"Pasta," Bucky comments dryly, turning to his side and glancing at Sam who is incredibly hunched in his seat with his finger underneath the line he's currently situated on.

Sam doesn't feel like the sentence is grained in his mind. He reads it again.

"Or we can get Chinese food," Bucky says, voice trailing at the end as he watches Sam's finger tap on the page, brows furrowed in an intense manner. It's clear he's not getting his boyfriend to put down the book by tempting him with meals.

It's silent for a moment, Sam flips the page, and Bucky sighs.

"When do you think you'll be hungry?"

Two more sentences read. Sam clicks his tongue. "Dunno."

Then Sam has to reread the first six letters on the next line, huffing. "Not right now."

"Okay," Bucky mumbles, drawing in his arms to cross them across his chest, planting a foot on the ground. Bucky tilts his head, blue eyes gazing at Sam. "Well, I hope you know you can't keep doing this."

Sam's eyes stop scanning the page for a second, finger pausing. Bucky waits, hoping for an answer, some sort of announcement of defeat, where Sam will give in and go eat with him.

But Sam inches the book closer to his face, a faint frown pulling on his lips. "Doing what?" He asks but not really, Bucky can tell, his tone- this isn't a question. It's a statement of denial.

Bucky huffs. "How many times have you actually eaten dinner recently?"

Sam reads through a sentence flawlessly and shrugs. "Uhm-"

"Not enough," Bucky answers his own question, cutting Sam off as he steps forward.

"Baby, I'm a little busy-"

"You can still take care of yourself," Bucky argues and Sam hangs his head for a second, breathing in.

"I got to do this."

Bucky eyes him carefully, squinting at the crease between his eyebrows, and holds a hand out. "Come eat dinner, Sam."

"I will," Sam says, then looks down at his book. "Later."

Bucky groans. "That means never in your book."

"Actually, my book's about-"

"Sam, I'm trying to help you, dammit." Bucky extends his arms for emphasis, a look of frustration on his face, meeting Sam's eyes when the man finally tilts his head up.

"I'm trying to help myself, Bucky," He defends and Bucky shakes his head.

"No, avoiding eating isn't helping anyone-" Bucky scrunches his nose, taking a second, and setting a hand on Sam's shoulder when he tries to return to reading. "I get that this is important but you need to listen to me."

"But-"

"Sam."

"Bucky, this is important, I need to be prepared," Sam states, holding a hand to his chest, passionate as he places his other hand on the book. "I need to be, okay?"

"You need to eat food like every other human."

"I need you to stop argu-"

"Sam." Bucky tries again.

"Bucky," He copies him.

Bucky stares for a moment, a little lost and very concerned. Currently, it's like it's impossible to make Sam let up, to persuade him to finally eat something. He blinks at Sam, observing his tense stature, and he frowns, noticing the underlying worry behind his partner's eyes.

He breathes in, careful, and hesitates for a second. Then, he braces a hand on Sam's shoulder again. "This isn't healthy, yknow," He whispers and Sam glares extra hard at the page. "Everyone needs a break, even you."

Sam doesn't respond so Bucky leans closer, attempting to make his rough voice as smooth as possible. "You don't have to have a full meal, okay? How about just a snack?"

"Bucky, I don't know," Sam whispers back, tapping the paper to show him where he's at. Then he runs a finger through all the pages. "I've got a lot of stuff I have to do."

"And it will all be waiting for you in a couple minutes, how about that?"

Sam stirs at the offer. There's a heavy hanging silence as he does, weighing it out in his head as Bucky slowly hopes he's managed to slip into his window of convincing Sam, like perhaps this is it, he's got the hook in cheek.

Eventually, after a moment, Sam's whole body deflates as he drops his hands to his lap.

"Just a couple."

And that sounds like first steps, Bucky thinks. It's good. He offers a grateful smile and when Sam stands up, Bucky closes the distance and presses his lips to Sam's, humming with satisfaction when Sam leaves the book behind to redirect them to the kitchen. Of course, not without stealing a bunch more kisses on the way there. 

Progress, Bucky reminds himself as Sam sorta laughs at him for kissing Sam with a 'lovestruck' gaze, as Sam calls it.