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The invitation comes up casually, ten minutes in the conversation.
“You should come along.”
And it is the most pleasing thing she’s had in - well, years. There’s the pardon, of course, but adjustments to her new old life so far had been uneventful. This thing might just be what she needs.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
Sam gives her a smile. “It’d be good for you.”
“Hmm.” And she reckons it is, until the thought springs to mind. “But what should I wear? Do I bring anything?”
Bucky snorts from his slumped position next to her, assumed to be sleeping off this little morning rendezvous. He is determined to stay out of the conversation since she arrived until this specific point, and Sharon has almost forgotten he’s there.
“So the old hermit thinks this is funny?”
Sharon has to agree and shrugs. “He’s had far more social engagements to this day than I’ve had in years.” She takes a sip from her coffee cup. “Far more interesting ones.”
“That was one time.”
The smile she gives him is devoid of any sincere mirth. Definitely more laced with the trademark friendly Sharon Carter extortion. Bucky knows that smile.
“Is there a story to tell?”
“There’s always a story to tell.”
(The story goes something along the lines of her witnessing a Barnes date night that had gone sour. The something being the the date looking nothing like the picture she (or he?) put up on the dating app. To his luck, she happened to be there. She bailed him out of it. There might be some extortion involved, some negotiations...)
“No need to fuss,” Sam interjects, diverting the conversation back on track. “Just bring your usual charming self.”
Before Bucky can even make the thought to snort again, Sharon kicks him under the table.
“On second thought.”
This time, Bucky opens one eye.
“Maybe bring a date.”
Well...
“The locals do love a good matchmaking opportunity,” Sam offers, the love word enunciated with exaggeration. She detects a tinge of second hand embarrassment in his voice. “My parents were a product of those. My sister and her husband too.”
“Ex.”
“Yeah, well there’s that.”
“So that’s a plus and a minus, doesn’t give any statistical weight.” Sharon thinks it over, nonplussed, forking her omelet with disinterest. “It can’t be that bad.”
“True,” Sam admits. “And you won’t be the only single person in the crowd...”
He pauses, and Sharon raises an eyebrow at him. There’s always a story to tell. Sam shakes his head. For another time.
“There’s Bucky - “
“Not,” the interruption came unbidden the moment his name was mentioned. All eyes on the table turn on him. He clears his throat, carefully presenting his case. “Not if I could find a date by then.”
Maybe he’s saving face, Sharon muses. Not that he needs to, but it has been - so far - fun to see him try. So far, that is, until she realizes that Bucky acquiring a date would mean she would be the only single person in the crowd of matchmakers...
The horror of it so visceral, Sharon finds herself echoing the same words, sounding distracted.
“Not if I could find a date by then.”
Sam's unsure but he offers the support he thinks his friends need, both a loose cannon in each of their own unique ways. Maybe even more so on matters like this in particular.
“You’ve got less than thirty days.”
“Plenty of time,” Bucky offers Sharon a toast with his own coffee cup. Their glasses clink together as she finds herself acquiescing.
“This is the worst idea."
She hears silence when she's expecting objections.
"Ever.”
“That is the worst idea ever.”
“Second worst. The first one was when we thought we can succeed. Remember?” He gulps the rest of his drink, his third for the night.
She cannot possibly forget. “And doing it together is any better?”
He shrugs.
“Second worst.”
She takes her drink all in one go.
To say her night had gone from bad to utter hell in a matter of hours is a massive understatement. Sharon realized within ten minutes of conversation with her supposed date - her third date in two weeks - that the dress she bought earlier that day deserved better. That she was also done with all these dating apps that felt more like a scam the more she tried her so-called luck with them. Adding insult to injury, Bucky sauntered in the same pub, of all places to be. He was looking way too good to be alone on a Friday night. But there he was - looking way too good for casual runs on the grocery store, with that scruff and the leather jacket. Missing the arm accessory only meant one thing. Within a few minutes of spotting her though, his thing then became her thing and there they were - nursing their failures together.
“It can’t be that bad. So we’re two single adults in a crowd of matchmakers.” She takes his glass and downs another shot. “We’ve survived far worse.”
“Brainwashing, treason, bad dates. Sky’s the limit.”
Bucky agrees but he’s not yet about to let it go. “Or...”
Sharon sighs.
“We could pair up. We’ve survived far worse.”
“I just can’t believe that we’re so bad at this that we’re this desperate.”
“Tell me about it.”
She sees two potential problems to this. The first being, they could be making a big fuss about this for nothing. The second, which may or may not be worse than the first, is that she apparently believes his suggestion does not present a potential problem. Not really.
Bucky senses her indecision. “Look, it’s all hypothetical. Can I run you through a hypothetical?”
“I’m listening." It's not like she has a choice.
“Say, we go there together, and when they ask about us we say we’re together.”
“And?”
“That’s it. Didn’t really think it’s as complicated as breaking a man out of a high security prison.”
“What?”
He waves her off. “Details.”
It sounds so simple, not to mention it's the oldest trick in the book. Something she’s done many times herself in the guise of missions. There might be an overreaction on her part earlier, but that’s not going to take away the fact that it is the second worst idea they might have conjured together. Thank God for Sam Wilson and his presence in their lives.
“Do you think we can convince them?”
“You’re a spy.” Bucky offers. “I’m a spy. Ish.”
“Sounds like the success of this mission all depends on me.”
“You’re the charming one.”
Sharon feels the headache forming. It’ll be a tragedy waiting to happen. They can barely survive this night. “Splendid. No funny business or I’ll break your arm.”
“That threat will only work against my right.”
“Wouldn’t we want to try.”
He holds both his arms up in surrender. “No funny business.”
“And you’ll carry my bags for me.” She signals the bartender for one more round of drinks. Definitely an utter hell of a night.
“What are you bringing, a truck?”
“You know what they say,” she takes it upon herself to let him join her in misery, handing him another shot. “Go big or go home.”
She ends up being right. They make their way to the crowd - she, in a simple floral dress with her waves loose on her shoulders. He is a sight to behold himself. She meets Sarah right away, who noticed Bucky from afar, giving them a wave. The woman rushes in to meet them, calling for Sam in that loud, welcoming voice of hers, while giving Sharon a tight embrace like an old friend. Sam joins them eventually and some other introductions are made.
No one asks the questions. So there might have been an overreaction.
“You think Sam could be lying?"
“No,” Bucky says, pondering the same thing.
But his hand is still as firm and as gentle on her lower back since the time they came in. He says this is Sharon too many times to too many people, in way that’s too gentle to make her notice every time.
The mission is a success. They enjoy the rest of the night - Bucky playing with Sarah’s kids and Sharon helping out the women with whatever she could find her hands to do with. Apart from that moment of uncertainty making her way to town, this is all what she’s been hoping to have again. If only for tonight.
Life. People. Warmth. Family. Home.
Sam calls Bucky over to the boat to fix the lights. The kids run up to their mom and Bucky heads over to her first before going.
“You good?”
That hand on her back finds its way naturally. She swears to God.
“Yes. Thank you. Go.”
He lingers for a while before taking off, leaving Sharon looking at him as he does, oblivious to the knowing looks from the women around her.
(“I see what you did there.”
“We mean no harm,“ Bucky says good-naturedly. “Keep it simple, y’know.”
“Yes. A simple attraction.”
“Dunno what the hell you’re talking about.”
Sam grins, giving Bucky a cold bottle of beer in hand. Of course, no one asks questions if people already know.)
They had hoped they are out of the inquisition firing range once dinner is over.
“Oh, but give us something! How did you two meet?”
At least, until the alcohol is served.
Both of them take no offense on the questions, but they could only keep up with the pretense for long. Their survival mode had been 'less words, less mistake' - and it suited them far better than expected. Until this moment late in the festivities, when the crowd has thinned, and the only ones left were Sam’s closest friends who became theirs as the night went on without a hitch.
“We haven’t been together for long...” he looks around at the curious faces, and he feels rather than sees Sharon looking at him and seeing right through him. She now knows he can’t lie for shit. Hence, the spy-ish. He chances a glance at her and he sees her eyes are dancing with amusement much to his chagrin. He feels the heat rise up on his face.
“And I’m not sure she feels cool opening up a bit like this...”
It's the sincerity that strikes her so suddenly - he’s doing it for himself of course, but she also feels a sense of protectiveness coming from him, like the constant warmth of his hand on her back. He’s not quite right about that though - she's a spy but she wears her heart on her sleeve, goes and gives out her all. Once. She was once all that. Over time, she has learned the skill to deal with it in line of duty. And over, over time, well - she has forced herself to unlearn all that about her that it took her by surprise she had wanted to correct him for a moment there.
The moment feels so freeing and she just wants this one time to be herself. Just Sharon. Both of the old and the new.
So she allows herself that, just being in the present. When he looks at her for support, or plainly for help, she takes her chance and kisses him on the cheek. Rather bold of her to do just that, she’s not entirely even sure why she did it. Partly in gratitude, for him and everything he's done for her. For letting her be part of this world too, that Sam once shared with him, despite being a constant pain in the ass. Partly - with that surprised look on his face - for the satisfaction of seeing him so affected by her, even at the guise of a joke. She gives herself that too.
“We met through our common friend Sam,” she offers and all ears and attention are now on said friend, who they have now let on their joke. Sam is shaking her head at both of them - oh you two - and Sharon gives him a wink. They share a laugh, and the conversation ended up going a different direction altogether that Bucky and Sharon had the chance to excuse themselves, calling it a night.
Cheers to her quick thinking.
“No funny business, huh?”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she slows down in her walk to turn to him. “But it is funny. The opportunity presented itself.”
“What exactly is funny?”
“Sam’s face! That man can’t lie to save his life.” Her cheeks are flushed, and there's her smile that's so carefree, he wants to remember it all.
“The look on your face too.” She sticks her tongue at him. She bites her lips and she’s laughing now, so freely. So warm against the cold night.
“Fine.” He matches her stride and puts up a gesture of surrender. But he’s smiling at her too, completely entranced. “You did me a solid.”
His face shines - really smiling, like how can he be bad at this? When his face lights up like that, she feels like she’s seeing the person beneath. And she finds it to be lovely. Just lovely.
“Yeah?”
“Gonna be thinking about that for a while.”
Among other things he discovered about her too, the way she did with him.
Sharon nods, and the air buzzes around her - the energy flickering in sparks as they come to a stop. She leans closer, and takes her time to kiss him on the lips, lightly. And she means it to be chaste, a promise of tomorrow but he’s thinking the exact same thing yet pulls her closer, his hands on her back. She swears to God. He doesn’t pull away even when she does. Her hands end up playing at his hair by his nape when they part. The kiss is sweet, done too soon, and how exactly a good date night should end. He kisses him again on the cheek, closer to his lips this time, his breath a ghost against hers.
“Make sure you do.” The smell of her perfume lingers and he feels himself getting pulled to her even more.
“Goodnight, Bucky.”
"Goodnight, Sharon. Really good night."
He laughs as he takes her hand and Sharon thinks, she can’t be bad at this too.
fin.