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“Hey, I never got your name. I need it, so I know what to yell tonight.”
Sam’s mouth fell open, eyebrows rising high. He retreated a step to create more personal space between him and Bucky. There was no way on God’s green earth this man just said what Sam thought he said. “Come again now?”
They were stuck in a dark, cobweb-infested room, the bloody handprint-stained door creaking shut as shrill, ominous music piped through the air around them. The intent was to set an eerie mood, Sam too focused on the fact he was touring the scariest haunted house in New Orleans with a stranger because his boyfriend had dipped to be affected. High-pitched strings built to a desperate crescendo, followed by a sudden low, droning drumbeat, the increasing sense of menace capped off with a wailing scream that had Bucky jumping back against him. “What?” he muttered, distracted as he looked around the room. “What’d I say?” At Sam’s cutting stare, he scrunched his nose as he thought it through. “Tonight! As in here,” he rushed out as realization dawned. “Not like…anywhere else. Just in case we get separated. Or one of us turns the wrong corner or something.”
Oh. Yeah. Well, that made sense. Apparently, Sam’s mind had dove down to the gutter for no good reason. You have a boyfriend, best be stopping that, it warned with saucy flair. “Like that’s gonna happen with you all plastered against my side like this.”
Bucky looked down to where he was indeed plastered against Sam’s side. “Sorry.” He shuffled to the side. Sam absolutely did not miss his warmth. That would be wrong when he had a boyfriend waiting somewhere outside. A boyfriend he was likely about to break up with, but still. Nothing was a done deal, and Sam didn’t play like that. But maaaaybe his skin tingled a little under his shirt, a silent plea for Bucky’s touch. “Okay, I gotta ask. Have you ever actually been to a haunted house before?” The music shifted to a classical piece he recognized, a frisson of foreboding sliding through him.
This place was good.
“Yeah, like this is my fourth time.”
“Huh, okay.”
At his doubtful state, Bucky sighed. “Okay, fine. Full Disclosure. Two of them were when I was like thirteen and the one from last year, my best friend Steve got us thrown out before we actually got to tour it.”
“You got thrown out of a haunted house?” Sam didn’t know if he was concerned or impressed.
“No, Steve got thrown out of a haunted house. And I happened to be with him. He started a fight with a werewolf. Well, not an actual werewolf, but a guy in a costume. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“It was a whole thing. The actors aren’t supposed to touch us, but we aren’t supposed to touch them either. And Steve weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet, so of course I had to intervene.”
“Of course you did.” Sam started to expound on that when suddenly a woman dressed all in black emerged from the shadows against the wall. Judging by her lack of costume, she was probably just meant to supervise and make sure everything went all right and people turned the right way and stuff. These places usually had several people set up for this. Embarrassed, Sam realized he’d been too fixated on Bucky to even notice her. “Excuse me, Sirs,” she said, barely audible over the chilling chords rending through the contained space. “We find this actually works better if you immerse yourself in the experience.”
She stepped back into the shadows after basically telling them to shut up. Sam hid a smile. Fucking hell, he’d just gotten scolded in a haunted house. “You’re fixin’ to get thrown out of another haunted house and take me along with you,” he whispered, nudging Bucky.
“It was Steve’s fault,” he murmured back, chastened.
Sam let silence settle between them for all of twenty seconds before he found something else to say. “So, you have next to no experience with haunted houses and chose the scariest one in New Orleans to cut your teeth on?”
“I don’t scare easily.”
“The way you’re clinging to me right now tells a different story.”
“Maybe I’m clinging to you because you’re hot and you smell good. Ever think of that?”
Well…that was flattering. Sam chose not to read too much into it. So, Bucky was a bit of a flirt. It didn’t mean anything. “Admit it. You’re a little put off.” Scared was a better word, but Sam decided to leave Bucky a modicum of dignity.
“They’re playing Berlioz. Of course, it’s off-putting. Both can be true,” he added with a sly smirk. “I’m fine though. I promise. This thing won’t affect me at all.”
“I believe it.” Sam did not believe it. This is gonna be fun. Way more fun than if Micah was here right now. He only felt mildly disloyal for the thought. Micah had flaked on him, after all. Not the other way around. “Name’s Sam, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam.”
**********
Room one and Sam was already about to bolt, questioning every decision he’d ever made in his young, barely adult life. Eighteen was too young to die, especially from sheer stupidity.
“Those aren’t real, right? Those can’t be real.” Bucky said, perched behind Sam, chin on his shoulder and hands grabbing his waist as he glowered at the pool of hissing snakes in front of them. The hissing was fake, the sound surrounding them with a thick, threatening thrum. Those snakes slithering around did not look robotic, however. “There’s gotta be laws against that-” Bucky started, yanking Sam back and out of the way as something slithered across the path in front of them. Sam might have been impressed by his speed, if he’d been capable of holding on to a single thought besides ‘Oh, hell no!’ He didn’t even attempt to play it chill, clutching Bucky’s side with a death grip as he buried his face against the other man’s neck because what in the fucking hell was that?
“I’m calling PETA,” Bucky grumbled as a scraping sound skittered along the floor.
“This was a shitty idea,” Sam mumbled as Bucky pushed him forward.
“I got you,” Bucky said with false bravado. “That’s…that’s good. That’s um…past.”
“Are you using me for a shield right now?”
“Do I have to dignify that with a response?”
Bucky scooted him through the darkness with his hips. Any other time, Sam would be having thoughts. He was eighteen, and Bucky was fine as hell. “Can we take turns being the shield?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s fair.”
“Good! Your turn. Get in front of me.”
Bucky emitted a low hum, his warm breath hitting Sam’s neck just right. “Don’t gotta tell me twice, Darlin’.”
“Are you really tryin’ to flirt right now?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
Sam didn’t get a chance to respond because a monster literally crashed through a wall shrieking at them. Bucky screamed.
Sam screamed.
Bucky screamed again.
“Stop doing that. You’re making it worse!” Sam yelled at Bucky as they ran.
“They’re coming through the walls, Sam! What the hell is this? I thought this was going to be some Ghostface shit. Where the hell is Ghostface? I can do Ghostface. Or the Demogorgon. Vecna or some bullshit like that.”
“Okay, but how is that helpful? Vecna is pretty damn creepy.”
“Please. Vecna is mid.”
Sam was too busy being grateful that Bucky had assumed the role of shield to complain too much over his clearly wrong opinions. “You’re insane.”
Crashes. Booms. Zombies tearing through flesh to feast on a corpse’s intestines. Fucking falling eyeballs. Jump scares galore. Sam and Bucky made their way through the premises, clinging to one another. Sam rounded the corner, back to being the shield, squinting in the darkness, heart pounding erratically as adrenaline shot through his system. When something brushed at his legs, he jumped back at the grabbing bloody fingertips, pulling Bucky out of there.
“They’re not supposed to touch you,” Bucky lamented, completely unhelpfully.
“Yeah, well tell them that in the review,” Sam shot back. The guy looked even paler than when he’d entered, which was saying a lot. Sam bit back a smile, having entirely too much fun. If Bucky passed out, he would never let him live it down!
“I’ve had about enough of this,” Bucky declared as a deranged scarecrow with a pitchfork arrived to chase them into the next room.
Sam wound his way around until Bucky was back in front. Bucky stretched his arms wide. The sheltering gesture stirred something warm and hopeful inside of Sam. Had Micah, even once, shown him an ounce of protection? “I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black,” Sam whispered against his neck. Bucky visibly shivered.
“Just hold on to me. I got you,” Bucky promised.
“That’s not comforting,” Sam countered, just to be difficult. Bucky seemed to like it. “I don’t even know you.”
Bucky stopped long enough to give Sam a smug perusal. “And yet, you can’t seem to keep your hands off me, Sweetheart.”
Oh, that wasn’t good. Bucky wasn’t allowed to use endearments when Sam had a boyfriend. And Sam was not allowed to feel a thrill of attraction because of it. “How can you be this annoying right now?” Sam huffed, hoping to get them back on track--strangers simply sharing a haunted house experience…not flirting about it. If he had any pride, he’d drop Bucky’s arm, but this was about self-preservation, Bucky a lifeline out of this place.
“Okay, this…this doesn’t look too bad.”
Sam peered around Bucky’s shoulder, seeing a female around their age dressed like a baby doll, bouncing around the room as she hummed “Ring Around the Rosie.” Pigtails and rosy cheeks, she clutched a knife but made no move to raise it as she cocked her head dramatically at them.
“I’m so lonely,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Come and play with me.”
“No,” Bucky said. “This is some Annabelle next level bullshit,” he rasped out to Sam. “I don’t trust it.”
“Come and plaaay with me. You can never leave.”
“Oh, we’re leaving all right,” Sam tossed back.
“This has got to almost be over, right?” Bucky asked mournfully.
“I said come and play with me.” She skipped forward, stopping in front of Bucky. “You’re really pretty,” she marveled, before glancing at Sam. “Shit, you both are.” Her voice lost its winsome lilt as she stared from one to the other. Sam was at least 90 percent certain she’d just broken character, but he huddled closer to Bucky just in case. “Like really, really hot. Do y’all like…” she bit a ruby red lip. “Wanna maybe hook up later?”
“Huh?” Bucky asked dumbly.
“I swear I’m hot under all this shit,” she continued in a completely normal voice as she stared between them waiting for an answer.
“We’re…uh…not together,” Sam hazarded.
She arched her brows, staring pointedly at the way Sam was wrapped around Bucky, Bucky’s hands gripping his forearms.
“You could just say no,” she said with a disbelieving snort. “I’ll still kill you!” Bucky shouted when she raised the knife, dodging her as he curled protectively around Sam and steered them away in a mad dash. The baby doll’s cackle echoed behind them as they sprinted from the room.
“That was weird, right?” Bucky leaned down to grab his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“Getting picked up by a demented baby doll with my non-boyfriend? Yeah, a little bit.”
He laughed. Bucky laughed.
“Final stop,” Sam said, able to see vague light beyond the shadows of the room.
“Thank fuck. I need to lay down after this.”
“I need another drink,” Sam stated, having already had a couple of beers upon arrival. Some of Micah’s friends had brought coolers, and Sam didn’t have to play designated driver tonight. Yes, he was eighteen. Yes, his father would be mad, and his mother would be disappointed—but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Sam was definitely having another one after this utter bullshit.
“Oh, fucking hell,” Bucky exclaimed as they entered the last room, which just so happened to be full of insane clowns.
“Just some clowns, no big,” Sam shrugged, deciding to fake it until he made it. They were in the home stretch now, and he wasn’t about to leave this place with Bucky thinking he couldn’t hack it. Bucky evidently didn’t have the same resolve. “Sam, I can’t do it. Can’t.”
“You’re gonna walk through this room full of clowns and get us out of this horror house.” His tone left zero room for argument, as he glanced around at the plethora of mannequin clowns they would have to zig-zag through to make their final escape. “These aren’t real, Bucky.”
“One of ‘em is though, and it’s gonna jump out at us,” Bucky countered, forcing a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” He looked around. “This is literally my worst nightmare ever. I’ve had this nightmare, Sam. I don’t…look. Clowns, I’m out, ya know?”
Sam agreed one hundred percent, but one of them had to keep their cool here. “Look! Theres mirrors. Not all of ‘em are here. It’s an illusion, Buck. We’re good. I mean, yeah, some of them are here, but…”
“Not real,” Bucky muttered, brushing by one. He hesitantly poked at another one. “Not real. That’s not real. It’s a decoy. They want us to look at that and get distracted, then bam, here comes the real-”
Sam came to an abrupt stop, his voice low and tentative. “Buck, I’m pretty sure that’s real.”
“Nah, we’re good. It’s the decoy.”
“I see blinking!”
A clown jumped from the side, just as the clown in front of them sprang forward in a dual attack. “Okay, technically we’re both right!”
“Not helping,” Sam said, grabbing Bucky’s hand and holding tight.
“Don’t make eye contact. They can smell fear.”
“Still not helping!”
“They can’t touch you! They’re not supposed to touch you!”
“And they can’t stab you either. I know. But that’s a big-assed knife that clown is carrying, and I’m not taking chances, let’s go! Pick up the pace!”
Toward the end, another diabolical It-looking clown jumped out, starting a chainsaw. “You’ve got to be joking! Worst first date idea ever!” Bucky hollered, weaving past it toward the exit, never once letting go of his hold on Sam as he pulled him toward the light.
Once outside, Sam slammed the door, backing his full weight against it as he broke into hysterical laughter, tears filling his eyes because Bucky was right beside him doing the same damn thing.
“That was insane,” Bucky barely managed through frantic gasps. “Don’t judge me for what happened in there.”
“Oh, I’m judging you all right. Hard.”
“Sam…” He whined. “Okay, I admit. This was not my finest moment, but in my defense, it was a fucking clown with a fucking chainsaw. Like either of those would’ve been fine, right? But put them together? I’m out.”
“Nah, you’re good. A clown is never fine,” Sam allowed, collapsing on him as he tried to catch his breath. With gnawing trepidation, he realized this was the best time he’d ever had on a date.
Except this wasn’t a date. And Bucky wasn’t his boyfriend.
Guilt surged through him, but nipping at its heels was a burst of longing he couldn’t quell. When Bucky smiled at him—mirthful blue eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that destined his handsome face for laugh lines--Sam smiled back.