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sambucky week day vii : free for all @sambuckyevents
science teacher au
“Look alive team”, Bucky announces in a terrible attempt at a ‘teacher voice’ — shrill and unnecessarily chipper, nothing how he sounds on a regular day, “welcome to Marion University!”
The bus grinds to a halt on the college grounds, stopping completely as the institution comes to full view. As far as the eye can see, Gothic structures and immaculately tamed green expanses are in abundance — it’s an oasis adjacent to the city, rich in splendor and architecture.
Centered in the middle of the yard, sits Main Hall, housing the university’s sizable auditorium and this year’s Science and Engineering Fair. The stone and brick edifice boasts a tower, arched ceilings, drawing on elements right out of the fairytales Bucky once read when he was younger, a time when he believed in things like Prince Charming’s and happily ever afters.
Deboarding with his students, ignoring Peter’s jabs about his, ahem “fake ass teacher voice”, Bucky tightens his overnight bag over his shoulder, taking a moment to bask in the beauty of the university before turning to his third-period science class. They’re a ragtag group of kids, made up of different backgrounds and ethnicities, some introverts, some extroverts, and whatever the hell MJ is.
While all quite different, what they do have in common is snark, something Bucky — Mr. Barnes, is usually on the receiving end of.
Oh, and they’re all smart. Smart as fuck actually.
Which brings them to Marion University for the preliminary round of the New York Science and Engineering Fair. After six different project ideas, countless hours of drafting and redrafting their proposal, a “complete lack of social life” — Steve’s words not his own — Brooklyn High was back in the big leagues, ready to compete.
“Bring it in team”, Bucky says, thankfully opting to forgo the teacher's voice, placing his hand in the middle of the quasi-circle they’re in. The group follows suit until all nine students have their hands on top of Bucky’s.
“Take us home MJ!”
With a blink and you miss it smile, MJ, team captain, starts the chant — some pop culture reference Bucky’s too old to know.
On the count of three, they’re breaking and heading to the Hall.
——
After checking-in to both the hotel and the fair, Bucky lets the group split up with promises to meet back later.
While here to compete, to redeem themselves from coming up just short in last year’s competition, Bucky wants the kids to just be kids for a moment. To be tourists in their own city, let them explore what New York has to offer outside of their borough.
They deserve it.
The project’s in, the theory has been submitted, the last item on the agenda is to present their findings. A piece of cake. His team has worked their asses off and nothing can take that away from them.
With that, Bucky wants the group to enjoy themselves, knows they won’t get in too much trouble, and by extension, he wants to enjoy himself a bit too.
He’s seated at the hotel bar, nursing something dark and strong, absentmindedly watching whatever’s games playing, when someone clamps a hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention.
It’s Sam fuckin’ Wilson.
“Bunky!”, Sam greets, intentionally fucking up Bucky’s name, as if his sole purpose in life is to bother the man.
“It’s Bucky actually”, he replies coolly, “James to you.”
Sam feigns hurt, removing his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to clutch at his own chest dramatically.
“I thought we were friends Bucky”, Sam continues, eyes alight with joy as he sees the other teacher clench his jaw at the use of the nickname. “Why so formal?”
“My friends call me Bucky, and you are not my friend.”
“I’m hurt Buck”, Sam retorts, turning to the barkeep, ordering a drink for himself. “Honestly and truly hurt, however can I go on?”
With Sam placing his drink order, Bucky gets a chance to really take the other man in. He’s still every bit of annoying as he’s always been, every bit of handsome as well. The gray button-down doing wonders for his build, the navy slacks accentuating his ass perfectly as well.
Sam looks good and he knows it too, apparently knows Bucky thinks so too if the suggestive smile he gives the other teacher is any indication, wearing confidence and cockiness equally.
On anyone else, it would come across as braggadocio but on Sam, it’s charming.
But Bucky would never admit that.
Bucky’s pretty self-aware, he’d like to think. Knows the reason Sam gets so deep under skin is because he has a dormant crush on the guy. Knows the banter between them frustrates him in more ways than one.
For as long as Bucky knew of Mr. Wilson, the science teacher over at Visions Academy, he’s disliked him for just as long. Any scientific competition that took place in the city, Sam and his team of preppies were there and usually coming out of it victorious.
Next to Bucky, stood the sole reason why his team didn’t take the number one spot in the fair last year, the reason why they worked so damn hard this year.
“Glad to see you back here man”, Sam starts, closing his tab and sitting next to Bucky. “Didn’t think you’d show your face after last year’s defeat.”
And that is exactly why those feelings of his will stay dormant — Sam’s an asshole.
Giving the barkeep his room number to charge the drink to his room, Bucky makes way to leave and find his students, ignoring Sam’s attempts to call out to him.
—
“Change of plans team”, Bucky says, clapping his hands together. “I know I told you guys to just go out there and give it your best but that’s not going to work anymore.”
“I need you to go out and kick some ass.”
—
The preliminary rounds go by quickly, Brooklyn High impressing the judges at every turn.
Bucky’s in a great mood, his group, all so unique, banding together, pulling off amazing presentation after amazing presentation. He’s all so proud of them and he almost would be content if they didn’t win, just the fact that they’ve made it so far and did so well and —
And apparently, Vision Academy is doing just as well, having been announced as the first group to make it to the final round. There’s whoops and hollers coming from the team and in the middle of it, Bucky can see Sam, smiling and enjoying the revelry with his students.
There’s a piece of him that wants to be upset that once again, Sam and his team are going to the championship round, that they’re still every bit as good as last year — maybe even better, a sobering thought. The idea that the road to victory still must go through Visions, must go through his rival should make him hunger for defeating Sam more.
But strangely, Bucky hungers for something else.
He hungers to see Sam smile like this, wide and open and bright more, hungers to be the reason that smile is on Sam’s face at all. Bucky hungers for Sam to direct that smile to him, lay it — with all of its intensity — on him, wants to bask in the warmth it emits.
Before he can try to get a grasp on these new feelings, he’s being jostled by Peter. So deep in his own fantasy, Bucky hadn’t even heard that his team qualified for the final spot in the championship round.
—
The night before the final presentation, Bucky’s with his students giving his best and most rousing speech, ensuring them that despite whatever happens tomorrow, they’re still winners in his eyes.
“So not actual winners then?”
...
Damn it Peter.
—
Turns out, Visions Academy is indeed a stronger team than what they were last year.
And while Brooklyn High brought their best, it still wasn’t enough to win it all.
Morose in a way he hadn’t even been after the accident that took his left arm, Bucky’s finding it hard to motivate his team when he, himself is feeling so damn defeated.
He knows it would be in the best interest to say something, anything to lift morale but time heals all wounds and a moment to decompress might have a greater effect than whatever clichés he could think to spout.
Rallying around his team, watching as they rally around each other, comforting one another in this dark moment lifts his spirits though. Over the past year, he’s watched them learn to work together as a team and he’s proud to see them lose together as one too.
“We always have next year,” MJ says, hopeful and determined, a steel resolve to her words that leaves no room for arguments.
Brooklyn High will indeed be back to compete next year.
—
There’s a knock at his door following his departure from his students and a quick stop to the hotel bar again.
Convinced it’s someone from his group, Bucky shucks the door open and is unpleasantly surprised to see Sam Wilson instead.
“If you’re here to rub your victory in, let me save you the trouble.”
What Bucky expects is to see the cocky smirk he’s grown accustomed to seeing on the other’s man face. Expects to see some kind of smugness at crushing Brooklyn High two consecutive years.
What he actually gets surprises him.
In a moment, shock and confusion flit across Sam’s face, before settling into a frown. It’s a foreign look on the man’s face, strange and out of place.
“No man, of course not”, Sam sputters out. “Why would I do something as dickish as that?”
“Maybe because you’re a dick?”
“If that’s what you think of me, maybe I should just leave.”
Before he can stop himself, Bucky’s reaching out and grabbing Sam’s arm, effectively stopping him from making his exit.
“That’s not what I think of you, I’m sorry.”
He follows Sam’s line of sight, watches as Sam looks to his arm which Bucky still has a hold of, absentmindedly rubbing circles into the smooth skin.
Bucky removes his hand, dropping it back at his side, missing the contact almost immediately.
“Look, I just want to say your team did a helluva job up there”, Sam says, a small smile on his face.
“If there was anyone I’d rather lose to, it would’ve been you.”
Maybe it’s the way Sam says it, forward but earnest. It could be the way he looks when he says it, softly, with the barest hint of a blush creeping through. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Sam is right here, as vulnerable as Bucky’s ever seen him that makes the older man pull him into a searing kiss.
He doesn’t know why he kissed the other teacher, but once Sam parts his lips, letting Bucky deepen the kiss and pull him closer, Bucky knows that this is the only thing he wants for the rest of his days.
Just this embrace, just the man in front of him.
Losing the competition is still fresh in mind but the hurt lessens now that he’s won something greater.
It was Tony, surprisingly, that had initially brought it up. Bucky was leaning against Sam, curled up to try and make his body look smaller, while Sam ran his finger through the long strands as they introduced Bucky to Jurassic Park. Tony was lying sprawled out across the sofa opposite the love-seat that Sam and Bucky were sat on, his feet firmly planted in Steve’s lap as his husband ran a thumb over his ankles. Tony was looking at Bucky upside down, his head cocked to the side. Bucky could feel Tony’s eyes on him, and when he turned to face him, the other man just smiled brightly.
“You ever thought about getting a dog?”
“What?”
“A dog.” Tony repeated. “Getting a dog - ever thought about it?”
Bucky blinked. “Um...”
“Because you know there are support dogs now, right? And not just for physical support. Mental stuff too. You could-”
“I’d stop talking.” Sam interrupted, glaring at Tony.
“I’m just saying that he could-”
“It sounds like you’re calling my boyfriend mental.” Sam snarled.
“I am not-”
“Sam, I’m sure Tony didn’t mean-”
“Oh, of course you’re gonna defend Stark.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Because your precious husband can do no wrong, and-”
“Sam!” Bucky yelled. “Stop it. Let him finish.”
“But-”
“Tony, what were you gonna say?”
Tony, who’d rolled over on his front now, just shrugged. “You can get emotional support dogs now, might be something to look into, is all.”
Bucky paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “My psychiatrist mentioned that I’m likely to qualify for that. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked, eyes widening.
“I don’t know, I just-” Bucky sighed. “Going to therapy was hard enough, at first, and- I- I can barely look after myself anymore, let alone a pet.”
“You wouldn’t be doing it alone, Bucky.” Sam pointed out.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m offering.”
There was a silence, not uncomfortable, but it went on long enough that Tony started fidgeting until he blurted, “So you’re getting a dog?”
Bucky snorted. “I’ll think about it.”
---
Three months later...
Bucky was humming to himself in his kitchen, a cup of tea on the side, Sam’s mug in place in their Keurig machine, ready to go for when his boyfriend came home. He was just cutting himself a slice of the plum pie that he’d made when he saw Archie’s ear prick up. Archie - the two year husky that was now Bucky’s emotional support dog - slithered out of his dog bed and trotted over to the door to the balcony. He sniffed at the curtain, his tail wagging, before he barked.
“Archie, what are you doing?” Bucky tried to pull the husky back. “Archie, n- Stop- Stop it. Archie!”
The husky whined, and that’s when Bucky heard it - the distressed meowing.
“Archie, bed. Stay.”
Bucky pulled the curtain back, the rain was pelting down, and a small, grey, tabby kitten was shivering on his balcony. He unlocked the door, bending down to scoop up the tiny cat that was shivering violently.
“Oh, you poor thing, you must be freezing.” Bucky murmured as the kitten clambered onto his shoulder. He closed and relocked the balcony door, and went about fashioning the kitten a makeshift bed that he set on the kitchen counter. “Gonna have to buy some cat stuff.”
“God, I hate rain.”
Bucky turned as Archie bounded over to Sam, who was shucking off his coat.
“Hey, boy.” Sam scratched the spot behind Archie’s ear that the husky loved. He looked up, grinning. “Hi, babe, something smells good. Baking a- Bucky... What is that?”
Bucky swallowed. “A cat.”
“And why is there a cat on our kitchen counter?”
“Because it was outside in the rain, and I couldn’t just leave the poor thing there, it’s tiny.”
Sam sighed. “We’re taking it to the vet in the morning. Probably got lost, it’ll be microchipped.”
“And if it’s not?” Bucky asked hopefully.
“No.” Sam shook his head. “We’re not also having a cat.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate cats.”
“Really?” Bucky smirked. “Then why do you like calling me-”
“Bucky!”
---
Needless to say, the grey tabby wasn’t microchipped, and after putting up posters in their neighbourhood and coming up empty, Bucky made his way home only to find the kitten curled up asleep on Sam’s lap, and Sam refusing to move so he didn’t jostle her.
Bucky smiled. “Thought she wasn’t staying.”
“She’s not.” Sam sniffed. “Luna’s just tired, is all.”
“You named her?” Bucky’s eyes lit up in delight.
“It’s temporary. Can’t just keep calling her ‘She’.”
“Sure, honey.” Bucky leant down so that he could kiss his boyfriend. “You know, Archie already loves her...”
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sambucky week ‘19 day vi: touch / mission gone wrong (avengers if you squint) @sambuckyevents
They aren’t even fully on the battlefield yet before the mad scientist is firing away.
It’s AIM this time, Bucky briefly remembers, ducking for cover as some kind of goo whizzes past his head. But who cares — it’ll always be someone; some secret organization, some alien, someone Tony Stark wronged — the point is there will always be a fight.
To be honest, Bucky’s really fucking over it.
But before he gets to lament the alien scientist with a gold gun, shooting what looks like jello — seriously, what even is his life right now? — he sees Steve get hit right in the mouth with it.
Next, Wanda.
Springing into action, Bucky follows the scientist’s line of sight, eyeing her next target: Sam. In two seconds flat, he covers the entire base of the now leveled city, making it just in time to knock Sam out of the way, only to be hit with the substance instead.
And it ain’t jello.
The first thing Bucky notices is that whatever it is smells horrible. A putrid kind of smell, like rotting flesh. It’s sticky, gelatinous in texture, stretching when Bucky vigorously tries to pull it off his face, only for it to snap back into place.
The second thing Bucky notices is that he’s currently sprawled on top of a bewildered Sam, eyes wide in confusion, then amusement at whatever is currently muffling Bucky’s mouth.
“If only I would’ve known that was all it took to shut you up.”
Bucky really, truly wishes he would’ve just let the goo hit Sam instead.
—
Being held in a containment chamber whilst being scrubbed within an inch of his life was the very last thing Bucky would’ve expected to happen to him today but alas. He honestly shouldn’t be as bothered, it’s not even top five weirdest things that’s happened to him as an honorary Avenger.
The top spot belongs to Sam, who after months of being told by Bucky to ‘suck his dick’ as an insult, actually sucked his dick and well —
(Spots two to five belong to Sam as well; the two of them quickly figuring out the incessant need to push each other’s buttons was only a cover for the mountain of sexual tension between them.)
But that was the past and Sam has someone else he’s sweet on now. Someone normal and not an Avenger and not a super-solider with a lifetime worth of issues — three lifetimes actually.
And Bucky’s happy for him, happy that his friend can experience as much normalcy as someone in their shoes could possibly experience. And if there’s something, something clawing at the back of his throat, itching to come out, to say things like “he’s not right for you” or “he’ll never understand you” or “he has terrible style”, well that’s no one’s business but his own.
The sound of FRIDAY calling his name breaks Bucky out of his distraction. He’s experienced a myriad of emotions when it comes down to Sam, but jealousy is new. Jealously is unfamiliar, irritating, prickles at his skin whenever he focuses on Sam’s new guy for too long.
“I have good news Sergeant Barnes”, the AI starts, voice calming. “We’ve discovered what the strange substance you’ve encountered is.”
There’s a whirring sound as FRIDAY boots up an adjacent monitor, cleanly labeling the compounds of the goo and their respective side effects.
Most of the chemicals are indeed alien but the ones Bucky readily recognizes causes alarm.
FRIDAY must sense the concern because she continues the evaluation, assuring Bucky that whatever he was hit with won’t hurt him but —
“It’s some kind of truth serum.”
As comforting as holographic, artificial intelligence can be, FRIDAY once again reassures Bucky that he’ll be okay but confirms that he was indeed, doused with a short-acting truth serum of sorts.
The technicalities of the serum are lost on Bucky — he barely catches that the effects, if any, might kick in suddenly and then subside just as quickly.
No, he’s too busy rearranging his list, putting ‘getting hit with truth serum’ at number three, replacing the time he once rimmed Sam till the man cried.
—
Locking himself in his room is obviously the best and most adult option Bucky has in his arsenal.
He can’t trust his mouth now that the serum has started to affect him. His temperature is elevated, he feels light and giddy in a way one would never associate with the Winter Soldier. He’s been annoyingly honest — and well, yeah, but it kinda ruins the ‘quiet storm’ persona he’s adopted and ran with.
In the time it took to leave the lab and make it to his room, Bucky’s assured multiple Avengers that he didn’t actually hate them, very few believed it, but it was true. He told Steve he was an idiot — harsh, but also, true.
He even complimented Sam on his date night attire and — there was that jealousy again. Unfamiliar and irritating and stretching him taut like a live wire’s running through him. But there’s something else there too, vibrating underneath his skin, it’s frequency so high, Bucky’s surprised the windows haven’t combusted yet. It’s right on the tip of his tongue, etching into his brain, begging to be acknowledged.
But Bucky doesn’t. He wishes Sam well on his date and goes back to his room, locking it behind him.
—
It’s late when Bucky finally leaves his den.
He’s itching for some water, itching for some relief from both the effects of the serum — fever, restlessness, the need to be as soul-baringly honest as possible — and the dormant emotions regarding Sam.
And as if the universe is purposely fucking with him, he runs right into one Sam Wilson in the kitchen, opening a bottle of water and taking a long drink.
The visual of it all is overwhelming— Sam’s throat bared, the way his arms deliciously stretch the fabric of the navy polo, the way he smiles at Bucky — sticky and sweet, just like honey.
“How was your date?”
The words are out before Bucky’s mind even begins to process them. But it’s fine, Bucky truly, honestly wants to know how Sam’s evening was.
Wants to know where he went
Wants to know if Sam enjoyed himself
“Does new guy make you feel like I do?”
And by the way Sam's eyes go a bit wide, the way his arm stops in mid-air just as he goes to take another sip, turning to face Bucky full-on now, Bucky knows he asked that last question out loud.
But he can’t help himself now, it’s like the floodgates have been broken, he needs to know.
“Do you ever think about us?”
It’s a loaded question and Bucky really doesn’t mean to come on so strong, but apparently, a lesser-known side effect of the serum is being as blunt as possible, exhibiting a brashness Bucky knows he’s never had before.
“Give me one night and you’ll never think about him again.”
And that, that truly gets a reaction out of Sam. Normally, so cool, so calm, Bucky can clearly see the effect his words are having on the man.
His pupils are blown back, the brown of the irises almost completely hidden. Sam isn’t smiling; there’s no humor to him now, no witty comeback, so smart-ass retort. And that does something to him.
Closing the distance between them, Bucky settles his hands on Sam’s hip — one flesh and one metal, and pulls the smaller man closer, flush to his chest.
Bending down to lick the shell of Sam’s ear, Bucky pulls back, whispering, “I can treat you better than him.”
Pushing even closer, the cabinet groaning in protest at the added weight, Bucky murmurs, “I can fuck you better than him.”
The kitchen is quiet, save for the sound of Sam sharply sucking in a breathe. But Sam’s rarely flustered for too long.
“How about you show me, old man?”
—
When Bucky awakes, tangled in Sam, he knows the truth serum is slowly ebbing away.
He doesn’t feel as warm, doesn’t feel as uneasy as he did last night, doesn’t remember much of the past 24 hours to be honest.
But he does remember cornering Sam, does remember the taste of Sam’s tongue in his mouth, the taste of cinnamon gum and cinnamon whiskey making his knees weak. He remembers landing in bed with Sam but he distinctly remembers feeling so light, so high in Sam’s embrace, that he’s sure he flew away at some point too.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Sam’s morning voice is beautiful like he is, deep and sensual. Bucky wants to hear that voice first thing in the morning for as many mornings as he’s allowed. And with the last bit of the truth serum still in his bloodstream, Bucky tells Sam exactly that.
He doesn’t stop there either.
“I want to watch the sun kiss your skin as you wake up and I want to follow suit.”
Rolling over so he’s leaning over Sam, one hand propping him up, Bucky continues. “I know I don’t want to do this with anyone else, this is it for me.”
—
When it’s all said and done, Bucky knows this moment of haunting truthfulness is a bit much — he and Sam only just gradually making the transition from enemies to lovers and for Bucky to spring something so heavy and so sudden — and oh god, what if Sam doesn’t feel the same way —
No, when Bucky looks back at this moment, he won’t remember the blush that crept over him after the confession, won’t remember how the hand that hovered over Sam’s ribs, fingertips lightly brushing the other man’s skin, shook — he won’t even remember Sam’s morning breath.
The only thing he’ll remember from the day he and Sam made things official would be the way his boyfriend smiled up at him, kissing him gently and then urgently, rolling him onto his back, gaining the upper hand.
