Work Text:
Natasha made him go. That was Sam's excuse. She said he didn't need a costume and that he could come straight from work. But it was Halloween, so of course everyone was dressed up. Everyone in the entire bar looked either too young to be drinking or two old to be dressed as anything that came in a package labeled "Sexy Viking" or "Sexy Robot."
"You made it!" Natasha threw an arm around him and kissed his cheek. "Looking good. Outfit might just get you laid."
"Good to see you too, Nat. What are you wearing?"
She had on what looked like a Catwoman costume and a pair of ridiculous thigh high boots. It looked sweaty.
"Doesn't matter-" she pushed a glass into his hand. "Now drink all of that immediately."
"What is it?"
"Doesn't matter- drink. I know the bartender." She led him to a raised table near the back. Sam followed, wearily taking a sip of the drink. "Now- I know you always say you don't like getting set up-"
"No- no, Nat- I'm not here for this. I'm here to have a drink with you and go home."
She ignored this completely. "Guy I work with. Blond. Built. All American boy."
A waitress in a witch's hat and striped stockings came to their table with a tray of brightly colored drinks. She had a slightly harassed look about her that didn't quite seem to fit her large eyes and round face.
"More for you and your friend, Natasha?"
"Yes- and make sure he keeps drinking all night."
"No- Miss- don't listen to her-"
"Ignore him."
The waitress raised her eyebrows, looking unimpressed from one to the other. "I'm still charging you, Nat- even if he doesn't drink them."
"That's fair."
She gave them both another look before returning to her place behind the bar, not bothering to avoid bumping into partiers on the way there.
"I'm not going out with your friend from work, Nat."
"Boo."
She seemed unbothered, though, and quickly changed the subject. It usually went this way, if he was lucky. Natasha liked playing matchmaker, but her interest waned if her target stood their ground too much.
On the fourth drink, Sam was starting to think this wasn't so bad. Sure, it was a midtown bar packed with people in "sexy" costumes that were neither as appealing nor as clever as they were supposed to be, but he was lightly buzzed, the music wasn't too loud, and there was no pressure of a dancefloor.
"You know I don't pry," Natasha said after a time, playing with her little plastic drink sword. "But-"
"But you're about to." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Because you care that much, right?"
She ignored this completely, of course. She ate the three olives in her drink at once and chewed them thoughtfully, jabbing her plastic sword in the air in his direction a few times before she even started speaking.
"You know why your lovelife sucks?"
"Because my friends are always meddling?"
"Because you keep going for boring, straight-laced, suburban gays.
Sam nodded slowly, thinking this over. "You realize I'm a boring suburban gay, right?"
"You're not. You pretend you are but you're really a wild, fun-loving midtown gay who happens to have a real adult job."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure. So I should go after some dirty lowlifes or something?"
"Maybe. But you should be less focused on finding something mature and long term." She chewed another olive thoughtfully. Sam wondered briefly where she had gotten so many. "Maybe... try blow. Or just have a fling or ten. Loosen up a little!"
"Sure, sure." He finished the current drink he was working on with a wince. "Problem is, I don't do flings."
~
"Pietro- where did I put the olives?"
Wanda had said he could only come to the bar if he didn't break anything and if he didn't go home with anyone she knew. Pietro sat down at the bar while his twin mixed a fresh batch of drinks and helped himself to the nearby bowl of mints.
"You know everyone worth talking to here. What am I supposed to do all night?"
"I didn't say you couldn't talk to people," she replied, breaking a few cubes of ice, "I just said not to sleep with anyone that would make my work life more complicated. I swear I just had that jar of olives-"
"But if I talk to someone, what if I want to go home with them? What if they ask me and I have to say no?" He raised his eyebrows at her over the drink she had just passed him. "I might hurt their feelings."
He tried to take a gulp of the drink, but the whiskey and mints he already had under his tongue did not react well at all and he coughed. She snatched the bowl of mints away.
"I think they will get over it. And these are for me to leave with the checks."
Pietro scowled and swiveled on the stool to look over the party. The other bartenders and waiters were off limits. Wanda had already pointed out which of the main regulars he was not to get involved with, but the place was too busy for her to go through all of them.
"How about... the sexy astronaut?"
"That's Scott. Definitely not."
"Sexy nurse?"
"Sharon."
"Sexy police officer?"
Wanda frowned at the raised table near the back.
"Natasha's friend?" She finished the tray she was filling and shook her head. "No- haven't met him."
"Good." Pietro downed the rest of his drink and adjusted the plastic caps on his teeth before snatching three drinks from her tray before she could protest. "Wish me luck, Drágám."
He made his way to the back of the bar with the drinks, weaving in and out of the costumed partiers milling around.
"Have you ever-" he set the drinks down between the ginger woman in the catsuit and the black man in a well-tailored police uniform. "Been with a Russian man? So bossy."
The woman raised her eyebrows, but took one of the drinks without questioning his complete lack of introduction.
"I'm Russian."
"Then you know what I mean, yes?" He tapped his glass to hers. "Incredible."
"I may be Russian, but you are not." She had a piercing, level stare that should probably intimidate him if he was going after her instead of her friend. "Not Slavic, Uralic. You must be Wanda's brother, Pietro."
Pietro grinned at the man and took another sip. "She is good, isn't she?"
"The best."
He hadn't taken his drink yet. Pietro tried not to look too disappointed.
"My point is, it is harder in New York than Sokovia to find a good Russian man- so I have to find ways to make do." He flashed the man his best smile, showing off the tooth caps fitted over his canines. "I think sexy police officer is a good place to start."
The woman snorted, but the man only shook his head and leaned back in his seat, unimpressed.
"Kind of a lot of lead-up to a lame line, buddy."
Pietro groaned and slumped against the table. It was the kind of rebuttal that still held potential. He was pretty good at guessing by now. "And I worked so hard on it too. But maybe a man who is only a sexy police officer for one night is not bossy enough for me anyway."
The man and the woman exchanged a look. There was a joke he was missing because he didn't know them, but that didn't mean anything. He was still in the running.
"Well, commit a crime in front of him, see what you can get." The woman finished her drink with raised brows. "I'm going after that sexy Satan. Have fun boys."
"Nat- come on-" the man looked annoyed with his friend for abandoning him, but offered Pietro half a grin. "So- did you have a plan beyond that crap line, Dracula?"
Pietro laughed and took the woman's seat- frowning at the empty jar she seemed to have left behind on the chair and moving it to the table.
"Pietro."
"Sam. Isn't it a bit late for the vampire trend?"
"My sister says it fits our accents. She says people will find it funny, that it is..." he snapped his fingers, searching for the phrase Wanda had used. "'Self-deprecating.' Does it work?"
"Sam" shrugged. "Bout as cheesy as your line about the Russians. Kinda seems like it's your thing."
"Fair." Pietro pulled out the toothcaps and dropped them in his empty glass.
"So- your plan?"
"Ah, yes- I mostly just hope people are as cheesy as me and they will fall at my feet on the first line. But I think I can come up with a few more if you give me a moment. Something about handcuffs and not being one to come quietly."
Finally, this got a full laugh. Pietro tried to blame the annoying little flip in his stomach on the handful of drinks he'd already downed. It hadn't been many, but no one had to know that.
"Something with handcuffs- Jesus, man."
"Is it working?"
Sam shrugged, but finally took the drink. "Keep'm coming and we'll see."
~
Sam did not do this. He did not take people from midtown bars back to his apartment. And he definitely didn't kiss them all the way up the stairs and pin them to walls in the hallway, not caring if anyone saw. And he definitely didn't shove them down onto his bed and actually cuff them to his headboard. Not that he was a prude or anything. But he didn't even know Pietro's last name.
"I don't do this-"
"You've mentioned this," Pietro muttered when they broke apart for breath. "How many times? But you are doing it," he grinned and adjusted his arms above him. "And very well I might-"
"You talk way too much, you know that?" Sam led a line of kisses up his throat back to his mouth. "Maybe I should gag you too."
Sam had been joking, but judging by the way Pietro groaned against his mouth, it wasn't such a silly idea. They broke apart, Sam searching his face briefly.
"Sock?"
"Disgusting. Tie."
"Right- sorry. I don't-"
"Do this a whole lot, yes- I know. Tie?"
Sam nodded and climbed off the bed to dig through their discarded shirts and jackets.
"Got it!"
"Hurry up! You are too slow!"
Sam kissed him again to shut him up. Somewhere between the awkwardness of kissing a stranger- the nose breathing and clacking of teeth- and the excitement of the same, their movements slowed. Sam's hands smoothed down Pietro's arms, over his chest and stomach- following tendons and muscles that were tight and strong, but contained. Sam couldn't say he'd ever really fantasized about anything in the realm of bondage, but now that he was trying it, he could certainly see the appeal. Not to mention the soft, desperate noises Pietro was making against his mouth, and the way his back arched when he strained against the cuffs were not helping the situation.
"What are you waiting for, Officer?"
Sam rolled his eyes and slid the tie into his mouth. Pietro bit down and lifted his head for him to tie the ends around the back of his head. Sam let his hands wander to Pietro's belt buckle while he kissed his way down his throat. Pietro muttered something around the tie that was probably a curse, but didn't sound like English.
"Hang on-" Sam frowned, pulling back slightly. "Hands and mouth are... bound. What if you need to-"
Pietro rolled his eyes and shifted.
"Ow- hey," Sam scowled at the sharp pain in his hip. It seemed Pietro was perfectly capable of kicking him if need be. "You've gotten yourself into this position before, haven't you?"
Even with his wrists bound, he still managed to shrug. Sam grinned and kissed his way around his collarbones, enjoying the resulting groan when he finally managed to get the other man's jeans open.
So maybe he was pretty damned vanilla most of the time. But he was starting to think he should change that.
~
Pietro woke slowly in the morning with maybe more of a headache than he would have expected from the scant handful of drinks he'd had the night before. He groaned and turned over, squinting through the sunlight that lit the room.
"Shit..."
"You up?"
Pietro propped himself up and looked around for his jeans.
"What time is it?"
"Almost eight," Sam stuck his head out from the small bathroom off of his bedroom. "I don't- I mean-"
"You don't do this a lot," he grinned, giving up on his clothes and putting an arm behind his head. "I know- we have been over this."
Sam grinned back, but still looked embarrassed.
"Anyway- I'm bad with the etiquette. I'm not sure what I'm allowed to say. But... you're welcome to stay. Only problem is, I'm expected at work in 40 minutes and you know what morning trains are like."
"Not really. I don't go out before noon."
"Well, anyway, I have to get out of here," Sam disappeared back into the bathroom. "And no pressure. You can stay or go or just- leave your number. I... I don't want to jump the gun, but... I wouldn't mind seeing you again. If you don't got any place to be, I'm only running in for half a day. And there's food and a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen."
Pietro couldn't help but grin at the hopeful note in his voice.
"I might like food and coffee, if I get to..." he tilted his head to see the sliver of Sam visible through the crack in the bathroom door. "See you again in a few hours."
He spotted his jeans on the floor a few feet from the bed, but stayed where he was, far too comfortable to move.
"But is it alright if I shower and nose around in your things?"
Sam laughed. "Go ahead. Probably nothing too interesting."
"This is fine."
He leaned over and tried to grab just the cuff of his trousers without getting out of bed. As he dragged the jeans toward himself, Sam's black trousers from the night before came with them. Something small and leather slipped out of the pocket. Pietro frowned. He wasn't exactly nosey, but the envelope looked far too flat to be a wallet. And Sam had said it was alright if he nosed around in his things.
He flipped the leather envelope open and felt all the blood rush from his face.
"Oh- good. You found it."
Sam stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed in the exact same police uniform as the night before. Pietro stared at him as he stepped across the room, his hand out.
"You're- I thought... It was Halloween," he said, knowing he sounded stupid and not caring much.
Sam laughed and grabbed the badge from him before tucking it in his breast pocket.
"Yeah, I would have said something, but your lines were so dumb when you thought it was a costume."
Pietro sat, dumbstruck, as Sam leaned down and kissed him.
"You... are mean. You're a bad cop."
"I know." He grinned against Pietro's lips and tugged at his hair. "I cuffed a stranger to my bed and everything."
Pietro probably would have been more offended or humiliated by the whole situation if Sam wasn't such an excellent kisser. He actually made a slight groan of frustration when Sam broke away and started again toward the door.
"You are the worst."
"That's not what you said last-"
"Now who is cheesy?"
Sam only laughed, lingering with his hand on the doorknob.
"Well- I'm serious about you stickin around if you want. I'd... I'd kinda like it if I got back and you were still here."
Pietro blinked at him, trying to remember if anyone had ever said this to him before.
"But uh, no-"
"No pressure," he grinned. "Got it."
When Sam was gone, Pietro slowly pulled out his phone, shaking his head. There was a string of messages from Wanda, becoming increasingly frantic as the night ticked on.
I lost you
Where are you?
Oh
Oh no
The cop is gone too
You know he is a real cop, right?
Don't do anything illegal in front of him okay
Pietro?
Either you are getting laid or you did something illegal and now you are in jail because you cannot tell a costume from a uniform
Hope you are having fun