It was only ever meant to be a bit of festival fun, a handsome long-haired stranger to share Sam's sleeping bag at night and take in the tunes with during the long, hot days. A three-day weekend of fun in the sun, then they'd both go their separate ways, their memories of the event all the sweeter for their little summer fling.

And it was all going according to plan—until the last song of the headlining act on the final night. All of a sudden Nine Inch Nails is winding up their set with Hurt, and Trent Reznor is singing the line 'Everyone I know goes away in the end,' and Sam has the beginnings of a lump in his throat.

Bucky is solemnly holding a lighter aloft with his right hand, but his left one finds Sam's in the press of singing fans and holds on tight until the last note.

It was a good choice for the final song of the festival. The crowd that had been moshing like maniacs just ten minutes ago is now in a relatively peaceful, if slightly sombre mood. Bucky doesn't let go as they move like sheep with the throng towards the spot Sam had arranged to meet up with Steve and Nat.

When they get there they find themselves an out-of-the-way corner. Bucky props one shoulder against the wall while they wait and Sam does the same, putting them nose to nose. They kiss, and it's a soft, simple, idle thing, but it's already heavy with goodbye.

Sam still barely even knows anything about Bucky, beyond the fact that he came to the festival on his own and he doesn't like to talk about his past.

Well, that's not entirely true, Sam does know some things. He knows Bucky's a scotch drinker, that he'd rather nap on a grassy hill in the afternoon sun with Sam than go check out a new ska band, and that he has a tattoo of the symbol for A Perfect Circle on his right hip.

Sam slides a hand over the spot where that tattoo is hidden under Bucky's jeans. "So, where are you going from here?"

"Dunno," Bucky says, pressing a kiss to Sam's jaw, "probably just gonna hitch my way back west."

"Oh you're gonna hitch, huh?" Sam repeats, amused. "You're no metalhead at all, are you? You're just a hobo," he says, tugging lightly on a strand of Bucky's unruly hair.

One side of Bucky's mouth ticks up. "You got me all figured out."

Sam doesn't, of course, because Bucky keeps his cards close to his chest, but the longer they spend together the more cards he reveals, and Sam's just not done yet with this lone wolf with piercing blue eyes and an amazing memory for everything ever produced by Maynard James Keenan.

Sam hooks a finger through one of Bucky's belt loops. "Come home with me."

Bucky snorts softly. "Back upstate? And then what?"

"I don't know," Sam says with an easy shrug. "Figure it out when we get there."

Bucky pulls back just a fraction, looks down as he considers the offer. "What if you figure out you should've left me here? Left it at this?" he says, his casual tone not quite managing to mask his insecurities. And that's just another one of Bucky's mysteries, the way he looks so quietly confident by the light of day and yet so vulnerable in the moonlight.

Sam shakes his head. "We leave it at this, I'm gonna slowly go insane wondering where you are, what you're up to, what tunes you're listening to, whose bed you're in." He brushes the hair away from Bucky's eyes and tips his chin up until he gets eye contact. "Come home with me."

There's fear hidden deep in those brooding blue eyes, but also hope, want.

"S'pose we should do it on a proper mattress at least once," Bucky concedes.

"At least once," Sam agrees with a grin. "There's Steve and Nat. Come on," he grabs Bucky's hand, "let's go."

AN: Thanks so much for reading. This one was fun to write :)