Work Text:
Dusk was falling over Delacroix, where Sam and Bucky were staying temporarily for a few days of rest between superhero duties. The air, still warm from the day, was beginning to fill with electricity, a precursor to an impending thunderstorm.
Sam stood on the wooden patio with his hands on the railing, gazing into the distance. Far off on the horizon, a dark, menacing mass of clouds was gathering.
Sam said softly, "Looks like there’s going to be a storm."
Bucky, who had been standing a little way back busy doing some maintenance on his arm, stopped to look at his lover. He recognised the tone of his voice and knew that he hadn't just said that to comment on the weather. Bucky wiped his hands on a rag, dropped it on the workbench and stepped up behind Sam, sensing the tension radiating from his body.
He asked gently, "Do you think so?"
Sam nodded, never taking his eyes off the horizon.
"Look at that. It looks almost like the sky at the end of the world."
Bucky didn’t try to contradict him with weather statistics. He knew that what Sam was talking about, those warning signs and hunches, it was second nature to them both. He moved even closer and gently wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, embracing him from behind as he rested his chin on his lover’s shoulder.
"Sometimes," Bucky murmured in a calm voice, "a storm is just a storm."
Sam let out a long sigh, leaning back slightly to rest against Bucky’s solid chest. He slid his hands down to cover Bucky’s, which were clasped over his stomach, intertwining their fingers.
"I learned a long time ago that nothing in this world is ever just something," Sam replied, his voice hoarse. "Everything is a prelude to something else. »
Bucky shifted slightly to press a slow, lingering kiss to Sam’s temple.
"Whatever it is, Sam," he replied gently but firmly, "I don't know if this makes you feel any better, but you know I'll always be here for you. By your side, behind you, watching your back."
Sam turned his head, his eyes meeting Bucky’s. In the former soldier’s gaze, despite all the wounds of his past, there was a crystal-clear clarity, an unwavering devotion that, time and again, managed to soothe Sam’s inner turmoil.
"Yes, I know," Sam said softly. "And yes, it does bring me comfort. More than you can imagine."
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees.
Sam turned fully into Bucky’s arms, choosing to stop looking at the horizon and turn his back on the storm in order to focus on what was most important here and now.
Sam wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, his fingers tangling in the other man’s longer hair. He gently pulled Bucky’s face toward his until their breaths mingled.
Bucky closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Sam’s in a kiss that lingered until the sound of the rain caused them to pull apart.
Bucky whispered against Sam’s lips, "Let the rain fall. We’re safe here."
Sam nodded, closed his eyes, and pressed himself closer to Bucky, who tightened his arms around him. For a moment, entwined, they forgot the wind, the rain, and all the signs of the apocalypse, focusing only on each other.
There would be enough time for the rest. Later.