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~10 Years Old~
“Sam?” Steve says, turning to the boy beside him, his heart racing like he just ran a million miles.
Sam turns to him with a huge smile, “Yeah?”
“I don’ wanna go back,” Steve says. He can’t feel the tears welling up in his eyes, he scrunches up his face to try and keep them back.
Sam gives him a confused frown. “Whadya mean?”
“I don’ wanna go back to school and you go back to yours.” Tears run down his cheeks. “I don’ wan you ta go!”
“I don’ wan you ta go either!” Sam says, in tears himself now.
Steve grabs Sam’s shirt and pulls him close, holding onto his friend desperately.
They sit there, crying into each other’s shirts until a teacher from Sam’s school finds them.
“Now what was all that about?” She asks.
Steve buries his face into her leg, willing himself not to start crying again. “I don’ wan Sam to go.”
“But he has too, sweetheart,” she says, her hand rubs his back soothingly.
“I know,” he says.
She shushes him gently. “Why don’t you write to one another? I’m sure our schools would gladly pass your letters along.”
“Sam! Sam!” he says excitedly.
Sam is looking at him with a huge smile on his face. “You promise you’ll write to me?” he says
“I promise, Sam.”
“Do you pinky promise?” Sam asks him, looking at him seriously.
Steve gasps.
He holds out his pinky to Sam who takes it with his own. “I pinky promise.”
~11 Years Old~
The ball breaks the window with a large smash. Steve and Sam duck behind a large bush.
“Aw, hell,” Steve says.
“Yeah, you can say that again” Sam gripes. “Whydah hav’ta do that for?”
“I didn’ mean too,” Steve exclaims. “My hand slipped.”
“Shush!” Sam warns.
They get up from behind the bush and run. Running until the house is far behind them.
After a while they stop, panting for breath.
“We can’t tell anyone ‘bout this,” Steve says.
“You’re right,” Sam says, frowning. His friend turns to him. “We have to promise not to tell anyone!”
“Pinky promise,” Steve says.
~13 Years Old~
They sit on the swings, gently rocking back and forth. The cold winter air blowing through the empty playground.
“We’re going to be friends forever, right?” Steve says, putting his feet down to stop himself swinging. He bunches his hands nervously in his jumper.
Sam stops too and gives him a smile. “Yeah, Steve. Friends forever ever.”
“You promise?” Steve asks.
“Yes.”
“Prove it,” he says, “pinky promise.”
Sam laughs, reaching forward, pinky extended.
~14 Years Old~
“Why the long face?” Steve says, hoping to earn a laugh from his friend.
Sam sighs, sifting in the hospital bed. “It’s your birthday this weekend,” he says sadly, eying the cast on his arm.
“So?” Steve says.
“What do you mean ‘so’?! It’s your birthday, Steve!” Sam shouts. “It’s your birthday and I’m gonna miss it.”
“Nah,” Steve says. “You’re not gonna miss it.”
“Yeah, I am. I’m not gonna be released for, like, weeks! And you can’t have your birthday here.”
“I know,” Steve gives Sam a bright smile. “I’m not going to have a birthday.”
“What? Steve, you can’t just not have a birthday because I’m in hospital!”
“Yeah, I can. It’s not gonna be much of a Birthday without my best friend.”
“What about, Bucky?”
Steve wrinkled his nose. “Nah, he's just gonna be snogging Nat, you know that.” Steve makes a gagging noise, earning a laugh from Sam.
“Steve, I’m serious. Enjoy your birthday. We can always celebrate some other time.”
“Okay,” Steve says. “But I’m gonna bring you some cake though."
“You promise?” Sam says, holing out his pinky.
“I promise, Sam.”
~15 Years Old~
Steve pushes his textbook aside and looks over to where Sam was lying beside him. His stomach flip-flops anxiously as Steve goes over in his head how he planned to do this.
“Sam,” Steve whispers, swallowing down his nerves. “I have to tell you something.”
Sam looks at him, concern written all over his expression. “What is it?” Sam asks.
“You have to promise that you won’t be mad or weirded out, okay?”
“I promise, Steve,” Sam says, pushing aside his own textbook and shifting closer to him on the floor.
Steve bites his lip. He trusts Sam, but... this is big. He shuts his eyes tight. “D-do you pinky promise?”
He nearly jumps when Sam’s hand takes his own. “I pinky promise, Steve.”
Steve opens his eyes to look at Sam.
“Sam… I think I’m gay.”
Sam’s eyes widen in shock. But before Steve has even a second to regret telling him, Sam is pulling him into a tight hug. “Shit, man.”
“You’re okay with it? Me being-…” Steve whispers.
Sam’s arms tighten around him, “I-I don’t think I’m all that straight either.”
~16 Years Old~
Steve is awoken by a warm cloth pressed against his face. He pushes the hand holding the cloth, hoping that whoever it was would get the picture and leave him the hell alone. But the person doesn’t leave.
“-’ve made a mess of yourself, Rogers.” The voice is familiar, but he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t want to care anymore.
“F’k off,” he moans and rolls over onto his side. The tiles of the kitchen floor are cool against his cheek.
“You know I can’t do that, Steve,” a firm hand grabs his shoulder and rolls him onto his back again. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
Steve does. The blurry image of Sam Wilson stares back at him. “Whad’ya want.”
Sam sighs and looks away.
“Go home, Sam, le’v me the fu’k alone,” He says.
Steve grabs hold of the kitchen counter to help himself get up off the floor. He leans forwards over the counter for balance, nausea and grief sitting heavily in his stomach. His foot hits one of the many bottles on the floor. The sound of the bottle rolling away echoes loudly in the quiet space of the kitchen.
“You know I can’t do that, Steve,” Sam says. “If it were my mom, you wouldn’t leave me. I not going to leave you.”
Steve slams his fist into the counter with a choked scream. “Ma’s dead, Sam. I am alone. I have no fucking family left.”
He buries his face in his hands and breaks down, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.
“You’re not alone, Steve,” Sam says, turning him around to face him. Sam captures Steve’s hand in his own, linking their fingers. “I promise you.”
Steve throws himself into Sam’s arms and buries his face into his best friend’s shoulder, sobbing. Sam’s arms wrap tight around his middle, holding him close as he cries into his friend’s shoulder.
Steve laughs weakly into the fabric of Sam’s jumper. “You pinky promise?” he says, his voice broken and week.
“I do,” Sam says.
~19 Years Old~
“If I pass out somewhere embarrassing, promise me you won’t tell anyone, Sam,” Steve says, eyeing up the college party.
Steve and Sam stand on the path outside the party house. The music loud enough to be heard across the street.
Sam doubles over with laughter.
“Please, man,” Steve says. He already got enough teasing from other students about being an Art Major.
“I promise, I promise,” Sam says.
Steve huffs out a laugh. “Hmmm… I’m not sure I trust you.”
“How about a pinky promise?” Sam offers.
“Okay, deal,” Steve extends his pinky.
~22 Years Old~
Steve curls up on the bed beside Sam, spooning up to his friend.
“Go away, Steve,” Sam mumbles into the pillow.
“No,” Steve says. “Not gonna happen, pal.”
“Just, fuck off. Leave me alone,” Sam shouts, trying to push him away.
Steve sighs, holding him tighter. “You didn’t leave me when my ma died. I’m not gonna leave you now. Think of it as returning the favor”
“I loved him, Steve. I fucking loved him,” Sam says, fresh tears running down his cheeks.
“I know you did,” Steve feels about ready to cry too. “He damn well knew you did too.”
Sam turns over and buries his face into Steve’s chest, sobbing. “I miss him, Steve. I want Riley back.”
“I know,” Steve whispers, holding Sam close. “You’re not alone, Sam. I’m here for you, however you need or want me to be.” Steve takes Sam’s hand and links the pinkies together. “I promise.”
~23 Years Old~
Steve sighs, watching another couple break up, his shoulders sinking.
Sam lays a strong hand on his shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. “What’s wrong man?” he asks.
“It’s just… everyone’s breaking up and going their separate ways,” Steve says miserably. “How many couples have we seen separate so far? Twenty?” maybe twenty was a little exaggeration, but it had to be pretty close.
Sam gives him a shrug. “It’s an end to this chapter of their life. They want to spread their wings and see what they can make of the world.”
“I know… I get it, but…” Steve looks around at all the other graduates. Partying, laughing, crying… saying their goodbyes. “Even friends are splitting up and going their separate ways.”
Sam turns to him, brow raised. “Steve, what’s this about, really?”
Steve swallows back against the lump in his throat. “We’re still going to be friends after all this, yeah?” he asks.
Sam laughs “Like hell we are splitting up man, friends forever,” his friend says.
Steve gives Sam a smile, feeling a little silly for worrying. “Yeah, friends forever.”
“Pinky promise,” Sam says, holding out his pinky.
Steve laughs, “Pinky promise.”
~25 Years Old~
Steve loads another box onto the truck. There was only a few more to go and he would be all packed.
He turns around and looks at the house where he spent the last 25 years of his life. It hurts to leave the place, but there was no way he could keep the place. The job offer was in DC, there was no way he was going to travel that far for work.
But it was okay, he found a nice place to rent. It was in better condition than his childhood home for sure, all modern and up to date with the current safety standards which was a nice change. It even had its own laundry.
Bucky walks up the path to the moving truck with a small lamp in his hand.
Steve smiles at him. “Oh, I see how it is. Girlfriend’s not around so need to show off with the heavy lifting.”
Bucky laughs, flipping him off. “She’s off getting lunch,” he says, “But see if you get any now, punk.”
“Nah, Nat loves me,” he says.
Sam comes out of the house with a large box.
“How many more boxes?” Steve asks.
“Only seven,” Sam says, passing him the box.
Steve takes the box and finds a space for it in the back of the truck where it wouldn’t jostle around and get damaged. When done, Steve sits himself on the edge of the truck bed.
“Now, Steve,” Sam says, laying a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You have to promise that you’ll find time for visits, understood?”
“You wouldn’t be able to keep me away, Sam. I promise,” Steve says, holding out his pinky.
Sam gives him a bright smile, the one that made Autumn feel like Spring.
~29 Years Old~
♪ I want you the right way, I want you but I want you to want me too
I want you to want me, baby, just like I want you ♪
Steve looks up from his reports to his ringing phone, knowing exactly who was calling by Marvin Gaye’s smooth tones filling his office.
Steve hits answer immediately and sets the phone on speaker. “Hey, Sam.”
“Hey man, I have a favor to ask of you,” Sam says.
“Anything,” Steve assures. ‘What wouldn’t he do for Sam?’
“My nephew, Aiyden, is turning 11 next month and he’s really into firefighters. It would mean the world to him if you swung by his party in uniform as a special surprise.”
Steve smiles. “Sure, Sam. I can do that, no problem,” he says.
Sam gives a short pause. “I’m gonna need a pinky promise, Steve,” Sam says. Steve can hear the smile on Sam’s face.
“You can’t pinky promise over the phone,” Steve laughs.
“Not with that attitude, you can’t.”
“Sam,” Steve moans, between laughs.
“You doing it?” Sam says.
Steve rolls his eyes and holds his pinky up against his phone. “There, are you happy now?”
“Very,” Sam says. “Now… I was thinking maybe we could go out for beers after Aiyden’s party.”
“Sounds like a solid plan, Sam.”
~33 Years Old~
The music plays loudly in the auditorium. All around him people laugh and drink. All of them graduated the same year, all of them City College of New York alumni. He doesn’t remember most of the people here, he was sure he never even met some of them.
He didn’t really care for school reunions. And having Bucky drag him through all of their high school ones only solidified that opinion. The only reason he was here tonight, celebrating the CCNY reunion was because Sam had encouraged him to go with him. And he admits, he is having a good time. It felt more like a night out with Sam at a club than a University reunion.
Sam appears by his side, drinks in hand. “Are you going to admit I was right and you’re having a good time?” Sam jests as he hands him a beer.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “You were right.”
Sam playfully gives him an elbow to the ribs, laughing.
Steve watches as his best friend brings the drink to his lips, transfixed. Steve couldn’t look away if he tried. And he doesn’t want to try.
He feels his knees go weak as he watches Sam swallow.
Sam sets his drink down on the table.
‘This is it’, he thinks.
Feeling bold, Steve leans in. His right hand grabs hold of Sam’s forearm to steady himself and he brings his lips down on Sam’s. He closes his eyes as he adds more pressure behind the kiss.
After several heartbeats, Steve pulls back and opens his eyes.
“What that real or are you just drunk off your ass?” Sam asks, expression guarded.
He could say it wasn’t real, he could say it was just the alcohol. They would laugh it off, maybe joke about it every now and again. Steve would have to ignore the hurt each time, knowing it was a lie, because it did mean something, and that he had been wanting to kiss Sam for years and only now has gathered up the courage to do so.
Or he could tell Sam the truth. Tell him he loves him. Maybe things would be awkward for them over the next few months. But it would finally all be out there in the open.
“I promise you this is real,” Steve says.
A slow smile spreads across Sam’s face, like the sun rising to warm the cold, frosty morning. “You pinky promise?” Sam says.
Steve laughs, leaning in for another kiss, his hand reaching out for Sam’s.
“I pinky promise this is real,” he whispers against Sam’s lips.
~36 Years Old~
Everything was so green and beautiful. Steve doesn’t think he could name a more beautiful view, there was just something special about the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Cantor Rooftop Garden.
Maybe it was the atmosphere, the people laughing, enjoying themselves and the bar. The sprawling view of Central Park, rising up from within the park, instead of the view you had looking in from the surrounding city. Maybe it was all the fountains and water features. Or the band playing.
Maybe it was simply the man by his side.
Steve turns to Sam, giving him a bright smile. “The view is amazing, Sam,” Steve says.
Sam takes his hand and leads him towards one of the water features. Steve watches, confused, as Sam takes a deep breath.
“Steve, 23 years ago we met here in this museum on a school trip. We made our first promise, the first of many.” Sam says, giving his hand a squeeze. “Having you by my side has been the most wonderful gift I have ever been given. Having your friendship has gotten me through some of my toughest moments and brightened the best ones. And having your love has been the greatest pleasure I have known.” Sam lets go of his hand and reaches into his pocket. “Dating you the past three years have been the best years of my life, and I hope you feel the same.”
There is nothing Steve can do to stop the tears that start coming hard and fast. Steve brings a hand to his mouth to muffle a sob.
“I want to make you another promise,” Sam says, getting down on one knee. “If you will have me, I would promise myself to you. Steve, will you make me that happiest damn man in the world and marry me?” Sam looks up at him hopefully, grinning from ear to ear, tears are gathering in his eyes too.
“Yes,” Steve chokes out, dropping to his knees in front of Sam.
Through his tears, Steve can read the engraving on the inside of the ring as Sam takes it from the box.
‘Pinky promise.’
~41 Years Old~
Steve walks into the living room, smiling at the sight that greets him on the couch. Ava was curled up tight in Sam’s, enraptured by the story her father was telling her.
Ava looks up at him as he makes his way over “Did you scare away all the monsters, Papa?” she asks quietly. Sam gets up from the couch with Ava in his arms.
Steve gives her nose a light tap, earning him a giggle “Well, I asked them nicely to leave and they did” he says.
“Really, Papa?” Ava asks, her eyes wide.
“Pinky promise,” he says, hooking her tiny pinky with his own.
