Archive of Our Own ^beta

The metallic black glistens under the rays of sun seeping in through the window. The gold accents fold under each plate like a seam.

It’s lighter, he muses as he swings the arm up and lets it fall. It doesn’t weigh him down like the old one. His fingers lift to trace the wooden walls of his hut. He feels the bumps, the ridges, it’s subtle but enough that he can sense how rough the surface is. Shuri said the touch sensors will still be muted but more present than his last prosthesis. She explained how her creation is intricately more in tune with his entire body.

A burn rises behind his eyes, he squeezes them shut. He’s cried enough in the past few days working with Ayo to break the code words, endlessly trudging through his past. This arm is a gift, he’s not about to waste tears on it. He wants to enjoy it.

Bucky glides his vibranium hand across the surface of the water. It’s cool and wet. He can’t get enough of how when the water is cold enough, it’ll send a shiver through his skin. Telling his whole body what he’s touching on his left side. So he touches the water, then waits, letting the metal warm under the sun. Then he dunks his hand under the water again. Feels the shiver.

He hears footsteps approaching behind him. It could be a number of people but it’s not a Wakandan because the sound of heavy boots digging into the sand sounds as the person walks. Regardless, Bucky’s in no rush to turn around. He’s sitting on the sand, his hand in the water, still appreciating the cool sensation under his fingertips.

“Hey.”

The voice is familiar and Bucky recognizes it as fast as his heart skips a beat. His gaze snaps around, he hauls his hand out of the water and feels it drip onto his thigh as he drinks in the sight of Sam Wilson.

Bucky’s on his feet in the next second. His heart feels like a kick drum in his chest because why is Sam visiting him? He’s never visited before.

“Hi,” Bucky says.

Sam smiles and it’s enough to make Bucky’s almost lungs give out. That’s when the first whirl echoes from under the plates of his arm. Bucky ignores it, the prosthesis has made minor sounds from time to time.

“You in the middle of something?” Sam’s smile turns to a smirk and he points to the body of water.

Bucky glances behind him and decides the truth is embarrassing or maybe it’s personal — possibly both.

“No,” Bucky replies.

Sam shrugs, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, which he must be boiling in under this heat, and tilts his head to the side.

“Thought I'd drop by.”

Bucky nods, assuming the only logical explanation, “For Steve.”

“Nah,” Sam rejects immediately. “Wanted to come myself. See the place, see you.”

Bucky’s eyes blink a little wide. The arm starts up again, this time louder and Bucky moves in an attempt to mask the commotion.

“I’ll show you my hut.”

He walks Sam to his living quarters and holds the curtain aside so Sam can walk inside. But watching Sam walk into his private space where he sleeps, where he dreams, makes the arm kick into overdrive. At least, that’s what it sounds like. It’s as if the gears are spinning so fast they’re about to overheat like a computer that’s working too hard. Bucky stalls outside the doorway staring perplexed at his arm. He has no idea how to turn the noise off.

“This a solo tour?” he hears Sam call from in the hut.

Bucky briskly steps in.

“Sorry, the…” he starts but again feels silly and retracts his statement. “This is it.”

Sam looks around and yeah, it’s small enough to do a turn and see everything. The small cot where he sleeps, the drawers, the two windows, the stack of journals Bucky has accumulated.

“It’s cozy,” Sam comments. “You get bored?”

“No,” Bucky says. He honestly doesn’t. “I have a lot of work. With the goats and the land. I write a lot. And Ayo and I…”

He trails off again, he bites his lip without meaning to. Why does he feel so nervous to tell Sam about his life? The whirling speeds back up, louder than before. This time, there’s no hiding it and it only gets worse the more flustered Bucky gets. He instinctually grabs his forearm squeezing the plates together but it won’t quiet down. The vibranium is suddenly warm to the touch, warm as a fever. That makes Bucky’s heart hammer in his chest. What’s wrong? It hasn't felt like this before.

"What's it doing?" Sam asks.

"Nothing,” Bucky blurts out but being confined to such a small space, it sounds like an engine roaring. Bucky panics.

"Is your arm gonna explode, man?" Sam says, concern coating his tone.

"I need a second,” Bucky jets out of the hut and gets a good distance away before he realizes how hard he’s breathing. Every breath is staggered like he’s been sprinting but with the serum, he’d have to be running for an extensive amount of miles to get this winded.

By the water, he’s able to calm himself. It helps when he submerges his hand and feels the coolness wash through him. His breathing returns to normal enough that his heartbeat isn’t pounding in his ears and he can hear that his arm is silent again.

When he hears Sam approaching, his arm makes the slightest protest. It whirls slowly, speeding up gently with every step Sam takes closer.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah. Gotta have Shuri check it out. Must be a glitch,” Bucky says.

Bucky complains to Shuri immediately after Sam leaves.

“What did it sound like?” she asks.

“Like it was overheating, working too much.”

Shuri sits for a moment then shakes her head.

“What?” Bucky presses.

“When your heartbeat is too excessive, I’ve programmed a precaution to help warn you," Shuri explains.

"My heart was fine.”

"What were you doing?" Shuri questions.

"Talking to Sam."

Shuri’s eyebrows raise to her forehead and the vibranium sounds subtly with the tightening of his chest.

"It's not like that," Bucky denies.

"Not like what?" she smirks knowingly. Bucky doesn’t like that. There’s nothing to know.

"I was just kinda nervous cause he was..." Bucky fidgets with his hands and the gears speed up in time with his heart.

"Calm down, I'm not interrogating you over your crush on Sam.”

"Crush?" Bucky balks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

Shuri sighs, "I can reconfigure the sensors but they're for your own safety. Your heart shouldn't be racing at that high a speed just from… talking."

Bucky’s face burns with her words, he purposely scowls.

"Sorry I haven't felt much in seventy years," he grits.

"Yeah, you're feeling something alright," she laughs.

When Steve visits, there’s not a squeak from the arm. What the fuck, Bucky thinks.

“How is everything, Buck?” Steve asks but Bucky’s too distracted staring down the quiet metal that makes up his palm that it causes Steve to worry. “What’s going on with the arm?”

“Nothing,” Bucky grumbles. “Absolutely nothing.”

Sam visits again. He wears a breathtaking smile across his face when he claims, “Had to make sure your arm didn’t blow up on you.”

And for a few short minutes, Bucky believes the adjustments Shuri made to the arm worked. Because it’s quiet up until Sam places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the metal one, and Bucky feels it. That causes a fuse of emotions that ignites the arm back into overdrive.

And great, so it is about Sam.

Sam hasn’t left. He seems concerned about the arm and insists on staying.

“Should we go see Shuri?” 

And sure, it’d be a sensible enough suggestion if Bucky didn’t already know exactly how that’d go. He can’t have Sam learn everything when Shuri explains how in tune the arm is with his heart. What would Bucky say when Sam asks why Bucky’s heart is racing too fast. And Bucky knows Shuri, she’d rat him out in a second. Tell Sam straight up, it only races for him. Bucky fumes at the thought. He knows he owes the princess his life, but most of the time she’s more like an annoying little sister who’s got a brain too big for her head.

“Barnes?” Sam asks when he hasn’t responded.

“She checked it,” Bucky murmurs but the arm cranks up the volume and Sam’s eyes blaze with distress.

Great, now Bucky feels bad that he’s worrying Sam. This is the worst feature Shuri could’ve built into the arm. It's bad enough his skin is so pale, that any blush can be seen a mile away but now he’s gotta worry about his arm alerting people to his hammering heartbeat. He has a crush for the first time in decades and of course, his arm's gotta tell the whole fucking world.

“It sounds like something’s still going on,” Sam comments staring the noisy metal down. Bucky shoots up and stands awkwardly in the middle of his hut.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Bucky announces.

“Alright,” Sam says but he follows Bucky out and falls right in step beside him. They get halfway around the water before Bucky says something.

“You don’t gotta stay. I know this is boring.”

Sam peers around.

“It’s a beautiful country,” Sam says.

Bucky returns to Shuri and complains yet again.

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to adjust it more than necessary. It’s for your own safety.”

She’s working on a new creation as she speaks, she barely looks up at him.

Bucky's arm twitches as he purses his lips.

“Have you tried meditation?” she prompts.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“That’s practically all I do here.”

“Well maybe try some calming techniques for when your boyfriend arrives,” Shuri says, hiding a wild smirk.

“Sam’s not— we’re barely friends,” Bucky insists.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you,” she says in a tone that says the complete opposite.

“Look, it’s gotta be a glitch. It didn’t make a sound when Steve was here,” Bucky demands.

Shuri finally stops her work and looks up at him. Her expression reads like she’s suppressing a laugh.

“What?” Bucky sighs in defeat.

“I cannot say it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Oh James, you have so much to learn,” Shuri snickers as she exits the lab.

“About what?” Bucky calls after her, his hands swinging up in confusion.

He’ll have to assume it’s regarding the meditation even though he swears he knows enough about that.

It’s evident that Sam likes to visit Wakanda and since he’s been here twice, Bucky has to expect him again.

Just the thought gets the gears under the vibranium turning. He takes a deep breath, regulating his emotions, and the arm silences.

Bucky contemplates how to save himself from future embarrassment. He realizes it’s only when he sees Sam… or is close to him, or touches him, or— okay. So all he has to do is not look at Sam, not get near him, and somehow turn off his heightened senses to not detect warmth.

He sighs miserably after hearing himself. Meditation is it.

Bucky works on meditating every day but not like he was previously. He advances his technique, spends double the time practicing, and calms himself into such a lax state that the next time Sam comes to visit, Bucky looks half asleep.

“You high or something?” Sam asks entering the hut without even knocking.

“Can’t get high. I'm meditating,” Bucky answers with his eyes closed. He’s sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. He hears the cot bend under the pressure of Sam sitting down on it.

“Want me to leave?”

“No,” Bucky’s eyes shoot open in alarm.

His arm whirls. He closes them again and breathes. Calming breaths, in and out, the arm quiets.

“Your arm acting up again?” Sam notices.

“No, it’s working fine.”

A silence stretches over the next minute.

“I swear, you’re high.”

“Serum won’t allow it,” Bucky reminds him.

“You're feeling good, though,” Sam says. Bucky can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” Bucky smiles too because he has it under control. He can sit here with Sam and his arm isn’t shouting at the world. Everyone is relaxed especially Bucky.

“That’s good. You need to relax more,” Sam notes.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and he cracks an eye open.

“I relax all the time,” he claims.

Sam laughs loudly. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious,” Bucky shoots back with enough fervor that his blood pumps and the gears turn in his arm. He instinctively grabs the metal.

“Is it hurting you?” Sam asks, that familiar concern returning.

“No, it just…” Bucky searches for an excuse, anything but the truth.

“Can I see?” Sam asks.

Bucky looks up and slowly, he releases his hand from his prosthetic arm and stands from the ground. He walks over and sits next to Sam on the bed. The action itself makes his arm sing briefly. After it settles, Sam’s hand reaches over and his fingertips touch the cool metal. Bucky’s heart swarms, the arm surges back to life. But now that Sam’s got a hand on him, Bucky can’t bring himself to move, can’t bring himself to do his breathing exercises. He lets it continue on.

Sam seems to ignore the sounds of the inner workings overheating. Bucky guesses the surface of the metal is turning warm again. When Sam lifts his hand, Bucky assumes he’s coiling away from the strange temperature of the metal. But then he watches Sam’s fingers brush over his wrist and instead of withdrawing his hand, Sam glides the tip of a finger up a gold seam. The arm heavily responds to that — as does Bucky.

Sam stares at the thing, listening to it work overtime. His finger lifts for a moment observing as the noise lulls but then he swipes his whole palm from Bucky’s shoulder down to his bicep and the arm practically screams. It wouldn’t even matter if his arm was quiet, Bucky’s heart would still be beating out of his chest. 

Evidently, Sam can hear it because his hand reaches over and finds Bucky’s heart through the fabric of his shirt. He presses his palm flat against his chest. 

“Your heart,” Sam says. There’s no hiding it, Bucky’s heartbeat rises tenfold. “It’s beating like crazy.”

Shuri’s right, no sane person would react this dramatically to a person’s touch but the thought only makes things vastly worse. His breathing exacerbates, accelerating so rapidly that he opens his mouth to try and gasp for air. He’s on the verge of hyperventilating, he panics with the next gulp.

“Breathe,” Sam instructs, removing his hand to hold both of Bucky’s shoulders steady. “Breathe with me.”

Sam starts breathing in controlled stretches, drawing each one out slowly until Bucky follows and copies the rhythm.

His labored breaths slowly die down and with it, the mechanics of his arm slow. The noise fades to nothing.

They sit staring at each other, still breathing together until finally Sam drops his hands.

“It’s a… safety precaution,” Bucky murmurs feeling his cheeks flush.

Sam nods.

“I don't have to come ‘round as often,” Sam says. He must think his presence is the problem.

“No,” Bucky sulks.

It causes Sam to raise an eyebrow.

The only excuse Bucky can think of is, “I need the practice.”

“Practice?”

“Getting it to stay calm.”

“You mean, you,” Sam corrects.

“In theory, we work together,” Bucky shrugs, his gaze darting away.

“Your arm works with your heartbeat?”

“Monitors it,” Bucky winces at the raw truth hanging between them.

“There a reason it gets so crazy when I’m around?” Sam figures it out too easily.

“It’s a glitch,” Bucky lies, still looking the other way.

“A glitch, huh,” Sam says. “Does it happen around Steve?”

Bucky swallows, debating on an answer but the truth slips out of him when he meets Sam’s eyes.

“No.”

“A glitch just for me,” Sam says like he’s letting it ruminate in his mind. Bucky keeps quiet.

Sam shifts on the bed and the edges of his fingers graze Bucky’s vibranium thumb. The arm sounds at the touch, Bucky’s face burns hotter. It’s so obvious what's happening now.

"Just ignore it,” Bucky tells him.

"I think he’s excited to see me," Sam cracks a grin.

Bucky sucks in a shaky breath. His body is betraying him, he can’t hide a damn thing and now Sam sees it, sees it all.

Sam’s fingers crawl over Bucky’s hand until he lightly grips his palm. The gears charge faster.

“Which means,” Sam begins, leaving his hand exactly where it is, “So are you.”

Bucky blinks hard and tries to stop his face from glowing red, he’d give anything to not have everything written all over him.

“I’m happy you're here,” Bucky lets himself admit.

“So what’re you gonna do about it?” Sam dares.

Bucky swears his heart and arm stop in unison for one fateful second when he realizes he could have this. In all the time he knew he was sweet on Sam, even before his arm blasted his secret to the world, he never entertained the possibility of actually getting the man.

The second Bucky rushes forward to meet Sam’s lips, his arm blasts back into a chorus, soundtracking their kiss and proving once and for all, how bad Bucky has it for Sam Wilson. The sensors roar at full speed, fans spinning wildly but Sam kisses him back through all the noise. Bucky can’t even hear the havoc anymore. The sounds drown out when his mind can only focus on Sam’s soft, perfect lips melding into his.

Sam’s hand fits into the nape of his neck, the other moves to his shoulder where skin meets metal. His touch feels warm, blistering, when Bucky thinks about the fact that Sam’s hands are on him. That Sam’s kissing him. Bucky sucks in a breath, needing air, and Sam slows, pulling back.

The arm is still filling the air with repetitive sounds. Bucky leans back in and Sam lets him. Bucky's tongue brushes the seal of Sam’s lips and he opens his mouth letting Bucky in further. Bucky needs air again, dammit, he has to draw back. He heaves in a breath and Sam smiles at him.

“You’re good at that,” Bucky comments lamely. He means both the kiss and his breath control. He tries not to get in his head about it. It doesn’t fucking matter, if Sam’s gonna kiss him, nothing else matters.

And as if on cue, Sam leans back in to leave a chaste kiss on his lips. He pulls back and Bucky tries to savor it, thinking for a moment, it’s the last one.

Until Sam says, “Think your arm will fall off if we do more?”

His arm blares in agreement. He doesn’t even have to answer with the way Sam grins.

“It won’t fall off,” Bucky says anyway.

“You want to?” Sam asks. 

Bucky nods.

“Might be loud,” he warns.

“You or the arm?” Sam grins again.

“Both… maybe,” Bucky shrugs shyly. He honestly doesn’t know how he’s gonna be, he hasn’t done this in seventy years.

He hadn’t realized he’d averted his gaze until Sam’s thumb traces the edge of his jaw. They lock eyes.

Sam leans into his mouth, kisses him slowly and carefully like he’s breakable. Bucky doesn’t mind, maybe he wants to be treated delicately. Maybe he needs to be.

Sam’s hands sneak under Bucky’s shirt and slide it up his torso. Bucky pulls it off as he leans against the wall and watches Sam kiss down his chest. He gets to Bucky’s linen pants and pushes them down easily. He pulls the garment off Bucky’s ankles when his eyes catch sight of something.

“You have lube?” Sam says, staring at the large tub sitting against the opposite wall.

“It’s for the arm — maintenance,” Bucky rattles off quickly and that’s the honest truth. He hasn’t even opened it yet.

“You need that much?” Sam teases.

And Bucky could boringly tell him that’s what the Wakandans supplied him with along with specific instructions to care and upkeep the arm. He really didn’t argue about the quantity.

But Bucky decides to grin playfully and replies, “Maybe.”

Sam stares at him then straddles his waist in one fast motion, knocking the breath out of Bucky. He grabs Bucky’s left wrist and stretches it toward him.

"What're you doing?” Bucky asks, his arm whirling with the action.

“It’s begging for attention,” Sam says. “Let's give it what it wants”

Sam guides the vibranium fingers down his lips letting them graze past his neck, down his collar then over his chest. He moves his hand to dangerous areas but Bucky knows what to do when his hand gets to Sam’s crotch. He takes over.

The room’s nowhere near quiet with how loud his arm is whirling and it only gets louder the more things heat up.

Bucky wants to tell Sam how much he likes working with the vibranium fingers, he wonders if he should tell him he hasn’t used them this way before.

By the time they fuck, Bucky’s arm sounds like it could explode with how loud it is. But it’s not the only thing making noise. Bucky discovers he’s loud in bed too. Thankfully, Sam seems to like it.

“What’s it gonna do when you come?” Sam huffs as he rides Bucky faster.

Bucky can’t answer with Sam’s hips moving like that. With everything he’s feeling, he just closes his eyes and moans.

Sam falls forward, his hands land on Bucky's chest. Bucky opens his eyes again and Sam looks drunk with the pleasure, smiling like he’s worn out and at the same time, can’t get enough. He pants over Bucky’s face before kissing him sloppily. And that’s it, Bucky's body seizes up and his orgasm hits him in waves. He knows his body isn’t moving but it feels like he's swimming. He’s trapped in the feeling, holding onto Sam tightly until the high finally subsides.

When Bucky opens his eyes, he hears the faint sound of his arm recalibrating and shifting back into place. He hears his labored breath and soon realizes it’s not just his own, Sam’s breathing hard too. He looks up and sees Sam came too.

Sam frames his face to kiss him. Then he lifts himself and falls into the spot next to him. Bucky peers over at Sam whose eyes are already closing. It’s finally quiet thanks to Bucky’s heart evening out. Bucky glances down at the unmoving vibranium.

"I'm gonna ask Shuri to remove the setting," Bucky says.

Sam opens his eyes and turns to face him.

"I like knowing how worked up you get.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but it's mainly a cover for the relief filling his body. It’ll be a lot easier to just let his arm go crazy rather than trying to control it around this man. Especially if their future hangouts are going to involve more orgasms.

"Is that how you knew?" Bucky asks after a long pause. Sam knows exactly what he's asking.

"Man, I thought your arm was malfunctioning and gonna explode. I knew way before that," Sam tells him.

"How?"

"Dude, you are not subtle.”

"Really?" Bucky says more to himself but Sam laughs.

"You didn't have much of a personality when I first met you. So when you got some back, all you did was try to hide it like you weren't allowed to feel anything. I remember the first time I made a joke, you were biting the inside of your mouth trying not to smile."

"I didn't want you to get a big head," Bucky claims futilely.

"But that was the thing. You didn't do that with anyone else, only me, and I realized you were trying to hide something. So that's how I knew," Sam explains simply.

"Thought I was hiding it well," Bucky mumbles.

Sam leans into his side, "I'm glad you weren't."

It makes Bucky smile and gets a spare whirl out of his arm.

"At least it only goes crazy for you," Bucky decides.

"Who knows. Might start going off more often,” Sam wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

"There's no one else,” Bucky says dead serious.

Sam smiles and hooks Bucky's left arm with his own. He rests his head against the metal like it’s something soft to cling to. Bucky has to take a slow, deep breath watching this. He doesn’t want his arm to blare right in Sam’s ear.

“If my arm goes this crazy for anyone else, I’ll let you know,” Bucky plays off causally. Sam hums still snuggling into the vibranium like a pillow. “But until then, I think it really likes you specifically.”

“Does it?” Sam chuckles into his bicep.

“And... I really like you,” Bucky clarifies.

Sam picks his head up but he doesn’t say anything. Long enough that Bucky feels the need to ask.

“Do you like me?”

Sam laughs, throwing his head back a little.

“Why do you think I've been flying the Wakanda every other week?”

Bucky blinks. “It’s a beautiful country,” he guesses.

Sam shakes his head, leans down close to Bucky's face.

“Yeah and there’s a beautiful man there too,” Sam says planting a kiss on his lips and doesn’t stray far when he adds, “with an arm that's crazy about me.”