Actions

Work Header

Sam Wilson is but a Simple Man

Summary:

“You know, if someone would have told me that Captain America and his long lost boyfriend were going to fuck on my couch, I would have stayed the hell out.”

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“You know, if someone would have told me that Captain America and his long lost boyfriend were going to fuck on my couch, I would have stayed the hell out.”

When he speaks, all movement immediately ceases and man, Steve must have been doing a hell of a job if Bucky didn’t notice Sam entering the room.

When he left the house, all he wanted to do is get some hot wings and maybe come home and watch the game with his two pals, who have been staying with him while Bucky recovers. They said they were only going to stay a few weeks, but here they are six months later with Sam standing in his living room, bag of hot wings clutched loosely in his hand, eyes actively looking everywhere but at the two men. Seeing Steve fuck his boyfriend into the couch while the other moans without a care in the world once is one time too many.

Sam sees movement out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps his eyes focused on the potted plant to his left. He hears Bucky say something in Russian and from his tone, he doesn’t sound too happy about being interrupted. Well, that’s what they get for having sex in a public place.

“Sam,” Steve begins, voice sounding hoarse. “I can explain—”

“Nope, we’re not doing this,” Sam says, cutting the other man off. “I get it, I really do. I don’t care what you guys do in your own time, but can you please not fuck each other’s brains out in my living room. My momma gave me that couch.”

He hears Bucky mutter something again in what sounds like English, but it’s still too low to tell. Judging from the light smack he hears, Sam is guessing it was something rude.

“Alright, how about this,” Sam begins, keeping his gaze on the potted plant. “You two finish up doing . . . that, and I’m gonna take my hot wings and go furniture shopping.” He turns to leave before pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and when you’re done, I would appreciate it if you two flip the cushions over and move the couch to the edge of the driveway. Let bulk trash pick-up deal with that shit."

Sam leaves the room without another word, closes the front door behind him, and shakes his head. He should have never left Harlem.

Notes:

I wrote another drabble similar to this entitled “In MY Office???”

Series this work belongs to: