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The Department of Defense building was quiet that gray afternoon. Sam made his way up the floors with steady steps, hands tucked into the pockets of his tactical jacket, a surprise for Bucky on his mind. He hadn’t warned him—he didn’t think he needed to.
But as he approached Bucky’s office door, voices drifted into the hallway. One was low and familiar—Bucky’s. The other, smooth and male, carried a flirtatious undertone.
“You know your reputation around here is… intense,” the man said, chuckling softly.
“I bet you’re just as intriguing off the clock.”
Silence followed. Then Bucky’s muffled laugh.
Sam’s hand froze on the doorknob. He pushed the door open slowly.
Inside were Bucky and Congressman Elliot Crane—a man with a perfect suit, an easy smile, and eyes that gleamed with too much confidence.
Bucky’s gaze snapped to Sam’s. His smile faltered, barely noticeable.
“Sam. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I noticed,” Sam replied, voice cold.
Elliot turned, clearly caught off guard.
“Oh—Captain Wilson. What an honor. We were just—”
Sam ignored him and fixed his eyes on Bucky.
“Can I talk to you? Alone.”
Bucky nodded.
“Crane, I’ll call you later with that report.”
Elliot gave a final, slow, smug smile before walking out.
As the door shut, silence closed in like a weight.
“Want to tell me what the hell that was?” Sam asked, tension in every syllable.
“He’s a politician, Sam. He’s always flirting with everyone. I’m not interested.” Bucky’s voice was steady, trying for calm.
“But you were laughing. You looked like you liked it.”
Bucky stepped forward.
“I laughed because it was ridiculous. I have you. Why the hell would I look at him?”
“Because he’s handsome. Rich. Powerful.” Sam crossed his arms tightly.
Bucky blinked, stunned.
“What the hell are you even saying?”
“You don’t know how it felt!” Sam raised his voice. “I walked in and saw you laughing with him—like he actually had a chance!”
“Sam, I didn’t want any of that! You know you’re the one I want!” Bucky’s tone rose with desperation.
“But you didn’t say anything! You just stood there and laughed!” Sam’s hands shook. “I felt invisible!”
“Invisible? I’ve never made you feel that way.”
“Well, today you did.”
Sam turned and slammed the door behind him, boots echoing through the hallway.
Bucky searched the entire building. Called again and again. Every call went to voicemail.
⸻
When Bucky finally made it home that night, Sam wasn’t there.
He called Joaquim. Sarah. No one knew where Sam had gone.
Slumped on the couch, phone in hand, heart hammering, Bucky could only wait. And hope.
⸻
The door creaked open at last.
Sam stepped inside, eyes red, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
“Sam! Where the hell were you? I was worried sick!”
“I just needed to be alone,” Sam muttered, eyes fixed on the floor.
Bucky approached slowly, voice low and filled with remorse.
“Sam… I’m so sorry. For letting that guy get close. For not realizing how much it would hurt you to see that. I was a damn idiot. And I swear, it won’t happen again.”
His words fell like a whisper between them, raw and sincere.
Sam inhaled shakily, hands trembling.
“I thought maybe you liked him.”
“I love you. Always. I’ll spend my whole life proving that.”
Without hesitation, Bucky reached out, cupping Sam’s face in both hands—steady, tender.
Sam met his eyes, still hurt, still wounded, but the truth in those deep blue eyes hit him like it always did: unwavering, all-consuming.
“I just… I hate feeling like I don’t matter to you. I want you just for me, Buck.”
Bucky smiled—soft, proud, aching with desire.
“I am only yours, Sam. Just yours. Let me show you. Let me make you feel how deeply you’re loved.”
Sam let out a breath and gave in.
Bucky pulled him in for a kiss—long, searing, one that melted every doubt between them. His hand slid around Sam’s waist, pulling him close, bodies igniting on contact.
With care, he unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, fingers brushing over heated skin, drawing a shiver from Sam as he arched into the touch.
“Let me take care of you. I want you to feel wanted. Safe.”
Sam couldn’t answer. Bucky’s mouth was already on his neck, sucking gently, teeth grazing with careful control.
By the time they reached the bedroom, the soft light turned the space into something intimate, almost sacred.
Bucky undressed Sam slowly, reverently, like every inch of skin he uncovered was a promise he intended to keep.
Sam gave himself over completely—no fear, only trust—for the man who had saved him more times than he could count. Tonight, saving his heart.
Bucky’s touch was firm and tender. Every kiss, every breath, every stroke was a vow: You’re mine.
He entered Sam slowly, savoring every moan, every gasp, every tremble.
“You’re so perfect like this, Sam,” he whispered, voice rough against Sam’s ear.
Sam arched beneath him, fingers digging into Bucky’s shoulder, caught in the overwhelming tide of sensation.
They moved together in a rhythm that was both primal and sacred—two souls, carving this moment into their bodies like a memory they’d never let go.
When Bucky came, he groaned against Sam’s skin:
“No one will ever have you the way I do.”
Sam cried out, arms wrapped tight around Bucky like he was the last thing holding him together