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Like most things in their life, Sam and Bucky had not sought this out.
What they’d sought out was a quiet night over drinks and maybe some nachos.
What they got was a trivia game dedicated to them.
You see, the bartender explained, it was trivia night but no one had showed up to play. So if they wanted, they could face off against each other, mano a mano. Loser had to take a shot for every missed question. Theme being pop culture.
“Oh hell yeah,” Sam crowed. “That’s the easiest W I’ve ever been put up against.”
Bucky hadn’t said anything, just reached for a blue vodka and set it on the bar between them. “Hit us,” he said with a nod.
That should’ve been Sam’s first clue to the progression of the night, but he wasn’t paying that much attention. The bartender poured them each a shot and then pulled a stack of cards out from under the bar.
“Alright, first question: This band’s debut album in April of 1964 was eponymous.”
“The Rolling Stones,” Bucky said before Sam could even figure out who was around in the 60s.
“Correct,” the bartender confirmed. He looked at Sam expectantly. Sam laughed and tossed back the shot.
“Shit, you’ve got the girliest taste out there, Barnes,” he said, scrunching up his nose. “Tastes like I chewed on Malibu Barbie.”
“Yeah, well, when it takes a swimming pool to get you drunk, you start looking for things that taste good,” Bucky said.
“The 2017 movie Call Me By Your Name is based on a 2007 book with the same title. Who wrote the novel?”
“Andre Aciman,” Bucky said.
“Why do you know that?” Sam asked, taking his shot when the bartender refilled the glass.
“I read it when I was trying to put my brain back in order. It was in one of the airports I stopped in.”
“What was the first video played on MTV?” the bartender asked.
Bucky looked at Sam. “Come on, this is your prime,” he said.
“Shut up, I’m thinking. And also I was three.”
Bucky tapped the bar. “Video Killed the Radio Star by the Buggles. And I know that because it’s objectively the funniest choice to kick off your Music Television channel.”
“Hang on, hang on,” the bartender said with a laugh as he shuffled through the cards. “Okay, Sam Wilson, the new Captain America,” he said and Bucky groaned and complained about fairness with a laugh of his own, “ was born in what year?”
Sam smacked his hand over Bucky’s mouth. “1978. Really, just the year? It can’t even go for my whole birthday?”
“And that’s how many years from the last Captain America’s birth?”
“60!” Sam shouted before Bucky could pull his hand away. “God, you’re so much older than me,” he said to Bucky.
“And still more good looking.”
Sam snorted and shook his head. “You’ve got two drinks,” he said with a nod. Bucky took both and then squared up for the next question before his head tipped to one side. “Nuh-uh,” Sam said. “I don’t mess around with you when your head does that.”
“What if it was trivia about us? I get all the questions about Sam. He gets all the questions about me.”
“Oh come on,” Sam said.
“For how often you combed through my files after DC, you should know me forward and backwards.”
“That’s not the kind of questions that’re gonna be in the TRIVIA Captain America pack,” Sam argued. “It’s gonna be shit like what your favorite ice cream is or how many continents you’ve been on.”
“You should know my favorite ice cream. It’s in your freezer.”
“I have never seen you pick the same flavor twice.”
Bucky shrugged. “And it’s seven. I’ve been everywhere. The more challenging question would be about how many countries I’ve been to. Or how many countries I’ve killed people in.”
“I assume those would have the same answers.”
“No, I didn’t kill anyone in the Arctic.”
“Then why were you there?”
“Infecting dogs with alien parasites.”
Sam shoved Bucky’s shoulder but really only succeeded in pushing himself off his own barstool. “Alright, tough guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Oh man, I can do this without cards,” the bartender said. “Alright, I just did a Wilson question. How about...Bucky Barnes was a champion boxer in what weight class?”
Sam turned to stare at Bucky disbelievingly. “You were a boxing champion?”
Bucky shrugged. “It paid the bills.”
“So you don’t know?” the bartender asked.
“No, I don’t know,” Sam grumbled and threw back another shot.
“Welterweight,” Bucky answered.
“Alright, Sam Wilson completed a full bachelor’s degree after his first tour with the Air Force. Where and when did he take classes?”
“LSU, oooh what was it, 2005-2008?” Bucky ventured.
“You wanna give it to him?” the bartender asked.
“Hell no. Drink your drink. It was 2006-2009.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and drank.
“Among the personal effects found in Barnes’ rucksack after his assumed death--sorry--there was a letter from his sister detailing the plot of what 1945 movie?”
“The Picture of Dorian Gray. He had the book too,” Sam said and looked incredibly smug about knowing that.
“My turn, how the hell do you know that off the top of your head?” Bucky asked.
“I knew a guy who went full 1895 judge on your ass and said it was proof of your sexuality that you were so interested in the story. Wrote a whole paper about it.”
“Was it you? Were you the guy?” Bucky teased.
Sam elbowed him and shook his head. “I never wrote about you for any papers. You were not interesting enough.”
Bucky elbowed him back.
“Sam Wilson grew up in Delacroix, Louisiana but was born where?”
“Harlem,” Bucky answered without pause. “His family moved when he was four months old.”
“Bucky Barnes’ favorite place to eat is--”
“Oh, fuck, what’s that place in New York called? Oh, man, your friend Leah is gonna kick my ass. Shit, I don’t know,” Sam said.
The bartender poured out another shot and watched Sam take it. “Nah, it’s Wilson Family Seafood,” he said after he was sure Sam wasn’t about to spit his drink out.
“What?” Sam asked and made a valiant effort of spitting out a drink he’d swallowed already.
“Your hushpuppies get to me,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Besides,” he added, softer, “Reminds me of home.”
Sam leaned into Bucky’s side heavily. Maybe the alcohol was to blame. “Thanks, man. That’ll mean a lot to Sarah.”
“Sam Wilson lived with how many people during his time in DC?”
Bucky frowned and looked over at Sam. “What, like, total? Or in that big house of his?”
“Total.”
“Shit, I know you didn’t have any roommates in the house. But I don’t know where you lived before then. Did you room with some VA buddies?”
The bartender made a noise like a buzzer going off. “Time’s expired. Drink.”
“I never roomed with anyone in DC,” Sam said. “Shoulda gone with your gut.”
Bucky took his drink and made a face. “Can we up it? Change it to something with cinnamon.”
“No way,” Sam said. “That was the first shit I got drunk on.”
“Bullshit,” Bucky said.
“It was. I went out with some friends and it was all they wanted to drink. Throwing up that night and the next morning hurt so much. I think I still have indigestion from it.”
“Talk a little sexier,” Bucky teased, leaning into Sam’s space. Sam kissed his cheek wetly. “You’re already tipsy, aren’t you, Wilson?”
“I told you, I have a bad stomach.”
Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Alright,” the bartender said when he’d swapped the drinks. “How many girls did Barnes propose to the night he shipped out?”
“Bullshit,” Sam said now. “How many?”
Bucky laughed and shoved a hand through his hair. “Two. I, myself, got a little drunk that night. I probably proposed to Steve when I got home too. And maybe the fridge.”
“What a player,” Sam laughed and leaned back into Bucky’s side. He took his drink and then started coughing. “Fuck that.”
“Alright, how many people did Sam propose to before he shipped out?”
“What? No way,” Bucky said and looked down at the top of Sam’s head.
Sam held up one finger. “It was my best friend. We’d gone out to dinner and we both got drunk on fancy restaurant wine. I proposed to him in the back of a cab. He said yes. It was very touching. The fare was free.”
Bucky laughed again and wrapped his arm around Sam’s side before he took his drink. “Fuck, you’re right. I always--fuck--forget the way that just...lights up everything in your face.”
“What is Barnes’ favorite song?” the bartender asked.
“You are my sunshine,” Sam said. “But only the sad versions.”
“They’re all sad. It’s about being left,” Bucky pointed out.
“Yeah, but you like the ones with Johnny Cash being all mopey.”
“What’s Sam’s favorite flower?”
“Sunflowers. And lavender.”
Sam hummed and nodded. “I do like those ones. Oh, I thought of a question. When does Vader say ‘Luke, I am your father’?”
Bucky grinned and ran his fingers down Sam’s arm. “Never. That’s not the line.”
“Fuck!” Sam said and threw back another shot. Bucky wasn’t sure which version of the game they were playing at that point, but he wasn’t going to argue. “You didn’t even like those movies.”
“No, I said your great big plot twist wasn’t a plot twist if you spoke German.”
“It’s not a plot twist if you speak German,” Sam mimicked in a high pitched voice. “Okay, I’ve got another one. What’s Paul McCartney’s middle name?”
“Paul. His name’s James Paul.”
“Fuck you,” Sam said again and tossed another shot back. “Let’s go home.”
“Why?” Bucky asked. “I’m having a great time.”
“Why do you know so much about pop culture? You weren’t around for any of it.”
“Wait, I know the answer to this trivia question,” the bartender said and passed over a shot more for each of them. “It’s because he has an eidetic memory. If he’s read it, he remembers it.”
Bucky shot a finger gun at the bartender. “Yup. And I did a lot of catching up while you weren’t finding me after DC. Plus, with Shuri…” He blew a raspberry and shook his head. “You need an eidetic memory to catch all the information she throws at you.”
He stood and caught Sam as he slouched towards the newly empty seat. “Come on, Sammy,” he said. “Let’s get you home.” He freed a handful of twenties from his pocket. Too many twenties. “Thanks for putting up with us,” he said to the bartender and hoisted Sam into a fireman’s hold.
“This is undignified,” Sam said. “I’m Captain America.”
“If you say it quieter, people might not notice,” Bucky said.
Sam wrapped his arms around Bucky’s bicep and Bucky was pretty certain he was asleep before they got to the door. Luckily, his place was only a few blocks out of the way and he was not half as drunk as Sam, so the walk was nice, even if he was pretty certain several people thought Captain America was being kidnapped. He’d be the front of the tabloids again. Winter Soldier Snaps, Takes Captain America.
But no one stopped them and Bucky made it to his apartment without having to shift Sam’s warm weight off his shoulders. He was kind of sad to flip him into the bed. New bed. It could handle a semi-conscious national icon hitting it a little roughly.
Sam grumbled and turned to his side, batting the pillow under his head. Bucky got water and aspirin and left a path to the toilet clear. When he came back into the bedroom, Sam was looking at him through narrowed, bleary eyes.
“Hey,” he said. “I thought of another question.
Bucky stopped trying to wrangle Sam’s boots off and straightened up. “What’s that, Wilson?”
“Who does Bucky Barnes love most in the whole world?”
“Hmmm,” Bucky pretended to think. “Is it AJ or Cass Wilson?” he asked.
“Un-uh.”
“Is it Sarah Wilson? Or Alpine the Cat?”
“No. He left all of those people, and the cat, in Louisiana.”
“Ah, so it’s someone he drags around with him, huh?” Bucky said and went back to unlacing Sam’s boots. “Is it secretly Redwing?”
Sam kicked his boots off and shook his head. “You’re at, like, nine shots.”
“You’re bad at math.” Bucky moved to stand at the head of the bed again, smoothing his metal fingers over Sam’s hairline. “Who does Bucky Barnes love most in the whole world, Sam Wilson?” he asked with a faint smile.
Sam clutched at Bucky’s wrist and kissed his knuckles softly. “It’s me,” he said. “He loves me.”
Bucky couldn’t help the surge of affection and adoration in his chest and it split across his face in a grin he couldn’t stop. He kicked his own boots off and followed with his jeans before he climbed over Sam to the other side of the bed.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured, kissing the curve of his jaw and then the back of his shoulder. “I do love you a whole hell of a lot.”
“The most,” Sam repeated, closing his eyes. His attempts at getting rid of his own jeans were forgotten after a valiant fight with the button and zipper.
Bucky wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist. “The most,” he agreed and kissed Sam’s shoulder again.