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Galas always feel like a chore to Sam.
Probably because looking for the right clothes to wear is already a chore, and it doesn’t help that his sister Sarah is almost never available for when he needs her help.
“I don’t know, Sharon, I don’t really see the charm in this emerald green tie.” Sam fiddles with the said tie with a soft frown after setting his phone on a shelf.
He’s in a menswear boutique because a) his one suit at home is about 10 years old, and b) it’s a Stark Charity Gala, which he doesn’t really dread coming to, but certainly needs some fancy pants. Rhodey asked him to come and make sure he looks good, so Pepper is taking care of whatever he needs to get.
“It looks good on you. I like the gold accents.” Sharon says from the screen, leaning back on her office chair. “Wait, why don’t you switch it out with a plain black one? And then get a three-piece emerald green suit. That’s better, isn’t it?”
“That feels like an overkill.” Sam replies, taking the tie off and handing it to somebody.
Sharon rolls her eyes through the video call. “You looked very good in whatever you wore in Madripoor that night, you know? Plus, this is a Stark gala with rich people to mingle with. Somebody’s gonna wear some sort of a peacock dress, Sam, a green suit won’t blind anyone.”
Sam chuckles and shakes his head at the statement. Sharon’s not wrong though. He turns to the man patiently assisting him, and though sheepish about it, he asks if they have what Sharon had suggested. The man nods and goes to the back.
“This is insane.” Kate Bishop blinks at the enormous venue. “Look, Cap, I’ve been to hundreds of galas but never in a Stark one. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
“Is that a bad thing or a good thing? I never know with you… uh, young people.” Sam turns to Kate who graciously accepted his offer to be his plus-one as representatives of the Avengers.
“Positive. This is so cool.” Kate grins and holds her purple Versace dress in excitement as she steps further into the atrium.
Sam offers an arm, nervously straightening down his velvet emerald green blazer. He ended up doing what Sharon had said — a three-piece emerald green suit with a winged golden brooch. He is wearing a white button-up shirt underneath, partnered with a plain black bow tie. His fingers are adorned with golden rings, with a solitaire ring on his pinky nesting a square cut emerald. He looks fancy, he feels like a billionaire — it’s incredible how he can melt among the socialites present.
“Sam!” Pepper calls out from afar, a group of people parting in half as she makes her way towards him. She waves her hand as she grins, her daughter Morgan holding her other hand as she waddles beside her.
With eyes lighting up, Sam mirrors the smile as he opens his arm for an embrace. Kate pauses and steps aside to give way.
Pepper pulls Sam into a hug, rubbing his back affectionately. “I’m glad you made it. Rhodey wasn’t sure if you would.”
“Oh, you know, I tried.” Sam laughs and bends down to give Morgan a short hug as well. “Hey M, you look cute! Are you matching dresses with mommy?”
Morgan nods enthusiastically and gives it a twirl, making Pepper and Sam chuckle, and Kate gasping loud in adorableness.
Sam blinks and turns to Kate, putting an arm around her. “Oh, shoot. This is Kate, by the way. She’s Barton’s friend. Kate, this is Pepper Potts-Stark.”
Kate extends a hand and shakes Pepper’s, her shoulders quirking up slightly, abashed. “Hi. I’m an Avenger. You probably know that though. I-I mean, you must know who the new members are. Sorry.”
Sam looks at Pepper and mouths, she’s nervous.
“Anyway, I’m Clint’s friend and fan, but like, also I’m a big fan of your late husband. I love Iron Man. Do you have… a display of an Iron Man suit?” Kate continues to ramble, still shaking Pepper’s hand. She then abruptly stops and purses her lips together upon realization that it might have been too much.
Pepper exhales a breath, but not in annoyance. She smiles at Kate and places another hand on top of hers. “It’s okay. And we do. People like to see them, and Tony loved making them. I can bring you upstairs if you like?”
Kate nods quickly but looks at Sam for approval. Sam merely shrugs and tilts his head.
Pepper starts walking away with Morgan and Kate, but looks over her shoulder to tell Sam, “You look handsome, by the way!”
Sam smiles although caught off guard, burying his hands in his pockets. “Thank you! You too, Pep, you look incredible.”
As Kate, Pepper, and Morgan get swallowed by an extravagant-looking crowd, Sam nervously takes his hands out again and fiddles with his rings. A waiter passes by him and offers a glass of champagne. This will do, Sam thinks, and just straight up chugs it. He holds the empty glass, brown eyes scanning the room for Rhodey or anyone else he might know.
“Just commit to the bit, Yelena. Val wanted us to go, so we had to. It can’t be that bad.”
The distinct voice of John Walker made Sam turn. He’s talking awfully loud that Sam could hear him a few feet away even with the crowd buzzing. He’s wearing a plain tuxedo, while his teammate Yelena is wearing a strapless silver evening gown.
Sam didn’t know the Thunderbolts were coming.
“I’ll give you 45 minutes, Walker, and I’m gone.” Yelena instructs pointedly, “Don’t you dare tell Val.”
“Okay, Jesus, don’t get cranky at me.” John rolls his eyes.
Sam turns his back to the two when John goes to look at his direction. He continues to listen, but he hopes he won’t get approached.
“Ah, there you are! Where were you?”
“Had to take a call from Val. She was just checking on us.”
Sam perks up. He feels his heart skip a beat, then crash inside his rib cage. He clenches the glass too tight, the ring on his finger pinching his skin slightly. He wants to turn around and follow the voice. Make sure he’s not imagining it. But how could he? He knows who that voice belongs to like the back of his own hand.
And so, very discreetly, Sam looks over to who spoke.
Bucky shoves the phone in his back pocket before adjusting the cuff of his blazer. He’s wearing a black turtleneck along with his two-piece navy blue suit. He has a silver chain around his neck, as well as silver rings on his right hand. One could see his dog tags protruding against the fabric of his shirt. His hair is longer, although not as long as he used to keep it, styled and combed back with his usual soft waves defined better. His beard has grown the length of when it used to be when he was in Wakanda.
He has never seen Bucky that way, ever. Sam finds himself staring for too long.
Too long that Bucky actually notices his presence and locks eyes with him from across the atrium. Bucky’s eyes widened, his eyebrow subtly flicking upwards.
Sam sees Bucky move towards him and as if it’s his cue, he quickly turns away, immediately wading through the sea of people. He needs to be far from the Thunderbolts as much as possible.
Far from Bucky.
He’s angry. He’s angry and nervous and confused and maybe slightly turned on, but he’s mostly angry that he doesn’t want to see Bucky right now.
He’s angry about the way Bucky didn’t tell him he was going to leave and join another group, to the point that he had to find out through the news. He’s angry that Bucky never bothered to call or even text. He’s angry that Bucky is doing well without him, he’s angry that he fucking misses him everyday and was starting to accept that maybe they weren’t something at all with how quickly Bucky dropped him the second he was made the leader of a fuckass spy group called Thunderbolts.
Sam doesn’t choose where to turn left or right, but he has walked far enough to reach the ball room. Classical rendition of modern music is playing, and the middle of the room is already filled with people dancing.
Composing himself again, Sam tugs on his blazer and looks around. He takes a deep breath and decides to go to the table of appetizers and drinks. He grabs a glass of clementine French 75, ditching the empty glass he didn’t realize he was still holding. Sam takes a sip, his mind still clouded by lingering thoughts about Bucky, the woman beside him going unnoticed until she coughs.
Sam jumps a bit, jolting his head to face the woman. She has strikingly pink hair carefully braided into a rose, her dress matching the same color. She’s pretty.
He greets, “...Hello.”
“Deep in thoughts about something, Captain?” She asks, taking the same kind of drink from the table.
Sam didn’t think he’d get recognized, if he’s honest. He shrugs and sighs once more before taking another sip. “I guess. There’s an awful lot of things to think about.” He reasons out, then pauses. “Sorry, um, I didn’t get your name.”
“Rachel,” The pink-haired woman answers, her mesh gloved hand reaching for Sam’s. “Rachel Leighton. I’m with Serpent Solutions.”
Shaking Rachel’s hand, Sam offers her a smile. Okay, he thinks, maybe a distraction is good until Rhodey or Kate somehow finds and saves me.
“You wanna go dance, or?” Sam asks, flipping their hands in a position where hers would be on top of his.
“Should I take the ‘or’?” Rachel jests, drinking another short sip before placing the glass back on the table. She smoothly takes Sam’s drink and puts hers and his side by side, allowing Sam to take her to the dance floor.
The music plays in the background as Sam and Rachel dance. Sam isn’t really familiar with Serpent Solutions, so he asks Rachel about it. She says it’s a cosmetic company, and Sam realizes he doesn’t know shit about cosmetics. Rachel immediately reads that from his face and teases him about it, making Sam bashful, and her amused.
Rachel is an attractive woman. Sam feels bad about calling her a distraction earlier. But what is she other than a placeholder for Bucky? If she wasn’t just a distraction, why is he still thinking about Bucky in his arms, Bucky’s metal hand engulfing his own, them swaying together like it’s their last dance? Rachel is staring at him with her green eyes, the shade almost matching the stone on his ring, yet he longs for the storm clouds trapped behind Bucky’s irises.
Sam swears that he blinks once, and suddenly it’s Bucky that is dancing with him.
He turns to his left and sees Rachel dancing with someone else, evidently annoyed. It looks like they had switched partners, but Sam was drowning in his thoughts so deep that he didn’t realize that he had somehow breathed Bucky into life, right in his arms.
Uncertainty, dread, and anger fight to the top of Sam’s heart. He decides he doesn’t want Bucky here, yet he finds himself holding Bucky’s hand tighter, as if he’d disappear again if he let go.
“She’s no good for you.” Bucky whispers, his eyes locked with Sam once more. There go the storm clouds.
Hearing Bucky’s voice makes it real for Sam. “And you think you are?”
Bucky parts his lips and looks away momentarily. He knows why Sam is acting this way. He knows what he’s done. “That’s not what I meant, Sam. I know who she is.”
“You don’t get to give me unsolicited advice anymore, Bucky. You don’t get to tell me who I should and shouldn’t talk to. We haven’t been friends for a while, as far as I know.”
Looking back to Sam, Bucky steps an inch closer, taking Sam’s breath away. “Is that what we were to you? Just friends?”
Sam feels swelling in his chest due to the way Bucky is looking at him, but he pushes it down. “What else were we? And if we were something else, will that justify you literally fucking ghosting me?”
Bucky’s gaze softens. He looks guilty, his brows knitting together in concern. Before he could utter any apology, however, Sam lets go of him with a sudden push, angrily striding away from the dance floor.
In a room full of people, Bucky had never felt so alone — nonetheless obviously deserved.
Sam feels like he still hasn’t recovered from the asphyxiation he felt from touching Bucky again. He has an overwhelming feeling of hurt and yearning, both making it hard to breathe. He went up another flight of stairs as the trail of people faded this time, empty hallways welcoming his empty heart. Sam cuts a corner and sees a door slightly ajar. He sneaks inside it, finding a small vacant room.
There are statues and furniture, but they are draped with white sheets. A balcony is situated across the room, its doors open with the slight breeze coming in. Sam walks towards it, taking a deep breath, his eyes watering from the swirl of emotions in his chest. He undoes his bow tie and a few buttons to loosen the tightness in his throat.
Throughout the three months of no contact with Bucky, this is the first time Sam has ever felt so conflicted. Not with forgiving him or staying mad for the rest of his life, which would undeniably be too childish, but the way his system reacts to be in the same vicinity as Bucky. He had wished that Bucky had said goodbye properly, even through a goddamn letter, but now he realizes that he didn’t want Bucky to be gone at all.
Bucky was his partner. He was his friend.
He was his, to a certain extent.
And him being plucked away from his life by God took a bigger toll than Sam had thought.
It was all denial.
Because if it wasn’t, then he wouldn’t have felt the ache of needing to escape from Bucky earlier, otherwise he would’ve just kissed him then and there.
“Sam.”
Pivoting around, Sam turns to Bucky’s voice, unquestionably wanting to hear it again.
Bucky is standing across the room and by the door, his chest heaving from running around the halls to find Sam again. His hair is slightly disheveled now, and there’s beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. The band from downstairs can still be heard, their music now slightly muffled. They must be directly above the ball room.
“Why are you here?” Sam mumbles, almost too quiet for Bucky to hear. It’s mostly a question to himself since he somehow managed to summon Bucky twice now.
“She… Rachel Leighton. She’s from Serpent Solutions.” Bucky says, stepping towards Sam.
“She told me that.” Sam responds sharply, standing still.
“A.K.A. Diamondback. Her company isn’t just some beauty company, Sam. They’re involved with genetic mutations. Illegal stuff. I have no idea how she got in here, but she must’ve been looking for you.”
Sam gets taken aback by the new information, but he keeps his cool.
“We’ve had eyes on the group for a while now. We’re still gathering intel about them, and I didn’t really think she’d be here—”
“I can hold my own, you know that, right?” Sam asks.
Bucky stops talking. He looks at Sam, his expression the coldest Bucky has ever seen. Sam starts walking towards him.
“If it’s obviously Thunderbolts business, there’s no need to tell me. And if I’m somehow caught in the crossfire, then I’ll handle it. I don’t need you to tell me what I have to avoid, Bucky. I’m not stupid.”
“I never said that.” Bucky frowns, eyeing Sam up and down. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Sam?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam spits out, stopping his stride a foot away from Bucky. “You think you can disappear from my life and come back just like that? Huh?”
Bucky turns away and sighs, placing his hands on his waist in defeat.
“Don’t sigh at me. You’re not the one who got left high and dry. No texts or calls or email, no nothing! Couldn’t even pick up a goddamn pen and paper? You know my address! Three months. Three fucking months, and halfway through month two you appeared on national television as a Thunderbolts member.”
“Sam…”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Leader. And then I gave you more time. Hoping that you’d text and explain why you can’t work with me anymore. Anything along those lines. But you decided it wasn’t worth your time. Radio fucking silence, Bucky.”
“I wasn’t allowed, okay!?” Bucky finally bursts out, throwing a hand in the air. “Woke up one morning and the president’s men were at my door! They took me away.”
Sam’s shoulders slumps at the news. “What?”
Bucky combs his fingers through his hair in frustration, refusing to look at Sam. “He wanted his own group. Something he can control himself. The Accords were dissolved but by hand-picking his own superhero team, he can send them where he needs them. No need for the Avengers.”
Finally, Bucky looks at Sam, and Sam could see the heartbreak through his eyes.
“He made it a part of my pardon. Otherwise I’d be thrown to The Raft. I became the de-facto leader by that. Walker wasn’t happy. Shostakov wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy. And… Val, the superior we basically report to, monitors my phone. She knew I was close to you. And going by the rules, we shouldn’t be meddling with the Avengers. By the time these were all processed, I was already on TV, and I knew you already despised me.”
“Man, I don’t despise you… I…” Sam rubs the nape of his neck, out of words. “I’m just…”
“Hurt.” Bucky finishes Sam’s sentence, smiling bitterly. It fades right away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never dreamed of hurting you. But I knew that I would the moment I was summoned to the White House. I knew I was going to leave. And I hated that. I hated the fact that I won’t be by your side anymore. I won’t be able to fight with you. Win with you, lose with you. You think if I was allowed to choose, I wouldn’t fucking choose you? There wouldn’t have been options for me, Sam. It’s always just you.”
Sam’s lips quiver at the words. Now, he does feel stupid for overlooking what the situation might’ve been for Bucky. He bites his lip down and shakes his head, tilting it down in dismay. “Then why are you here? With me? You… You should go back. I don’t want you in trouble—”
“Because I want to see you. Like I’ve been wanting to for months. Like I’ve been needing to…” Bucky inches closer to Sam, both his hands slithering around Sam’s waist and under his blazer, sending electricity down Sam’s spine. “Sam. Look at me.”
Sam’s breath hitches again as he slightly lifts his face to meet Bucky’s gaze. Bucky tilts his head sideways as their noses brush against each other’s, his bottom lip barely grazing Sam’s top lip, making both of them inhale a deep breath.
Suddenly, there are footsteps echoing along the hallway outside. Bucky and Sam jump out of their skins, with Bucky lurching backwards to plant his back on the nearby wall. He takes Sam with him, now pressed against his body, both of them alert and wary. Bucky instinctively reaches for the door knob the same time a security personnel reaches for it at the other side.
“Huh. Weird that this door is open.” The guard says, scratching her temple in confusion. “Anyway, Ms. Leighton, I’m not sure where he might be. I haven’t seen him around…” She decides to flick the light switch off before closing the door. At the same time it shuts, Bucky flips the lock, exhaling a sigh of relief. Sam and Bucky listen to Rachel’s complaints until only the music from below remains.
Now, only the moon from the balcony sheds light to the room, the size of it enough to let them see each other.
“Did you just lock the door?” Sam asks in amusement, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He could see Bucky making a funny face about it, obviously wasn’t anticipating getting caught doing that.
Bucky chuckles softly and turns to Sam, their faces still too close, his hand slipping from Sam’s waist down to his hip. “Just… making sure we’re safe from Diamondback.”
“Yeah?” Sam exhales, already touching Bucky’s lips with his again.
Bucky hums in anticipation, but he doesn’t give in just yet. Instead, he plants the kiss on Sam’s jaw, then down on his neck.
Sam feels the touch of Bucky’s hand and his warm breath on his exposed neck all at once, making him shiver. Something inside him tells him he wants this, yet he’s confused. Has Bucky thought of him this way all along, and yet decided to never make a move?
“Did you… is this…” Sam stumbles with his words, “Do you… uh, like me? What’s… What are we— you know?”
Bucky pulls his head back up against the wall and stares at Sam for a moment. All of a sudden, he lifts Sam up with one arm, placing him on top of the covered table nearby with ease. Sam makes a stifled noise, watching Bucky hover above him without ceasing eye contact, with Bucky lodging himself between Sam’s legs.
“I want you, Cap,” Bucky responds, already sounding breathless, his eyes pleading. “I always have.”
I want you, Cap.
The phrase keeps repeating inside Sam’s head, the delivery making him dizzy.
Without much thought, Sam reaches for Bucky’s face after that statement and finally seals their lips together. It starts soft, as if both of them find each other too delicate — then, it grows into craving. Rough and harsh. Like they can’t get enough of each other’s taste. Sam can already feel how raw his lips are going to feel once he lets go. They catch their breath when they can, as short as possible, their hands roaming around each other’s bodies, grasping and pulling fabric. Bucky swiftly tugs his own blazer off his shoulders before undoing Sam’s vest. Then, he abruptly stops and pulls away from Sam’s lips completely, with Sam attempting to chase him back. Everything felt like a trance to Sam, and now it’s broken.
“I want to… I still want to apologize to you.” Bucky mutters as he catches his breath.
Sam anchors himself upwards with his elbows to catch his breath as well, a bit puzzled as to why Bucky says this now. Eitherway, he’s too consumed by Bucky’s entire being — his scent, his warmth, his taste — that he’s only got one thing in his mind.
And so, Sam’s eyes dart down to Bucky’s navy blue pants, now too tight around the groin, and pulls Bucky back in by the waist band.
“Then… apologize properly.”