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Sam was being willfully, unhelpfully obtuse.
And what’s worse, Bucky couldn’t figure him out no matter how hard he tried.
"C'mon, where're we going?" Bucky whines and tugs on a pair of jeans.
"Can't say!" Sam yells from somewhere down the hall.
"Not even if I promise to do that one thing with my arm that you like so much?"
Sam sticks his head out around the corner to look at Bucky. "No, not even if you do the thing with your arm that I like a lot. Not even if you did it ten times in a row."
Bucky whistles, impressed, and Sam laughs.
"Sorry, Honey Pot, been sworn to secrecy by someone who scares me a whole helluva lot more than you do."
Bucky pauses in buttoning up his shirt. "Are we meeting Nat? 'Cos I can fit at least 6 more knives into this outfit, maybe even an extra gun or 2."
Natasha would laugh him under the table if he only showed up with the 7 knives, 2 guns, brass knuckles, and garrote currently on his person.
And then she would take out the rocket launcher hidden in her bag and laugh at him some more.
Something goes crashing down wherever Sam is and Bucky ghosts across the room to assess the situation.
Sam's buried under a heap of shoe boxes, absolutely laughing his ass off. Bucky leans against the doorjamb and waits for him to finish.
"You done yet?" he asks, unimpressed.
"Not my fault you and Steve are shitty carpenters." He makes grabby hands at Bucky. "And seriously. There's so much sexual tension between you and Nat, I'm just waiting for the day you dump me and have the most perfect Russian babies together."
Bucky walks over and reaches down an arm for Sam to grab. "Don't be ridiculous, Puddin' Pop. If there was anyone who I'd have Russian babies with, it'd be you."
Sam squints at him. "I'm still not telling you where we're going."
Damn it. "It was worth a try."
"Yeah, whatever."
Bucky sidles up close to Sam and whispers something into his ear.
Sam pushes him away with put-upon disgust.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” The wide smile he's sporting absolutely betrays the seriousness of his words.
“Nope,” Bucky answers with a pop.
“Unfortunately, you’re the only one I kiss these days,” he bemoans.
“Stop being a pain in the ass and c'mon,” Sam grouses, sidestepping the mess that the Super Soldiers' shoddy carpentry hath wrought.
Bucky waggles his eyebrows at him. Sam punches him in the arm. Hard.
“No one’s making you like me, y'know,” Bucky says with a smile in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He pushes Bucky out the door and locks it firmly behind them.
~~~
"A bar," Bucky says, staring blankly ahead.
"Excuse the fuck outta you, this is a pillar of the community. Actually, you know what? I'm offended. This place has been around since the 40's, your geezer ass should have heard a thing or two about it in your day."
Sam doesn't let him get in a word in edgewise before he's dragging him in the door and towards a booth in the back. There's a couple there, making moon-eyes at each other over a plate of fries.
"Um, I don't think-" Bucky starts.
"Sam!" the woman shouts, waving her arm furiously like they weren't already making their way over.
She stands and she and Sam wrap each other in a hug like their arms are made of snakes.
"I can't believe you actually pulled it off," she says admiringly.
"Bucky, Misty. Misty, Bucky. And that's Misty's boyfriend, Danny." Sam introduces.
Bucky shakes Danny's hand first since he's closer.
Misty looks him up and down thoroughly before reaching to shake his hand.
He can already tell he's going to like her, whoever she is.
Bucky reaches out to shake her hand with his right one, which is awkward and not at all the correct hand to be reaching with, but his left is still too much of a dead giveaway, and he doesn't know enough about the situation to put himself out there like that .
"Aw, c'mon now. This is polite company." Misty smiles, and there's a gleam in her eyes that promises Trouble.
She slides her right hand into his palm.
A couple of things become clear after that.
"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," Sam says after whole seconds pass and it becomes increasingly obvious that Bucky is temporarily incapable of speech. And motion. He manhandles Bucky into their side of the booth and slides in next to him.
"I hope private detecting pays well, 'cus my boy here can eat." Sam puffs out his chest and opens the menu.
Misty waves him off, her eyes set on Bucky.
"I wanted to personally thank you. A whole bunch of good people got functioning prosthetics when the world found out you were still alive and kicking. Your arm kicked Stark's need to have his fingers in every pie into drive, and I- we- could never thank you enough."
Misty flexes all of her fingers under the low restaurant lighting for Bucky to see.
Graciously, she turns her attention to Sam to let Bucky swallow all of that without the weight of expectations.
"And you. Danny is my husband, thank you very much."
Sam chokes on his own spit. "Since when?"
"Since around the same time all y'all decided to start showing ya asses for the whole world to see. Really puts a damper on the reception when one of your oldest friends gets thrown into Super Max the day before."
"Listen. Get back to me after Steve Rogers worms his way into your heart and see if you can still blame me for following those puppy eyes into battle."
Bucky silently agreed with him. Steve definitely knew how to work all of his angles.
"Y'see, that's exactly why I haven't met him yet."
A fair point.
The waitress appears with the drinks and conversation happily flows to greener pastures.
Well, until Danny asks, "So, where do you guys live?" over their latest plate of appetizers.
Bucky groans.
He hated that question.
“Well, since someone insisted we just had to live in Brooklyn to be near a certain geriatric best friend of theirs, we live in Williamsburg.”
Danny and Misty hiss in sympathy.
"Could've moved to Harlem but someone told Steve that Williamsburg is where the arty people live. And as an arty person himself, Steve thought it would be the best place to lay down roots," Sam elaborates.
“Aw, c’mon. I have nothing against Harlem. It’s Manhattan that I can’t stand.”
He'd rather swallow hell itself than badmouth Brooklyn, but Williamsburg was, admittedly, one of his worst decisions in recent memory.
It’s then, with three sets of bewildered eyes on him, that Bucky realizes he’s sitting at a table with a group of native Manhattanites.
The rest of dinner, Sam and Bucky are so SamandBucky that they get more than a few sly glances from their dinner-mates.
At some point after the entrees are brought out, Misty whispers to Danny, “The sex must be beyond amazing. "
Danny glances at them across the booth. “I feel like I can never walk into a church again after thinking about it,” he whispers back.
Sam doesn't hear them, but of course Bucky does.
He throws them a wink.
By the time dessert rolls around, Bucky's accent is out in full force.
“Lissen, Stark made that?” He gestures to her arm.
She nods.
"‘S fuckin’ bullshit, is what that is,” he says with an air of finality.
“Stark's a bigger bluenose 'n Papa Smurf. Trus’ me: You want a real, genuine fake arm, you gotta go to Wakanda. Real swell guy runs the place. Right hook like you wouldn’t believe.” Bucky whistles lowly at the memory.
Sam kicks him under the table, like they both wouldn't leave the other for T'Challa in a heartbeat.
“If you want, I can talk you up, see if he’ll bite. But I’m sure once he hears that Stark made your arm, he’ll jump at the chance to get you a proper replacement.”
Bucky laid it down like the offering it was and turned to Sam so Danny and Misty could have their couples-telepathy talk in private.
“You know all of that was in Brooklynese, right?” Sam says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Bucky pokes at Sam with an elbow. “So why ain’t you say something 'bout it, huh?”
"I'm saying something about it right now." Sam had that challenging look in his eyes, but they were in public, with friends even, and now was definitely not the time.
Misty shifted minutely.
“So, if I say yes, not only could I possibly be getting an arm made out of some of the most indestructible stuff on this Earth, I would get a free vacation and the chance to meet the fine-ass King of Wakanda?"
“Never said anything about free,” Bucky answers with a teasing smile.
“There’s a king, a real live African king, with resources and beaucoup bucks, who would build me an arm but wouldn’t comp my ride?” She looked deeply unimpressed.
Bucky grinned.
Faster than he could stop it, Misty slaps Sam around the back of his head. “Where have you been hiding my new best friend all these years?”
She turns to Danny before Sam can say anything. “Babe, I know we’re married and all, but if I have a chance with T’Challa, I think we both know how it’s gonna go down.”
Danny lifts her metal hand to his lips and kisses it so, so gently. “If there’s ever a day where you pick me over the love of your life, I’ll know you’ve been replaced by a Skrull.”
Misty positively glows.
Bucky pokes Sam in the side. “Why don’t you ever look at me like that?"
Sam scoffs and slaps his hand away. “Mannn, you’re lucky I can even look at your ugly mug after you ripped the steering wheel out of the car I was actively driving.”
“Ugly? That’s not what you called me last night.” He makes sure to bat his eyelashes extra prettily.
“Well, last night you had your-” Sam suddenly remembers where they are and shuts his mouth with a snap.
“No, no. Don’t stop on account of us. You were just getting to the good part,” Danny says, enraptured. Misty's crying from trying not to laugh out loud.
Sam looked down and muttered, “Traitors. You're all traitors.”
Bucky grabs ahold of one of Sam’s hand from where they're curled in his lap and says, “Hey. If there’s ever a day where we don’t passive-aggressively fight until we either pass out or bone until the roosters crow, I’ll know you’ve been replaced by a Skrull.”
“Man, shut the hell up,” Sam says, but he's smiling again, and that's all Bucky really wanted.
Danny whispers something to Misty that Bucky can’t quite catch.
“No, I’m pretty sure that would just mess with the power dynamics they’ve got going,” she answered in a quiet voice.
The waitress drops off the bill, and Misty stares at Danny until he pulls out his wallet.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Sam asks.
“Well, one of us is a private investigator and one of us is the millionaire CEO. And like you said, your boy can put food away like a meat locker.”
Bucky shrugs, because it’s true.
They walk Misty and Danny back to their home. It's nice out, cold but not windy, and they talk about small, inconsequential things on the long walk over.
When they reach their stoop, no one says anything for a long second.
"So, Bucky Bear, what's your Snapchat? I need to add you so we can plan world domination, one ten second video at a time." Misty has that look back in her eye.
Nothing good or holy ever follows that look.
Bucky ignores the look of dawning horror on Sam’s face when he answers. “I only have Twitter and Instagram right now. Haven't quite worked my way up to Snapchat just yet."
Sam breathes a tiny sigh of relief.
“That’s nonsense,” Danny says, probably shattering any sense of safety Sam has ever had. “You guys should come up to our place. We'll help you make one. You can even cross-post between Snapchat and Instagram. Two birds, one stone.”
Bucky looks at Sam for a split second, takes in all of the chagrin and regret written on his face, and smiles at Danny.
“We'd love to.”
~~~
“Sam-a-lam, what’s Buckeroo’s name under on your phone?”
Sam pats down all of his pockets even though he can clearly see his phone in Misty’s hands.
She and Danny have been snuggled up on the couch for the last 30 minutes.
He never even saw her move.
“How’d you do that?”
She just raises a single eyebrow.
He mumbles something out, but she's too busy snooping through his contacts to notice. And wow, did he know a lot of Supers.
She sends herself Ororo Munroe’s number.
For safe-keeping, of course.
"What was that?" she asks, bringing herself back into the present.
“He said: ‘Representative Weiner (D-N.Y.)’,” Bucky replies.
Misty can feel Danny’s stomach clench against her back as he tries to stifle his laughter.
She doesn’t exactly know where to look, so she shifts her gaze between the two of them, eyebrows raised like she's watching an interesting tennis game.
“It’s only fair, since his name in my phone is ‘Pennis the Menace’. Like Dennis the Menace, but with a P, ‘cos, y’know.”
Bucky has the most shit-eating grin on his face right now.
She turns to look at Danny behind her. “You were right, babe. They’re too kinky, even for us.”
Danny nods wisely.