Fic: And You're The Shaker (MCU, Steve/Bucky/Sam, T)
Title: And You're The Shaker
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing,
Warning: Puppy play.
Summary: Bucky Barnes is living with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. He doesn't talk to them or interact with them. Until Sam leads the way on helping him, and Steve, find communication and contentment.
When Steve opened Sam's front door and walked in to find Sam sat on the couch with Bucky laying out beside him, his head in Sam's lap, Steve's heart took a huge resounding leap. He froze in the doorway, probably staring. Because Bucky didn't do that, he didn't touch, at all, not since they'd found him and he'd started living with Sam and Steve. He stared a lot, he stashed weapons around the house, he joined them for dinner and watched TV like he was studying mission files. He often shadowed them when they left the house and just as often disappeared alone on his own excursions without explanation. He never touched Sam or Steve, he never made conversation. He was Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier and Steve was learning daily how the former had changed and who the latter was now that the Soldier wasn't trying to kill him.
Steve's fingernails bit into his palms and he closed the door, wanting to keep the scene in front of him whole and safe. His heart was back, hammering like a sprinter and Steve felt like if he said the wrong thing, if he even moved wrong, then what he saw in front of him would just disappear. After the weeks he and Sam had spent with Bucky - on the road and now here, in Sam's house - what Steve was seeing seemed impossible.
But there was Bucky, his long dark falling over his eyes, his metal arm gleaming under the lights. His body was incredibly still, there was something different, and yet naggingly familiar, in his body language. He was the closest to relaxed that Steve had seen him since meeting the Winter Soldier. And he was looking that way with Sam.
Sam's arm was draped around Bucky's prone figure, his fingers stroking Bucky's side, half skin, half shirt. His expression told Steve that questions shouldn't be asked right now. Bucky, through his self-imposed curtain of hair, was definitely watching Steve intently, waiting on his next move, not relaxed anymore.
Bucky was sharing the couch with Sam, he was almost lying on top of him.
His mind swirling with questions, his heart squeezing painfully hard, Steve took a step forward, then another. Bucky stayed still though Steve could tell that he was tensing. Steve's heart squeezed again for a very different reason. He wasn't going to break this moment though, not when Bucky and Sam looked so comfortable together, even if he couldn't see the journey that'd taken them there while he'd been visiting Peggy.
He sat on the sofa beside Sam, leaning in to the solid warmth that'd come to mean so much to him, it was definitely what he needed right now. Sam was smiling down at Bucky and Bucky was pressing closer to Sam. There was something in his posture, it really was familiar to Steve, especially in how Bucky was moving his head. That was it, Steve could suddenly see it - the dogs he'd run down sidewalks with back when he and Bucky were kids, the kind of mutts who'd eaten worse than him and that had gotten kicked for their trouble, the ones that sometimes bit at the first sign of kindness but that had had moments of pressing eagerly, desperately, into any kind touch.
Steve stared down at Bucky, who was looking so close to vulnerable and open, even without saying a thing. It was the kind of image Steve had been hoping still existed, and now it did.
*
It was a start.
Bucky still kept quiet and stared, he still stashed weapons and sometimes there were shots made in battles that Steve knew came from a sniper that wasn't Clint. And every time his heart leaped but he could never spot Bucky.
At Sam's house, Bucky often sat on the floor, pressing himself close to Sam's legs, or curl up beside him on the couch. Sam curved a hand into Bucky's hair more than once, or petted fingers down Bucky's side. Steve watched, he saw how Bucky's eyes fixed on him and wanted to reach out and reassure him but he knew, from how Bucky looked at him, that he couldn't. Not yet.
Bucky didn't seem against Steve sitting there though, on Sam's other side, kissing Sam, talking to him. And Sam stayed relaxed, always touching Bucky, talking to him and to Steve. The familiarity Steve saw in how Bucky lay and behaved, he didn't know what it meant yet. All he knew was that Bucky was something like content under Sam's ministrations and that Sam was happy and that they were letting him be a silent part of it. So he didn't say anything.
But he did wonder. Sam clearly saw that because he gave Steve a lot of websites to look at - “you could Google this, but everyone's different and not all of it'll be right for Bucky.” Steve looked at them all. Some of them made his head spin, a lot of them made him flush and his cock harden. But he kept reading because this was for Bucky and because Sam had told him to look for a reason. A picture was emerging - of the comfort and maybe pleasure Bucky was finding, of how Sam was finding some of the same, of why the memories Steve had been struck by were applicable. It was like seeing something very well-known from a totally different angle. This was...this was important. This was Bucky communicating and looking peaceful and Sam looking so at ease.
“Met a lot of people, tried some things,” Sam commented when Steve talked to him afterward. “For the right person.”
“Do you...do you think Bucky found the right person before?”
From what Steve had discovered about how Bucky was kept by Hydra - a thought that usually meant he'd soon be destroying more heavy bags - there hadn't been any free time for the Soldier. Had Bucky found this after rescuing Steve? It'd seemed like he was constantly on the move, maybe he had found a little time.
Sam shrugged slightly, “There's no words from him. I've talked, he's listened but he's made himself clear too. He wants you there.”
*
Steve wanted to be there too. Being close to Bucky, understanding more about who he was now, that was always a priority. Bucky and Sam, they were both occupying his heart. They both wanted him there, they wanted him to be part of this and Steve was honored by that, by their choice. He refused to let them down. He studied the websites Sam sent him to and sat flush next to Sam as Bucky made himself comfortable again, his head in Sam's lap.
Steve spent hours watching until eventually Sam looked at him knowingly and said, “You wanna pet him?”
Steve nodded rapidly because of course he did and Bucky was eying him without too much tension and Sam was sure that Bucky wanted Steve there. Sam had the lead on this one. His mouth dry, Steve slowly reached out and grazed his fingers across Bucky's scalp, then a bit firmer, a scritch through Bucky's hair.
Bucky didn't try to escape Steve's touch, that was good. Steve hadn't touched him like this - with gentleness, no sign of a fight - since back before the ice. It was a powerful sensation, Steve swallowed hard. Sam squeezed his shoulder and Bucky sort of twitched towards him. Steve's heart took another leap.
Bucky made a soft sound, neither Steve or Sam let go.
*
Steve and Sam still ran together daily, laughing and throwing verbal shots at each other the whole way. Bucky was often waiting for them when they got back, nowadays he pressed himself against their legs, down on all fours, silent but easy to read like this. Steve's heart still leaped when Bucky pressed against him, his hands coming to rumple through Bucky's hair and watching how Bucky responded, clearly feeling content in his skin. Bucky trusted him with this.
It was still mostly Sam, Bucky spent the most time with him and Steve was glad because Sam was a great listener and he could say the right thing or let the silence roll and Steve was really glad that Bucky had that too. Sam included Steve in those conversations though, talking to Bucky, tugging a hand through his hair, petting hands down Bucky's sides, keeping everything easy and light.
“You're right here, Buck,” Sam said sometimes, keeping his touches up, Bucky pressing into them with his eyes firmly closed. “Right where we want you.”
Sam always knew what to say. Steve admired that so much, there was a lot he wanted to say to Bucky but he never knew if it was going to make things worse or break the spell. He never wanted to hurt Bucky or hurt the ease and comfort of what the three of them had together. He could see how much it all helped Sam too, sometimes there were bad days at the VA and this seemed to be a release for him. It was a safe place, just theirs. Steve loved that too.
Sam kissed him fondly, “Buck wants to disappear but he wants to hold on too. We carry the weight for him, all he has to do is obey.”
Like the Army. Steve could see the appeal.
Then Sam was out at work and Bucky and Steve were alone in the house together. Usually Bucky stayed away but today, he trotted into the living room, close to the ground, freezing when he caught sight of Steve. Steve's breath caught, the TV was on and he patted the couch cushion next to him before Bucky could make himself comfortable anywhere else.
“C'mon up,” he said quietly, his eyes helplessly on Bucky, trying to channel some of Sam's easy calm. “Keep me company.”
After a long moment, Bucky slunk a little further in and eyed the couch. Steve patted it again, feeling foolish (how did Sam always make this look so easy?), but left the space and tried to concentrate on the TV. His heart hammered as Bucky seemed to be thinking about what to do. Finally he leaped up without warning and turned this way and that before finding a position that was apparently comfortable. He nudged his head near one of Steve's knees. When Steve didn't immediately start petting him, Bucky pushed against him suddenly and pointedly, startling a laugh out of Steve, a rush of feeling running through him - affection and dizzy disbelief, gratitude and love.
“Sorry, here.”
He ran fingers through Bucky's hair and down his side. Bucky made a more satisfied noise and turned his gaze back to the TV. Steve chuckled and kept up his touches, his heart so full. Bucky was here, Bucky was here.
“It's good to have company,” Steve said quietly.
Bucky made a quiet noise in what could have been agreement. Yeah.
*
“How are things working out with the Soldier?”
Natasha always knew how to cut right to the chase. Steve smiled slightly, throwing another few punches at the heavy bag.
“That good,” marveled Natasha with quiet satisfaction.
Steve lifted his eyebrows and didn't disagree. Good was one way to frame it. He loved spending time with Bucky and Sam, he loved seeing them relax and content, he loved being part of that. He loved them. His heart agreed.
His reply was simple, “Hopefully they can both say the same.”
“Is he saying anything? The Soldier?”
She never called him Bucky, Steve understood, even if he could never permanently attach just that label to Bucky. He could see both the Soldier and Bucky.
“Not verbally.”
*
Bucky didn't spent his life at their feet. He still moved silent and stealthy on two feet, every inch the Soldier with cold assessing eyes, his movements precise and infallible, helping the Avengers or inhabiting spaces in the house that he obviously wanted to keep his own. He needed time and space. And there were hours when Steve didn't see him and times when he knew Bucky was there even if Bucky wasn't showing himself.
Sam still talked when he knew Bucky was around, as he cooked in the kitchen, or watched TV. He kept up a lot of light conversation, to let Bucky know they were there? To let Bucky know he was included. That sounded right. Steve joined in those conversations. He always took his lead from Sam. When Sam was quiet, no conversations started, Steve was quiet too. Whatever Bucky needed, the noise and the quiet, Steve wanted to help.
Sometimes, when he and Sam were moving together, naked and uninhibited, sometimes Steve was aware of Bucky's presence even though he couldn't see Bucky at all. Sam laughed and pushed deeper into Steve, his laugh becoming a smirk. He knew. Steve was learning Sam like he was relearning Bucky. Both were tasks he was glad to undertake.
Bucky was there and that...oh yes, they wanted him there.
*
There was movement outside the bedroom door. Steve blinked awake, feeling Sam wake up around the same moment. It didn't sound like someone was trying to get in though. Sam lifted his chin.
“It's open.”
The door opened, light spilled in and there was Bucky, slipping into the room almost in a crawl. Steve couldn't help smiling and trailed a hand out of bed, watching as Bucky sniffed it and then nudged his mouth against it. There went Steve's heart again. Sam dug his chin into Steve's shoulder, Steve could feel his smile.
“Been one of those days,” Sam murmured, leadingly.
Steve nodded understandingly, his heart going to burst, “Hmm, and your feet always get cold.”
“Captain America hogs the duvet and doesn't feel the cold, I need the damn duvet. C'mon up, Buck, you're my favorite.”
Bucky jumped onto the bed eagerly and hurried up to lick at Sam's face. Sam laughed and roughed hands down Bucky's skin, never hesitating over the metal arm. There was a lot to love in the picture they made together. Steve watched as Sam gently but firmly directed Bucky down to the end of the bed. Bucky seemed obliging enough, curling himself up down there, letting out a sigh as he covered their feet, a really good warm weight. Sam smiled down at him and then at Steve with questioning eyebrows. Steve smiled back; of course he was fine with this. Bucky was where he was supposed to be.
“Good company,” Steve said quietly.
“Mmm.”
Sam kissed Steve with enthusiasm and a smile, Steve kissed back, enjoying the feel of Bucky on his feet and Sam right there in his arms, directing traffic. They were all where they belonged.
-the end
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing,
Warning: Puppy play.
Summary: Bucky Barnes is living with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. He doesn't talk to them or interact with them. Until Sam leads the way on helping him, and Steve, find communication and contentment.
When Steve opened Sam's front door and walked in to find Sam sat on the couch with Bucky laying out beside him, his head in Sam's lap, Steve's heart took a huge resounding leap. He froze in the doorway, probably staring. Because Bucky didn't do that, he didn't touch, at all, not since they'd found him and he'd started living with Sam and Steve. He stared a lot, he stashed weapons around the house, he joined them for dinner and watched TV like he was studying mission files. He often shadowed them when they left the house and just as often disappeared alone on his own excursions without explanation. He never touched Sam or Steve, he never made conversation. He was Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier and Steve was learning daily how the former had changed and who the latter was now that the Soldier wasn't trying to kill him.
Steve's fingernails bit into his palms and he closed the door, wanting to keep the scene in front of him whole and safe. His heart was back, hammering like a sprinter and Steve felt like if he said the wrong thing, if he even moved wrong, then what he saw in front of him would just disappear. After the weeks he and Sam had spent with Bucky - on the road and now here, in Sam's house - what Steve was seeing seemed impossible.
But there was Bucky, his long dark falling over his eyes, his metal arm gleaming under the lights. His body was incredibly still, there was something different, and yet naggingly familiar, in his body language. He was the closest to relaxed that Steve had seen him since meeting the Winter Soldier. And he was looking that way with Sam.
Sam's arm was draped around Bucky's prone figure, his fingers stroking Bucky's side, half skin, half shirt. His expression told Steve that questions shouldn't be asked right now. Bucky, through his self-imposed curtain of hair, was definitely watching Steve intently, waiting on his next move, not relaxed anymore.
Bucky was sharing the couch with Sam, he was almost lying on top of him.
His mind swirling with questions, his heart squeezing painfully hard, Steve took a step forward, then another. Bucky stayed still though Steve could tell that he was tensing. Steve's heart squeezed again for a very different reason. He wasn't going to break this moment though, not when Bucky and Sam looked so comfortable together, even if he couldn't see the journey that'd taken them there while he'd been visiting Peggy.
He sat on the sofa beside Sam, leaning in to the solid warmth that'd come to mean so much to him, it was definitely what he needed right now. Sam was smiling down at Bucky and Bucky was pressing closer to Sam. There was something in his posture, it really was familiar to Steve, especially in how Bucky was moving his head. That was it, Steve could suddenly see it - the dogs he'd run down sidewalks with back when he and Bucky were kids, the kind of mutts who'd eaten worse than him and that had gotten kicked for their trouble, the ones that sometimes bit at the first sign of kindness but that had had moments of pressing eagerly, desperately, into any kind touch.
Steve stared down at Bucky, who was looking so close to vulnerable and open, even without saying a thing. It was the kind of image Steve had been hoping still existed, and now it did.
*
It was a start.
Bucky still kept quiet and stared, he still stashed weapons and sometimes there were shots made in battles that Steve knew came from a sniper that wasn't Clint. And every time his heart leaped but he could never spot Bucky.
At Sam's house, Bucky often sat on the floor, pressing himself close to Sam's legs, or curl up beside him on the couch. Sam curved a hand into Bucky's hair more than once, or petted fingers down Bucky's side. Steve watched, he saw how Bucky's eyes fixed on him and wanted to reach out and reassure him but he knew, from how Bucky looked at him, that he couldn't. Not yet.
Bucky didn't seem against Steve sitting there though, on Sam's other side, kissing Sam, talking to him. And Sam stayed relaxed, always touching Bucky, talking to him and to Steve. The familiarity Steve saw in how Bucky lay and behaved, he didn't know what it meant yet. All he knew was that Bucky was something like content under Sam's ministrations and that Sam was happy and that they were letting him be a silent part of it. So he didn't say anything.
But he did wonder. Sam clearly saw that because he gave Steve a lot of websites to look at - “you could Google this, but everyone's different and not all of it'll be right for Bucky.” Steve looked at them all. Some of them made his head spin, a lot of them made him flush and his cock harden. But he kept reading because this was for Bucky and because Sam had told him to look for a reason. A picture was emerging - of the comfort and maybe pleasure Bucky was finding, of how Sam was finding some of the same, of why the memories Steve had been struck by were applicable. It was like seeing something very well-known from a totally different angle. This was...this was important. This was Bucky communicating and looking peaceful and Sam looking so at ease.
“Met a lot of people, tried some things,” Sam commented when Steve talked to him afterward. “For the right person.”
“Do you...do you think Bucky found the right person before?”
From what Steve had discovered about how Bucky was kept by Hydra - a thought that usually meant he'd soon be destroying more heavy bags - there hadn't been any free time for the Soldier. Had Bucky found this after rescuing Steve? It'd seemed like he was constantly on the move, maybe he had found a little time.
Sam shrugged slightly, “There's no words from him. I've talked, he's listened but he's made himself clear too. He wants you there.”
*
Steve wanted to be there too. Being close to Bucky, understanding more about who he was now, that was always a priority. Bucky and Sam, they were both occupying his heart. They both wanted him there, they wanted him to be part of this and Steve was honored by that, by their choice. He refused to let them down. He studied the websites Sam sent him to and sat flush next to Sam as Bucky made himself comfortable again, his head in Sam's lap.
Steve spent hours watching until eventually Sam looked at him knowingly and said, “You wanna pet him?”
Steve nodded rapidly because of course he did and Bucky was eying him without too much tension and Sam was sure that Bucky wanted Steve there. Sam had the lead on this one. His mouth dry, Steve slowly reached out and grazed his fingers across Bucky's scalp, then a bit firmer, a scritch through Bucky's hair.
Bucky didn't try to escape Steve's touch, that was good. Steve hadn't touched him like this - with gentleness, no sign of a fight - since back before the ice. It was a powerful sensation, Steve swallowed hard. Sam squeezed his shoulder and Bucky sort of twitched towards him. Steve's heart took another leap.
Bucky made a soft sound, neither Steve or Sam let go.
*
Steve and Sam still ran together daily, laughing and throwing verbal shots at each other the whole way. Bucky was often waiting for them when they got back, nowadays he pressed himself against their legs, down on all fours, silent but easy to read like this. Steve's heart still leaped when Bucky pressed against him, his hands coming to rumple through Bucky's hair and watching how Bucky responded, clearly feeling content in his skin. Bucky trusted him with this.
It was still mostly Sam, Bucky spent the most time with him and Steve was glad because Sam was a great listener and he could say the right thing or let the silence roll and Steve was really glad that Bucky had that too. Sam included Steve in those conversations though, talking to Bucky, tugging a hand through his hair, petting hands down Bucky's sides, keeping everything easy and light.
“You're right here, Buck,” Sam said sometimes, keeping his touches up, Bucky pressing into them with his eyes firmly closed. “Right where we want you.”
Sam always knew what to say. Steve admired that so much, there was a lot he wanted to say to Bucky but he never knew if it was going to make things worse or break the spell. He never wanted to hurt Bucky or hurt the ease and comfort of what the three of them had together. He could see how much it all helped Sam too, sometimes there were bad days at the VA and this seemed to be a release for him. It was a safe place, just theirs. Steve loved that too.
Sam kissed him fondly, “Buck wants to disappear but he wants to hold on too. We carry the weight for him, all he has to do is obey.”
Like the Army. Steve could see the appeal.
Then Sam was out at work and Bucky and Steve were alone in the house together. Usually Bucky stayed away but today, he trotted into the living room, close to the ground, freezing when he caught sight of Steve. Steve's breath caught, the TV was on and he patted the couch cushion next to him before Bucky could make himself comfortable anywhere else.
“C'mon up,” he said quietly, his eyes helplessly on Bucky, trying to channel some of Sam's easy calm. “Keep me company.”
After a long moment, Bucky slunk a little further in and eyed the couch. Steve patted it again, feeling foolish (how did Sam always make this look so easy?), but left the space and tried to concentrate on the TV. His heart hammered as Bucky seemed to be thinking about what to do. Finally he leaped up without warning and turned this way and that before finding a position that was apparently comfortable. He nudged his head near one of Steve's knees. When Steve didn't immediately start petting him, Bucky pushed against him suddenly and pointedly, startling a laugh out of Steve, a rush of feeling running through him - affection and dizzy disbelief, gratitude and love.
“Sorry, here.”
He ran fingers through Bucky's hair and down his side. Bucky made a more satisfied noise and turned his gaze back to the TV. Steve chuckled and kept up his touches, his heart so full. Bucky was here, Bucky was here.
“It's good to have company,” Steve said quietly.
Bucky made a quiet noise in what could have been agreement. Yeah.
*
“How are things working out with the Soldier?”
Natasha always knew how to cut right to the chase. Steve smiled slightly, throwing another few punches at the heavy bag.
“That good,” marveled Natasha with quiet satisfaction.
Steve lifted his eyebrows and didn't disagree. Good was one way to frame it. He loved spending time with Bucky and Sam, he loved seeing them relax and content, he loved being part of that. He loved them. His heart agreed.
His reply was simple, “Hopefully they can both say the same.”
“Is he saying anything? The Soldier?”
She never called him Bucky, Steve understood, even if he could never permanently attach just that label to Bucky. He could see both the Soldier and Bucky.
“Not verbally.”
*
Bucky didn't spent his life at their feet. He still moved silent and stealthy on two feet, every inch the Soldier with cold assessing eyes, his movements precise and infallible, helping the Avengers or inhabiting spaces in the house that he obviously wanted to keep his own. He needed time and space. And there were hours when Steve didn't see him and times when he knew Bucky was there even if Bucky wasn't showing himself.
Sam still talked when he knew Bucky was around, as he cooked in the kitchen, or watched TV. He kept up a lot of light conversation, to let Bucky know they were there? To let Bucky know he was included. That sounded right. Steve joined in those conversations. He always took his lead from Sam. When Sam was quiet, no conversations started, Steve was quiet too. Whatever Bucky needed, the noise and the quiet, Steve wanted to help.
Sometimes, when he and Sam were moving together, naked and uninhibited, sometimes Steve was aware of Bucky's presence even though he couldn't see Bucky at all. Sam laughed and pushed deeper into Steve, his laugh becoming a smirk. He knew. Steve was learning Sam like he was relearning Bucky. Both were tasks he was glad to undertake.
Bucky was there and that...oh yes, they wanted him there.
*
There was movement outside the bedroom door. Steve blinked awake, feeling Sam wake up around the same moment. It didn't sound like someone was trying to get in though. Sam lifted his chin.
“It's open.”
The door opened, light spilled in and there was Bucky, slipping into the room almost in a crawl. Steve couldn't help smiling and trailed a hand out of bed, watching as Bucky sniffed it and then nudged his mouth against it. There went Steve's heart again. Sam dug his chin into Steve's shoulder, Steve could feel his smile.
“Been one of those days,” Sam murmured, leadingly.
Steve nodded understandingly, his heart going to burst, “Hmm, and your feet always get cold.”
“Captain America hogs the duvet and doesn't feel the cold, I need the damn duvet. C'mon up, Buck, you're my favorite.”
Bucky jumped onto the bed eagerly and hurried up to lick at Sam's face. Sam laughed and roughed hands down Bucky's skin, never hesitating over the metal arm. There was a lot to love in the picture they made together. Steve watched as Sam gently but firmly directed Bucky down to the end of the bed. Bucky seemed obliging enough, curling himself up down there, letting out a sigh as he covered their feet, a really good warm weight. Sam smiled down at him and then at Steve with questioning eyebrows. Steve smiled back; of course he was fine with this. Bucky was where he was supposed to be.
“Good company,” Steve said quietly.
“Mmm.”
Sam kissed Steve with enthusiasm and a smile, Steve kissed back, enjoying the feel of Bucky on his feet and Sam right there in his arms, directing traffic. They were all where they belonged.
-the end