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The bar was busier than he had thought it would be. That was okay though because getting lost in the crowd and escaping for a little bit was on the list of necessary for the night. Sam maneuvered his way to the bar and ordered his drink--beer, something on tap and local, he wasn’t really looking to being picky--before dropping into a high backed stool on the other end of the curved bar.
Trail after trail had been going cold. It seemed as soon as they had something that looked good it was up in smoke. They landed back in DC, settling into Sam’s aired out apartment to take time to regroup and lick their wounded pride. Sam had left Steve at the apartment sulking-- I’m not sulking, Sam-- yeah, he was sulking, and ducked out to the bar within walking distance, the same one he’d frequented since he’d moved in a few years ago.
He needed a break from thinking about anything to do with leads, Hydra, fighting and deadends before his brain started melting. Steve needed a break too but it was easier to pull teeth than it was to talk him into taking a night off.
That was okay though. Sam had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before the empty stool beside him was filled with a big, bulky blonde. The thought alone made him grin. He fell into easy conversation with the woman sitting at the stool around the bend of the bartop--young, college student, and witty--about whatever happened to come up, all super casual and unexpectant. Sam was good at kicking up conversation when he wanted to be. It had been his job so he ought to be.
A half-hour later, his friendly smile widened into a grin when he felt a heavy arm brace on the back of his stool and a firm body brush against his to take the empty stool. Sam didn’t look, didn’t break the steady stream of conversation right away, despite the curious gaze the woman was sporting, eyeing the interaction but following Sam’s lead easily enough. It was part of the game. Sam knew it. Steve knew it. Or at least Sam was pretty damn sure that Steve knew it.
He knew the moment that Steve was recognized. The woman’s eyes widened slightly and darted between the two men in fascination, words stuttering to a halt with an “Oh”. He knew without looking that Steve was staring into the side of his head, jaw set and those bright blue eyes narrowed just slightly. He could almost feel it just as clearly as he could feel Steve’s arm against his back where it stayed resting over the back of the stool or the knee brushing against his thigh.
“Sam,” Steve said, voice unmistakably insistent.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll introduce,” Sam rolled his eyes, intentionally misunderstanding the prompting, turning his head further to hide the grin at the near-growling sound that the provocation earned. “I’m Sam, this here is Steve, which I think by your expression, you already know.”
“I-I, yeah. I figured that. Um, Christine,” the woman managed, eyes wide in surprise but seemingly amused by Steve’s frustration. Ah, she caught the game, too.
“Sam,” Steve repeated, nudging him with the arm across the stool.
Hearing the mild frustration in the tone, Sam finally turned his stool enough to face Steve. He arched a brow in challenge, “Steve.”
The blond didn’t even spare Christine a glance before he tugged Sam forward with the arm at his back and kissed him soundly. It wasn’t a sweet, chaste little thing. Nah, that’s not how Steve Rogers played. Not when he got like this. It was a possessive thing. It left no doubt to anyone within range exactly what Steve was saying.
When he was released it was slow and teasing. It wasn’t just Christine that Steve was making his message evident to and Sam was hearing it loud and clear. Sam leaned back into his seat, not bothering to avoid leaning into the arm any longer, but he knew that his grin was smug. Hell, he felt smug. Because there was something intensely satisfying about being able to get Steve worked to the point of being all handsy and possessive. And that Sam was the one capable of pushing him to that point? Yeah, that felt pretty damned good.
He slowly dragged his attention back across the bar to catch Christine hiding a grin behind her glass. Sam offered a smirk and a shrug in response and her grin widened. Yeah, she knew the game. They dipped easily back into conversation, occasionally pulling Steve into one topic or another but the man seemed mostly content resting back against his stool, arm across the back of Sam’s with his fingertips drawing idle designs against Sam’s shoulder blades. It went without saying that Steve’s gaze still sat heavily. It always was an interesting feeling to be in a literal room full of people and still have the man’s undivided attention.
More than once the sensation drew shivers and there was no hiding it even if he wanted to. There’s no hiding that kind of thing from supersoldier senses, especially when said supersoldier is in a hands-on mood. From the amused expression Sam caught Christine flashing the pair, Steve wasn’t even attempting to hide his own smug smirk. If Sam had a thing for pushing Steve into being all possessive then Steve definitely had a thing for making sure Sam knew exactly where he belonged.
“You like tormenting me, don’t you?” Steve asked against his lips later when he had Sam pressed against the inside of the front door. He’d waited longer than Sam thought he would. They’d made it all the way home and he’d almost began to believe that he wouldn’t get a reaction at all. But the door closed behind them and there were firm hands on his hips pressing him back into the solid wood and a firm body pressing against his. And yeah, that’s what Sam had been waiting all damned night for.
“Just polite conversation,” Sam countered with a grin that was quickly smothered by demanding lips on his. Sam relented, letting Steve take over the kiss in the hot, needy way that he had. The hands on his hips tightened and then relaxed as Steve withdrew from the kiss, pulling back to his full height and crowding Sam just a little further into the door. Sam tilted his head enough to be able to meet the intense stare and arched a brow in question, “Needin’ something?”
“You have no idea,” Steve breathed. There was a short moment of stillness, not hesitation, just stillness before Sam was lifted in the air. His legs wrapping automatically around Steve’s waist before his back was firmly against the door again, Steve’s hips pinning him while broad hands shift up under his shirt. The touch was as needy as it was possessive.
Sam surrendered easily. Sometimes he didn’t, rather continued to goad and bait Steve until his control snapped. It’d been several long, long weeks though. Steve wasn’t the only one feeling a little raw and needy. Broad hands curled around his back, holding him tightly as the door disappeared and Steve maneuvered them carefully but urgently through the apartment and into the bedroom.
Steve took his time, measured touches and searing kisses, taking Sam apart and putting him slowly and so very carefully back together, leaving absolutely no doubt in either mind exactly who they belonged to. A deliberate reminder. Sam might not have needed to be reminded but few things felt as satisfying as Steve Rogers making his point so very thoroughly.