Chapter Text
Steve Rogers has a problem. His problem is that Brock Rumlow is an asshole. Brock Rumlow is an asshole who is also his roommate and has a penchant for “accidentally” locking Steve out of their room while he’s in the shower. So now Steve is stuck out in the hallway of their floor with a towel wrapped tightly around his bony hips and clutching his shower caddy to his chest like an idiot for the fourth time in as many weeks. He shuffles down to his RA’s room and hopes that no one has to go to class anytime soon and see his thin, barely covered frame.
Bucky isn’t in his room, though, so he travels back to the other end of the hall and hopes that Sam is in his. He knocks and fortunately the door opens a few moments later. Sam’s bright smile becomes a frown of concern. “Again, Steve? You gotta do something about this, man,” Sam says in lieu of greeting as he lets Steve into his room.
“I already told you why I’m not going to do that, Sam,” Steve says as he stands in the middle of Sam’s room. Sam’s roommate Riley isn’t around, but then again, he’s never around. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen the guy before, even just in passing in the building. Steve almost wishes that Riley could have been Brock’s roommate and that he could’ve been Sam’s, but he wouldn’t wish anyone to be Brock’s roommate. Steve has never met Riley but based off the way Sam talks about him he seems pretty cool and he doesn’t deserve to get stuck with a guy like Brock.
Sam sits down on the edge of Riley’s unlofted bed. “Man, sit your sorry butt down,” he tells Steve, motioning to his wet desk chair.
“I’m all wet, Sam.”
“The chair will survive. And even if it doesn’t, I got it on sale at Target. It’s no great loss, Rogers.” Steve sits. “I understand that your immense pride is getting in the way of you actually acknowledging that your roommate is bullying you, but you’ve got to be getting tired of this.”
“Yes, Sam, I am. And I’d like to punch him in the face but I still have to live with the guy for seven more months, and I’d prefer to keep all my personal property intact.” Steve didn’t have much to bring with him to school; being the kid of a single mother coupled with the amount of money that went towards his hospital bills growing up kind of guaranteed that, so he can’t really afford to lose anything he brought with him. He’s actually surprised Brock hasn’t defaced any of the sketches he has taped up on his walls and he surreptitiously knocks on Sam’s desk after he has that thought.
“I’d like to punch him in the face, too. I figure I’ve still got two years and seven months to knock that off my bucket list,” Sam says as he tosses Steve a blanket. Steve wraps it around his shoulders and shifts until he’s comfortable. “Honestly, Steve, this is high school-level shit. You think he’d be better than that.”
“You're giving him way too much credit," Steve says with a sharp scowl.
“I hope you aren’t as blatant in your disgust for him when he’s around. You do have to live with the guy for the rest of the year.”
“I know that. Which is why I haven’t fucked with any of shit,” Steve shoots back. “I haven’t gotten paint on any of his clothes or textbooks, I haven’t drunk any Gatorade, I haven’t – no, wait, I have messed with his alarm clock.”
Sam arches a brow. “Only a couple of times,” Steve defends. “It’s an easy enough mistake to set an alarm early or an hour late and not realize you did it. Sometimes you may forget to set it altogether. Easy, understandable mistakes, Sam.”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side, shit,” Sam says as Steve grins devilishly.
Steve suddenly looks distracted. “You think Bucky is in his room yet?”
Sam feigns surprise. “Wait, you don’t have his schedule memorized?”
Steve flushes. “No,” he mutters. He pulls the blanket a little more tightly around himself and asks too earnestly for Sam’s liking, “Do you think he’s noticed?” Shit, Sam almost feels bad.
“I don’t know, I don’t know what the two of you do when you go to his room dressed like that,” Sam says as he motions to Steve. The smaller man flushes even more and Sam lets out a soft laugh. “You do hang out with him a lot since you’re the one resident who actually shows up to hall events and I see you in the office pretty often. And he clearly puts up with your stubborn ass.”
“Yes, but does he want my stubborn ass?” Steve can’t help but ask. He asks partially because he really needs to figure this out but also because he wants to see Sam blanch.
Sam refuses to give him the satisfaction and Steve both loves him and hates him for it. “I dunno, dude, that’s something you need to figure out for yourself. Like I said, I see you talking with him in office hours pretty often, how much are you flirting with him?”
Steve shrugs and says, “I’m not really sure.” Sam sighs and is glad that he doesn’t want to work in couples counseling.
“Well you need to figure that out.”
Steve nods in agreement. “I’m going to go check to see if he’s in his room. You’re the best, Sam,” Steve says as he gets up to leave, neatly folding the blanket back up and draping it over the back of Sam’s futon before going.
“Don’t I know it,” Sam tells him before closing the door.
Steve’s not completely hopeless when it comes to flirting, it’s just that he hadn’t had many opportunities to fine-tune his style before he left for college. High school wasn’t the greatest time for him so he didn’t have very many prospects there to come up with any sort of technique. He mainly skirted around different crowds, ending up at different parties but not having many close friends. There were a couple of exceptions, though.
One time he told off a football player at a party because he kept trying to get his hands up a cheerleader’s shirt even though she kept telling him no. It got him punched him in the face but it also got him his first blowjob later that night when the cheerleader found him out by his car as he was going to leave. Maria told him that even though she could have handled it herself, she appreciated what he had done and then she kissed him. They made out for a while, the noise of the party a low roar in the background – or maybe it was the blood pounding in Steve’s ears – before she pushed him into the backseat and crawled in after him. He returned the favor because even if he was a virgin he was still a goddamn gentleman. He hung out with Maria every so often because she didn’t give a fuck about what other people thought of her. Sometimes they watched movies and sometimes they did more R-rated things. Maria went away to a college on the opposite coast but they still texted sometimes. Steve was glad she was doing well.
His first time giving a blowjob had been with his friend Wade from his art class. Junior year the two of them were drinking and playing Xbox in Wade’s bedroom when Wade suddenly admitted, “So I think I might be into guys.” Steve replied as nonchalantly as he could, “Yeah, I think I am, too.” Not too long after that the Xbox controllers ended up on the floor with their clothes soon following. They hooked up a couple of times over the course of the semester and then Wade’s mom got a new job and he left the state in early March.
Steve feels like sexual encounters aren’t supposed to be as casual as his had been so far. Not that he minded, but there just hadn’t been any sort of buildup or slow burn with Maria or Wade. They’d just sort of happened and then kept happening. Things felt different with Bucky, which is why he didn’t really know what to do flirting-wise. Steve didn’t want to just fool around with Bucky and then go back to playing Xbox. He wanted to, like, cuddle or lay together and talk about life. Steve has no clue what to do, so he just makes his way back down to Bucky’s room and tries to focus on how cold he is, not how badly he wants to kiss his resident advisor.
* * * *
Bucky Barnes has a problem. His problem is a resident named Steve Rogers: a sophomore who lives two doors down the hall from him who perpetually shows up to his room. Steve couldn’t weigh more than 115 pounds soaking wet and Bucky wanted to ravish him until the poor kid can’t even remember his own name. Staff training did not train him for this shit. Sometimes Steve pops by in between his classes because he’s actually a pretty involved resident compared to some of the other guys on Bucky’s floor. A psychology major named Sam Wilson shows up pretty frequently and so does a guy named Clint. Bucky knows Clint is mainly at the events for the free food but Bucky doesn’t mind because Clint’s pretty cool when he’s actually awake enough to hold a conversation. Brock never shows up. Bucky doesn’t mind that either. Regardless, Bucky has it bad for Steve Rogers and he just conveniently showed up at Bucky’s door wearing just a towel, again. Bucky lets him in.
“Sorry this keeps happening,” Steve says as he shuffles into Bucky’s room.
“You don’t have to apologize, Steve. If anything, I should be apologizing that the housing department hasn’t done anything yet,” Bucky says as he begins to look around for his key to the Hall office. “Sit down, punk, I can see that you’re dry.” Probably could’ve worded that better, Bucky thinks belatedly.
“I haven’t said anything to them. I’ve dealt with worse. I can handle an asshole like Rumlow for a year,” Steve says as he sits down on Bucky’s futon.
Bucky pauses in his search and leans back against his dresser to fully face Steve before he asks, “You’ve dealt with worse than getting locked out of your room while showering on a weekly basis?”
Steve shrugs nonchalantly. “I haven’t been punched by anyone yet, so that’s an improvement.”
Bucky is suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to beat the shit out of everyone who ever tormented Steve in high school. “I don’t want to ask a stupid question but at this point I feel like I have to: do you bring your keys with you when you shower?”
Steve gives him a Look before answering. “Yes. He usually swipes it from the outer section of the shower stall while I'm in there. He doesn’t do it all the time and I don’t really feel like physically taking my key into the shower with me. I’d rather take a regular shower and deal with it than take a three minute shower just so I can beat the asshole to the punch. I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.”
Is Steve Rogers a real person? What the actual fuck? “That’s admirable…”
“That’s stubborn,” Steve shoots back.
“Yeah, I’m gathering that about you,” Bucky says, trying to not let too much fondness show in his voice.
“What can I say? Being a 105-pound asthmatic bisexual doesn’t do you any favors growing up.”
Bucky just barely avoids choking on air. “Well I’m a 160-pound bisexual and it hasn’t done me much good, either.” Steve shoots him a dark-eyed look and Bucky can actually feel the blood leaving his head and shit he needs to get back to the initial conversation.
“I’m not sure if Brock is a homophobe or just a jerk. It’s not like I have an LGBT flag draped across my room. I’m not hiding who I am but I haven’t been super out or anything. I’m thinking he’s just a dick.”
“That’s not any better, Steve.”
“Nah, but it’s kind of reassuring to know he’s a dick towards everyone and not just to me because I’m into dick.” Bucky can’t help but laugh at that. “So are you going to go get the master key to let me back into my room? Not that I don’t enjoy our time together, but I’m starting to get cold.”
Bucky feels his entire face heat up. “Right, yeah, I can go grab that.”
“Don’t mind me, I’ll wait,” Steve says, stretching his arms across the back of Bucky’s futon. Bucky wants to tear that towel off of him.
Bucky rubs at his face as he makes his way down to the office. It’s only October and already this year has been nothing like the year before when he was just an Assistant Resident Advisor. The RA he was partnered with last year, Namor, helped him improve his conflict resolution skills and other things like “motivational interviewing” and other obnoxious sounding terms that Namor insisted were important, and Bucky did know that they were, but he never really had to use them.
Now this year his floor has Brock and Steve, who would be bad enough even if they weren’t roommates. However, given that Steve refuses to do anything about the issues between him and Brock, Bucky hasn’t been able to help much there. It bothers him more than he lets on to Steve. He took pride in being one of the few sophomores who were selected to join staff and he wanted to prove to both himself and his fellow staff members that he deserved to be there. Even if he hasn’t had a chance to resolve any conflicts between Steve and Rumlow, he’s had more than enough chances to try and sort out the never-ending drama between two other guys on his floor, Logan and Scott. Bucky is grateful every day that they live across the hall from one another and don’t actually live together because he’s 85% certain that one of them, if not both of them, would be dead already.
All in all, he’s been pleasantly surprised by how good he is at handling everything that being an RA entails. Natasha’s got first shift on office hours and she’s already typing away on her laptop when he walks in and he hopes she won’t say anything. He’s just crossing the threshold of the office to leave when she asks, “Rogers naked in your room again?”
“He’s wearing a towel,” Bucky defends.
“Are you going to act on that? It’s October, James.”
“I can read a calendar, Natasha,” Bucky says sharply. He looks around and lowers his voice before continuing, “I was finally able to drop my sexuality into the conversation but
I can only drop so many hints before I’m downright saying, ‘hey, Steve, I want to rip that towel off of you, push you into my mattress, and not let you leave.’ Besides, getting with your residents is kind of frowned upon.”
“Only if you just want to sleep with them. You clearly want to take him out to dinner and movies and have pillow talk so it’s more than a quick lay. Although, thank you for explaining just how you want to lay him. That was necessary.”
Bucky flushes again and is still trying to find a response to that when Nat adds, “And leaving the guy half-naked in your room isn’t getting you any closer to being able to do that.”
Bucky swears and rushes back up to his room on the fifth floor. Steve is sitting cross-legged on the floor looking at Bucky’s DVD collection. “Sorry, I got bored,” he says a little sheepishly.
“Sorry, Natasha was having computer issues and –“
“And you being the honorable RA that you are you had to lend a hand. I understand. Still cold, though.”
“At this rate you should just keep a spare set of clothes in here.” You fucking idiot stop fucking talking right now. He adds a weak chuckle so it doesn’t sound as bad.
“There are worse places to have to spend my time half naked,” Steve says. Bucky is not going to survive this year. “And you’ve had worse ideas. Like getting that barbershop quartet as a hall program.”
“They were good last year!” Bucky says.
“Well they weren’t this year!”
“I didn’t know that three of them had graduated!”
“Isn’t it your job as an RA to do research on those types of things or something?”
“No, my job is to get people to show up. Hence the pizza. It works on Clint, at least.”
“Clint likes the floor programs; he’s just too much of a shit to own up to it.”
“And you have no experience in being a shit,” Bucky shoots back before he can stop himself.
“I’m going to let you have that one because you’re letting me back into my room…” Steve starts.
“And because I’m right.”
“Talk to his friend Kate, she’ll side with me!” Steve practically yells in his attempt to cut Bucky off.
Bucky grins at Steve’s scowl so he doesn’t do something stupid like kiss it off his face. “Come on ya punk, you need to get dressed.” He follows Steve down to his room and resolutely doesn’t notice how Steve’s towel has slid down to just barely cover the slight swell of his ass.
Once he’s let Steve into his room Bucky heads back down to the office where Peggy has joined Natasha. “That took you longer than usual,” Natasha tells him from where she’s sitting on the office desk and swinging her legs idly. He may have a tendency to go mope to Nat each time this happens.
Peggy's sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the office chair but Bucky taps at them to get her to move them. She acquiesces, but only so she can lean back and say, “I’m noticing a pattern, Barnes.”
“That you always catch me on days when I’m looking hotter than you are?” Bucky quips as he flops down into the chair.
“It’s cute that you think that that’s ever happened before.”
“Then what have you noticed, Carter?”
“That a certain sophomore shows up at your door an awful lot.”
“I can’t help that Wilson and I are such kindred spirits. It’s because we’re both so charming,” Bucky says with a shit-eating grin. Natasha snorts at that and Peggy rolls her eyes.
“Let’s be honest, Steve would show up at your door a lot more when this happened if you didn’t live across the hall,” Natasha tells her. Bucky loves Natasha.
“I admire his resolve,” Peggy says simply.
“You and me both, Carter,” Bucky replies. “I just happen to admire some other aspects of him as well.” Peggy smirks in spite of herself.
Natasha looks up at the clock, leisurely. “James, isn’t your art appreciation class about to start?”
“Shit, Nat! You know you could clue me in about things sooner!” Bucky tells her as he pushes himself up out of the chair.
“But then I wouldn’t get to see your sorry ass have to run across campus and you need all the exercise you can get if you think you’re ever going to beat my mile time,” she tells him. He gives her the finger as he runs off again.
* * * *
Natasha Romanoff has a problem. Her problem is Alexander Pierce is a fucking asshole. Alexander Pierce is also her academic advisor.
“You know, it’d be a lot easier if we just let him know Steve likes him back,” Natasha says.
“Yes, but this is something they can stand to figure out on their own. They’ve been dancing around each other for over a month, they’ll get there soon enough,” Peggy tells her.
“I know, but I figured I’d state the obvious. I mean, I know most guys aren't this dense but the guys in our building are so – honestly, Clint, do you spend your dining dollars on anything other than coffee? Or do you just live off the free pizza you get at hall council?”
“Can’t hear you, I’m deaf!” Clint yells as he passes the office.
Peggy laughs and asks, “Case in point?”
“Nah, he’s all right. His friend Kate keeps him in line.”
“Oh, the sociology major? I like her! She lets me steal some of her apple slices whenever she comes by to look for Clint. She puts cinnamon on them, it’s genius.”
“That makes a lot more sense… I thought they were just always going bad.” Natasha rests her feet on the now-empty office chair. “So, speaking of girls, how are things going with the theatre major?”
“My friend Angie? What do you mean?” Peggy asks, her brow furrowing.
“Yeah, you’re regular gal pals. She calls you English –“
“Because I am!”
“And she was crushed when she found out you couldn’t live together since you’re an RA.”
“She was not crushed.”
“I was there. It was like watching a puppy get kicked and not understanding what it did wrong.”
“I have to go work on my independent study, goodbye Natasha.”
“Goodbye, English!”
Peggy is too classy to give her the finger but Natasha knows she wants to. “You’re gonna kick Zola’s ass!” Natasha yells, because she’s a good friend.
Peggy shouts back from down the hall, “I know!”
After Peggy bails on her, too, Natasha goes back to reading for her Russian Literature class. She’s halfway through her chapter when a girl wearing a pale purple peacoat with matching boots and sunglasses that are perched on the top of her head stops in.
“Hey, Nat!”
“Hey, Kate. Meeting up with Clint?”
“No, he’s meeting up with me,” she clarifies as she sits down on the desk, brushing some dark black hair out of her face.
“When?” Natasha asks, looking at the clock reading 4:30.
“4:30,” Kate answers.
“Why’d you get here so early, then?” Natasha says with a smirk.
“Because of one of us has to have our life together.”
“Honestly, how did you meet?”
“I was driving back from the grocery store and I took a side street to get back to campus more quickly when I saw this dog that had been hit by a car. I stopped to see if they needed any help and Clint was there, talking to the dog and family, keeping them calm and stuff. He had a pizza and was sharing it with the family and the dog! We stayed ‘til everything got sorted out and I asked why he was there. He said he was coming back with the pizza he had ordered and saw it happen. We hang out now.”
Kate’s phone rings and Natasha hears over the speaker, “Kate, where the hell are you?” Kate glances at Natasha and waits, tapping her fingernails – purple, of course – against the desk. Natasha then hears, “Awe shit, I forgot we were meeting in the lobby. I’ll be there in a second.” Kate rolls her eyes and pulls out a sandwich bag filled with apple slices. Natasha eyes them warily.
“Can I try one of those?” She finally asked.
Kate gasps dramatically, “Natasha Romanoff, have you finally seen the light?”
Natasha doesn’t dignify her with a response but takes one anyways. Damn. Peggy was right, they are good. She’s about to ask if she could have another slice when Clint walks in and asks, “Why are you hanging with Nat?”
“I was telling her the Lucky story,” Kate tells him and Natasha watches Clint’s face heat up.
“That’s a boring story,” he mutters.
“I’ve heard better,” she replies and Clint shoots her a soft smile.
“You ready to go, Kate?” Kate nods and Clint pulls out his phone. “Yo, Murdoch, we’ll be at your place in five, so be ready to go this time!”
Shortly after they leave, Natasha’s phone vibrates because apparently no one wants her to finish this chapter. She slides it open to see an email from her advisor, letting her know, once again that he is unable to meet with her and she flings her phone at the couch.
She’s still staring bitterly at her phone when she sees Sam out of her peripheral vision and is snapped out of her mood. “Sam! What do you know about Dr. Pierce?”
Sam turns and ambles into the office. “Kind of an ass, super smart and conceited and egotistical, slightly fascist. Why?”
“He’s my advisor,” Natasha snarls and Sam’s eyes widen but he doesn’t rescind what he said. Instead he simply says, “oh?” It’s just the barest hint of an inflection but it leaves an opening for her to continue if she wants to.
“I want to work with abuse victims and Pierce doesn’t think that I have ‘a demeanor that’s fitting for people who have underwent trauma’. He’s been my advisor for two and a half years and he’s met with me five times. Once at the start of my freshman year to help me pick my classes and at the end of that semester to find out what I wanted to take for the second semester. Then at the end of that second semester to find out what my plan for my sophomore year was, which is when he started critiquing my career plan. I met with him at the end of both semester sophomore year and they went the same way. I was able to get him to meet with me once more last spring because I wanted to find out where to start in regards to applying for grad schools and it was more or less fifteen minutes of him wondering if ‘that was really the path I wanted to take.’”
“Jesus, Nat, I’d heard horror stories but are advisors even allowed to do that?”
Natasha has been told that she can’t do something plenty of times and she’s always proven her detractors wrong, but the fact that Alexander Pierce has the audacity to tell her that he doesn’t think that she can do something that she has known she has wanted to do since she was 15, based off of spending a grand total of maybe thirty-five minutes with her, really pisses her off.
“Pretty sure they’re not. Either way, I’m working on an appeal to getting my advisor switched to Dr. Hawley. I met with her for twenty minutes a few weeks ago just to make sure that all of the research I did into grad schools over the summer was going in the right direction and she helped me more than Pierce ever did.”
“He really got to you, didn’t he?” Sam asks.
Nat sighs. “Yeah. It’s just frustrating. Those twenty minutes just highlighted how much more on track I could be if I had Hawley for an advisor.” She rolls her neck and composes herself. “What were you up to?”
“Had to go to the library to print out a paper for my sociology class. It was on eugenics. Real twisted stuff, not very fun to read about,”
“Use mine.”
“Yeah?”
“Just because we’re fooling around doesn’t mean you can’t stop by for other reasons.”
“I can still come by for the other reason though, right?” Sam asks with a sly grin.
“I get off in 15,” she says as an answer, but she shoots a grin that is just as promising back at him.
“You’ll get of then, too.”
“Damn straight.”
* * * *
Sam Wilson has a problem. His problem is not that he’s sleeping with Natasha Romanoff. That’s the exact opposite of a problem. The problem is that he wants to do more than just sleep with her. So while they’re lying in that post-sex comfortable haze he asks, “You want to go to Ditko and grab dinner with me?”
“I’m not hungry. Thank you, though. Plus, I want to try and figure out what to do about Pierce. I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah,” Sam says quietly as he swings his feet over the side of Natasha’s bed and reaches down to pick up his shirt. “I’ll see you later.”
He heads to Ditko alone apart from his thoughts. Now Sam is good at reading people, he chose to be a psychology major for a reason after all, but Natasha Romanoff is not most people. She’s not as closed off as people think she is but she’s definitely good at concealing her thoughts. He’s pretty sure that she shared more about herself during their conversation in the office today than she had in the past few months combined. He doesn’t think he’s met someone who keeps their cards closer to their chest than her. He’s okay with that, but he’s been slowly playing his hand, and he’s man enough to admit that he wishes she could trust him enough do the same.
He has even more respect for Natasha after their conversation today. Sam was pretty sure he wanted to work with veterans going into college but he did a lot of research on the different populations someone could work with. Nothing connected with him like veterans counseling did but trauma counseling was definitely one that he read up on, especially given the overlap that could occur between the two areas. The fact that Nat wanted to go into it and was so driven in that goal, was, awesome.
Shit, he had it bad.
He feels bad that Nat’s stuck with Pierce as an advisor. He’s a year younger than her but thanks to his advisor he’d already gotten a volunteering gig at the local VA. He’s been going every Saturday since the semester started and it’s only solidified the decision that that’s the type of work he wants to be doing. He can’t imagine being as determined as Natasha and not having that support and guidance that an advisor should provide. He hopes that Hawley works out for her, he was taking her Social Psychology course this semester and she’s already by far the best professor he’s had. He knows that she would be a great fit for Natasha.
The cafeteria is relatively empty when he walks in and he grabs a to-go box. He’s shoveling some rice into his box when he sees Peggy in line in front of him, also with a to-go box. Out of Bucky, Natasha, and Peggy, Sam has probably talked to Peggy the least. He mainly only talks to her on days when some combination of his group of friends chats together with staff during office hours but he likes her. She’s a take no-shit type of girl and could probably beat him up. He’d be okay with that. Most days when she’s in there alone he sees her working on her independent study.
“Not feeling the crowd thing tonight?” Sam asks.
She quickly spots him when she turns around and gives him a smile. “Not really.”
She steps back from the line, allowing the people between the two of them to pass her, and steps back up next to him. “You’re feeling the same way, I see.”
“Yeah, my room ended up sounding like the better option on my walk over here.”
“Well if you don’t mind a little crowd, you’re welcome to join me for dinner,” she offers. Her voice isn’t full of its usual assuredness. Sam reckons she’s just as aware of the fact that they aren’t that close. Sam would like to get to know her better, though, so he takes her up on the offer. Within the time that Peggy walks through the cafeteria line she greets a more racially diverse group of guys than Sam thinks he has seen anywhere else on campus. “We had a lot of group work in my Judicial Politics course last spring. Me and the rest of those guys ended up making a pretty good team,” Peggy explains after Sam asks her “how exactly she knows a guy named Dum-Dum?” She makes sure to correct him and remark that she only calls him Dugan.
“My mistake,” Sam says with a laugh as they reach her room. She’s opens the door and Sam’s eyes widen. “Your room is huge!”
“Being a hall director has its perks. The bathroom is probably the biggest one, though.”
“I’m so over shower shoes, I would kill for my own shower.”
“You’re not the only one, I’m sure,” Peggy says and it doesn’t take a psych major to understand the reason for the frustration in her voice.
“He tells me he’s handling it,” Sam tells her.
“Of course he is. And how exactly is he handling it?”
“By being the bigger man, with some light sabotage for good measure.”
“Light sabotage?” Peggy asks.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”
“Of course you’re not. He’s being subtle about it, at least?”
“From what I can tell. I’m not sure if Brock would even clue in if it wasn’t subtle,” Sam says with a smirk.
“I really feel like I shouldn’t be talking as much shit about some of my residents as I feel like we do.”
“You can’t fool me Carter, I know you hate Rumlow just as much as the rest of us. I also know that you hated Kruger last year.”
“He was so terrible,” Peggy says before she can stop herself. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she says and Sam lets out a loud laugh.
“Sounds like Steve isn’t the one who needs to work on his subtlety.”
“I’m usually better at it, to be honest,” Peggy tells him and Sam believes her.
“Well you’re a hall director now, you probably have to be professional and not sabotage people you don’t like.”
“No, that'd probably cost me my job," Peggy laughs. "It probably wouldn't end well for my independent study proposal, either. My only way to take down Zola is to demolish the shit out of his program proposal with my awesome one.”
“Zola? That’s the name of the guy you’re presenting opposite of? Seriously, where do you meet these people?”
“He’s German,” Peggy says dismissively.
“Of course he is. So how are you going to demolish the shit out of him?”
“By showing that an organization that’s centered on being covert in order to help eliminate or settle internal and external conflicts proactively to prevent public panic and promote order in general would be more successful than an organization that’s covert as means to promote order through a fear-driven security state.”
“I take it you’re the former.”
“SHIELD,” Peggy clarifies happily.
“And Zola is?”
“HYDRA. Steve threw together a quick logo for SHIELD for me. I don’t know who helped Zola with his but it kind of looks like an octopus which is kind of the opposite of a HYDRA, but I digress.”
“Well I mean that should get you the win on merit alone.”
Sam ends up spending a solid thirty minutes in Peggy’s room, where he learns about Dugan and the rest of the “Howling Commandos” as Peggy called them, and about her cousin, Sharon, who was just starting her college application process. He also learned more about her SHIELD proposal and Zola’s HYDRA proposal. He’s no poly sci major but he’s smart enough to know HYDRA’s fucked up. Sam tried convincing her to go to a party on Friday night that Clint had told him about and he think he succeeded.
The conversation is winding down when Peggy smiles and says, “you’re a good guy, Sam.” Her smile suddenly twists into something more knowing, more mischievous, and Sam suddenly has a bad idea about where this conversation is about to go. Then Peggy says, “I’m surprised you’re so down with breaking dorm rules by sleeping with someone on staff.” Sam’s still struggling to find a response to that when Peggy laughs and cries out, “Who’s unsubtle now, Wilson!”
“How many people know?”
“Just me. Steve is remarkably unaware of how much time you spend across the hall and Barnes has noticed that Natasha’s become more lax but hasn’t figured out why. Honestly though, if you two are trying to be secretive you should probably stop eye-fucking as much as you do. Or at least tone down the physicality during the games of Mario Kart. No one who are just friends are that touchy and bumpy and the like.”
“First off, Mario Kart brings out the physical aggression in everyone and you should not have it so easily accessible,” Sam begins desperately, trying to ignore Peggy’s subsequent scoff. “Second off, you’re ignoring the eye-fucking happening between Bucky and Steve so we’re not the only rule-breakers in this dorm.”
“Yes, but Barnes and Rogers aren’t actually having sex. Nor do they want to just be having sex,” Peggy replies. Whatever point Sam was about to make sort of falls away when she says that and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Oh,” Peggy says and Sam can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. “Speaking as someone who has known Natasha for a couple of years now, just talk to her, Sam. She’s not going to bullshit you, you know that. This isn’t a movie, don’t toil through the unnecessary miscommunication part of your story.”
Sam gives her a weak smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Probably?”
“Alright, more than probably. You’re humble, too.” Peggy rolls her eyes. “I really liked hanging out with you, this last part not included,” Sam tells her as he gets up from Peggy’s couch. Peggy looks at him, waiting. “Alright, this last part wasn’t bad either. It at least helped a little bit.”
Peggy laughs and says, “I did, too. Would you like to get dinner again sometime?”
“You asking me on a date, Miss Carter?” Sam’s smiling a little wider now and Peggy’s pleased with herself.
“Yes, Mr. Wilson, I am. Would you like to go on a friend-date with me same time next week?”
“Well then, it’s a date.” He salutes her and leaves her room.
* * * *
Peggy has a problem. She’s coming to realize that she may not be as straight as she originally believed. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s definitely a new development in her life.
Peggy was trying to be a good host so she avoided looking at her phone while Sam was over but she did see that Angie had texted her.
English, if I murder Whitney Frost will you help me bury the body?
Peggy’s messaging her back and trying tamp down the smile on her face when Steve walks in.
“What’re you so smiley about?”
“Girls,” she says, because she knows Steve will get it and she trusts him.
Steve shuts the door gently and sits down on the bed. “Okay.” It’s an invitation to keep talking.
“You know Angie Martinelli, right?”
“The theatre major? Yeah. I saw her in A Chorus Line last semester. She was very good.”
“Okay, so I met her my first semester sophomore year when we were in the same Music Appreciation class and she sat down near me and we hit it off, which was really nice, because most of my classes had been pretty guy-heavy. So we’ve hung out a lot and gotten pretty close, I’d probably be living with her if I weren’t on staff. Sometimes I find myself wondering what it would be like to live with her. Like, I love being a hall director, don’t get me wrong, but I wish I got to spend more time with her and, like, I noticed over time that our conversations had become a little more, flirtatious, I guess, and I didn’t mind? I’ve been being flirtatious back and I’m feeling like I used to feel when I was first starting to see Daniel, but towards Angie. So I’m kind of confused.”
“Yeah, you might be a little bisexual, or pansexual or demisexual” – Peggy has no idea what those last two ones are – “Or you might just have a hardcore girl crush. Does she have feelings back?”
“I’m pretty sure she does. Natasha seems to think so.”
Steve lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Natasha? Really? I wouldn’t have pegged her for the romantic-girl-talky type.”
“There’s more to her than you know, Steve. I think you two would get along really well if you got to know each other better.”
“I mean she’s clearly a good RA. She’s already made Khamala and America want to join staff next year.”
“Oh, really? That’s amazing, they’d both be so good on staff! Khamala is so personable and America has that natural take-charge personality that I think new residents would look up to and –”
“I agree with you, Peggy, I do, but I wasn’t trying to change the subject,” Steve interrupts. Peggy frowns. “Do you have any idea of what you’re going to do about Angie?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking of seeing if she wanted to go to that party Sam told me about, the housewarming party Matt Murdoch is throwing?”
“Oh is that actually happening this time? Clint mentioned it to me months ago and then I hadn’t heard anything since then so I figured it was a bust.”
“Yes, Sam explained it all to me. So it’s a two story house with a basement and each floor is separately rented out. The two girls, Claire and Karen moved in above Foggy and Matt, and Luke moved in with Jessica Jones below them, so they’ve taken over the whole house. It’s kind of hard to find a night that works between six different schedules, though, so they haven’t had a time that worked until now. Sam says it’s going to be ridiculous.”
“When’d he tell you about it?”
“I ran into him in the Ditko cafeteria and we had dinner together tonight. He’s a pretty cool guy, I see why you get along so well. It’s a shame that system errored and you didn’t get roomed with him like you requested.”
Steve shrugs. “Things happen. I was thinking about seeing if he wanted to get a place together off-campus next year. Riley too, if he was interested.”
“I’m sorry your roommate situation is the way it is this year. I feel like it’s my fault since I’m the one who told you to try and get a room in Brubaker.”
“No, Peggy, stop. You were right, this is the best building on campus. The bathrooms are way nicer and the bedrooms are bigger than anywhere else. We may not have an elevator but it doesn’t even matter. The staff’s a lot cooler, too. You and Nat, Carol and Jessica Drew, Bucky.”
“Yeah you and Barnes seem particularly close.”
Steve makes an exasperated noise. “I don’t know what we are. Sometimes I think we’re flirting and that he’s checking me out but I never know for sure.”
Peggy rolls her eyes and says, “don’t play dumb Steve, it’s not a good look on you.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Carter.”
“I mean if I can be honest about my feelings then you can, too.”
“Uh oh, Carter, you just admitted to having feelings,” Steve says with a wry grin.
“Okay, yes, Steven, I have feelings for Angie. And I’m not entirely sure what to do about that because I’ve never had feelings for a girl before and it’s scary but if I’m willing to do something about it than you damn well can be willing to do something about yours.”
Steve deflates. “I know. I’ve just never had a real relationship before, Peggy, and I want that with Bucky, I think, and I’m worried I’ll mess it up.”
“Of course you’ll mess it up, Steve,” Peggy begins and she holds up a hand so he can’t interrupt her. “Messing up happens in every relationship, it’s not going to be perfect. It’s a matter of working past those mess-ups together and being willing to accept the other person, messiness and all.”
“I’m a pretty messy person, Peggy.”
“And Barnes is, too. And so am I” – Steve scoffs at that but Peggy continues, undeterred – “And so is Angie, I’m sure, but I think that I’m willing to find that out.” Peggy pauses before repeating, quietly, “I’m willing to find that out.” When she looks up Steve is smiling.
“Looks like we’re attending a party this weekend, then, Carter.”