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Sam should have gotten water when he had the chance. God, he's thirsty. It's getting hard to smile when his tongue's starting to feel like sandpaper.
He really shouldn't complain so much. He knows he could easily excuse himself and walk over to the bar to finally get a glass of water and maybe a neat glass of whiskey as well. Ah, that sounds nice. Some hydration and a salty burn down his throat to make him lighter on his feet. He needs to feel lighter, he's been standing for hours and all he wants to do is sit the hell down but, apparently, this event has turned into a Captain America meet and greet.
The man in front of Sam refuses to stop shaking his hand. Sam's pretty sure he's been shaking this dude's hand for a good fifteen minutes, the guy seriously won't let go. He's rambling on and on about how much he stands for justice and everything Captain America believes in. More people are getting in line behind the man probably to thank Sam, congratulate him, or ask for a photo. It's been a mixture of the three all night.
Finally, the stranger lets Sam's hand go when some drunk lady twirls across the dance floor and stumbles into a few chairs causing a loud enough eruption that everyone turns towards the commotion.
Sam hastily slips away as fast as his tired legs will move him. He sneaks to the edge of the room and travels far back to a lone table that's sitting in a shadowed corner. He stumbles into a chair and takes one singular breath of relief before a voice rings from behind him.
"Hey, your husband's stealing all the cheese."
Sam sighs heavily trying to keep his composure, he has to. No matter how tired he is, he needs to keep up the honorable act. He's Captain America now. So, he pivots in his chair and finds a young girl staring back at him.
"Huh?" Sam smiles wearily. "I think you got the wrong guy."
"Mm, nope. Sam Wilson, Captain America - right?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"And that guy is Bucky Barnes, right?" the girl asks as she spins around to point directly at Bucky who's currently hovering over the table full of hors d'oeuvres.
"Yeah, that's him," Sam answers.
"Your husband," the girl designates.
Sam breaks into an incredulous smile and shakes his head.
"No idea where you got that one. Bucky and I are definitely not married," Sam chuckles.
The young brunette tilts her head curiously.
"We're partners - coworkers is a better word, actually," Sam clarifies.
"Really?"
The girl appears positively shocked. She stands in place glancing back and forth between the two men.
"You guys aren't a thing at all?" she checks.
"Not even a little bit," Sam verifies.
Sam's not offended by the accusation but it is strange to him how absolutely astounded the girl seems by this fact. As if the idea of Sam not being married to Bucky is so out of place, it's unworldly.
Meanwhile, the reality is Sam and Bucky have just begun working together. Their status as partners is very recent. They've gone on one mission to defeat the Flag Smashers and it was honestly a pleasant surprise they came out of that as friends. So, the leap to fully devoted husbands sounds like a bit of a stretch to Sam.
"What's your name anyhow?" Sam asks keeping his tone light and friendly.
"America Chavez."
Sam recognizes the name. As Captain America, Sam is now kept well up to date and got intel surrounding the events with Doctor Strange and young America in front of him.
"So, where'd you hear Bucky and I were married?" Sam inquires.
In perfect timing, Bucky steps up behind America but stops short when he hears the question.
"Sorry, I just assumed cause in every other universe you guys are happily married," America supplies.
Bucky chokes on a cube of cheese then, yes, chokes. Sam and America both watch the super soldier pound his chest and bend forward as he coughs up a cheese chunk. Bucky straightens back up and swings back his champagne glass for a large gulp.
"What?" Bucky gets out in his next free breath.
America merely shrugs with a smile.
"Yeah, who would've guessed this is the only one you're not," America says before narrowing her eyes at Bucky. "Stop stealing all the cheese."
She grabs his plate of cheese cubes and rushes off.
Bucky doesn't even put up a fight. He stares after her with an agape mouth and confusion painted over every line of his face. He twists back to Sam, completely baffled.
"What?" he stresses once more.
Sam breaks into a smile, shrugging as casually as America did.
"Man, I don't know. I think she's the girl who can travel through the multiverse."
"And we're... a thing there?" Bucky stutters, massively struggling to compute this information.
"It's not there, it's multiple other universes and I guess, that's what she said. You heard as much as I did," Sam informs him evenly.
This doesn't digest easily for Bucky, his eyes widen with immense disbelief.
"And you don't care?"
"Why would I?" Sam poses. "If I committed to you in some other dimension, it ain't affecting me here."
That makes Bucky blink a few times over and they stand in a stretch of silence staring at each other. Sam stands from his chair, deciding to sneak his way to the bar for a drink and hoping a hundred more people don't notice him on his way. He steps around the table and begins making his way over. Bucky instantly follows.
"They committed. We didn't," Bucky corrects from right behind him.
"Right but it's us - isn't it?" Sam debates as he reaches the bar and signals for the bartender's attention. "One water and a whiskey, please."
"I don't know how that shit works. I just know I'm standing here talking to you and we're definitely not married," Bucky fights as he slumps onto a bar stool next to Sam.
"Well, now you're sitting," Sam points out earning a proper eye roll from Bucky. "And you're right, we're definitely not married."
"I must be an idiot in other universes," Bucky snidely remarks.
Sam readily glares at his partner.
The grin that wipes across Bucky's face is one Sam's grown very used to over the last few weeks. It's truthfully rewarding to know that the former Winter Soldier has grown so comfortable with Sam that he not only endlessly jokes with him but a smile has become a common occurrence.
"Oh, fuck you. You'd be a genius to get with me," Sam refutes.
"Well, you are Captain America. Alright, you're the idiot then," Bucky counters.
"How'd you figure that?"
"You're with me. That's a dumb move, Wilson," Bucky reasons.
Sam rolls his eyes.
"You said yes too. We both committed to this relationship," Sam argues.
The bartender extends the two requested drinks across the bar as Sam pulls out his wallet for a tip. Bucky snatches the glass of whiskey in the same moment.
"Hey," Sam snaps.
"You need to stay sharp, Cap. Can't be drinking on the job," Bucky grins over the rim of the glass and then chucks it back, downing the whole thing in one swing.
Sam lets his head fall into his hand, rubbing the annoyance out of his temples. He drops some cash onto the counter for the bartender and then picks up his water.
"I'm not on the job, this was supposed to be a social outing," Sam insists before he chugs some water.
"The world always needs saving," Bucky sneers as he stands sensing Sam's about to march off. He's right, he's always able to sense these trivial motions. He knows Sam way too well at this point.
Sam huffs and storms the other way, knowing Bucky will trail right behind him. He does.
"Hey, how do you think you got me?"
Sam stops and turns back around to his irritating partner.
"I got you? I don't think so, buddy. I'm positive you begged on hands and knees to win my affection," Sam rebuttals.
"Begged?" Bucky scoffs. "You do know I could charm you if I wanted to."
"Charm me?" Sam laughs loudly at the dare.
The mocking laugh knocks the smile off Bucky's face. He frowns a bit and falls quiet. Sam's chest constricts guiltily.
"Look, I'm not in the mood tonight Buck. Can we argue tomorrow?" Sam pleas and then sneaks off to another table in a darkened corner.
Bucky lets him go.
They made plans for a movie night a week ago. A week ago when they had zero knowledge of their marital status in other universes.
It was a simple plan. Meet at Sam's house for grub and beer and watch a movie. It should be simple but unfortunately for Sam, he's got no clue how much Bucky has been ruminating over the discovery America unleashed on them for the past four days leading up to this night.
Sam can tell Bucky is acting different the second he walks through the door. He's holding a bottle of wine and wearing a collared shirt. He's not even sporting his classic leather jacket and his semi-fancy shirt is suspiciously tucked in. Sam's eyebrows furrow as he watches Bucky saunter over to the kitchen island to place the wine down.
"Thought we were doing pizza and beer," Sam comments, hauling the six-pack over to the island from the other counter.
Bucky shrugs as he fishes around in Sam's silverware drawer for a wine opener.
"I know you're a wine guy," Bucky says indifferently.
He finds the corkscrew and quickly works the bottle open.
"What's the occasion?" Sam tests.
"Nothing. Can't we treat ourselves once in a while?" Bucky chuckles as he pops the cork off and immediately grabs two wine glasses from Sam's cabinet. Evidently, he knows where things are regardless of them never sharing wine in Sam's apartment before.
"Please, help yourself," Sam quips but Bucky only pauses and flashes Sam a wicked grin.
Sam slows when Bucky's eyes shamelessly scan down his body like he's a full course meal waiting to be devoured.
"I'd love to," Bucky divulges in a deep tone that almost makes a shiver want to run down Sam's spine. The only barrier to that shiver succeeding is the delayed understanding of what the hell Bucky's up to.
Sam proceeds to roll his eyes dramatically and sigh with the realization.
"You're seriously still on this?"
"On what?" Bucky questions as he turns his attention back to the wine and pours some into the glasses.
"The couple thing. You don't gotta make a point, man."
"I'm not making a point. I'm hanging out with my partner."
"Your working partner," Sam defines as he accepts the glass of wine being handed to him.
"Sure, sure," Bucky concurs.
They move to the couch which suddenly feels much less casual with delicate wine glasses in their hands rather than beers.
Sam flips on the TV and tries to ignore the unusual tension simmering in the air. He clicks play on the movie he already had queued up and they barely get a minute into the beginning credits before Bucky opens his big mouth again.
"So, what do you look for in a partner?" Bucky questions, eyes still on the TV.
Sam sighs loudly.
"Buck-"
"I mean, work-wise. I should probably know what you're expecting since I am Captain America's side-kick yet again."
"Side-kick?" Sam repeats stunned Bucky is labeling himself as such.
A few weeks ago the news labeled Bucky as the Falcon's side-kick and that endured a week-long heated discussion between them regarding the reported title.
Bucky turns to face Sam, resting his arm over the back of the couch, and locking eyes intently. Sam unintentionally grips onto his wine glass a little tighter.
"I don't mind. I get it now. Seeing you with all those people adoring you, applauding you. I should be telling you too," Bucky expands, tone even and serious.
"Telling me what?" Sam narrows his eyes trying to keep his gaze guarded but he's struggling to foresee Bucky's game plan here.
"I should be telling you how lucky I am," Bucky completes.
Sam arches an eyebrow still wary about every word but in that split second Bucky slides closer, nearly an entire cushion over. Sam's pulse races unexpectedly as he observes their new proximity.
"Alright, stop this," Sam warns.
"Stop what?" Bucky asks with big round innocent eyes.
Sam glares at the man's faux naivety and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table.
"Fine. You wanna do this, give me your best shot," Sam challenges.
A wild spark ignites behind Bucky's eyes. He sets his own glass down and when he turns his attention back to Sam he's somehow slipped even closer. Sam sucks in a shocked breath as Bucky's face is suddenly only a few inches away from his own. He watches a sinister grin wipe across Bucky's lips.
"How do you think we kiss in other universes?"
"K-kiss?" Sam embarrassingly stutters not expecting the question in the slightest.
"Yeah," Bucky affirms, his eyes dropping down to Sam's lips. "You think it's soft and sweet or hard and passionate?"
The idea shouldn't send a parade of goosebumps across Sam's skin but it does.
Sam doesn't answer, he can't, because his mind is horrendously hoping for the ladder and he's actually picturing it. Bucky pinning him down, joining their lips in a frenzied rush of hot desire.
Sam flushes furiously at the image. Maybe Bucky realizes what Sam's envisioning or maybe he's just grinning like the devil because he knows exactly what he's doing. Sam really couldn't have predicted this, not by a long shot.
"You think when they get home from missions, they're able to control themselves?" Bucky spurs on.
"What?" Sam murmurs.
"I don't think I'd be able to. I know how I get after a fight. All that adrenaline pumping through my veins and if I had someone I could shove up against a wall..."
Bucky dangerously inches forward, nearly closing the space but not fully. Sam feels himself swallow and Bucky's eyes drop to his throat to watch the motion then his gaze lifts back up.
"We'd never make it upstairs," Bucky finishes.
"How could we if you fucking shove me," Sam stammers trying to sound offended but he's so far from it and Bucky knows it.
"Right, we wouldn't cause I'd have you up against the wall and then I'd rip your suit off, piece by piece, right there."
"You can't manhandle the suit," Sam objects.
Bucky laughs softly. They're so close, Bucky's warm breath bounces off Sam's skin.
"Yes I can. It's vibranium," Bucky growls low, the sound vibrates straight through Sam.
Sam's eyes unintentionally fall closed. He's picturing it again, picturing Bucky tearing the suit off him any way he pleases and it'd still be in one piece even with all Bucky's strength.
"Do you ever kiss me?" Sam hears himself say.
His eyes flash open when it registers. Oh fuck, he made this real.
Thankfully, Bucky doesn't look alarmed but the grin has fallen from his face. He's staring at Sam's lips again. Then, his eyes slowly rise.
"Yeah I kiss my husband. All the fucking time," Bucky husks.
Then kiss me, Sam wants to say but this is a game... right? This must be a game, they've never done this. They've never even been this close except the time they roughly landed on top of each other after Sam saved Bucky's ass from a speeding cargo truck. They've never done anything like this.
"Big talk for a guy who's not married - in this universe," Sam finally utters.
"Not yet," Bucky grits before he lunges the last inch forward and connects their lips in a messy, hurried kiss. It's hard and passionate, not the soft or sweet option Bucky supposed earlier.
Sam gasps into it. His fingers card through Bucky's hair, he grabs hold of the soft strands and pulls roughly. Bucky groans against him.
"I should've done this sooner," Bucky gravels before pulling Sam into a second deeper kiss.
Sam heaves a large breath when they eventually break for air.
"You are, in fact, the last Bucky Barnes in the multiverse to do this," Sam sneers.
Bucky huffs a laugh but his eyes dart away. Sam releases his grip from the brown locks and lets his hands fall loosely around Bucky's neck.
"Can't believe every other Bucky gets you except me," Bucky gripes looking like he's painfully regretting all the time he's apparently wasted.
Sam frames Bucky's face, drawing his attention back.
"You get me now."