Work Text:
They get a call from dispatch for a very minor one-alarm fire at an address Sam knows all too well. He groans as the entire firehouse immediately radios in "Not it!" and leave it to him to respond to the call. Although he complains loudly, he takes all the razzing in good humour—he's the newest member of the team and this is exactly the kind of hazing he expected.
He drives out with two other men, since they are professionals and they should be prepared to actually fight a fire if they need to, but as usual there's no real emergency by the time they arrive.
Sam pulls the truck up next to Buchanan Art & Ink and hops out. Bucky's already waiting for him out by the curb. He's got his long black hair pulled up in a low bun today, messy strands curling around his face. He looks real fine.
"Man, you have got to stop throwing your cigarette butts into recycling bins full of paper," Sam says.
Bucky grins at him.
Sam and his colleagues take a walk through the tattoo shop just in case, and check that all the smoke detectors and sprinklers are in the proper working condition, and all the exits and fire extinguishers are up to code. Although James Buchanan Barnes has made a name for himself as some kind of clumsy accidental arsonist, what with his constant small fires, to his credit his place of business always follows the proper safety standards. Even so, three fires in one month is just excessive.
"Hey, listen," Sam says, lingering after his co-workers have gotten back into the truck. "I know you can't really control when your security system calls in an emergency, but this is happening…a lot. My supervisor and your insurance company are going to start asking questions, and you might start getting fined. Wouldn't it be easier if you just quit smoking?"
"But smoking makes me look so cool," Bucky deadpans, grabbing the cigarette tucked behind his ear and slipping it into the corner of his mouth.
Sam laughs, but goddammit it really does. Combined with the full sleeve tattoos up his arm and the matching airbrushing up his prosthetic, he looks like the kind of guy mother warn their daughters about in teen movies.
Bucky steps forward, way closer than he needs to, and says, "Thanks for coming, Sam. Nothing makes me feel safer than knowing you'll drag me out of a burning building if I need it."
Sam swallows. He's acutely aware that he's staring at Bucky's mouth while on the job. "No, uh, no problem," he says, voice cracking in the middle.
For all that it's probably a gigantic waste of emergency services resources, Sam finds himself very glad that Bucky is such a klutz.
* * *
Everyone at the firehouse almost shouts "Not it" again when they get an alarm about an address that sounds like Bucky's tattoo place, except they realize that this time it's the next number over and it's also a real fire.
They dispatch a full unit to the scene and get the blaze under control quickly. It's confined to the little kitchenette in the back rather than the actual flower shop, but most of the plants take a bit of water damage.
Sam stomps his way through broken glass and soggy orchids back outside when he hears someone yelling "Why the fuck would you set my shop on fire, Bucky?!"
He pulls his helmet and mask off to see Bucky standing with a tall, muscular blond guy, whose sheer carnal magnetism is only somewhat diminished by how red his face is turning at the moment.
"Because…I mean, look at him," Bucky replies, gesturing toward Sam.
"Uh…" Sam says.
Both of the improbably attractive men turn their eyes onto him, sweeping up and down and up again.
"Steve Rogers," the blond one says, stepping forward to shake Sam's hand. "I own Like of Each Thing That in Season Grows."
"It's a long name," Sam says dumbly, slightly overcome by how strong Steve's grip is. And how nice his shoulders are.
"It's a Shakespeare reference," he replies defensively.
"Steve is my best friend," Bucky inserts himself into the conversation. "I've been telling him about the hot fireman who comes to save my ass every other week."
Sam has a sinking feeling that he has been missing something pretty vital. "Did you set his store on fire?"
"No," Bucky says, at the same time Steve vehemently says "Yes."
Bucky glares at Steve. "You know how I'm just so careless with my matches," he says to Sam, with a smile that's almost charming enough to disarm Sam's growing suspicion. Almost.
There's no way around it. He has to ask. "Have you been setting fires just to see me?"
"Yes," Steve says again, before Bucky can get a word in.
Sam wonders if the entire fire hall has known this all along. Is that why they laughed so much every time a call came in about Bucky's place? He thought it was just because they thought it was funny to watch the new guy get all the shitty calls. Has the entire universe been trolling him this whole time?
"Have you heard of the psychopath test?" Steve continues. "A woman meets a guy at her mother's funeral, and he's so amazing it's love at first sight, but she doesn't get his number and then a few days later she kills her own sister? It's a riddle, if you can guess that she did it because she thought she'd see the guy again at the next funeral, then you're a psychopath. Well, Bucky here doesn't just know the answer, he is the woman in the riddle."
"Shut up, Steven," Bucky hisses.
"Not that you're not worth getting my shop destroyed," Steve adds.
"Oh my god," Sam says. "And which one of you is trying to get my number at Steve's flowers' funeral?"
"Me. But I'm willing to share if Steve promises to play real nice."
"Oh, I'll play nice alright."
Behind him, the sounds of his fellow firefighters finishing up the job remind Sam that he hasn't in fact slipped into another dimension.
"I have to go," Sam says, his own voice sounding strange to him. He should get a pass for that; it's not often he gets asked out by two Adonis-like psychopaths at once. "We should talk about this later, when I'm not at work. Promise me you won't burn down anything else before then."
"I'll promise if you give us your number right now," Bucky says.
"Nice," Steve says to him, and they fistbump.
Fuck, Sam is in a world of trouble. But he enters his number into the iPhone they stick into his hand because what the hell. He could do worse than someone willing to set fires for him.