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“If you didn’t want him knocked out, you should have said so,” Bucky said, dragging the limp body of the HYDRA agent through the open door into the dressing room.
Sam rubbed his temple, annoyed. He looked around before following closely behind Bucky and closing the door behind them. This was meant to be a fairly straightforward mission. Sam was supposed to be a stagehand gathering intel on the odd HYDRA operation that was apparently funneling through this particular ballet company and Bucky was supposed to be support. Not at all in the field. Yet here they were. “I thought I did– you know what, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get him tied up.”
As Sam knelt down and started tying the guy’s legs and wrists together, the classical music filtering through the hallway was building. Bucky twitched. “Wait, Sam. I’m seeing the potential downside of this plan.”
“The plan you enacted without a heads up?” Sam wasn’t paying as much attention as he could be, maybe. But he did see his partner dart towards the door in his periphery.
There was a pause as Bucky surveyed the surprisingly quiet hall before closing the door and then started stripping off his jacket, and then his shirt shortly after with short, efficient movements. Sam’s head snapped to him, pausing mid-tie, eyes wide. “Woah, what the hell, man?”
Bucky ignored him, bending down to give his boots the same treatment. Sam in another context would be much more interested in how quickly Bucky could strip out of his uniform but– “Bucky, you’ve got to tell me why you’re suddenly allergic to leather.”
“The production, and the audience, is expecting this guy to be back on stage here in a bit,” Bucky explained as he started undoing his ridiculously tight pants. Sam’s gaze resolutely did not get hung up on Bucky’s mismatched hands hesitating before they started undoing all of those unnecessary belts and zippers. Sam looked away, feeling the telltale rush of heat creeping up his neck.
Sam scrambled to his feet so he was at least not eye level with Bucky’s– “And what? You’re just going to swap clothes with the guy and pretend to be a prima ballerina?”
Bucky had turned away from him, thankfully, but he was already down to his boxer briefs and socks, the socks which were already being pulled off and shoved into his boots. “This is Swan Lake, right?”
“Uh,” Sam supplied helpfully. He tried listening to the slightly muffled orchestra but, while pretty, it was like grasping at straws. “Maybe? I remember seeing the Nutcracker when I was little.”
Sam could feel the way Bucky rolled his eyes at him, which didn’t help Sam’s flush. Bucky was not a bad looking guy, Sam had recognized that from the beginning, but being in close quarters wasn’t helping his suddenly present libido.
“--strip the guy and then we’ll double back for him,” Bucky was saying when Sam’s brain rebooted.
“Right,” Sam agreed. He hadn’t caught most of what Bucky had said but followed the logic and started shucking the tights off of the HYDRA agent, Bucky helping with the top side of things. They caught each other’s eye and the smirk that Bucky gave Sam almost caused Sam to rip the poor tights.
“Careful now, Cap,” Bucky said smugly.
Sam glared at him but was tugging the tights off and handing them over. “We’re going to have to talk about how you know professional-level ballet at some point.”
“HYDRA,” Bucky said simply. When Sam blinked at him, Bucky shrugged. “For infiltrating, not that I did that most of the time. The Red Room program under Leviathan in particular turned out some of the best ballerinas.” And he even huffed out a laugh. “And I’ve always been a good dancer. Turn around, guard the door.”
“The world is full of surprises,” Sam grunted, which got another soft laugh out of Bucky. He tip-toed to the door, cracking it open. Still nobody but the two of them (and the goon). He heard Bucky cursing quietly and the whisper of fabric on skin but Sam figured he’d let Bucky struggle a little bit for as much of a headache this was turning out to be. Although he was curious.
Sam shook his head. Focus, Wilson, he told himself.
“How you doin’, Buck?” Sam asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” When Sam turned around, he couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. Bucky’s arms were crossed, sour expression still intact. Sam’s hands were itching to pull out his phone, to capture the moment. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”
“I promise I won’t use this for blackmail,” Sam said, still tittering.
“Sure,” Bucky replied, clearly suspicious. “Be useful, tie the guy up.”
“That’s what I was doing before you decided to take the lead on this production.” But Sam bent down and re-tied the poor agent’s hands and ankles together.
When Sam stood up again, Bucky was shoving his clothes into his arms. “Hold onto these for me?”
“Are you actually going through with this?” Sam asked. “This isn’t some sort of weird wish fulfillment?”
Bucky rolled his eyes but started making his way out of the dressing room. Sam grabbed an empty-ish bag, stuffed Bucky’s armor into it, and followed after his partner. “You think you can dance well enough to blend in?”
Bucky shrugged. “Just need to get through a small section based on the music.” Damn super soldier hearing, Sam thought to himself. “I’ll just do the solo, then duck off stage and we’ll make a run for it.”
“In the slippers or…?”
Bucky stopped long enough to punch Sam’s shoulder.
“Oof,” Sam let out. When they turned a corner and started seeing the dancers and crew members, Sam whispered, “Last chance to back out.”
“I’ve got this. I think,” Bucky tacked on.
That wasn’t super comforting.
Bucky plowed a way through the throng of people clustered at the edge of the stage. “Sub, you’re going to have to find an alternate for the rest of the show,” Bucky told one of the crew, a middle aged white man who startled out of the frown that was on his face.
“Who the hell–”
And then the music built up and Bucky was throwing himself out of the wings and onto the stage.
“Excuse me,” Sam said politely, edging past the crew member. He wasn’t sure what to expect when peering out but it wasn’t at all what he was expecting.
Sam’s kind of dancing was grounded, dancing to oldies at cookouts with friends and family or, when he was younger, something with a deep bass at a club surrounded by dozens of sweaty bodies, made anonymous by the darkness broken only by the occasional strobing light.
What Bucky was doing was almost like floating. His precision in movement, which Sam was well accustomed to by this point, carried forward into the flow of the routine. He was all clean lines, turning out and in general dazzling the audience into awed silence.
Or maybe that was just Sam.
The song shifted and a ballerina took center stage, Bucky moving to the side.
And when that section was done, Bucky scooted his way past the gawking backstage crew and made his way to Sam. Sam was definitely not distracted by the thin layer of sweat that damn near highlighted Bucky’s features and the soft huffing of breath. Yeah, definitely not into this look at all. Nope.
“That was some crazy shit you just pulled,” Sam said as Bucky led him by the elbow, away from the stage wings. A young man dressed in the same getup nervously watched as they passed.
“Break a leg,” Bucky told him. The young man nodded and headed the direction they had just come from.
When they made it back to the hallway with the dressing rooms, Bucky said, “I forget how different ballet is from swing. I’ll have to go out again sometime.”
“Auditioning for a ballet company?” Sam asked.
Bucky smirked. “Nah, just find a dance hall for a swing night.”
“How very old man of you. I didn’t know that you got out at all. Thought you just lurked around your neighborhood like that guy in Hell’s Kitchen in your off time.”
Bucky shrugged, reaching for the dressing room door. “After everything, I decided to try something familiar. I used to go dancing all the time. And I’ve never been Steve, waiting on the right partner.”
“Is there such a thing?” Sam snorted.
Bucky looked back at him and Sam’s mouth dried up suddenly. “Sometimes. But sometimes they’ve got two left feet. Takes some time to teach them.”
Sam didn’t know what to do with that comment at all. He shouldn’t look too far into it, right–
“Damn,” Bucky said. He swung the door the whole way open to reveal an empty room, no HYDRA agent in sight. He turned back to Sam. “You should have stayed with the guy.”
“And miss Bucky ballet? Totally worth the risk. Probably,” he added when Bucky crossed his arms.
“And you and Sharon were giving me shit about the Flag Smashers thing.”
“Hey! Different thing!” Sam argued.
Bucky barked out a laugh, a sound that startled both of them by the look on Bucky’s face. Sam grinned at him. And Bucky grinned back, a slow, shy thing that did funny things to Sam’s insides.
“Let’s fill Torres in on your fumble,” Bucky said.
Sam shook his head, still grinning, as he followed Bucky out of the room.