Work Text:
“That was horrifying.” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, bumping Sam’s shoulder with his own as they strode away from the haunted house. Already they could hear the screams of the next participants echoing inside.
Sam grimaced, afraid to know what he and Bucky had sounded like from this side of the door. “Absolutely. I mean, I’m totally doing it again next year because it was dope as hell, but yeah, that? That was a lot. You?”
“Hmm?”
“Doing it again next year?”
Bucky stopped; smile pensive as he stared from the full moon making this Halloween night an extra dose of creepy back to Sam. “I guess that all depends.”
“On what?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, chin dipping slightly as he gazed at Sam through the sweep of his lashes. “You.”
Before Sam had time to analyze, compartmentalize, or even rationalize the depth of that one word and how it made him feel, Micah was stumbling to a halt in front of them.
Oh yeah. Micah. That was still a thing that Sam needed to decide how to handle. Touring Malice Manor had meant a lot of clinging, cursing, and yelling—and at the end of it all, a lot of laughter. The sort of fun he was supposed to have with his boyfriend, but Bucky is the one who showed up.
“What the fuck, Sam?” Sam’s jaw clenched. If Micah wanted to save this relationship, that tone wasn’t it. His boyfriend glared from Sam to Bucky, back to Sam, back to Bucky. “Who the hell is this loser?”
Bucky stepped forward. “Excuse me?”
“I wouldn’t, Micah,” Sam interjected, casual shrug and lazy smile meant to stop trouble before it got good and going. “This guy here has tangled with a werewolf.”
Bucky’s face immediately shifted from annoyance to amusement. He shook his head, even as the tension in his shoulders eased. “I told you; Steve started it.”
“I believe it after watching you run from those clowns,” Sam shot back.
Though Bucky had simmered back down, the same could not be said for Micah. “Fought a…” His lips pressed into a thin slash. “What, ya’ll have inside jokes now? You ‘n this guy? You went through the house with him?”
Sam blew out a breath, ready to declare that he didn’t have to defend himself here, while at the same time realizing that yeah, he did kinda have to defend himself here. He turned to Bucky. “I…uh…I should…”
Bucky blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. Of course. I mean, yeah, obviously.” His smile was small and uncertain. Sam realized with startling clarity that he was waiting for something else…perhaps a sign from Sam that this could be something more than two strangers sharing a jaunt through a haunted house. And Sam…Sam felt it. Down to the marrow of his bones, he felt it. But he wasn’t enough of an asshole to start anything up before he officially ended things with his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was right freaking there, standing in front of them needing an explanation. Sam didn’t know how this was about to play out, but he couldn’t disrespect his relationship, himself, and Micah by asking Bucky to wait while he figured it out. Bucky searched his face, before his own gave a wistful scrunch of understanding. Sam had just met him, and already he had feelings about that face scrunch, heart hammering in his chest because he was fixing to let this guy get away. And damn it all, it wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what his moral compass insisted had to happen. “Take care, Sam. Maybe we’ll see each other next year. Same time, same place.” Sam watched Bucky walk away, vaguely recognizing the words as a last-ditch effort at a chance. If Bucky was single…if Sam was single…Sam now knew where and when to find him again.
But damn…could he wait an entire year?
“What the fuck,” Micah snarled, interrupting the panic swirling through Sam’s brain. Oh yeah—this guy. This guy who Sam wanted to love. Wanted to feel good with. This guy who moved too fast and touched Sam too roughly, who only listened when it suited him.
This guy.
Was a mistake. It was suddenly so clear. “Who was that jerk? You went through the haunted house with him? What the hell, Sam?” Sam shuddered as Bucky turned a corner, out of sight, out of reach, even as his brain tried to make it okay. 365 days wasn’t so long in the grand scheme of things, not with college, and work, and family, and all of Sam’s other obligations. And Sam…he wasn’t in the place that he needed to jump to the next thing when he wasn’t even out of this one yet. “We were supposed to do it together. Do you realize how completely shitty this is?”
A flare of fury surged through him. “No Micah. What is completely shitty is waiting over half an hour to get in only for you to ditch me for your friends because you got bored. Oh yeah, and not bothering to tell me before you did it. That’s what’s completely shitty, so don’t come at me with your hurt feelings because I’m not hearing it.”
“I was coming back! I didn’t ditch you. You know I wouldn’t do that!”
Sam did not know that. What he did know was this wasn’t the first time Micah had dropped the ball in their relationship…and somehow it was only ever during the things that mattered to Sam. “I got distracted,” he continued, waving toward where the friends he’d invited along were standing toward the back of the line, finally ready to take a turn after doing who the hell knows what while Sam was waiting. “Besides, we should have been doing it with them anyway. We all came together!”
“This was my idea. My date. I shouldn’t have to wait until they’re ready to go,” Sam scoffed, noting the bottles in their hands while they waited. His eyes narrowed dangerously. “What did you get distracted with?”
“Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about how you basically just cheated on me by going through the house with some rando.”
“I didn’t cheat on you. Fuck, do you even know me at all? I took the turn I waited on, and he took the turn he waited on, and that meant going in together. Now, answer my question. What distracted you?” But Sam already knew. The redness of Micah’s eyes, the belligerence of his tone, the way his shoulders curved as if guarding a secret. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Yeah, so?” he shrugged, posture indifferent.
Sam swallowed past the lump of betrayal. “You were supposed to stay sober tonight. You promised me. I’m always the designated driver. I always come through for you. You promised me tonight. It’s my favorite night of the year. You know that!”
Micah kicked at the dirt, at least having the decency to look contrite. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, c’mon.”
“It is a big deal. Do you know how fucked up it is for you to drink when you’re supposed to be the designated driver? That’s a shitty move, Mike. How do you not realize that?” How had Sam gone this long dating a guy this inconsiderate? How had he fooled himself into thinking things would get better…that having someone who would hold his hand in public somehow made all this bullshit worth it?
“It’s Halloween! I deserve to have fun, too.”
“You have fun all the freakin’ time!” Sam exploded. “You promised me tonight. I’ve been drinking. How am I supposed to get home?”
Micah shrugged again, unconcerned. “I’ve only had a few. I’ll be fine.”
Sam took a step back, putting distance between them because he didn’t trust himself not to shove this jackass. “Yeah, like I can believe anything you say right now.”
“Someone will take us home. Relax.”
Sam glanced at their riotous group of friends who all seemed to be teetering on the side of too much. Laurel--usually in the same boat as Sam and always playing DD for her man—was probably fine, but if she was driving everyone else, there wouldn’t be room for Sam and Micah in her SUV. When Sam gave a skeptical look, the other man sighed. “Fine. We’ll call an Uber or something.”
He just had an answer for everything, didn’t he? But none of them was the right one. And none of them started with the apology that Sam deserved. “With what money? Because I’m not saving my money just to spend it on a ride I shouldn’t need because my boyfriend can’t keep his damn promises.”
“Fine, fuck! Just call your parents or something. I kinda don’t care how you get home right now. You’re being such an asshole.”
Sam was the asshole?! “I’m the asshole?” he sputtered because what the fuckity-fuck? “Oh yeah, just let me call up my reverend father to come get me an hour away because I’ve been underaged drinking. That’s gonna go over real well.”
“Can’t you just call your brother? He won’t rat you out-”
“No, I can’t call my brother. Gideon’s at the hospital waiting for his child to be born. Something you would know if you listened to a single thing I said.”
“I listen!”
“Oh, fuck you. You know what? I’m done with you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“There you go. Not listening again. Let me make this super clear, you and me, we’re through.” When Micah reached for his arm, Sam jerked away. “No.”
“Fine,” he sneered, holding both hands up in angry defeat. “Fine by me. You’re no fun anyway. A pretty face. Nice body. But a real fucking drag otherwise.”
That…that kinda hurt, Sam couldn’t lie. But he’d never let it show. If he wasn’t fun, it was because he never had the chance to be, always cleaning up after Micah and all his messes, making sure he didn’t go too far. “Then this should be real easy for you. My number? Lose it. Don’t call me again.”
Micah hesitated, a moment of doubt flickering across his features before his face went impassive again. “Whatever,” he muttered.
Sam turned away because it no longer really mattered what else that prick had to say. He didn’t make it far before he spotted Bucky leaning against a light pole next to the graveled parking lot. Arms crossed in front of his chest, trying to look unassuming rather than like a creep. Sam almost snorted. His heart gave a joyful lurch, but he batted it down because he really had to figure out how he was getting home before he-
“Need a ride?”
Oh.
Well.
Bucky ducked his head. “I couldn’t hear what all that was, but it looked intense. I…uh…” He scratched his jaw. “I thought maybe I should wait. Make sure you didn’t need anything?”
Warmth radiated through Sam’s body. That was unexpected…not to mention unnecessary. This guy going above and beyond when his boyfriend, no EX-boyfriend couldn’t even meet the bare minimum.
“I can give you a ride. I mean, if you need one?”
“You been drinking?” Sam asked, the question automatic after what he’d just gone through. He didn’t really know Bucky after all, didn’t know his values or vices.
“Nah. I actually uh…don’t. Can’t really. Not with the medicine I’m on.”
That gave Sam pause. “What medicine?”
“Um,” Bucky hedged, a faint dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks in the artificial light. “C’mon now Sam. That’s not really a first date kind of question, is it?”
Okay, fair. Wait…what? “First date? Whatever you’re on, it must be pretty good to draw that up.”
Bucky’s grin was back, confident and charismatic, Sam’s insides turning squishy under the wealth of its magnetism. “We just went through a haunted house together. I figured I could take you out for waffles. Sober you up a little before you get home to that reverend father of yours. Sounds like a good first date to me.”
“I thought you didn’t hear any of that?”
“I didn’t hear all of it.”
“But you stayed back?”
“You had it handled, and it wasn’t my place.”
Sam liked that answer. “Waiting on the sidelines, trying to buy me waffles. Feels presumptuous.”
“You broke up with that guy, right? Best time to strike is fresh off a break-up. You play basketball? I did in high school. Anyway, you could just rebound right over to me.”
“First, no rebound. I barely even like him most days. Second, I just got through with one asshole. What makes you think I’m gonna jump to another one?”
Bucky’s eyes widened as the banter turned sharp. “Ouch.”
“I don’t know, man. Trying to get with me, fresh off a break-up when you think I might be vulnerable.” He tilted his head to the side as he laid it out there. “Kinda an asshole move.”
Bucky nodded, taking a moment to think it over. “Maybe a little. But I also know I can treat you better than that. And I’d be an idiot not to at least try to shoot my shot here. I can give you time. It’s just waffles and a ride, Sam. We can go as slow as you need. Slow as you want. But I’d rather not leave here and spend the next 365 days hoping we meet again. Fuck, what if this place isn’t around next year? Or there’s another pandemic? Too chancey. Can’t risk it.”
Sam wavered. He didn’t want to rush into anything he wasn’t ready for, but he also didn’t want to watch this guy drive away. “So, waffles?”
“Waffles. Unless you prefer pancakes?”
Sam considered it. Was he really about to do this? “Waffles are good.” When Bucky walked through the parking lot, Sam followed. He didn’t have a lot of options. He did need to get home after all, and apparently Micah and their so-called friends didn’t care how that happened.
“Why you even with him anyway if you barely like him?”
The truth made him feel vulnerable. Exposed. He told it anyway. “Because I’m out. And I risked a lot to get there. I had to look my dad in the eye, ya know, and say, this is who I am. And you’re either gonna love and accept me, or we’re going to grow apart. And I had to watch my mom cry over it and pray about it, and…look, we’re all still working through it. Which is just weird, my family having to work through who I am. How I was made. But we are. I know it sounds stupid, but where I’m from? The way I grew up? It’s hard to find someone I can openly date. Micah was out before me. He’s always been so upfront about it. So unapologetic. So yeah, maybe I settled but I don’t know. It seemed worth it. For a while at least. Because it meant not having to hide.”
Bucky let out a low hum. “Have you seen my bike?”
Bike? As in motorcycle? Sam shifted. Just the mere thought was sexy. He tried to be blasé over the whole thing. “No, I haven’t seen your bike. We just met,” Sam mocked. “Asking have I seen your bike. Nobody likes a show-off.” Which, okay…untrue. Sam was more than a little enticed by the thought of this man on a motorcycle, strong thighs hugging the sides as fluffy dark hair blew in the wind. Maybe his fantasies were basic, but they were his, and he wasn’t sorry for them. They stopped in front of a black bike, Bucky smirking as he waved his hand toward the rainbow sticker plastered on the side. “Ah, okay, I see you.”
“Just thought you should know. If you want to date someone who’s out, he’s not the only option available.”
Sam pretended to ponder it, though he already knew this ended with him on the back of that bike. “I dunno. Isn’t it kinda tacky to start dating someone new, ten minutes after you just broke up with someone else?”
“Not if I’m the someone new and the someone old is that guy.”
Sam grinned. “He’s not that bad.”
“He’s an idiot. An asshole. Are you kidding me? I can’t believe that douchebag gets to kiss you, and I don’t.”
Sam placed a hand on the seat of the motorcycle. “He doesn’t get to anymore. Kiss me.”
When Bucky’s hooded gaze swept over him, Sam trembled, and not from cold. “Sweetheart, if I got to be with you, the last thing I’d be doing is ditching you for my buddies.”
Sam really hoped this went somewhere. And he got to keep the sweetheart. He liked being a sweetheart…was pretty sure his mama and titi, being the old school romantics that they were, would approve of it, too. “Do you even have buddies?”
“Not the point.”
“Kinda the point.
“I got Steve. He’s all the buddy I need. Believe me. I’ll introduce you someday and you’ll agree.”
This was moving fast…and yet, at the same time, Sam recognized there was no pressure, no expectation involved. He couldn’t help but think about Micah. His greedy hands, his eager lips. Somehow, Sam already knew Bucky would never push Sam when he wasn’t ready.
Crap…Micah really was that bad.
“So, waffles?” Bucky continued. “Do you have time? Or do you have a curfew?”
“I’m eighteen,” Sam countered proudly.
“And so? Do you have a curfew.”
“Midnight, since it’s a weekend,” he admitted, biting back a smile. “I’m a little less than an hour from here. You sure you really want to take me home?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life. We have enough time to stop for waffles on the way. Might have to eat quick though, depending on wait time. I can’t risk getting you home late and facing the wrath of your dad.”
“I’m eighteen,” Sam repeated.
“And he’s a preacher, right? And I’m a guy on a motorcycle. A gay guy on a motorcycle. I’m gonna have my work cut out for me. Luckily, the bar is spectacularly low thanks to your asshat of an ex. So, maybe that guy was good for something.”
“You’re getting a little cocky now. Those better be good waffles.”
“Not as good as the ones I make from scratch, Sweetheart. But we’ll get to that.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Sam said, arching his brows. Damn, for a man who had shrieked his way through a haunted house, this guy was self-assured.
“I guess we will.” Bucky reached for a black motorcycle helmet, handing it to Sam. “Hey, before we go, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if it’s weird or inappropriate.”
And here we go.
Sam felt his stomach pitch. In his experience, a statement like that usually meant something dumb, rude, or downright racist was about to follow, Sam scrambling to figure out how offended he was allowed to be. “Shoot,” he said, aware that Bucky was probably about to ruin the whole thing.
“Who’s Kendra? Is she all right?” Bucky’s face furrowed in concern. “I know it’s not my business, but you said you were worried about her when you were on your phone, and I don’t know. I guess, I’m kinda worried about her, too. I know that sounds stupid, but I’d feel better just knowing it’s like a kidney stone or something? My ol’ man got one of those and he thought he was dying. Not that I want her to feel like she’s dying, but just—you know—I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
Bucky wanted to know about Kendra? Wanted to know why Sam was worried? Happiness jolted through him—a happy, lilting beat that left him a little light-headed. “Kendra’s my sister-in-law. She’s in labor right now.”
“No shit! A baby?” Bucky exclaimed, eyes glowing with excitement. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Boy.”
“First-time uncle?”
“Yeah. My mom is at the hospital with them. They didn’t want the whole family there. It’s kinda driving me a little crazy though because I really want to be there.”
“That’s really cool,” Bucky marveled, and Sam believed him.
“I’m glad though,” he rushed out, almost whimpering when Bucky slung his leg out to mount the bike. Crap—this was going to be a thing. His mouth was all dry, his stomach muscles all clenched, his chest all fluttery. Yep, definitely a thing. And Bucky just sat there, astride the motorcycle, batting innocent eyes back at him like he wasn’t turning Sam to mush. “That I came here. To the haunted house. That…uh…that we…um…” he shuffled, suddenly bashful. He’d really gone and picked this guy up at a haunted house. Or he’d let this guy pick him up. Either way, whether it worked out or not, Sarah and Gideon were going to make fun of him for the rest of his life over it. When Bucky beamed back, he decided it was worth it. “I may need time though, ya know? To process this whole thing with Micah. Why it all happened like this. Why I put up with some of this shit when everyone who mattered to me told me he was no good for me. Maybe I need to reflect on that a little?”
“Fair.” Bucky shook his head in the affirmative. “So, we start with waffles and go from there?”
That seemed as good of a place to begin as any. “Yeah. Let’s start with waffles.”
“Hop on then, Sweetheart. I know a really good place, off the beaten path.”
Sam grabbed on to Bucky for support, swinging behind him onto the back of the bike. “Fuck that. It’s Halloween night. I’m Black, and we just got chased by three killer clowns. We’re going to a Waffle House right off the interstate or I’m not going.”
Bucky chuckled as he started the bike, his eyes doing the crinkly thing that Sam already adored. “Deal. Ready?”
Sam wrapped his arms around Bucky, sinking against his broad back, nestling close as he held on tight. “Ready. Let’s go.”