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Captain America is a morning person. If you were to look at him and analyze his personality, you might not think so. But after so many years in the Air Force, being a morning person was unfortunately ingrained into him.
That being said, Captain America can still miss an alarm. Or more accurately, miss the sun waking him up in the morning when his super soldier boyfriend insists on keeping the blinds closed so tight they look like solid steel. (And then still keeping them closed once he gets up.)
Sam opens his eyes, not thrilled about being awake. Especially because the sun is his alarm and it’s still dark. So he has more time to sleep, right? He rolls over to look at the clock, and that’s when he notices the thin lines of sunlight peeking through the blinds and beaming across the walls. And the bright red numbers in his face that let him know he should have been up about two hours ago.
Needless to say he feels his heart stop and restart.
He throws the covers off himself and nearly jumps out of bed, frantically looking around the room for his phone and some sort of clothing to cover up the skin that isn’t covered by boxers. His eyes land on something draped over a chair, it looks big enough to cover everything so without thinking he grabs it and throws it on. Head still clouded with sleep, he doesn’t realize how soft it is. And he definitely doesn’t realize that the softness of it should clue him as to what- or whose- it is.
He opens the bedroom door and is slapped in the face with three things all at once: the smell of bacon, the bright lights from the kitchen down the hallway, and the realization that he’s more tired than he usually is from the excess sleep.
Still, like the paratrooper he is, he trudges forward. Feet shuffling across the floor and hands clutching whatever it is he has around his body that barely even reaches his knees.
He reaches the kitchen to find Bucky… cooking? He didn’t realize Bucky could cook. But the smell of coffee, bacon, pancakes, and did he mention coffee- drags him closer to the super soldier. Before his mind catches up with the rest of him, he’s wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist as he stares at the bacon sizzling. He beams at the fact Bucky only jumps a little.
“Mornin’ Cap.” Bucky says, laying his flesh hand on one of Sams as the metal one picks a piece of bacon up and sets it on a nearby plate. “I almost thought you were never going to get up.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam shoots back even though he can feel the smile on his face growing. “You’d sleep for years if you could.”
“Nah, I did that already. Wouldn’t recommend it.” Bucky lifts Sam’s hand that he’s holding to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Sam snorts. He should’ve seen that retort coming.
“Really though, you should’ve woken me up. I have a metric shit ton of stuff to do. Do you know how many schools want Captain America to come give the student body a talk on drugs?” Sam asks, reluctantly letting go of his companion and stretching. “I smell coffee, where’s coffee?” Bucky points to the pot, Sam gets down his favorite mug and pours himself a cup. It’s still warm, Bucky must have not been up as long as Sam thinks. Which is good, that means Bucky slept more than he usually does too.
“I have a rough idea of the number of schools. I think you should be more worried about the amount of high-end parties you’ll get invited to. One of those is much less your style and it’s not the schools.” Bucky teases, Sam rolls his eyes and leans on the counter to face the man who is weirdly focused on not burning this bacon. “Plus, Steve had someone to help him work through the workload-”
“-Yeah, Steve had a Tony to help him with the outrageous amount of emails.” Sam interrupts, moving to bar stools on the other side of the island. If Zemo had nothing, he had a kitchen island. Seriously, every house of his they’ve seen has had one.
“And you,” Bucky says, turning and sliding a plate of delicious looking food in front of Sam. “Have a Bucky.” He says, grabbing the side of Sam’s head with his hand and kissing it quickly. Sam snorts in a teasing way but he knows his stupid face with his stupid smile is giving him away.
“Yeah.” He says instead. He rubs his face with his hands. He looks up at the cyborg who is now pouring himself (what Sam assumes is another) cup of coffee. Bucky turns around and looks up at Sam, smiling at first, and then he freezes. They keep awkward eye contact for a minute where Sam has to stop himself from doing The Head Tilt thing he picked up from A Certain Someone.
“Everything okay?” Sam asks after a second of Bucky being frozen too long. Pun not intended. Bucky seems to snap out of some sort of trance and starts looking Sam up and down as far as he can see over the counter. His eyes close to hooded and Sam feels himself immediately start to sweat.
Bucky walks around the counter- no- stalks around the counter. That’s far more accurate to the way Bucky is now looking at Sam like he’s prey. But not in a “I want to kill you way” like he used to, more in a “I’m going to eat you alive but in a kinky way.”
“Buck?”
“Hm?” He settles, leaning against the island right next to Sam.
“You okay?”
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Bucky asks, taking a sip of his new coffee. Sam shoots his eyes back and forth from the coffee pot and the man standing next to him. He wonders if his confusion is as evident on his face as it feels.
“Do me a favor?” Bucky says, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and rubbing, making the furry material slide against Sam’s skin. Sam looks up at him. “Look at what you’re wearing.” Sam does.
Oh no.
“Nice fur.” Bucky says.
This… unfortunately makes sense. Still, Sam spreads his arms to give himself a better view of what a buffoon he looks like. He should’ve realized that the quality of the fabric was beyond what he would normally wear. Far too soft and expensive. And that it hugged his shoulders a little more than he was used to and just barely reached his knees.
In short, it seems that in Sam’s sleep induced zombie state he put on one of Zemo’s robes.
Shit.
Sam looks back up at Bucky, who is now covering his mouth with his hand and laughing silently. His shoulders are shaking with an almost concerning intensity and his eyes are crinkled at the corners.
“You have got to be kidding.” Is all Sam’s brain can come up with to say.
“I’m only disappointed in myself for not actually looking at you sooner.” Bucky says through giggles. “It actually suits you quite well.”
“Now you sound like him.” Sam says, rolling his eyes and putting a napkin over his breakfast he still fully intends to eat. He gets up and looks down at himself again. Okay, maybe it doesn’t look that ridiculous. “Y’know a lot of people said the Smiling Tiger suit suited me well too. Doesn’t mean I ever intend to wear it again.” He says, starting to walk, quicker than intended, back to the bedroom.
“You should think about it!” Bucky calls after him. “I can live with two pimps!” Sam rolls his eyes so hard he briefly thinks the stories his mom told him and Sarah might come true and they’ll get stuck. The brief pain doesn’t match the pure heat in his face, however.
Five minutes later Sam walks back out of the bedroom, feeling much more comfortable in a shirt and sweatpants. He lays the robe back over the chair where he found it and decides no one will ever speak of this again.
Walking back into the kitchen, Bucky has finally sat down and is munching on his own plate of breakfast.
“Isn’t it late for breakfast anyway?” Sam asks, resuming his spot and throwing the napkin. Digging in doesn’t even begin to describe how Sam attacks this food.
“Are you complaining?” Bucky asks. Sam shakes his head.
“I guess I’m not only used to getting up earlier, I’m also used to Zemo doing the cooking.” He takes a drink of his coffee. “And drink making.” Bucky chuckles.
“Yeah, I know I’m not as good as him.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Sam starts, Bucky rolls his eyes.
“You don’t have to say it. It’s not an insult.” Bucky shrugs, shoving a bite of pancakes drowning in syrup in his mouth. Sam huffs, that makes Bucky laugh. Sam starts to ask a question Bucky knew was inevitable. “He went out.” He says first, Sam startles.
“And you let him? You know he’s barely on parole! We’re not supposed to just let him wander!” He nearly shouts. Then he corrects himself and clears his throat. Bucky just looks amused. “Where’d he go?”
“He was running out of tea and Turkish Delights.” Bucky answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And before you say anything.” Bucky clears his throat and starts imitating Zemo. “No, Samuel, you cannot order these things. They have to be picked out by eye to ensure you’re getting those of the highest quality and most suitable flavor.” Sam nods. Fair enough.
Bucky’s phone lights up from next to him. He picks it up, reads something on it, and smiles. Sam can’t tell if it’s an evil smile or a genuinely-about-to-laugh smile. Bucky types something quick out and sets his phone back down, shooting a look at Sam. Something in Sam’s head clicks.
“No. No no no no.” He says, Bucky starts actually laughing. “You told him?!” Bucky laughs so hard he doubles over and almost falls out of his chair. “Stop. Buck, you told who is maybe the kinkiest person we have ever met that I wore his fur robe?!”
“If it makes you feel better he thought it was funny at first.” Bucky says between tears. “And we really have to evidence to call him kinky.”
“It doesn’t! Because I guarantee you said ‘at first’ because his second thought was something completely unholy! And of course he’es kinky, he wears a coat with a fur collar and fights with a sword” Sam is back to nearly shouting.
“Aw, you know him so well.” Bucky grins, Sam lets out a very strained ugh.
“Why did you tell him??” Sam asks, trying to conceal the panic rising in his stomach.
“I guess we’ll find out when he gets back.” Bucky shrugs, washing his last bite down with coffee. He gets up to wash his plate, leaving Sam sitting there dumbfounded. While Bucky is at the sink, his phone lights up again. Sam picks it up and feels his stomach drop and… something else arises in his gut as he reads the message. He sets the phone back down and stares at his food suddenly not as hungry.
Bucky walks back around to read the message, Sam watches the evil smirk appear on his face at the one message and feels himself smile despite himself.
I look forward to it.