Archive of Our Own

I.

Sam hated to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling out his phone as soon as the first trailer started. The lady seated on the opposite side of his row cut him a look that clearly said: “please don’t start,” and Sam nodded apologetically. He wasn’t about to start. Definitely not. He knew theater etiquette, and etiquette etiquette. 

But he also knew that he’d taken a giant risk by not buying the seat next to himself when he’d purchased his ticket, like he usually did. This wasn’t some blockbuster or even a movie with rave reviews though; it was just a way to kill part of an empty Saturday afternoon and use his rewards points before they expired. In short: he didn’t expect the theater to be packed. Hell, he was mildly surprised the judgey lady down the aisle from him was even present. 

Still though, old habits die hard. Post-lockdown, Sam enjoyed sitting next to someone he didn’t know at the theater about as much as he would’ve enjoyed a hole in the head, so he usually sat on the end of a row and then bought the seat next to his to make sure he’d have a buffer between himself and the general public. On the rare occasions when he didn’t, he would wait until the very last minute, until the moment when no reasonable person who was planning on seeing the movie wouldn’t have already purchased their ticket, and he’d pull up his showtime in the app to make sure nobody had selected the seat beside his. 

Of course, the one time he was one hundred percent positive the neighboring seat would remain empty, was the one time he opened the app to find it grayed out. 

Sam closed his eyes. Jesus. 

He knew people could sit wherever they wanted and all that, but come on now, who chooses a seat next to an occupied seat in a theater that’s practically vacant? It was like walking into a restroom with seven empty urinals and one that was taken, and deciding the spot next to the taken urinal was your best choice. In short, it was total weirdo behavior, and for a second, Sam seriously considered changing rows. His assigned seat be damned. 

Honestly, he was more than considering it. He’d actually already tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket, grabbed his boxes of Goobers and Raisinets off the seat next to him, and had been seconds away from standing up, when a familiar voice spoke next to him. 

“Wilson?” 

Bucky sounded surprised, but pleasantly so, and for some reason that had Sam’s eyes closing again while he silently counted to ten. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, grinning down at Sam. “What’s going on?”

Sam opened his eyes and sighed, but he also leaned back and settled into his seat. Forget moving; he wouldn’t give Bucky the satisfaction.

Instead, he frowned at him and shot back, “What does it look like?” 

There was nothing subtle about the annoyance in his voice, but Sam didn’t care. Yeah, his parents had raised him to be polite, but they’d also raised him to not swallow shit, and that’s exactly what Bucky had been dishing out, or at least had been trying to dish out, to Sam since he’d shown up at Metro-General Hospital six months ago. He’d been working Sam’s nerves since day one, and Sam was done pretending otherwise.

Bucky could tell, but it didn’t faze him. Sam’s obvious attitude never fazed him, at least not negatively. So, in typical Bucky fashion, he just chuckled in that same unbothered way he always did whenever Sam didn’t bother hiding how he really felt about him, then dropped down into the seat next to Sam.

“What’s your problem with me, Wilson?” He asked, not for the first time, and not because he thought he’d actually get an answer; it was really just to irritate Sam.

“How long do you have?” Sam deadpanned.

Bucky, that asshole, just laughed again in response, and that had the lady sitting at the other end of their row lifting a finger to her mouth and shushing them, aggressively. 

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, damn near right in Sam’s ear. “Shhh, Wilson.”

Sam bristled, but he didn’t say another word. Instead, he leaned his seat back as far as it would go, propped his feet up, and wished he’d had the forethought to bring some vodka to spike a slushy with like he and his friends used to do when they were dumbass college students, because he could already tell it was going to be a long afternoon. 

***

“We should really do this again sometime,” Bucky said, hot on Sam’s heels.

The second the screen faded to black, Sam had stood up like his ass was on fire, but Bucky had jumped up immediately after him, then proceeded to practically step on the back of Sam’s shoes with how close he’d been walking behind him on their way out of the room. 

“No, we really shouldn’t,” Sam replied, not even bothering to look back. 

“Well, I had fun,” Bucky said, shrugging, and suddenly standing right next to Sam now that they were no longer walking through the narrow path out of their theater. 

“You were able to ruin my afternoon on a day when we weren’t even supposed to see each other, so I’m sure you did.”

Rather than look insulted, Bucky grinned. 

“Ruin your afternoon? You got free popcorn out of it, and the rare opportunity to spend some quality time with your favorite coworker.” He shrugged again. “Sounds like a win, win to me.”

“Free?” Sam snorted derisively. “That was the most expensive popcorn I’ve ever had,” he said, cryptically, and then turned to stomp off towards his car.

Bucky almost cackled as he watched Sam stiffly march away, and couldn’t stop himself from calling out. 

“I’ll see you soon, Sam!”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Sam replied, without missing a beat… or turning around. 

He could hear Bucky laughing in response though, all the way to his car’s door.  

What a jackass. 

***

“Sam,” Sarah was finally able to say, when her brother eventually paused to take a breath. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you weren’t the one being a jackass?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get all offended,” she said, rolling her eyes even though he wasn’t there to see her do it. “I’m just saying, I just listened to you rant about Bucky for a solid ten minutes,” an excruciatingly long ten minutes, “and I still can’t figure out what exactly he did to you.”

“He showed up at my movie and then sat right next to me!” He said, like it was a federal crime.

She snorted. “Yeah, and?”

“And it was annoying!”

“So why didn’t you move then?” She asked. She already knew the answer though, even if Sam was bound and determined to pretend he didn’t. 

“Because I was there first.”

“Okay, and that would be a perfectly reasonable response… if you were five. But since you’re not…” she trailed off, pointedly.

“I don’t even know why I called you,” Sam grumbled after a minute, and Sarah had to laugh.

“I don’t either. A dude you know sat down beside you and watched a movie, and shared his popcorn. That’s  hardly worth a phone call.”

Honestly, none of his Bucky stories so far, and there had been plenty of them, were particularly worthy of a phone call:

Bucky doesn’t know how to chart right!

Bucky took my lunch out of the break room refrigerator and hid it, and I was forced to eat the Chinese food he bought me instead!

Bucky followed me the entire time I was checking on patients last night!

Sarah just knew that Bucky would’ve pulled Sam’s hair if it had been long enough, and she had a hard time believing Sam didn’t know it too. 

The one time she’d broached the subject that maybe Bucky called himself flirting and was just being spectacularly immature about it, or was just plain old bad at it, Sam had done everything but clutch some pearls while saying “how dare you.” His reaction had been dramatic enough, that she hadn’t bothered bringing it up again. 

Sarah had really really wanted to though, many times… especially this one. 

Because while she definitely didn’t know everything, she damn well knew a date when she heard one. And what Sam had just described to her was a date. Now, admittedly, she didn’t know how Bucky had pulled it off. But, still… 

Out of all the movie theaters, in all the neighborhoods, in all the world, Bucky walked into Sam’s? And into the seat right next to his? She snorted again. Yeah right. 

“What?” Sam asked, suspiciously, having heard her clearly trying not to laugh. 

“Nothing; just thinking.”

“About?” Sam prompted. 

She sighed. “About how I never thought I’d see the day that my super mature, to the point that he’s kind of a tight ass, older brother would act like a toddler because his coworker, ‘sat too close to him,’” she mocked. 

“He was sitting too close! He—”

“Hmm.”

“You know what?” He snapped. “See if I call you again.”

Sarah couldn’t stop herself from giving in to her desire to laugh at that. “Boy, we both know you’ll be calling me in two days with another blow by blow of the Bucky and Sam show.”

“The Sam and Bucky show,” he muttered, correcting her almost reflexively under his breath, then immediately wanted to hang up just to keep from embarrassing himself further. 

Lord. I do sound like a toddler.

“Wait - I know you did not just—

“Bye, Sarah,” he said, and then actually did hang up without giving her a chance to respond… or laugh at him some more.

Well, he thought, grimacing at his phone. That could’ve gone better. 

II.

The movie theater encounter wasn’t a happy accident or some sort of sweet coincidence — it was definitely all Bucky. Oh, he’d never admit that fact to anyone else, not even his priest. Hell, not even with a gun to his head. As it turns out, showing up at your coworker’s movie unannounced and on purpose, can only make you feel kinda creepy afterwards, no matter how cute you thought it would be beforehand. So Bucky was planning on taking that shameful little secret to the grave. 

Bucky had genuinely thought it would be cute, like in a romcom sort of way. When he had been unashamedly eavesdropping earlier that week and heard Sam telling Steve about his plan to see some new Western, he’d thought a movie sounded like a great opportunity to spend some time with Sam. During one of his (many other) past eavesdropping sessions, Bucky learned that Sam only liked going to the AMC near his apartment, and that unless Sam was going with someone else, he preferred attending the earliest showtime possible because he hadn’t been too keen on large crowds since he’d left the AirForce. So, Bucky had used all of his stolen intel to figure out where and when Sam was likely seeing the Western, and he’d used the sympathy of the nice teenage girl working the ticket counter to figure out which seat Sam had purchased, and then he’d pretended that running into Sam was some crazy fluke. 

Again, in his head it was going to be a sweet chance encounter that hopefully ended with them grabbing lunch or something. However, Sam had looked put out at Bucky’s presence and spent the entire movie trying to ignore him… until Bucky disappeared and came back with some popcorn, and held it out to him. Sam had grudgingly thanked Bucky, and spent the remainder of the movie simultaneously sharing Bucky’s popcorn and trying to ignore him.

He’d also relaxed in his seat though, and some of the palpable tension between them had disappeared, so initially Bucky hadn’t felt it was a total loss. 

However, by the time Bucky’d made it back home, it didn’t feel particularly close to being a win either. And after thinking about it for the rest of the day and half the night, he was beginning to feel like “total loss” didn’t even begin to cover it. Bucky had been shooting for Hallmark and somehow ended up at Lifetime, and honestly, he felt embarrassed by the entire situation. So he’d made a vow that whatever future moves he made in his quest to get a date with Sam, or at least get Sam to look at him with something other than thinly veiled disdain, would be… well, more normal. 

That vow was exactly why he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering if he should abandon his jog and head back home.

Sam was about a dozen yards in front of him, jogging on the same looping path, and Bucky didn’t know what the hell to do about it. Well, actually, Bucky knew what he wanted to do about it: approach Sam, say hi and try to be charming about it this time, and then maybe jog next to him for a while so he could appreciate the way Sam wore a tank top up close. However, after his movie theater nonsense the previous week, Bucky didn’t know if that was such a great idea. Fate might’ve put them both in the park on the same date and at the same time, but Bucky had definitely been the one to put them both in that dark theater. Even his wishful thinking self couldn’t see Sam not questioning what the chances were of them having two random encounters in the span of two weeks.   

Realistically though, Bucky hadn’t been able to leave Sam alone since the second he’d met him. One brief introduction during one incredibly long orientation —  Sam’s gaze open and friendly, his smile wide and welcoming, as he leaned against the conference room doorway, wearing a set of purple scrubs that fit so well it should’ve been illegal, and looking like the type of nurse you only saw on a prime-time soap —  and Bucky had been hooked. 

It wasn’t like his feelings had changed either, so he didn’t know why he was even hemming and hawing about it. Who exactly was he kidding? Wild horses couldn’t have kept him away from Sam that afternoon, especially when the universe was so clearly hellbent on throwing the two of them together. So, ultimately, of course he ended up increasing his steady pace to what was an almost comical speed for a morning jog in the park, veered off the paved path and into the grass and around a few trees, and then curved back to the right and the main path, and sort of cut Sam off where a couple of trails intersected. 

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky greeted, trying not to sound winded. 

His voice had been soft and semi-cautious, but Sam still almost tripped over his own feet. He managed to recover his rhythm pretty quickly, but his expression was still incredulous when he slid Bucky a look.

“Bucky?”

“The one and only,” he said, grinning his most winning grin. 

All it did was cause Sam to purse his lips.  

“Let me guess,” Sam said, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “fancy meeting me here?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, even as his face went bright red. 

“Something like that.”

Sam stopped abruptly and went into the grass, out of the way of the other runners. 

“So what’s the deal? You stalking me or something, Barnes?”

“No,” he answered, immediately, following Sam off the trail. “Is that what you really think?”

Sam rolled his eyes at the innocent tone of Bucky’s voice, and his matching expression. “I think I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Neither do I,” he said, but when Sam only folded his arms across his chest in response, he sighed. “This,” he glanced around the area, “wasn’t intentional; Steve told me about this route.”

“Mmm,” Sam grunted, but silently acknowledged to himself that it made sense. 

Steve was Sam’s occasional running buddy, and had introduced him to this particular path too. He’d also told Sam it was his favorite trail in the city. And, since Steve was a dirty little traitor who thought Bucky was “cool,” Bucky’s explanation for being there wasn’t exactly far-fetched, but… 

“And the movie last week?”

Bucky blanched, and just sort of stared at Sam for a moment before dipping his head and finally admitting, “I might’ve known you were going to be there.” 

Sam frowned. “So you decided to show up to mess with me?” 

Bucky’s gaze shot up and went right back to meeting Sam’s own. “No!” He answered immediately. “That’s not— 

“What are you five?” Sam asked, sounding outdone. 

“I only wanted to—

“You only wanted to what?” Sam cut him off again. “Make me uncomfortable? Was it supposed to be some kind of prank or something?”

“What? God, no,” Bucky denied, adamantly. “Sam, I swear, I just thought it would be fun to hang out. You know, just the two of us, outside of work… for once,” he explained, but even though he was being one hundred percent honest, it sounded weak, even to his own ears.

It must’ve sounded weak to Sam’s ears too, because his frown just deepened. 

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered readily, trying to look as serious as possible. 

Sam eyed him for a second before letting out a short bark of laughter and shaking his head. 

“Well, I don’t.” 

Before Bucky could even come up with a response, Sam had taken off down the path again, leaving Bucky to stare after him.

III.

“You sure you don’t want to meet us at Coaches for Happy Hour, Sam?” Steve asked, as they were grabbing their stuff out of the locker room.

“Is Bucky still going?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah.”

“Then I’m sure.”

“It’ll be fun though.”

Sam sort of smiled (you just had to love Steve’s unfailing earnestness), but still shook his head. 

“Not for me.” 

“Sam—

“It’s fine, Steve,” Sam interrupted him, before he could try again. “I have other plans anyway.”

No he didn’t. But really, that was probably the sixth time Steve had cornered him about getting drinks with their coworkers, and the sixth time Sam had said no. As much as he truly did love Steve’s tenaciousness, Sam was tired. 

Steve’s nose scrunched up. “Since when?”

“Since always,” Sam replied, shrugging, and only feeling a little bad about lying. 

Steve looked like he didn’t believe him and was thinking of the most diplomatic way to say so. Before he could though, a voice Sam had become all too familiar with spoke up from behind him.

“What kind of plans?”

Sam didn’t jump, but it was close. He hadn’t even heard Bucky’s sneaky ass walking up. Sam recovered quickly though, and managed to wipe the surprised look off his face and replace it with the bored expression he typically reserved for Bucky by the time he had moved around Sam to stand next to Steve.

“The kind that are none of your business,” he answered easily, and swung his backpack onto his shoulders.

“What’s the big secret, Wilson?” Bucky asked, grinning. 

And, look, Bucky knew that after their last conversation, the smart thing for him to do would’ve been to leave Sam the hell alone for a while, but he simply couldn’t do it. Besides, he had left Sam alone for a bit. It had been two whole days since he made a fool of himself in the park. 

Bucky was tired of making himself scarce though. And avoiding Sam wasn’t even sustainable, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that Bucky was kind of addicted to seeing the guy. So they needed to get over their… rough(er than usual) patch. 

He figured the only way to erase the awkwardness of their last encounter, and at least get them back to their regularly scheduled (and more lighthearted) back-and-forths, was to play through the pain… so to speak, and keep messing with - flirting with - Sam as if everything between them was business as usual. 

Basically, he was going to pretend that that jog and everything about it, including what he’d confessed about the movie, had never happened.  

“You got a hot date or something?” Bucky asked. He wasn’t even bothering with trying to not sound like a little shit.  

Bucky’s grin had morphed into more of a smirk by the time the second question came out of his mouth, and Sam didn’t care for it at all. Dude looked like he was daring Sam to say yes, like he knew Sam was lying about having plans, which Sam was, but still… Bucky didn’t know that. He couldn’t have known that, not for a fact anyway. 

So, why was he standing there looking like it was so damn unbelievable that Sam might actually have a date? 

“Yeah,” Sam eventually said, completely in response to Bucky’s annoying face. “I do.”

“Really?” Bucky asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yup.”

Sam offered no other details, and Bucky continued to stare at him, only then it was in open disbelief.

Steve was staring too, but the only thing his expression was giving was discomfort… and maybe a little guilt for opening this can of worms in the first place.

“That’s great, Sam. I’m happy for you,” Steve said, eventually. He was trying to break the tension, and it kind of worked. Well, maybe “worked” was too strong a word. But it did have Sam looking more at ease for a split second, until Steve added, “You should bring them to Happy Hour. That way you can stop by and say hi to everyone, and still have your date.” 

Steve had only been trying to be polite. However, given the looks both Sam and Bucky were sending him, he’d said the wrong thing. So Steve clamped his mouth shut, and then they all just stood there in some sort of very silent and unbearably awkward three-way standoff.

It was Sam who broke first. Anything to get away from Steve’s apologetic face and Bucky’s smug one. 

“Maybe I will,” Sam said. He might’ve been responding to Steve’s suggestion, but he was really responding to Bucky’s expression. An expression that was suddenly getting pissier by the second. Hmm. 

“Great,” Steve said, perking up.

“Maybe?” Bucky repeated, clearly doubtful.

“Definitely,” Sam amended, fibbing again before he could stop himself. It was worth it though; Bucky was looking about as salty as Sam had ever seen him.

“We’ll definitely be there.”

***

It had taken the entire length of the drive to his apartment, and another thirty or so minutes of him freaking out in his living room, before it had hit him: he could bring Leila to Happy Hour. She was fine fine, and more importantly she was always up for some messy fun, especially if Sam was footing the bill. Plus, she and Sam had actually dated for a hot minute back in the day, so it wouldn’t exactly be hard to fake a date with her for a few hours. He also knew that she had no romantic interest in him whatsoever these days, so the two of them would actually be able to flirt for an extended period without either of them thinking it meant anything. She was literally perfect for this particular mission. 

Leila, good friend that she was, agreed in no time flat. By the time Sam picked her up, she had on her standard bar outfit (a pair of jeans and a nice top) and had traded in her usual flats for a pair of heels. She had on makeup and jewelry, and was carrying a cute little bag that sparkled in the same style her top did. She looked exactly like someone who was trying to make a good impression on her date’s friends.

Simply put, she looked good. Really good. And as soon as Sam saw her he felt the last little bit of unease leave his body. He wasn’t going to be humiliated in front of his coworkers and friends, and Bucky’s annoying self wouldn’t have anything to smirk about for once. Sure, Sam hated to lie, but anything was worth the chance to one up Bucky.

***

Bucky hadn’t said a word to Sam since he and Leila walked through the door, but he was the only one who didn’t. Sharon, Natasha, and Claire all dropped by their table to say hi as soon as they’d arrived; Steve had bought them a round of drinks, and then ended up talking Leila’s ear off after learning that she was the same Leila Taylor who worked as an investigative journalist for an independent newspaper he regularly read; and when Sam’s work wife, Misty, finally showed up with her real life husband, Danny, the two of them pulled a couple of stools over to Sam’s table, and Misty and Leila started talking like old friends. Everyone in their clique had made it a point to be welcoming to Leila. Everyone that is, except Bucky. 

From the moment she and Sam had arrived, Bucky had been rooted to his spot at the end of the bar that was furthest away from Sam’s table. Sam figured it was sour grapes, but after about twenty minutes of feeling someone burning a hole in the back of his neck, Sam had turned around to find Bucky not glaring like the sore loser Sam had taken him for, but instead looking… sad? Hurt? Actually, he didn’t even seem like he was really looking at Sam at all; honestly, it seemed more like Bucky was looking through him. 

It was weird, and it had Sam frowning. He’d been expecting Bucky to be wearing the same pissy look he always had on his face whenever Sam managed to get the best of him, not standing there looking like his cat died. Forget weird, it was disconcerting. 

Sam had been well on his way to getting lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out what had Bucky looking so out of sorts, when Leila kicked him under the table. When he looked up, she caught his eye and raised her eyebrows in question, but he just shook his head lightly and went back to flirting with her and shooting the shit with Misty and Danny, or at least he tried to anyway. 

He must’ve still looked distracted though, because five minutes hadn’t passed before Leila was texting him:

You good?

Yeah. 

No you’re not. You keep frowning. What happened? 

Nothing. Bucky’s just standing back there looking like a kicked puppy. 

Bucky? That’s the one we’re here to mess with right? The one who thought you couldn’t get a date?

Yeah. But it’s no fun to mess with him when he’s obviously already upset about something else.

This is the same dude always f’ing with you though right?

Well, yeah. 

So, who cares? 

A fair question, but for some inexplicable reason, Sam cared. He didn’t know why, and he wished he didn’t, but he did. 

I guess I do 😬 He’s a jackass, but he looks genuinely sad. And Bucky never looks sad. It’s freaking me out or something lol

Or something?

She looked up long enough to give Sam a look, and respond to Misty’s question, but then her phone was back in her hands.

Alright, which one is your sad bully? 

The dark haired one at the other end of the bar.

It took a minute for Leila to reply, because she didn’t know exactly how to reply once she knew who Bucky was. She’d thought the broody guy across the bar with the messy bun was just some rando making eyes at Sam. Sam was handsome on a bad day, and this was pretty much the opposite. He was currently wearing the hell out of a sweater that was somehow managing to make him look even more warm and inviting than usual, and he had a fresh lineup. It wouldn’t exactly have been surprising if he’d caught the attention of some of the people at that bar. Shoot, she’d caught people making eyes at Sam more than once when they’d been out and about together in the past, and had even been on the receiving end of more than a few dirty looks when people would assume that she and Sam were together together. So, no, Mr. Messy Bun staring a hole through Sam’s head usually wouldn’t have been particularly noteworthy. This was Bucky though — a guy Sam had painted as being half bully, half plain old antisocial asshole. 

So… Leila was just at a bit of a loss now that she’d seen the man… and his very obvious crush on Sam. Funny how in all his ranting about his jackass coworker, Sam hadn’t ever bothered to mention that the jackass in question wanted to jump his bones. 

That’s clearly what he wanted though, and it was also probably why he looked so bent out of shape. Bucky didn’t only look sad; he looked jealous and sad, and maybe a little betrayed. He’d been half glaring/half gazing at Sam since they’d walked through the door. He’d also managed to shoot a few scowls in Leila's direction too. 

It didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out why.

Well, unless your name was Sam Wilson apparently. He clearly didn’t know what Bucky’s real problem with him was, and Leila didn’t know whether to laugh or really laugh about it. This dude was obviously so gone on Sam, and Sam obviously didn’t know. 

It was nuts. Sam was intuitive. He knew how to read people better than practically anyone else she’d ever met. So, if Sam wasn’t able to see what was right in front of his face in this one instance, she couldn’t help but think that it was because he didn’t want to see it.  

Far be it from her to point it out then. 

But, she still had to tease him a little.

The hot one?

Sam’s eyes snapped up from his phone and he sent her a (quick) frown.

He’s aight. 

Come on, Sammy. He’s pretty.

Pretty annoying.

I don’t doubt it, lol. She texted back, then paused a beat before sending: Admit it though, he’s hot; isn’t he?

🙄 Whatever 

That’s not a no…

You’re right; it’s a hell no.

She stifled a laugh and let the subject drop, but she knew her friend did protest just a little too much, especially considering the way he kept looking back at Bucky every five minutes until they eventually left. 

As they were walking out the door, she’d even seen Sam flash Bucky one more perplexed, and very obviously concerned look. Bucky’d returned it with a pitiful little smile of his own, and that had pretty much solidified it for her: Bucky was gone on Sam, and as much as he would’ve denied it ‘til his dying breath, Sam didn’t exactly hate the guy either.

+ I.

“You know I hate to give my unsolicited advice,” Steve began, and Sam actually snorted.

“Since when?”

“Well, you know I hate to give my unsolicited advice when it comes to… someone else’s romantic life,” he amended, and Sam’s eyebrows just about hit his hairline. 

He didn’t know if his “romantic life” was the one subject Steve normally wouldn’t give his two cents about, but he’d certainly never cornered Sam to talk about it before, not in depth anyway, and certainly not in any meaningful way. 

He and Steve were work besties, and even real life friends; they’d linked up outside of the hospital’s walls on more than one occasion. But, still, interrupting Sam’s break to give him an earful about… well, whatever exactly he was about to give Sam an earful about, wasn’t something they did.

Sam could admit he was curious though.

“True, it’s not your typical conversation starter,” he agreed. “But…?” 

Steve, who had clearly only been waiting on Sam to give him the green light to continue, sat down across from him, took a deep breath, and then got right down to it.  

“Okay, I don’t know exactly how to say it, or even why I apparently have to be the one to say it,” he muttered the last part under his breath, but Sam definitely heard him if his expression was anything to go by. 

And Steve’s world-weary tone suddenly had him wondering if something was truly wrong… with my romantic life? The hell?

“What I do know,” Steve continued, “is that I’ve never seen Bucky like this before in all the months I’ve known him, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“Take what?” Sam asked, feeling a spike of worry shoot through his body, almost against his will. “Is something wrong with Barnes?”

Steve snorted. “Yeah. He’s sick.”

“What?” Sam asked, eyes narrowing in confusion. 

He’d seen less of Bucky during the past week, but not because Bucky had called into work, but because he’d, clearly and unsubtly, been ducking and dodging Sam whenever Sam was anywhere near his vicinity. 

That was more than odd for Bucky — it was literally the direct opposite of what he usually did when he saw Sam. However, Sam had assumed that Bucky was still salty that he’d brought a date to the bar after Bucky had pretty much implied that he wouldn’t be able to. So whenever they’d all be hanging out around the desk that week while Bucky was nowhere to be found, Sam had just figured the guy was off somewhere licking his wounds.

It had never occurred to Sam that something was legitimately wrong with the guy.

Bucky might’ve been a perpetual little shit — well, at least when it came to his interactions with Sam — but that didn’t mean Sam wanted anything bad to happen to him. 

“Sick how?”

Steve grimaced, then said, “Well… technically he’s lovesick.”

Sam squinted at him. “What?”

Steve sighed, sounding the epitome of put upon — like this wasn’t all his doing, like he hadn’t been the one who’d instigated their conversation in the first place, not Sam.

“I didn’t mean to scare you before or anything,” he said, wincing slightly in response to the way Sam’s face was all scrunched up. “Bucky’s fine… basically. He’s just out of sorts, you know, because of the… lovesickness and all.”

“Okay…” Sam drawled, still lost, and bit back the urge to ask: And why are you telling me? 

Steve just stared at him for maybe thirty seconds, but when Sam didn’t so much as blink, he couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Okay. Well, I’m hoping you can maybe do something about it, considering you’re the cause… and apparently the only cure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Steve almost laughed. There wasn’t a single solitary thing funny about this — well, maybe a couple of things were funny about it, but that’s not why he felt the strangest urge to bust out into a fit of giggles. No, that was because he was starting to feel a little crazy. Because the entire situation was crazy… and kind of juvenile… and very ridiculous. Mostly though, it was just plain old crazy. Because, look, Sam was probably the most observant and detail oriented person on their staff, maybe even the most observant person Steve had ever worked alongside, but when it came to Bucky, Sam was clearly unable to see the forest for the trees. It was actually kind of amazing to be honest. Bucky was the focus of so much of Sam’s attention, whether he’d ever admit it or not, and yet, Bucky remained Sam’s biggest blind spot. 

If Steve hadn’t been around to witness it — months of Bucky pursuing Sam in maybe the most annoying, and definitely the most blatant, ways possible, while Sam never saw said pursuit for what it was — he never would’ve believed that Sam could be so obtuse. 

He did believe it though. Hell, it was plain as day on Sam’s face that he had no idea why Steve was telling him any of this. 

“It means that Bucky is into you. He likes you, Sam. Romantically,” Steve explained, slowly and clearly, so there could be no mistaking what he meant. “I mean, come on, you must’ve noticed the not so secret crush he has on you.”

Sam just gaped at him for a moment, then shut his mouth with a decisive click and shook his head.

“No, Barnes isn’t—” He cut himself off, and pursed his lips. Then said, voice as adamant as he could make it, “Bucky doesn’t like me, especially like that.”

“Sam,” Steve said, making every effort to keep a straight face. “Since the first second Bucky’s set foot on our Unit, he has been following you around like a lovesick puppy — trying to do your charting for you; trying to treat you to lunch; making heart eyes at you whenever he gets a chance; flirting with you so shamelessly, that I’m surprised both of you haven’t been called down to HR for an uncomfortable meeting.” 

“No, he hasn’t,” Sam denied, automatically, looking borderline disturbed.

Quite frankly, he didn’t just look it, he was feeling a little disturbed too. 

Bucky couldn’t like him. He just… couldn’t. First off, Sam would've known. Hell, how could he not know if Bucky Barnes, habitual line stepper and permanent bane of his existence, had a thing for him, especially considering the fact that the dude was in his face 24/7?

Sam hadn’t noticed any crush though, because it simply didn’t exist, because Steve was plain old wrong. Bucky hadn’t been following Sam around like a lovesick puppy; he’d been following Sam around trying to work his nerves, because apparently he had the same sense of humor as the average ten year old. 

Okay, Bucky might’ve bought Sam lunch a couple of times, because he’d done something immature that necessitated Sam needing replacement food; and sure, he’d tried to buy him lunch even more often than that, but those offers had always seemed more like a potential setup than a genuinely nice gesture, and Sam hadn’t hesitated to decline. Actually, Bucky’s constant offers to treat him to something always felt like some sort of joke, only Sam never managed to see the punchline.

As for trying to do Sam’s charting and look in on his assigned patients, that was a generous interpretation. A more accurate one would be that Bucky occasionally got bored or restless, so he’d start trying to throw Sam off his schedule and his game, by interfering with Sam’s routine and completing his tasks seconds before he was about to do them. Sam would’ve bet his last dollar that Bucky’s “help” had nothing to do with Bucky trying to do him a solid, and everything to do with Bucky trying to get under his skin, which he did.  

Sam didn’t see how anything about Bucky’s behavior equated to him having feelings for Sam. The mere idea of it was laughable. 

Lovesick? Over me? The only thing Bucky is suffering from is being an asshole. 

And while Sam definitely wasn’t the cause of Bucky’s annoying behavior, he’d be more than happy to be the cure if Bucky didn’t cut it out.

Although, to be fair, Bucky had kind of given it a rest recently, very recently, but still… Sam could admit that Bucky had mostly been leaving him alone lately. “Ducking and dodging” hadn’t been an exaggeration. When Sam had stepped off his elevator and into the parking garage the other day, at the same time that Bucky was exiting the elevator directly across from him, Bucky had practically sprinted to his car. Seriously, the man had literally run away from him. 

That wasn’t the only example of Bucky turning tail and running when Sam was near either. He'd been pulling a Houdini around Sam since that night at Coaches, the night he'd seen Sam with Leila. 

But that couldn’t be the reason though, at least not in the way that Steve thought… could it? 

Of course not. This was all just due to Bucky being a sore loser, not because he was sore that Sam might be unavailable to him. 

Sure, the timing lined up enough that if he pulled a Steve and looked at all of Bucky’s actions (and reactions) since they’d met each other, in the most charitable (and far-fetched) light possible, he supposed he could’ve maybe interpreted Bucky’s behavior as a sign that he liked Sam and just sucked at making friends. Even then though, “friendly” was about as big of a leap as Sam could make, no matter how much leeway he gave their interactions. So, again, he didn’t see where Steve was coming up with Bucky having romantic feelings for him. 

Seemed like some ol’ bull to him, and he said so. 

“I don’t know, Steve. I’m just not seeing it.”

“Seriously?”

Sam shrugged.

“Well, what about his face when we were at the bar - did you happen to see that?” He asked, more than a little sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Sam’s knee jerk reaction was to say something flippant in response like, yes, he’d seen Bucky crying in his beer like some extra on Cheers. But, despite his annoyance, he could see that Steve meant well, and he knew Steve well enough to know that no matter how nosy he was, he was probably enjoying their conversation about as much as Sam. So, he took a moment to think about what Steve was really asking him. 

Sure, he’d noticed Bucky that night. In fact, he’d had a hard time not noticing — not looking at Bucky — that night. Not because the guy was obviously pining for him, or crushing on him, or whatever Steve seemed to think, but because he’d been standing around looking miserable and out of it, and that just wasn’t the Barnes he’d come to know and dislike. 

Bucky was usually like a big ball of (annoying and unstoppable) energy, and that energy was typically directed right at Sam. So, of course, Sam had noticed him standing around looking all broody and sad. Bucky not being his typical self — him not bothering to insert himself into Sam’s personal space, while trying to bait him into a conversation that would likely turn into an argument — was even more distracting than his usual behavior.

So, no duh, Sam had noticed a change. Not only that, but he’d ended up thinking about it almost all night. Bucky was a jackass, sure, but that didn’t mean Sam ever wanted him to be going through anything that was actually serious enough to have him looking as upset as he’d looked at Coaches. Sam had been witness to Bucky in a variety of states: angry, annoyed, amused, etc. etc., but he’d never seen Bucky looking so… pitiful. 

And now here was Steve implying that Sam was the reason, not because he’d managed to shut Bucky up for once, and not because Bucky was the world’s most dramatic loser, but because he had a crush on Sam, and Sam had, what, had the nerve to show up with a date?

Jesus Christ.

For the first time since Steve had sat down across from him that afternoon, Sam began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Steve was correct. 

Sam started to think, well, really, he started to rethink every conversation, every encounter, every time their eyes had so much as met across a conference room, only this time he forced himself to view those interactions through a lens that assumed Bucky had a thing for him. 

And damned if he couldn’t kind of finally see it, all of it: Bucky constantly in his space, maybe not wearing a superior smirk after all, but a genuine smile. Bucky was always finding a way to follow him around and trying to take over what he was doing, but maybe he wasn’t attempting to sabotage and had actually been trying to help. The inane conversations he’d always attempt to start — were they to get a rise out of Sam, or was Bucky just awkwardly trying to get to know him? 

And, Christ, as he reviewed and dissected every encounter they’d ever had, perhaps the thing that stood out the most, was that whenever their conversations did inevitably morph into arguments, Bucky’s smile would never fade and his eyes never lost their mischievous sparkle. Honestly, even when Sam would be heated and on ten during one of their little showdowns, Bucky always looked like he was having the time of his life… except when Sam had mentioned having a date the other day. Bucky had looked legitimately upset then, and why would he? 

Why, when it wasn’t even close to being the first time Sam had gotten to have the last word, would it be the first time Bucky had looked so distressed and defeated about it? 

Why?

“Oh,” Sam breathed, as the truth finally hit him like a ton of bricks.

His voice had barely been above a whisper, but Steve heard him and breathed an audible sigh of relief. 

“You get it now?”

Sam could only nod. He got it alright. He just didn’t know what the hell to do about it. 

***

It was almost another week before Sam found himself  alone with Bucky again. The wait wasn’t entirely Bucky’s fault either; Sam had been doing a pretty good job of avoiding him too. Ever since his enlightening conversation with Steve, he’d been making a point to be anywhere Bucky wasn’t. Especially since that conversation had been immediately followed by a couple of, less enlightening and far more annoying, conversations with Sarah and Leila. 

Well, maybe annoying was too strong a word, but both his sister and friend had laughed a little too hard when he’d shared his “Bucky Like-Likes Me” epiphany with them, and he’d definitely felt a little insulted, or called out, for not seeing what was right in front of his face the entire time. 

Two people, who he respected more than almost anyone else, in two separate conversations, had both responded with what amounted to “duh,” when he’d told them that Bucky was into him. Both of them had given him an earful. Neither Sarah or Leila had ever exchanged a word with the guy — hell, Sarah had never even seen him — and yet they both apparently already knew he was half in love with Sam. Even more amazing, each of them, two people who didn’t know each other from Adam, were both under the impression that Sam liked-liked Bucky too. 

It didn’t matter what Sam said to either of them, or how adamantly he said it. It hadn’t even mattered that Sam had only found out about Bucky’s true feelings basically five seconds earlier. Sarah and Leila simply wouldn’t be swayed from their belief that it was a mutual crush. Sarah had given him a blow-by-blow of the times he’d returned Bucky’s (very obvious) flirting, with some (very obvious) flirting of his own. She was only repeating stories he’d told her about his run-ins with Bucky, but the way she told them made everything sound more like a bad rom-com than a rivalry… maybe even a little bit of both. 

Then, Sam had called Leila to tell her about Bucky, and the fact that his sister had clearly lost her mind, and he’d practically heard her eyes roll through the phone. After he’d given her a rundown of what was happening, she’d proceeded to tell him, in so many words, that while Bucky was making sad wounded eyes at him, he’d been making sad guilty eyes at Bucky, almost like he’d realized that he went too far by bringing her to happy hour. Sam had tried to argue, but she wasn’t having it.  

By the time Sam had gone to bed that night, he hadn’t been able to think of anything but Bucky: Bucky’s definite flirting; his own routinely encouraging, at least in Sarah’s and Leila’s opinions, responses to Bucky’s flirting; Bucky’s hurt feelings, and his own admittedly sympathetic response to those hurt feelings. And perhaps the most disturbing thought — well, more specifically, the most disturbing realization of all: Bucky was hot. No, Sam wouldn’t have ever called him ugly prior to that night, even at his most obnoxious, but Sam wouldn’t have called him hot either. He would now though. Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder, or maybe thinking about Bucky’s face for hours on end just made it impossible to ignore the obvious. Whatever. Either way, Bucky was fine. Not even just regular fine, but like… stop and try to shoot your shot fine. And now that Sam knew it — now that he could see it, he couldn’t unsee it, and it was driving him a little nuts. 

With conflicts and crushes running on a perpetual loop through his mind, and his newfound epiphany that Bucky was indeed attractive refusing to be ignored, Sam almost sighed in relief when he went in for his next shift and saw that Bucky was still slipping out of sight whenever Sam was within fifty feet of him. 

Sam was more than happy to aid him in his efforts to ignore the elephant in the room. For days, he made it his mission to slip out of sight whenever he caught even a whiff of Bucky. But then Friday had rolled around, and they’d somehow ended up being the only two R.N.s on duty. 

Their shift had actually gone smoother than either of them could have hoped: a lot of brisk updates, professional distances, and an unspoken agreement to behave like two strangers seated next to each other on a long plane ride — courteous yet cold — had clearly been reached. 

Things had gone fine, right up until they’d both unknowingly tried to take a break at the same time. Sam had gone into the locker room to grab his wallet, and a minute later Bucky walked in to get his jacket. The result was them doing a terribly awkward little shuffle by the door when Sam attempted to flee to his left at the same time Bucky’d moved to his right to let Sam pass. Then they’d both moved again, but again it had been to the same side. They kept stepping directly into each other’s paths like some sort of never ending bad joke until Sam, who honestly couldn’t believe this was even his life, sighed and stayed in place instead of making a fifth attempt to escape.

Sam’s head was shaking as he stared at the floor a moment, just trying to regroup, because really? Trying to run away from his crush? Or, rather, the guy who had a crush on him? Skulking around his own workplace? Putting off tasks he needed to perform, simply to avoid seeing some guy? And at his big age too? Christ, he thought and actually let out a bemused laugh. He couldn’t help it though; the whole situation was just so ridiculous. 

Sam liked his job, and God help him, he might even like Bucky. So, realistically, what was he going to do? Fade into the background and try to avoid the guy forever? Try to avoid the conversation they desperately needed to have forever? Neither idea seemed all that feasible, or smart, and just the thought of how incredibly silly they’d both been behaving had him laughing again.

“Sam?” Bucky said, tentatively, when Sam’s laughter went on a few seconds too long. “Is every—

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now?” He interrupted, arching an eyebrow, as he finally looked back up at Bucky. 

Bucky didn’t respond though. He couldn’t. For a hot second, he legitimately felt like he’d just swallowed his tongue. 

“Or…” Sam said, his smile slipping slightly. “Maybe not.”

He pretended like he was going to leave, but after a split second of indecision, Bucky blocked his way again. This time it was very obviously on purpose. 

“I wasn’t ever not talking to you,” Bucky finally said, all the while looking more uncomfortable than Sam had ever seen him. 

“Right,” Sam said, sarcastically. “You’ve just been ignoring me for like two weeks though huh?”

“I couldn’t ignore you if I tried,” he mumbled under his breath, but Sam’s wide eyed gaze let him know that he’d heard, and it had Bucky’s face on fire in response. 

“What was that?” Sam asked, feeling a little smug, but also a little (worryingly) happy. 

Maybe he was feeling obviously smug, because Bucky could definitely see it on his face, and it had him bristling a little, and becoming a lot more bold. 

“I said, I couldn’t ignore you if I tried,” he repeated, voice clear as a bell, then folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin a notch. “And, God, have I tried.”

His stare was as direct as his words, but Sam didn’t have a problem responding to either in kind. If he was going to this — hell, if they were going to do this, then they might as well really do it.

“Funny, I know the feeling,” Sam said, his own chin going up. 

And Bucky’s brain skidded to a halt. Because, what? Just what exactly was Sam Wilson, the nicest, sweetest, most handsome man he’d ever known really saying to him right now? What was the guy he’d been following around, openly pursuing for months, without getting even a hint of interest in return actually admitting to? It certainly couldn’t be what Bucky thought… he’d never been that lucky. 

Sam must’ve been messing with him. It was the only logical explanation.

“Very funny, Wilson.”

Sam shrugged. “Who says I’m joking?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Sam - common sense?”

“Okay, Barnes.” Sam shook his head. “Never say I didn’t give you a chance,” he said, and moved to walk past Bucky once again. What else could he do? He’d tried.

Bucky didn’t move though. He couldn’t, because, again, what?

“Give me a chance to what?” Bucky asked, managing to not only crowd the doorway, but also crowd into Sam’s space a little.

“Never mind.”

“A chance to what, Sam?” He asked again.

That time his voice had an achingly desperate quality to it, and Sam simply couldn’t keep up his I Don’t Give A Damn Mug. Just like at the bar the other night, Sam found that Bucky’s pout was maybe too much for him to ignore.  

So he gave up on trying to leave, and threw Bucky a bone instead. 

“A chance to say whatever it is you want to say,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “I mean, you do have something you want to say to me, don’t you Bucky?” He asked daringly. “So instead of stealing my lunch bag, or hijacking my patients, or crashing my movies, why don’t you just be honest for once and tell me what’s really up?” 

Now, Sam looked like he really wanted the answer, but, oddly, he also looked like he already knew the answer. And that knowing look on his face had Bucky’s mouth drying up like a desert. Because even if Sam did know, he still kind of didn’t — at least not until Bucky confirmed it. 

There was still time to turn back, still time to walk this whole awkward mess back. If he confirmed it though, there’d be no returning to the way things had been between them. Ever. Sure, things hadn’t exactly been good between them before the movie incident, but at least he’d known what to expect from Sam. Bucky was flying blind now though. He had no idea how Sam would react if he came clean, and that scared the hell out of him. 

But was it more scary than the thought of letting Sam walk out the door? More scary than letting this opportunity pass without shooting his shot, even if Sam did have a girlfriend? Even if it ended up blowing up in his face? 

Nope. Not as far as Bucky could see. 

“If you can’t do that,” Sam continued after a moment, in response to Bucky’s continued silence. “Then you need to let me go.”

His words were soft, but their double meaning was clear: Bucky needed to either put up, or shut up, permanently. 

So, he took a deep breath, and did just that. 

“I like you, okay?” 

Bucky kind of mumbled it, but they were mere inches apart so Sam still heard him just fine. 

And, look, it wasn’t like Sam hadn’t already known, but just as Bucky had suspected, “knowing it” in his head and having Bucky confirm it out loud, and then bite his bottom lip in a nervous move that was just hot enough to seem rehearsed, but Sam was about ninety-nine percent positive was organic, were two completely different things. His head was spinning a little. No, Sam wasn’t surprised about the admission itself. But, Sam  was kind of surprised he’d gotten the admission… even a half lame/half weirdly and surprisingly hot admission like that.  

“You like me?” He echoed. Now that he actually had Bucky’s confession, he didn’t really know what else to say. 

But that question coupled with the lost expression Sam was suddenly wearing, had Bucky becoming instantly annoyed. In turn, that annoyance only served to light a fire under him. Because, seriously? Was Sam just messing with him after all? Sam obviously knew how Bucky felt, or they wouldn’t have been having this conversation in the first place. So what was with the wide-eyed expression? 

“Christ. Come on, Sam,” he continued, and that time he wasn’t mumbling at all. In fact, he pushed away from the door and crowded even farther into Sam’s space. “We both know I’m in love with you,” he said, sounding frustrated.

But the thing was, Sam hadn’t known that. Steve had said “lovesick,” sure, but Sam hadn’t thought he meant lovesick lovesick. Besides, lovesick and crush — those were both one (already surprising and) entirely different thing, but Bucky straight up saying he was “in love” with him was something else altogether. If he’d felt surprised a minute ago, Sam didn’t know what to call whatever the hell he was feeling now. 

It definitely showed, and Bucky’s eyes almost rolled at the even more bewildered look taking over Sam’s face. “Oh, come off it, Sam. I’ve been flirting with you like crazy since the very first time I met you… and at least half the time you were flirting back.”

“I never— 

“So,” Bucky cut him off, like he hadn’t even heard Sam, and kept speaking. “I figured we were taking our time, doing our little cat and mouse antagonist thing. And that was fine with me. Hell, I’d happily chase you forever, Wilson,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly, like he meant it, like he really was just stating a well known fact instead of blowing Sam’s mind. 

“And go as slow as you wanted too,” he continued, while Sam continued to stare, frozen to his spot. 

He’d known their conversation was going to be… dramatic one way or another, but not quite like this. Each new word out of Bucky’s mouth had been wilder than the last. And Bucky didn’t seem like he was going to stop talking anytime soon. It didn’t matter though; even if he had let Sam get a word in, Sam had no idea what he would’ve possibly said. 

“And then, when the moment was finally perfect,” he went on, gazing right into Sam’s eyes, bold as brass at that point, “I figured I’d ask you out, on a real date, a special date,” he clarified, pausing briefly to smile at Sam. 

It was an odd smile though — kind of sad, kind of regretful, maybe a little salty — and it went straight to Sam’s heart. 

“But there’s never gonna be a perfect moment, is there? Because you have a girl, and I’m an idiot who must’ve been reading every single thing between us wrong from jump,” he said, sounding pitiful.

He felt pitiful too. Because the thing was, he hadn’t thought he’d been reading things between them wrong. Not once. Not when they’d argue and Sam would get all riled up and his eyes would start to practically glow, not when Sam would yap at him for having the nerve to toss out his lunch in one breath and then thank Bucky sincerely for buying him something they both knew was better in the next breath, and not even when Bucky’d lost his mind and surprised him at the movies like a complete nut. Sam could’ve and probably should’ve told him to F off. Instead, he’d sat next to Bucky in an almost empty theater and even laughed once at a comment Bucky had made about the main character. Sure, Sam would probably deny that laugh ‘til his dying day, but Bucky knew he’d heard it.

And he knew Sam hadn’t ever really hated spending time with him, at work or outside of it.

Shoot, he knew Sam liked him, even if it seemed to be despite his best judgment. 

However, he must’ve misread the way in which Sam liked him. Maybe Sam really did only want to be his frienemy or friend, at best. Maybe flirting was just a thing Sam did. Maybe there wasn’t any “maybe” about it, because it was honestly starting to seem like the only reasonable explanation. Bucky could spot a fuckboy a mile away, having spent the majority of his twenties perfecting that particular role, and he knew that wasn’t the Sam Wilson he currently knew, and had likely never been Sam. He wasn’t the type; he was too nice, too good. The kind of man his father would’ve called a “stand up guy,” the type that practically oozed loyalty. 

And a guy like that would never flirt with the likes of Bucky when he had a partner at home, especially one like Leila. Gorgeous and blessed with a brain as impressive as her looks — a fact he almost wished he didn’t know, but of course Bucky had grilled his traitor of a friend that night after Sam and Leila had left the bar. Steve had sang her praises for so long that Bucky’d had to stop himself from snapping that maybe Steve ought to be the one dating her. 

He’d restrained himself though. It wasn’t Steve’s fault Bucky had gotten everything so spectacularly wrong.

It wasn’t Sam’s fault either. 

This was all Bucky. And it was Bucky’s responsibility to make things right… or at least make things less weird between them. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said, suddenly. “I never would’ve been… pursuing you, if I’d known you were taken, and I’m really—

“I’m not taken,” Sam said, finally finding his voice and correcting Bucky before he could think too hard about it. 

Well, honestly, he didn’t need to think too hard about his motivation. He wanted his smiling and smirking Bucky back, not this miserable guy standing in front of him. 

His Bucky? Well… maybe. 

Because, true, somebody had obviously been misreading everything between them for a while now, but that somebody obviously wasn’t Bucky. Sam had thought he’d finally understood after talking to Steve, and Sarah and Leila, but even after those conversations he still hadn’t been completely in the loop, clearly. 

He was in it now though, in more ways than one, and he wasn’t even upset about it. Shocked, off kilter, out of sorts? Oh, Absolutely. But, he was also… kind of happy? Maybe really happy. Not in love, not even close, but he was in something alright. Happiness, excitement, and, most of all, anticipation had his stomach swooping in the best possible way. God, he felt an almost overwhelming urge to grin like an idiot. 

So, he did. He gave into the feeling and every other feeling coursing through him, and let a bright smile overtake his face. 

It was so bright in fact, that Bucky’s heart skipped a beat, even as his brain sort of skidded to a stop for the second time that afternoon. Because… What? What did Sam just say?

Almost as if he could read Bucky’s thoughts, Sam let out a laugh and repeated what he’d said. 

“I’m not taken. Leila’s a friend,” he explained. “A very good friend, but only a friend. And truthfully, she’s a very good friend who I only invited out the other night, to make you mad.” He shook his head, and let out another laugh, but this time he sounded more bemused than legitimately amused. “Or, hell, maybe I did it to make you jealous… subconsciously or something. But, either way, I only did it to get under your skin, the same way you’re always getting under my skin. I thought it was ‘cause I couldn’t stand you, but now…”

He trailed off, and Bucky died no less than five times during the half a minute it took Sam to gather his thoughts and continue. 

“Now I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s the opposite.”

“Meaning?” Bucky prompted. Really, he wanted to be patient, but it simply wasn’t in him. Not then, not when it almost sounded like Sam was about to say everything he’d always been wanting to hear.  

“Meaning I like you too, Bucky,” he said, rolling his eyes at Bucky’s impatience. He was still grinning though, and now Bucky was too. “A lot, apparently.”

Bucky was silent for maybe twenty seconds, before it all sank in, and he practically crowed, “I knew it!” 

God, Bucky had been annoying before, but Sam could already tell he was about to become truly insufferable. Oddly enough though, he found that he didn’t really mind. Maybe even found the smirk Bucky was suddenly wearing kind of cute. Lord.  

“You like me enough to go out on a date with me,” he said, more than asked.

“Umm no.” Sam scoffed. “Not if that’s how you’re asking.”

“It’s not,” Bucky said, readily. “That was just me having an epiphany,” he explained, cheekily, without even a hint of shame.

Sam blinked, but he still didn’t lose his smile.

That gorgeous grin was all the motivation Bucky needed to get back on track and ask Sam what he’d been wanting to ask him for months now. 

“Will you let me take you on a date? I know,” Bucky said, then paused abruptly, before huffing out a laugh. 

He looked kind of sheepish all of a sudden, but he also looked about as determined as Sam had ever seen him, and it sent a little shiver of anticipation down Sam’s spine.

“I know,” he began again, his gaze laser focused on Sam. “I went about everything in quite possibly the dumbest way imaginable, and I know that you liking me, doesn’t mean you feel the same way about me that I feel about you.” Yet, he added silently, then said, “But, I think you could.”

He took that final step towards Sam, closing the already negligible distance between them. When Sam didn’t back away, Bucky took a chance and clasped Sam's right hand with his left. Sam started, clearly surprised, but once again, he didn’t move away. 

“If you give me the chance to show you how good things between us could be —  to show you that you could be as crazy about me as I am about you —  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” Bucky added, then gave Sam’s hand a squeeze, before saying, “I just… I think I could make you really happy, Sam. All I’m asking for is the chance to try. So, go out with me? Please.”

Bucky sounded so earnest. Shoot, he sounded like a Hallmark card. It was… sweet, if a bit (a lot) overwhelming, but overall, it was plain old sweet. Besides, Bucky was doing his weirdly hot lip biting thing again while he waited on Sam’s answer, and some of his hair had come out of that customary bun of his and was falling into his eyes, and ugh he had on blue scrubs today, so his wide-eyed hopeful stare, was more in your face than it might’ve normally been.

Was Sam supposed to resist? He hoped not, because it wasn’t happening. Not when the guy who had been on his mind for days, was standing in front of him, holding his hand, talking like that, while looking like that. 

Maybe they’d crash and burn. Maybe they’d never even really get started. 

Or maybe they'd end up being the grand romance Sam had been beginning to worry he’d never find.

Who knew what would happen? Certainly not Sam.

He definitely wanted to find out though.

Sam nodded, but it was more to himself than Bucky, and before he spoke, he took a deep breath of his own.

“Ask me again.”

Bucky’s mouth quirked, but he did as he was told.

“Will you go on a date with me, sweetheart?”

“I’d love to.”