Chapter Text
This was it, this was the last time Sam Wilson was ever doing a favor Steve Rogers. Sure, he’d told himself that many times before, but this time? He was sticking to his word. The next time Steve turned those big blue eyes on him, did that apologetic eyebrow thing and started with ‘Hey, Sam..’ he was flat out Refusing. No ifs, ands or buts about it.
Because if he didn’t start saying no he was going to end up in an honest-to-god slasher movie, and he knew exactly how that would play out.
Considering the place he now found himself, this might just be it. Steve had given him the address to the house and told him he would meet Sam there around 2pm. It was 2:15 and Sam had been waiting outside the house for about twenty minutes. He looked like a weirdo, standing in front of the wrought iron gate and tall, foreboding hedges, but he’d be damned if he was ringing the doorbell.
The place was creepy as all hell.
Sam sighed and turned away from the road to eye the property. It was a fairly large piece of land, though just how large was impossible to tell. Other than the entrance gate, the entire perimeter was surrounding by hedges, easily over ten feet and hiding most of the house from outside view. Through the bars of the gate, Sam could see some of the house - a huge place, made of gray stone. It looked nice enough, he supposed, if it weren’t for the fact that someone had obviously gone through a lot of effort to keep anyone from seeing it existed.
Sam hunched his shoulders and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. 2:20pm. No amount of money was worth this, and Sam needed the money even. Biting his lip, he scrolled to the uber app, and hovered his thumb over it. He felt sort of bad about ditching, but Steve hadn’t shown and the place was giving him Bad Vibes.
Just as he had clicked on the app, he heard the roar of a motorcycle engine in the distance. Sam looked up, and nearly cursed as he saw Steve’s bike heading toward him. Just his luck, he almost had an out, but Steve showed up just before he could skip out. Sam wondered if that was just a general Professor thing to do or particularly a Steve thing.
Sam scowled as Steve parked in front of him, folding his arms across his chest trying to look as disapproving as possible. It was completely unfair just how non-ruffled Steve looked taking off his helmet, his hair somehow looking like a fashion statement rather than helmet hair. But that was basically Steve’s MO. Despite dressing like someone’s Grandad, he still managed to radiate a mix of wholesome and hot that no forty year old should be allowed to.
Sam thanked god that he had gotten his crush on the older man out of the way about six classes in.
“I am so sorry I’m late Sam.” Steve said immediately, grimacing as he checked the time on his watch. Because of course he wore a wrist watch. “A few of the kids had questions after and—“
“You didn’t want to just leave them hanging, I know, I know.” Sam rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed a fraction. When Steve wasn’t teaching art classes, he was volunteering with underprivileged youth. Steve’s wholesomeness wasn’t just an act, it was something he wholeheartedly believed it.
It was also the reason he they were here standing in front of Mansion du Dracula right now.
“You could have warned me that your friend lived at a haunted house.” Sam moved back and watched as Steve took out a key and unlocked the gate. The blonde motioned for Sam to head inside before him before locking it again.
“Haunted house?” Steve sounded amused and he looked over at Sam, eyes twinkling a little. “It’s not that bad.”
Sam looked around, and even he had to admit it wasn’t nearly as intimidating inside. The lawn was well-kept and lush, though there wasn’t anything in the way of decoration. Only the stone path that led up to the large double doors cut through the almost eerily perfect lawn. As they approached the house, Sam could see that all of the windows were drawn closed with dark red curtains, not the most reassuring of signs.
“Someone lives here?” Sam muttered, mostly to himself, slowing down as Steve marched toward the door.
“He doesn’t get a lot of company.” Steve said so soft Sam almost didn’t hear him.
Sam raised an eyebrow as Steve rung the doorbell twice, before using another key to unlock the door. He hesitated, before following after, his heart hammering in his chest as he went through the entrance way.
And what he found was…nice.
They entered a large foyer and it was just nice. Nice in the way that historical houses are nice. There was a side table and mirror against one of the walls, and even a row of coat hooks near the door. But there was nothing else. No personal items, no shoes or magazines or even mail. The place was spotless, it could have very well been a museum.
“So is this like a vacation home?”
Steve looked at him a little funny and then shook his head. “No, he just likes to keep things clean.”
Then Steve motioned for Sam to follow him through the strangely spotless house.
Sam hadn’t really asked a lot of questions before agreeing to do this job. All Steve had said was that he had shown his friend James some of Sam’s paintings and James had expressed interest in having Sam paint something for him. Originally Steve had asked if Sam wanted to just paint a whole wall, but Sam had refused. Terrified that he would mess up someone’s actual house. Steve eventually came back with a compromise of just a large canvas, fifteen feet long and nine feet high. It was daunting, and Sam had almost refused until Steve told him how much he would be making.
It was a lot of money.
After leaving the Air Force, Sam hadn’t had many prospects. When he was younger, he had dreamed of being Veterinarian and maybe opening his own clinic. But coming back to civilian life had been harder than he had thought, and he lost so much time just trying to figure out who he was supposed to be. He stayed with his Mom for a year until he started getting himself back together. Going to meetings with other veterans, finding a job and saving up. He’d eventually moved out, found a tiny studio to call his own and started thinking about his long term goals.
Steve’s painting course has been his first tentative step into seeing if maybe he could go back to school. He’d bee rather fond of painting in High School, and took art electives every year, though he had never considered it as a serious career. A painting class seemed like the perfect way to ease back into the idea of school again, though he hadn’t anticipated meeting Steve Rogers and how that would impact his life.
It was Steve’s utter belief in Sam’s abilities that had brought him to this place right now.
“Here we are.” Steve opened a door and ushered Sam into a large room. It was painted the same off-white as the rest of the house, though was a large bay window that filled the room with gorgeous natural light. It showed a view of the backyard, just as well-manicured and plain as the front. Not even a bird-bath in sight.
The room was already covered in plastic, the massive canvas was leaning up against the far wall, looking like it had been primed already. Off to the side were a generous variety of supplies, more than Sam probably would have picked out for himself. Sam gripped the straps of his backpack, suddenly feeling overwhelmed in the face of everything and turned to look at Steve.
“I don’t know if I can do this, man.” He said honestly. “You really think my weird ass painting fits into….” He waved a hand around the pristine space. “This?”
Steve’s brow furrowed almost adorably, like he didn’t understand what Sam was implying. “Sam, your paintings aren’t weird. They’re beautiful.” There was a slight admonishing tone that Steve got whenever Sam said something self deprecating about his art. “Trust me, Sam, he was blown away.”
Steve blinked suddenly and stuck his hand in the pocket of his brown leather jacket and pulled out his phone. He squinted a little, in a way that reminded Sam of a much older person before texting someone. A soft smile spread across his lips before he tucked his phone away and looked at Sam again.
“I let him know we were here. He says he won’t bother you and you're welcome to anything you need.” Steve relayed cheerfully.
Sam stiffened immediately and his eyes darted around before landing on Steve. “He’s here?”
“Uh, yeah..” Steve reached up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “I didn’t mention? He doesn’t really get out much.”
Sam just stared at the other man, the feeling of being watched suddenly overcoming him. God, what kind of weirdo didn’t even come to greet their guests? It was one thing to be a rich recluse, but another thing to just completely ignore people wandering around your house.
“Steve, this is really weird.” Sam stressed. “This isn’t weird to you?”
Steve looked at him, face unreadable before he sighed and walked over the large bay window. He stopped, not sitting on the gray cushioned seat, only peering out the window into the backyard. He was quiet, and still for a while and Sam nearly felt bad about putting it so bluntly. He was still talking about Steve’s friend after all.
“Bucky… James.” Steve corrected himself, a sigh in his voice. “He had an accident, a few years ago. And its… just hard for him to meet people. He gets anxious.” Steve turned to look at him. His eyes practically pleading with Sam to understand. “Your paintings. Sam, they got him so excited for the first time in a long time. He would ask me every week if you’d done anything new. They really mean something to him.”
Sam bit his lip and ducked his head. He had his own hang-ups about his art. It was different from what normal people considered ‘good art’ and even the other full-time art students had been a little confused by Sam’s paintings. It didn’t help that he hated trying to explain where it came from, and hearing that someone else really liked them, well… It was nice.
“Okay.” Sam breathed out, a little shaky. “Jeez, you know how to guilt trip someone. I’ll do it.”
Steve smiled at him, tender and grateful. He walked back over to Sam, and began to reach out for a hug, stopping when he saw Sam stiffen and instead clasped his hands together. “Thank you, Sam.”
“Uh huh.” Sam slung his backpack off his shoulders and onto the floor. “Get out of here so I can get started.”
Steve nodded eagerly. “Do you need a ride home after?”
“I’ll get an uber, didn’t cost that much.” Sam waved him off. This job was more than paying off the cost of ride-sharing here and back. “Do I need to lock up or anything before I leave?”
“No, he’ll take care of it.” Steve assured him. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thank Sam, really, you have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t wait to see what you create.”