Chapter Text
Steve is an idiot. A big, stupid, gorgeous, idiot who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut at the slightest provocation. Even when it’s just two of them and six of the other guys.
But Sam can’t even find it in himself to be mad. Not when he’s sporting a split lip, a black eye, and bruised ribs the next day. Not when his boss hints at possible domestic issues he may be having at home (he wants to laugh when she begins handing him pamphlets but thankfully doesn’t). Not even when he walks in on Steve half in Bucky’s lap on the couch making out like a couple of teenagers.
He’s not mad. Hurt a little maybe, physically and emotionally, but not mad. Never mad.
Sam’s a waffle man, he gets it from his father.
And yes, before you ask, he knows there’s no real difference between waffles and pancakes but he has a preference, okay?
So he likes waffles, loves waffles, but somehow he always finds himself making two large heaping stacks of pancakes every Saturday morning anyway. They’re not even for him, he hates pancakes, but Steve loves them and Bucky loves Steve and Sam loves… making people happy. So he makes pancakes and he smiles and if he forgets to make himself a waffle by the time breakfast is served no one says anything when he’s nibbling on his own short stack.
Bucky proposes one morning and Steve says yes. It's all terribly romantic and Sam aches something terrible as he watches them gush and kiss and smile. He smiles too when they turn to him, wanting to share their happiness with him. They love him, they say. It's all thanks to him, Bucky admits. Sam regrets the moment he'd talked them into their first date but he still smiles and laughs and hugs them. They celebrate together, the three of them, and Sam acts the part of the excited best friend with ease. He's got a fantastic grip on his emotions.
They make plans together. Planning their wedding, arguing over who gets Sam as their best man, and they laugh. There's so much laughter it makes him sick.
"We should get a bigger place. I've always wanted a daughter. Wouldn't it be funny for her to call you Uncle Sam?" Steve's glowing and Bucky is glowing and Sam feels like he's getting dimmer and dimmer just being near them.
"You still have to live with us, Sam. It takes a village, you know!" More laughter. It's all so funny it makes him want to cry.
He imagines it won’t hurt so much with distance.
He needs to escape.
He’s never been the self-sacrificing type, martyrdom is not a look he thinks he’d wear well but for Steve he has no problem trying it on and wearing it like a second skin.
So he packs up his things from their apartment and ships them over to his sister’s house over the span of a few months. If anyone notices things beginning to go missing no one says anything. It isn’t until April that all of his stuff, save a few things (i.e. gifts from Steve and Bucky) he doesn’t want to take with him, are removed from their tiny Brooklyn apartment. He’s found a nice place in Harlem, near his sister’s brownstone, and he’s excited to finally be able to leave this place.
To breathe again.
But, if he's honest with himself, it's not really self-sacrifice if it's for his own peace of mind, right?
He avoids Steve and Bucky successfully for two whole months, which is something since they have a lot of the same friends and Sam’s been hanging out with Rhodey more and more and where Rhodey goes Tony follows. And where Tony goes everyone else seems to just pop up.
No one besides Rhodey mentions his sudden move but even then it’s all lighthearted jabs and Sam feels better for it. Everyone somehow just knows where he lives and they all have no problem showing up. Even Thor has stopped by with a toaster as a housewarming gift and Sam hasn’t even said two words to the man the whole time they’ve known each other.
But he takes the toaster anyway, it’s cute and red and looks very expensive. He wonders if expensive toasters toast differently? Better?
And even if he’s only been there for two months his place feels lived in and homey and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Probably.
And as each day turns to the next it gets much easier to forget about whatever had come before this. The pain is dulling and he’s grateful if a bit lonely. His friends are nice but Sam misses having someone to hold.
He goes on a date with a nurse named Claire Temple who’s very nice and funny and beautiful but there’s no spark there (she isn’t who he wants and he isn’t who she wants either) and they decide before the date is even over to just remain friends. It’s while they’re getting pho in some small shop in Chinatown that he sees Steve again for the first time in what feels like forever.
His heart hammers in his chest as Claire makes some joke he’s sure is hilarious but he can’t hear her because he’s only focused on Steve crossing the street with a dark look on his face as he makes his way over to them.
Steve looks good, so so so good and Sam’s palms are sweating all of a sudden and then Steve’s in front of him and all the sounds rushes back to him like he’d just come for a gasp of air after diving deep in the ocean.
“Can we talk?”