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“Okay, I think that does it.” Sam strode into the living room, grabbing the duffle that held a change of clothing and his toiletries from the recliner where Bucky had left it. Yes, his man packed his overnight bag for him; no, he felt no shame about it. If he got lucky, maybe Bucky had tossed in a few of those homemade protein bars Sam liked so much. “Joaquín should be here any minute-” he stopped when he heard the appreciative whistle, grinning from ear to ear because Bucky always had a reaction when Sam wore the white Wakandan suit. Sometimes it was a lusty leer, other times he just gazed at Sam like he hung the moon.
“Fuck, you’re a beauty,” Bucky murmured reverently. He sauntered forward, pulling Sam into the sort of kiss that curled his toes. “Now go save the world.”
“It’s really not that dramatic.” Yes, there was a situation that required Captain America and the Falcon’s intervention. But the intel suggested the job would be short and sweet. No need for extra hands, so other teams like the Thunderbolts would be sitting this one out. At first, Sam had been salty over the thought of him and Bucky on separate teams, but now he could be rational enough to see the good in it. Though always professional, they were also madly in love. Protecting the one you loved was an automatic impulse. It sucked not watching Bucky’s back…but how many times had he watched Bucky’s back at the expense of his own and vice versa? At least with Bucky on the Thunderbolts, he knew his partner’s head was one hundred percent in the game. “I should be back tomorrow evening.” He glanced at the Quinjet tracker app on his Starktech smartwatch, realizing Joaquín was about three minutes out. “Gotta head.”
“Hold up.” Bucky frowned, keen eyes zeroing in on the back of Sam’s suit, where a nondescript bulge should have been. Shuri had designed the suit with a retractable helmet capability. When not in use there should be a slight but noticeable bump in the back. “Where’s the helmet?”
“The what now?”
"There's a helmet in that box from Wakanda that goes with the suit.”
Sam shrugged. “There wasn’t a helmet.”
“I know there was.”
“You weren’t even in Wakanda when they packed the box. How are you gon’ know there’s a helmet?”
"Sam, I designed the helmet. I know there's a helmet."
"Of course you did." Sam still got a little soft over the whole thing.
“I don’t believe this! You’re planning to go out there without a helmet, aren’t you?”
Oh no. His boyfriend looked peeved. A pouty Bucky was an unpleasant Bucky indeed. “I fought the Flagsmashers just fine without a helmet,” he defended with a mulish tilt of his head. He was a grown man. He could decide for himself whether or not he wanted to wear a helmet to go save the world. It certainly served its purposes, but it was distracting. A little itchy. It was still a helmet even with all that fantastic Wakandan technology, after all. And this was just a short mission…
“Unbelievable. Steve didn’t even complain about wearing a helmet and he was a little shit about absolutely everything.”
“I know you’re not bringing Steve into this right now-”
“You better believe, I am, because your helmet looks way cooler than his. I made sure of it. It fucking retracts, Sam. You literally can make it appear and disappear on a whim, there is no reason for this bull shit.”
“I think I hear the Quinjet. Is that the Quinjet, I hear-”
Sam cringed as Bucky stiffened, slipping into full-on Mother Hen mode. It would have been adorable if Sam hadn’t been in such a damn hurry. Truthfully, he’d kinda forgotten all about the helmet still tucked away in the shipping box. “You better not walk out that door. I will show up on your mission with your helmet. Don’t think I won’t.”
“Oh, I know you won’t if you don’t wanna end up on the couch for a week,” Sam grumbled. “Think you’re gonna come into my place of business and embarrass me like that…”
Bucky turned cajoling. “C’mon Sammy You gotta wear the helmet. You gotta protect that pretty head. That pretty face. That pretty brain."
Sam felt his watch vibrate. The equivalent of Joaquín honking the horn from the front lawn. "That pretty brain? I can't take you seriously right now. Don't you have your own assignment to get to?" While getting ready, he’d heard Bucky on the phone with Yelena. Something about an alien and some guns. He hadn’t caught the whole thing, just Bucky uttering ‘we ride at dawn’ because he knew it irritated the shit out of Yelena when he said that.
"Not until you put on your helmet. How'm I supposed to concentrate when you're out there flying around without a helmet? Come on now."
"Look, I'm not wearing the helmet. It's bulky. And heavy. And I don’t like it.”
“You haven’t even tried it. How do you know? You think Shuri is gonna give you something bulky and uncomfortable? Me maybe, sure. But you, no way.”
“It just doesn’t go with my whole vibe…”
“Again, it’s retractable. Use it in the thick of battle, sheath it during the aftermath.”
“You had to say sheath,” Sam muttered, because he and Bucky liked that word…for their own reasons. “And aftermath.” They liked that word, too.
“Mmm hmm.”
Sam sighed; well aware this could only go one way. A pissy, fretful Bucky would be zero fun when Sam got back from his mission needing to unleash some pent-up post-assignment adrenaline. And Bucky was enough of a brat to sulk about this for days. Sometimes when you loved someone, you had to compromise…battles had to be picked and this one wasn’t worth it. He punched a button on his watch, connecting with Joaquín. “Be right out. Gotta go get my helmet.”