If only I'd known you earlier

by Bolets_de_Montjuïc (elsur1953)

Summary:

Bucky first met Sam Wilson at a house party, who was standing next to Steve with the blond’s arm draped around his waist. He wore a pale blue button-down with top buttons undone and dark jeans that molded to his frame, chuckled at what the blond at his side was saying, revealing the cute gap in his teeth.

Bucky froze in the doorway, bathed in the amber light of a Brooklyn evening, unable to peel his gaze from Sam's hand resting lightly on his childhood best friend's chest.

If only I’d known you earlier, he thought.

Notes:

This story has been on my mind for a long time, inspired of course by Karol G's song Si antes te hubiera conocido, same name as the title of this work. Been having it on repeat for a while as it's my favorite summer angst song. When her new album Tropicoqueta came out, I finally made up my mind to write out this story.

Also side note on Tropicoqueta, congrats to Danny you made it! Love interest in Karol G's music video?? Let's go!!! (A different song from the album, it's called papasito, music video here.)

Anyways, back to sambucky!! Hope you enjoy this story :)))

Chapter 1

Steve came to pick him up at the airport and pulled him into a crushing hug the moment Bucky stepped out of the double doors. Ten years apart had turned the scrawny boy Bucky once shielded from bullies into a broad-shouldered man. Steve took over the two giant suitcases Bucky had rolling behind him. The blond man picked up both fifty-pound suitcases and gently placed them in the truck bed without so much as breaking a sweat. If not for trails of photos on social media over the years, Bucky would not have believed that this was the same Steve he knew as a kid. 

They rolled through neighborhoods, trading updates on lost years. Now and then Steve would point out changes in community landmarks outside of the window: the park where they’d played baseball, now an apartment block; the family-owned book store replaced by a bougie organic grocery chain; yet the corner bodega by Mrs. Rodríguez still stood there stubbornly and remained a neighborhood favorite.

Bucky leaned against the window with a faint smile. Brooklyn felt so familiar yet so foreign to him at the same time. Ten years wasn’t a lifetime, but it was long enough to blur one’s memory of home. When he left for Romania with his parents, he thought he would be back in no time. Yet life had other plans. After the accident and his parents’ sudden death, he stayed in Europe, finished his degree, drifted from one job to the next.

Then Steve reached out. That night, Bucky sat in his studio apartment through the dark of the night, and started packing to move back to the states permanently when the first ray of sunrise slipped through the curtains.

Maybe it was the unceasing search for familiarity, some traces of home, but the blond man at wheel next to him and the streets sliding past outside the window were only close enough to remind Bucky how far from home he still felt.

When Bucky glanced over, Steve caught his eyes, smiled, and reached over to gently squeeze his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Buck. I’ve missed having you around.”

The warmth of Steve’s hand eased some of the tightness in his chest, but it didn’t quite settle the restlessness beneath his skin. He swallowed quietly and forced himself into a comforting grin. “Me too. I’m glad to be back.”

 

Later that week, Bucky stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his leather gloves, wondering for the fifth time if agreeing to this house party had been a mistake. Steve, ever considerate, had insisted it was fine to skip if jet lag left him too drained to go. But then he’d added, “If you feel up to it though, Buck, I’d love to spend more time with you. And…” he’d hesitated, cheeks flushing just like when he was a high school sophomore, telling Bucky how he’d asked Peggy Carter to Prom, “there is someone I want you to meet.”

When Bucky had playfully smacked his arm and teased if it was a certain Ms. Carter, since he knew these two dated through college, Steve had looked startled, “What? No. Peggy and I are still good friends, but that ended when she graduated and went back to the UK. She’s doing really well over there. But the person I want you to meet…he’s important to me.” He’d looked up with a soft smile, “I want you two to meet.”

Bucky remembered clapping Steve on the back as a good friend would and promising he’d be there. But deep down there sat a bitter reminder that after all these years apart, his best friend had moved on with a new life. At the same time, a flicker of curiosity stirred within him, a strange pull toward the person Steve had mentioned that had been occupying the space by his side in the past few years.

The house party was only a short walk from Bucky’s rental. Guests were still arriving by the time he stepped through the gate. Steve was nowhere to be found, but the hostess Nat, a sharp-eyed redhead, already seemed to know who he was the moment he walked through the doors. She greeted him and gave him a quick tour of the first floor. When she offered a drink, Bucky politely declined. She didn’t press, just smiled and told him to please make himself at home.

Bucky wandered the house, admiring the art on the walls, the intricately crafted rugs on the wooden floor, and the shelves lined with trinkets collected from corners around the world. The rooms branched into one another like a maze until he turned a corner and saw it: an open door, with beams of sunset spilling through.

He stepped forward, leaning against the doorframe. The backyard was well-kept. A neat patch of lawn stretched beyond him, decorated with carefully tended bushes and trees. The noise from the front of the house was shield by the walls and winding hallways. Bucky closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp autumn air, and for a moment his racing heart eased.

When he was about to take the few stairs down to the backyard, Bucky realized he wasn’t alone.

A man stood in the yard with his side facing Bucky, dark hair catching the sunlight, his head tilted back looking up at a towering oak. He wore a pale blue button-down with the top two buttons undone and dark jeans that molded to his frame. From this angle Bucky couldn’t see his whole face, but the curve of a smile, the sharp line of his cheekbones, and the neat goatee kept Bucky rooted to the spot.

It took Bucky a second to realize the man wasn’t admiring the tree itself. He was watching birds dart from branch to branch and chuckling as he listened to them chirping at each other. He even whistled back, and for a moment it seemed like the birds answered him.

Bucky simply couldn’t look away. All that he could think of was: He’s cute. And so at ease. Then, immediately: I want to know him.

It had been years since anything sparked within him like this, and certainly it was the first time since returning to Brooklyn.

Bucky nervously pushed his hair back and tugged at the sleeves of his red henley to better hide the black leather gloves. He’d just started down the steps when a figure all too familiar stepped into frame.

The stranger didn’t startle when Steve came up beside him, only turned with a smile as Steve handed him a drink. Then Steve wrapped an arm around his waist, effortlessly like it belonged there. The man seemed unbothered, and laughed when the blond man whispered something to his ear, revealing a gap-toothed grin.

Bucky froze in the doorway, bathed in the amber light of a Brooklyn evening, unable to peel his gaze from the man’s hand resting against his childhood best friend’s chest.

If only I’d known you earlier, he thought.

When the two finally broke apart and turned to head in his direction, Bucky instinctively took a few steps back, then stepping into the yard as if he had just wandered out from the main house.

Steve’s face lit up the moment he spotted him and waved him over to the tree. As Bucky approached, he finally caught a full view of the man at Steve’s side. He was confident, relaxed, even more captivating from the front. Warm brown eyes met his, lingering a fraction beyond courtesy, curiosity sparking there as though taking him in, before shifting into polite friendliness.

Steve removed his arm from the man’s waist and clapped Bucky on the shoulder, “So glad you got here before I went looking for you. I’ve wanted you two to meet for a while now.”

He nodded toward Bucky with a smile, “This is Bucky Barnes, the best friend I grew up with, the one who’d fought off all those bullies for me when we were kids. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a decade, but I’m so glad he’s back.”

Bucky returned the smile, trying to use the warmth of those memories to stifle the nervousness in his heart. 

“And this is Sam Wilson,” Steve continued, turning to exchange a knowing glance with the man by his side, “my best friend from college,” his arm slid back around Sam’s waist, moving with an ease as if it naturally belonged there, “and my boyfriend.”

 

Chapter 2

Notes:

What? Two chapters posted in one day? Yes, this fic has me hyperfixated.

I did some preliminary research (medical center websites and many youtube videos) on prosthetic arms and clinical trials. Apologies ahead of time for any inaccuracies.

Bucky saw Sam a few more times after the house party, mostly due to Steve’s quiet orchestration. Steve seemed determined to have the two people he cared about most get to know each other and get along well.

Not that Bucky ever disliked Sam. How could he when he’d practically fallen for the man at first sight? Many times, he caught himself getting lost in Sam’s brown eyes. He had to pinch his thigh under the table to remind himself to pull it back together, especially with Steve sitting right across from him, listening to whatever story Sam was telling with that fond smile.

Part of Bucky missed the bond he once shared with Steve, the place that had always been his. But beneath that nostalgia lay something new, itching at the bottom of his heart, making him ache and yearn.

He and Steve had shared everything growing up: toys, books, clothes, and secrets. But Bucky knew that Steve drew a line somewhere, one that even with their closeness he could never cross. And Sam, unfortunately, the one man that Bucky had the impulse to crave for in years, was placed behind that line, guarded by walls of protection.

Bucky tried to smile and keep up with the conversation. About Sam’s work at Stark Industries, spearheading the research and development department under Tony Stark himself. About their college days, how Sam, a double major in mechanical and biomedical engineering, ran into Steve the art major at a campus volunteer fair, and how they’d clicked instantly.

Whenever Steve tried to pull him in, Bucky could only manage a nod or a few clipped words. What was he supposed to say? I dreamed about your boyfriend several times a week, waking up wishing it was me by his side?

When Steve stepped out to take a call, a somewhat awkward silence fell between them, as they sat diagonally across the narrow booth. Bucky could feel the weight of Sam’s attention on him. When he finally looked up, a pair of warm brown eyes met his. No judgement nor hostility. Just curiosity wrapped under polite friendliness.

 “So,” Sam smiled when their eyes met, “I heard you’re working at a library now?”

Bucky nodded, and a beat later realized that he was expected to provide more than that in this kind of conversation. Sam listened attentively as Bucky stumbled out a few more words. He even made Sam laugh at a dad joke about librarians. The gap in his teeth made Bucky blush when seeing this up close.

Their conversation flew naturally after that. Bucky’s shoulders eased for the first time all evening, until Steve returned apologizing. It was some urgent call from work, an unnamed billionaire wanting a private meeting with the gallery. Becoming a donor or some collaboration stuff. His colleague was already on the way to pick him up. Steve asked if Sam could drive Bucky home and Sam said of course, both of them ignoring Bucky protesting that he could just walk 40 minutes home or take the subway.

Steve kissed Sam goodbye on the cheek and waved at Bucky, “Don’t get all polite and distant now, Buck. Let Sam drive you. Sorry I got called away. Talk to you soon, bud.”

And then it was just them.

The drive started in silence, city lights sliding across Sam’s face. He glanced at Bucky, or maybe just the side mirror before taking a turn, and said lightly, “You’re different from what I heard.”

Bucky huffed, faked dramatic. “Can’t believe Steve still remembered me.”

“I heard plenty,” Sam said after a pause, tone warm but careful. “There is something he said…I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up.”

Bucky’s leather-covered hands clenched lightly on his knees. “What did he tell you?”

Sam paused, then answered. “I didn’t want to bring this up out of the blue, but Steve said he already mentioned it to you. The team I’m leading at Stark Industries is running clinical trials on a new bionic prosthetic arm. More flexible, more functional than anything on the market. We’re looking for volunteers. And for the ones who match, we design a personalized prosthetic, and they get to keep it at the end.”

Bucky stared out the window, jaw tight. Steve mentioned this to him at lunch a few days ago, and he told Steve he would consider it. This was only his second meeting with Sam, yet he already knew Sam was a good person. Plus he knew Steve, and trusted how he read people. But if this turned out to be pity, and coming from Sam, he would not be able to handle it.

Sam took his silence as a response, cleared his throat and continued softly, “Look, I’m sorry for bringing up something this personal. Forget I said anything. Just—if you ever—”

“I’ll do it.”

The words were blurted out before he could think them through. When he glanced over, Sam’s eyebrows had lifted in surprise.

Bucky forced a small, awkward smile. “Thanks for offering.”

Sam’s answering grin loosened something in Bucky’s chest. I can do this, Bucky told himself, watching that smile. You can be friends. Just friends.

 

Bucky leaned back on the examination chair, heart rate a little faster than usual, as Sam offered a reassuring smile. “Mind if I take a quick look at your current prosthetic arm?” he asked, voice calm but warm.

Bucky shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. After asking for permission from Bucky, Sam gently pressed on few spots along Bucky’s arm, asking for feedback on sensation and any discomfort. The touch was careful, professional, but Bucky couldn’t deny the faint thrill it sparked.

Tracing the line where metal met skin, Sam asked, “Have these electrodes been working okay?”

“For the most part,” Bucky replied, his voice catching slightly, “as long as I don’t move too suddenly.”

Sam tapped lightly against a sensor. The simple, casual movement sent a jolt up Bucky’s spine, making him aware of the space between them and Sam’s woody cologne.

“And the sensor misbehaving when you sweat?”

Bucky nodded. Summer days were always the worst.

After jotting a few notes on the computer, Sam offered Bucky a hand to help him down. Their fingers brushed, and Bucky bit his lips.

“Perfect, let’s go somewhere more comfortable to talk about the project.”

They moved to Sam’s personal office, where Bucky sat across a mahogany desk from Sam as he began explaining the research. Sam had removed his lab coat, revealing a caramel sweater that complemented the soft almond tones of the wallpaper and carpeting.

Sam listed some of the limitations of Bucky’s current myoelectric prosthetic and how the new bionic design could address them. He also discussed the risks and challenges involved with osseointegration surgery, having to implant a titanium fixture into the bone and allowing it to integrate with the rest of the body.

Sam spoke with the usual calm attentiveness, and a touch more professional precision this time, explaining the concepts clearly and answering Bucky’s questions without medical jargons. Finally, he looked at Bucky, open and patient, “So…how does all that sound to you?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, feeling a mixture of anticipation and comfort as he replied. “Yeah, I’m ready. When can we start?”

 

Bucky started visiting Sam’s lab in Stark Tower regularly. His appointments were usually in the afternoon, with him being Sam’s last patient of the day. Afterward, they’d go grab dinner together. At the beginning, Steve would be waiting for them in his truck in front of the Stark Tower, the three of them then heading to one of their favorite restaurants in the neighborhood. But lately, it was only Sam and Bucky, as Steve kept being delayed overtime at work.

One evening, when they sat across from each other in Bucky’s favorite Japanese place, Bucky caught himself smiling as Sam battled with a piece of slippery sashimi using his chopsticks. That was when it suddenly hit him that he saw Sam more often now than he saw Steve.

He’d also begun to notice the flickers in Sam’s expression when Steve’s name entered the conversation. Sometimes Sam simply switched the subject, poking absently at his soy-sauce-drenched sashimi, brows drawn tight. Bucky hated to see that look on Sam’s face. He would do anything to bring back the spark in those honey-brown eyes. When he realized Sam seemed lighter on the nights Steve’s name never came up, Bucky stopped bringing it up.

Bucky always insisted on walking Sam to his doorstep, claiming that Sam and Steve’s apartment was on the way to his own place. Sam had rolled his eyes playfully at first and told him not to bother, but eventually he gave in to Bucky’s stubbornness, calling him “an old-timey gentleman.” They would stroll through the Brooklyn night streets, shoulders close but never touching. Bucky could hardly feel the brutal New York winter wind, because being near Sam felt like carrying sunlight at his side.

More often now, when they reached the brownstone, the windows were dark. Bucky didn’t want to rush in and judge Steve’s work-life balance, but his growing absence was even visible to Bucky who’s the outsider of this relationship. He couldn’t imagine what Sam must have been going through.

Sometimes he caught it, moments when Sam thought no one was looking, when his warmth slipped off and left distraction and soft ache in place. But as soon as he turned to Bucky, the familiar warmth was back. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only made Bucky realize how much Sam was holding back. Sadness and even traces of anger began to accumulate inside of him. Of course, anger on Sam’s behalf.

 

The last session Bucky had for his prosthetic arm came three weeks before December ended. Bucky tried to offhandedly bring up Stark Industries’ annual New Year’s Eve party—He was surprised when he found an invitation from the R&D department in his email.

“Are you going with Steve?” Bucky asked while Sam was gathering tools to examine his arm.

Sam’s smile faltered just slightly. “We haven’t talked about it. But you should go. It’s usually a lot of fun. Tony knows how to throw a party.”

“Steve’s working late again.” Bucky observed, trying to remain neutral.

Sam sighed, “He’s been busy with that gallery collaboration, I think, the one he got called off to work on when we were at the café that day.”

Bucky hesitated, then blurted out the thought that had been eating at him, ever since he noticed the mood Sam had been in lately, “Steve’s like a brother to me. Always has been. But I have to say this, Sam, I think you deserve better.”

Sam didn’t look offended. If anything, there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, the corner of his mouth tugging into his usual smirk. “It’s okay. Not like I don’t have good company lately.”

Bucky felt stunned in place as heat crept up his neck. He ducked his head, forcing himself to concentrate on the slow curl of each finger as Sam guided him through the test sequence. One digit caught awkwardly, and Sam reached out to adjust it. The upgraded sensory function on this bionic arm carried the warmth of Sam’s steady hand up through his whole body.

“Also,” Sam spoke, his voice drawing Bucky back, anchoring him again, “I meant to say this. I know how much Steve means to you. And I’m glad for both of you. Lifelong friendship like that? It’s hard to come by. And even when you’re lucky enough to find them…” he paused, drawing in a deep breath before continuing, “you never know what life’s gonna take from you. I don’t ever want to cross a line, or come in between what you two have. So tell me if I’m overstepping—”

“Do it.” The words tore out of him, intent and unwavering, “Please, do it.”

Sam froze in place, bending down in front of Bucky, hands hovering above Bucky’s wrist, confusion in his face.

“I want you to overstep. I want you closer. To me….Sam, I want…I need—”

Bucky leaned in. Sam’s lips were barely inches away, eyelashes framing those pretty cheekbones as he looked down, at Bucky’s lips.

Awe struck him, almost disbelieving that Sam wanted this too. And then Sam spoke, his voice low and edged with want, nearly undoing him.

“Say it, Buck.” The words rolled off Sam’s lips like heavenly sound to Bucky’s ear. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need…”

And then guilt surged up, choking him. He couldn’t do this, not to Sam, not when Steve’s absence had left him raw and aching. He couldn’t take advantage of Sam like this. He should be running away, packing his bags and leaving this city, and perhaps country, for good.

He flickered his eyes to Sam’s face. The brown eyes held him fast, patient, devastatingly gentle. Bucky’s chest clenched. He couldn’t—he shouldn’t—

He quickly scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over the equipment on the bench. “I need to go. Sorry, I—” His voice cracked. He couldn’t bear staying and seeing confusion and hurt welling up those brown eyes, “I’m sorry, Sam.”

He bolted from the lab and down the streets until his lungs burned. He only slowed down when he was a few blocks out.

That night, curled tight beneath his blanket, he dreamed of nothing at all. For the first time in several months, Sam didn’t come to him.

Notes:

Sorry to leave it at this somewhat angsty cliffhanger. I promise I'll be back with the last chapter very soon.

Kudos and comments will be greatly greatly appreciated.

8/30/2025 note: When I was doing background research for this fic, most of the report on bionic arms I found was for above-elbow amputation. I thought what Bucky has in the MCU was a shoulder-level amputation, but just learned that what Bucky had was actually a forequarter amputation, going down to sixth or seventh ribs. I'm not exactly sure if the current research on bionic prosthetics is advanced enough for that (my main question would be how would the electrodes be integrated into the body in this case), but for the purpose of the fic, let's just assume that the minds at Stark Industries are smart enough to solve it.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Last chapter within the week as promised! Please note that the rating has increased from Teen to Mature, for brief and nonexplicit mentions of sex scenes.

(Also spoilers it's not sambucky sex I'm sorry :(( because if I write sambucky sex scene I wanna write it out and write it well...and for the moment I still gotta improve on that

Anyways please enjoy the last part of this story!!

When New Year’s Eve came, Bucky still showed up at the Stark Tower in his black suit. He hadn’t seen Sam since their last appointment three weeks ago. Steve had texted to ask if he’d be at the party, but there’d been no mention of Sam. Bucky didn’t know if Sam would be here. He also didn’t know if he wanted him to be.

Stark Tower gleamed in gold against the New York night. Bucky followed the carpet into the mix of music and chatter in the main hall. Sam was right, he thought, Tony Stark did know how to throw a party. He picked up a flute of champagne, weaving past clusters of guests, and caught sight of the man almost immediately.

Sam sat off to the side in a pale blue suit, the soft shade a striking contrast to his warm amber complexion. His fingers wrapped loosely around a wine glass, but his gaze stayed fixed on the dance floor, where couples held each other in their arms, moving in time with the song. Tony Stark swept in at one point in a glittering black suit and burgundy shades, hugging Sam while murmuring something in his ear. Sam shook his head. Stark gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before drifting away.

Bucky was tempted to go up to Sam, but stopped in the way. After what had happened in the lab that night three weeks ago, he wasn’t sure if Sam still wanted to see him. Maybe he wasn’t what Sam needed right now. He scanned the room for Steve instead, but the blond was still nowhere to be found. Leaving his boyfriend alone at a party, and on New Year’s of all nights?

Irritation rising, Bucky slipped down a side hallway for air. He rounded a corner and halted his steps. The blond man he’d been looking for in the past hour had his back against him, but both his hands were grabbing onto the thighs of a dark-haired man, lifting the shorter man up and pinning him against the wall.

Steve was holding onto the CEO of Stark fucking Industries, their mouths fused in a kiss that left both of them breathless.

For a second, Bucky could only stare as memories rushed to his mind: Sam laughing in Steve’s arms that one afternoon in Brooklyn, and Sam’s steady hand on his metal fingers in the dim light of the lab.

They didn’t notice him until he was only a few steps away. Their lips glistened, swollen and red as they parted. Steve turned at the sound of his steps, but before he could speak, Bucky’s fist connected with his chin, sending the six-foot-two man staggering back.

Twenty years of friendship and they’d never fought, not even raised voices against each other. Steve wiped the bloody corner of his lip in disbelief, looking up with a weak “Buck?”

The next punch went into the wall. Pain flared across his knuckles, but Bucky could hardly care. He took a deep breath before staring down at his friend, fury lacing his voice.

“Steve, for all the years I’ve known you…how could you…how dare you do this to Sam?”

Steve blinked, confused. A low chuckle came from somewhere behind Bucky, but he chose to ignore the third man for now.

“How could you? Cheated on him with his boss?” Having Sam right in his arms but decided to turn to someone else, when Bucky would die to have those brown eyes on him and warm hands around him. Bucky’s voice cracked as he continued, “You left Sam alone for all these months just to run into Stark’s arms? His boss, Steve?”

Steve leaned back against the wall and pushed himself to his feet slowly. “Buck, you’re mistaken. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what? Kiss the CEO of Stark Industries? Cheat on Sam Wilson? Because I just saw both with my own eyes, right in front of me.”

Steve drew in a breath and let it out, “Sam and I…we officially broke up. Three weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because you’ve been avoiding me.”

Bucky froze. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been days after the night in the lab, the kiss that almost happened. His stomach lurched. Did they break up because of him? Did Steve find out and dump Sam? Did he ruin it for Sam?

Before he could spiral further, the other man finally spoke.

“You boys done?” Bucky turned to find Stark smirking between them, miming a champagne flute between his fingers, “Need another minute?”

Bucky shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Stark put up one hand and addressed Steve instead, “Why don’t you tell him the truth, Rogers?”

Bucky snapped back to Steve, who was watching his best friend as if something just dawned on him. In the end, all he said was, “It was quick, a little complicated, but Sam and I ended on good terms. Buck…you need to talk to him. There’s a conversation the two of you have been putting off for too long.”

 

---

 

Sam and Steve hadn’t got together in the most romantic way, but one could say it fit their style. It was toward the end of their junior summer in college. Sam had just lost Riley that spring, and Peggy had just broken up with Steve after five years together, going back to London to pursue her career.

It started with their summer routine with Steve showing up at Sam’s door with a six-pack, the two of them emptying out a few cans over Chinese takeout, commentating on whatever movie they put on. That night, though, maybe they were both a little too heartbroken, a little too drunk, but Steve’s eyes lingered longer than usual when Sam cracked another dumb joke. His blond hair, usually combed neat, was all rumpled then, making Sam’s fingers itch to smooth it back. Sam wasn’t sure if the blond strands reminded him of the empty space in his chest, and decided not to look too closely, for his own sanity.

As the night progressed and the alcohol built up in his body, Sam found himself reaching out without thinking. Despite the suffocating heat of New York summer, he reached out as if seeking warmth in the midst of a bone-chilled winter night. By the end of the night, Steve had shifted over on the couch, their knees brushing. Then he leaned in and kissed Sam on the lips.

The next morning they woke up tangled in Sam’s bed, naked and squinting through the hangover. Before Sam could say anything to brush off the awkward silence, Steve asked if they could give this a try. Sam stayed quiet for a few seconds, then shrugged with a smile, “Yeah. Why not. Let’s do this.”

It started as a mutual rebound of some sort, two friends using each other’s company to keep from drowning in grief. It didn’t change much of their dynamics, really, except Steve moved into Sam’s apartment a few weeks later when senior fall began—That, and some amazing sex. It was friends with benefits, only with a label attached.  

They’d discussed the possibility of an open relationship before, but it never truly came to anything. Neither of them was in a place ready for any deep or serious romantic relationship.

At least, not until Steve’s childhood best friend stepped into their lives.

Bucky didn’t match the picture that Steve had painted for Sam over the years. He seemed quieter, harder to approach, long dark hair framing the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was pale, but his steel blue eyes caught at Sam’s soul the moment they met. At first, Sam mistook it for mild hostility toward him for taking the spot next to Steve, but soon he learned to read the undercurrent in that gaze.

Bucky never spoke much with Sam, yet whenever his gaze landed on him, there was fire burning within the sea of blue, and Sam had to draw in secret, steadying breaths to calm the butterflies rising in his chest.  

A few weeks later, on a Friday night, Sam was having their decompression routine with Steve. Beer, takeout, then winding down together in bed. Except that night his mind kept drifting away to a certain dark-haired man, even though Steve was right above him, pressing light kisses along his chest. He caught himself, guilt nipping, only to notice that the blond man thrusting into him seemed just as unfocused, his rhythm steady but his eyes distant.

Later that night, when Steve rolled off of him and cleaned them both with a wet cloth, Sam finally asked if there was something on his mind.

That was how their dynamics worked. They always told each other the truth. That was what Sam loved about Steve, as friend, roommate, and sometimes partner in bed.

Steve immediately turned to him, “Sorry, you noticed?” He gave him an apologetic smile, “I was a little distracted earlier.”

Sam rolled onto his side, facing him, “It’s okay, man. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. Just checking in.”

Steve’s hand found his on the pillow. He stared down at their joined fingers. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up…because I still don’t know how I feel about this. But, Sam, I met someone recently…and I’d been thinking about them.”

Sam searched himself for jealousy or possessiveness but found none. All he felt was curiosity, and perhaps, a bit of relief.

“So—”he teased, “what were they like?”

“Smart, caring, funny—”

“Wow, if I didn’t know you, I’d think you were finally making a love confession to me.”

Steve laughed and caught Sam’s elbow when he nudged him playfully, “I don’t know where it’s going, and I don’t even know how he feels about me. But—” his fingers slid from Sam’s elbow into his palm, “I wanted to check with you first. I know we talked about open relationships before, but I want to know how you feel about this. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Sam. I’d never want to do this if it upsets you.”

Sam flipped their hands to lace their fingers together. “Steve, it’s okay. I still feel the same way I did back then. If you’ve found someone who makes you light up, you should go for it. I want you to be happy.”

Steve brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a light kiss on Sam’s knuckles. “Thank you. And if you ever find someone, I want you to tell me too. You don’t have to, but I’d love to know. I want you to be happy too, Sam.”

Sam smiled and squeezed his hand, “Oh don’t you worry, I’ll find someone. There are plenty of guys who’d line up to date your boyfriend.”

He figured things would stay like this. Steve off to spend time with the person tugging at his heart, while Sam finding himself more and more in Bucky’s company. Bucky and he had their banter and quiet moments, but nothing Sam ever thought would turn into more.

For one, Bucky was Steve’s best friend. Getting involved with your boyfriend’s best friend already sounded like a recipe for disaster. Besides, he’d seen how Steve and Bucky interacted. They reminded Sam too much of Riley.

The last day with Riley was etched into his brain. A stupid argument in the car, Sam at the wheel, Riley in the passenger seat, yelling at each other. The light turned green, Sam hit gas, and never saw the out-of-control car and its drunk driver until they slammed into Riley’s side.

It hadn’t been his fault, not really. But night after night he woke up from reliving that day, drenched in pain and guilt. He wondered if stopping the fight for even a second might have saved Riley, might have kept him here laughing at the dark bags under his eyes instead of buried six feet under.

Sam would give anything to bring Riley back, and he’d do anything to keep someone else from carrying that kind of pain and loss. He couldn’t risk Steve and Bucky’s bond shattering because of him stepping in.

So he held himself back. Self-control was something he’d always prided himself on. But having Bucky this close, leaning in on the lab chair, sitting across the booth with shoulders loose and easy, brushing hands on late-night walks through New York—every moment was another test. And every time it grew harder not to give in.

The levee broke the night in the lab. When Bucky looked at him with those blue eyes, whispering I want you closer, Sam found himself ready to toss every ounce of restraint out the window if Bucky had leaned in just an inch closer.

Watching Bucky bolted from the room and slumping back in his chair, Sam realized he couldn’t keep lying to himself anymore. He wanted Bucky and had been so since that first evening in Nat’s backyard under the Brooklyn sunset.

He sat down with Steve the next morning and confessed that he couldn’t do the open relationship thing anymore, because he met someone too. Steve pulled him into a warm hug, urging him to spill more details. Sam only gave a vague hint that it was someone from work, not ready to reveal Bucky’s name yet. Steve was understanding as usual, “Don’t worry, I get it. Actually…there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too. The person I’ve been seeing…it’s someone you know.”

“Promise you won’t be mad.” Steve reached out to squeeze Sam’s hand, and continued after Sam nodded with a smile, “It’s Tony Stark. Your boss.”

If Steve’s grin was any reflection of the expression on his face, it must have been colorful. Tony wasn’t just Sam’s boss, he was a friend, a co-conspirator over silly ideas for the newest designs or crazy upgrades, and a fellow enthusiast for late-night movie marathons.

He was shocked that two sides of his world collided in this unexpected way and somewhat pissed that neither Steve nor Tony had considered to tell him about this sooner. Now Steve’s overtime work sessions and Tony’s occasional last-minute cancellations on their movie nights suddenly made sense to him.

“We didn’t want to make things awkward.” Steve seemed to read his mind, as always. “But it’s been going well, and I figured it was time you knew.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally did. Otherwise, I would’ve been in the dark forever.” He then thought about Bucky and the secret he was keeping and realized what a hypocrite he was, but he decided to push it aside, “Congrats, man. And I guess—” he raised his orange juice toward Steve’s glass of milk, “happy breakup, ex-boyfriend.”

Steve laughed and tapped his glass with a clink, “Happy breakup, dearest ex!”

 

---

 

Bucky left the hallway in a daze, Steve’s words echoing in his head. He and Sam had already broken up? The thought spun circles in his head, left him moving without directions until he bumped into someone.

He looked up, apology already on his lips, and found himself staring into the warm, dark brown eyes that had haunted him for weeks.

“Sorry,” Bucky blurted, steadying himself. “Did I hurt you?”

Sam’s hands closed lightly around his elbows, grounding him. “I’m good,” he said, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “I’ve actually been wondering when you’d show up tonight.”

He was looking for me, the realization hit Bucky as he fumbled for words, “I, uh, just ran into Steve and Tony. They were… busy.”

Sam chuckled knowingly, “I figured. I would’ve bet twenty bucks those two couldn’t keep hands off each other for long.”

Bucky nodded as his eyes swept up from the cut of Sam’s jacket at his waist to the open warmth of his expression. “You look incredible tonight.” He said softly. “Pale blue suits you. Been thinking about it since the day we met.”

Sam’s brow lifted in surprise. “You remembered?”

“Of course, I did, Sam.” Bucky murmured, a faint smile breaking across his face. His gaze softened as it lingered on Sam. “Everything about you stays with me.”

Sam’s eyes darkened, searching his. “Then you remember what you said three weeks ago?”

“Yes.” The answer came out without hesitation. Bucky’s smile deepened, a quiet promise behind it. He reached up, fingertips brushing along the line of Sam’s cheek as though committing it into memory. His new bionic hand providing sensory feedback almost as real and delicate as his right hand. The man he ached for was now standing right in front of him, the man he thought he’d lost by meeting too late but now he was finally ready to claim as his own.

Then Bucky leaned in, no hesitation this time. His lips met Sam’s in a kiss he’d been yearning for, tender and reverent. He poured into it everything he hadn’t yet managed to say in words. They still had conversations to have, truths to untangle, but for now Bucky was content to let the kiss speak first.

Notes:

Thanks to everyone who've followed through!! This has been one of the fics that I spent most time and thoughts on.

One of the inspirations, as I mentioned earlier, was Karol G's song. I love the bantering and fun side of sambucky but I also love to explore the angsty and pining side of their relationship. And the other inspiration, was my curiosity in exploring the complicated nature of a friends with benefit relationship of really good friends who care deeply about each other, but neither of them wanted to turn it romantic or exclusive. Stevesam seemed perfect for this. Plus it goes well with the pining side of sambucky.

Also I’ve wanted to write engineer!Sam for a long time, ever since that scene in tfatws when he was fixing the circuit board on redwing 🦅 So I came up with this AU where he worked in Stark Industries with Tony and designed a bionic prosthetic arm for Bucky. (Also an excuse for these two to spend more time together)

Comments would be greatly appreciated!! Plz lmk what you think

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of SamBucky AUs