Chapter Text
“Well, this doesn’t look like the movie theater,” Sam commented mildly, as they pulled up in front of the dive bar Steve owned.
“Yeah,” Steve began, putting the car in park. “One of the guys called with a problem right before I picked you up. Nothing major,” he assured Sam, lying through his teeth. “But I have to run inside for a few minutes.”
“Hmmm,” Sam murmured, thoughtfully. “And here I thought I wasn’t allowed at Sarah’s Place. I mean, we’ve been dating almost a year, but you’ve never brought me within five feet of the place.”
He felt pretty generous for not bringing up the fact that he’d spent most of that year thinking that Steve was an employee and not the owner, or the flimsy excuses Steve had used to keep him away from the place before he knew the truth.
Steve couldn’t help but grimace at Sam’s tone before responding. “Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to be anywhere near,” he paused, gesturing vaguely, “the business. ‘Do what you gotta do, man, just keep me out of it,’ isn’t that what you said?”
“Yup. And I meant it. So,” he turned, finally looking Steve in the eyes, “why would you bring me here?”
Steve closed his eyes briefly and sighed, appearing pained.
“Sam—
“Steve,” he interrupted. “When you dropped this all on me a few months ago, I think I was pretty cool about it all things considered. I mean, I’m a square and I know it, but like I told you then: I can deal with what you do, as long as you keep it away from me and don’t lie anymore.”
“This place, the auto shop — they’re legit,” Steve said, voice earnest, despite the lie tumbling out of his mouth. “The only reason I never brought you here is because you wanted to be far away from the bullshit. And while I’m not doing anything here, this place does attract a certain… element, and I can’t exactly control or know what my patrons may be getting up to.” He reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand. “But, believe me, I’d never involve you in what I do. I wouldn’t risk you, I wouldn’t risk what we have. Don’t you know that, Sammy?” He asked softly.
Sam was silent for a moment, his gaze searching. And, not for the first time, Steve thanked God that he was blessed with an apple pie face and a smile that wouldn’t melt butter.
“Yeah,” Sam replied, after a moment. “Okay, Let’s go in, but I’m taking my book and I’m timing you,” he said, jokingly, customary grin back in place. “If we end up missing the coming attractions, I’m gonna be pissed, Rogers.”
Steve leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “It won’t take more than ten minutes at the most, baby. I swear.”
******
If someone had asked Bucky even five minutes earlier whether he had a type, he would’ve laughed in their face. And yet, there he was, leaning against the bar counter, staring at what had to be the most attractive man he’d ever seen in his life. Flawless brown skin, almond shaped eyes, muscular arms and thick legs that looked ready to burst through the seams of the clothes he was wearing, and a face so handsome he could’ve been a movie star — yeah, Bucky decided right then and there that he definitely had a type.
“So, uhhh who’s the librarian?” Bucky asked, as casually as he could muster once Natasha came to rest next to him after serving a group of guys at the end of the bar.
Judging by the look she gave him, he wasn’t casual enough.
“Come on, Nat. The guy with the book,” he said, tilting his head in Sam’s direction. “Who is he?”
“How should I know?”
Bucky snorted. “Please, you know everyone and everything that goes on around here.”
He was joking, but only a little. Natasha may have moonlighted as a bartender at Sarah’s Place, but only because it gave her a convenient way to blend in and keep an eye on everyone while hearing her fair share of gossip from all of their shady patrons.
“Sorry.” She shrugged, sliding her gaze over the guy once again. “I’ve never seen him in here before. I would’ve definitely noticed a guy who looks that good.”
She pushed a couple of bottles of beer towards him. “If you’re so curious about who he is, take him a drink and go find out.”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “What if—
“James Barnes,” she interrupted, lifting one perfectly arched eyebrow in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you lost your nerve while you were away. The man I’ve known since elementary school wouldn’t be scared to go talk to some random guy.”
He recognized the dare for what it was, but that didn’t stop him from taking the beers and heading towards the man, even if he did send Natasha a glare over his shoulder on the way.
******
Sam heard the chair across from him scrape the floor as it was pulled out and an unfamiliar voice said, “You look like you could use a drink.”
He looked up ready to say something biting about how what he couldn’t use were come ons from random strangers. Because after waiting over thirty minutes for Steve who had disappeared about five minutes after they entered the place, and realizing that they were definitely going to miss the movie, Sam really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody about anything.
However, even though he’d probably never admit it aloud, when he caught sight of the man’s face, he was so disarmed by the sheer handsomeness of it that his brain betrayed him and he gave a honest response.
“Man, you have no idea.”
Bucky’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but that was all the invitation he needed to sit down and slide a beer in Sam’s direction.
“James Barnes,” he said, figuring that it was probably smarter to give his government name than the name that everybody knew him by. There were over one hundred James Barneses in the city, but only one Bucky who was fresh out.
“Sam Wilson,” he responded, lifting his beer in greeting.
“So,” James began, after taking a quick sip of beer. “What brings you to this particular hole in the wall? I mean, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t really seem like the typical clientele.”
Sam glanced around the room, taking in the other patrons who seemed to range from local drunks, to run of the mill purse snatchers, to people who looked like they could be connected. He didn’t want to assume or prejudge anybody, but it wasn’t an exaggeration to say almost everyone in the place looked sketchy as hell.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “You might be right about that. I’m only here ‘cause I came with somebody — my boyfriend actually,” he clarified, before James could get any ideas. “He dropped me off at the table then left to take care of some business.” Sam rolled his eyes. “And if he doesn’t come back soon, I’ll be leaving by myself,” he added under his breath.
“That’s too bad. You know,” he paused and bit his lip thoughtfully, before looking up at Sam through his eyelashes. “If you were mine, I’d never leave you alone.”
Sam couldn’t help it — he stared at James for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.
“Seriously?”
“Hey,” he shrugged, laughing a little himself. “You’d be surprised how often that sorta thing works.”
Sam gave him a speculative look and snorted. “Uh no, I really wouldn’t be.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam could have slapped himself. See, this had always been his problem: he was an unrepentant flirt. Flirting was just second nature to him — it was his standby in casual conversations. However, while most of the people in his day to day life knew to take what he said with a grain of salt, it probably wasn’t the best idea to flirt with some stranger in a bar who had basically already hit on him once.
“So…” James said slowly, while giving a silent thanks that he’d been blessed with what he knew were above average good looks. “Does that mean it worked with you?”
“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”
Never one to back to back down from a challenge — especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson — Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”
******
Two more beers and a couple of shots of Remy later, and Steve still hadn’t shown up and Sam was still talking to James. But the guy was so charming and fun that Sam barely even registered the passing time. With the way James’ eyes crinkled with mirth as he went back and forth between flirting outrageously and telling Sam wild stories that he refused to believe were entirely true, it was hard to focus on anything except the engaging man sitting across from him.
“So I’m sitting at the stop sign saying one Hail Mary after another — praying that this car that I literally got in a trade and is probably worth all of five bucks makes it home without cutting off. I look both ways, cautious as hell, ‘cause I don’t have insurance. Hell, I don’t even have a license yet. I shouldn’t be driving anything.”
“Soon as I hit the gas, it cuts off. So now, I’m pissed. I got my buddy Scott in the seat next to me laughing his head off like the whole thing is hilarious, got my other two friends right behind me blowing their horn and I can see those assholes in my rear view mirror laughing too, even though the whole reason they were following us in the first place was in case the car cut off.”
James paused for a breath and downed another shot without skipping a beat and Sam had to admit he was mildly impressed — James didn’t seem near as tipsy as he felt.
“Anyway, I put it in neutral and I try to start it like five times but it will not turnover, then on the sixth time it finally starts and without even thinking about it, I put it in drive and take off, scared that if I keep sitting there it’ll die again. I didn’t make sure the intersection was clear that time though, so, of course, I’m not even halfway into it when boom — a tiny Sunfire crashes right into me.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit,” he said, nodding in agreement. “This lady hops out, she couldn’t be more than twenty-five looking back on it, but I’m fifteen with no license and no nothing, so I’m freaking out. She's yelling and crying, then this old man pulls up — some good samaritan I guess — and he’s trying to talk to her, get her calm. Me, at this point I’m just sitting on this back road, frozen stiff and scared as hell, ‘cause I know it’s my fault. Then, Scott sorta slaps me on the shoulder and yells ‘why are you sitting here? Drive!’”
“So what did you do?”
James snorted. “What do you think? I drove,” he answered, and they both laughed. “But my car was seriously fucked up, it’s shaking and rattling, probably leaking all kinds of fluids, so I’m only hitting like thirty miles per hour. Then I hear a horn honking and I’m thinking it’s my dumb ass friends, but it’s the samaritan he’s following me, waving his arm out the window trying to get me to stop.”
“Did you?”
“Nope. Scott’s steady telling me to speed up, like him yelling is gonna make the car magically go faster, so I just keep going. Me and the old man are having the lamest car chase in history.” He laughed. “I’m starting to think I’m never gonna get away, then out of the side mirror I see my friend’s car on the other side of the double yellow line driving like a bat out of hell. Then she pulls right in front of the samaritan and slows down to basically a crawl. She’s buying us some time, and I can hear what must’ve been the old man blowing at her. And my car is still shaking, so…”
“So…”
“So, Scott and I look at each other. I say ‘fuck it,’ put the car in park, and we both hop out and go running in different directions.”
“Yeah right,” Sam said, doubtfully.
“Swear to God, Wilson. We were gone. Remember: this was back in the day when everybody didn’t have a cell phone and couldn’t record everything, and that car wasn’t registered to me, so I weighed my options and left it sitting in the middle of the road.”
“And what — just walked home like nothing happened?”
“Walk home?” he repeated incredulously, while pouring them each another shot. “We were in the fuckin sticks. Scott ended up hitching a ride, and I walked around until I found a gas station, and used their pay phone to page the friends who had been trailing me. Then hung around the booth ‘til she called me back, and gave her directions to come get me.”
Sam shook his head. “You and your friends all sound nuts,” he said, before downing his shot. “Though I must admit, I’m jealous that you had pagers. Man, I would’ve killed for one in high school.”
“You didn’t have a pager?” he asked, surprised. “They were so cheap; everybody had a pager. Hell, my baby sister had a pager,” he said with a laugh.
“Yeah, well, according to my father ‘only doctors and drug dealers needed pagers,’” he replied, doing a spot on impression of his dad. “And since I was neither, I wasn’t allowed to have one.”
“Are you for real?”
Sam nodded.
“And, what, you always did everything your father told you?”
“Pretty much,” Sam said, shrugging. “I mean, I got in trouble sometimes like any kid, but nothing like what you apparently got up to.”
“Pfftt,” he scoffed. “I bet you were a boy scout.”
Sam arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, leaning forward and giving Sam the once over. “You were into sports, I bet. Baseball — wait, no, football?” He guessed. “Probably made the honor roll and spent your free time doing all sorts of extra curricular stuff and volunteering.”
Sam blinked, a little taken aback at just how accurate James was.
“You’re mostly right,” Sam confirmed, somewhat begrudgingly. “I lettered in football—
“You’ve certainly got the body for it,” James interrupted, giving him a wink.
Sam rolled his eyes and kept talking as if the other man hadn’t spoken.
“And with a dad who is a pastor and a mother who’s a teacher, volunteer work and good grades were pretty much expected. I always enjoyed helping other people and school was fun, so it wasn’t exactly a big deal. Never was a boy scout though,” he finished with a smile.
“Not a real life preacher’s kid.” Bucky snickered. “Man, I would’ve loved the chance to corrupt you in high school. I can only imagine what your preacher daddy would’ve said if you brought someone like me home.”
Sam’s gaze flickered over his black leather jacket that was covering an almost comically tight black t-shirt which sat untucked over equally black jeans. The whole look was finished off with what Sam could only describe as combat boots.
“Well, he might’ve wanted to take you shopping,” he teased. “But as long as you treated me decently, he wouldn’t have had anything to say.”
Paul Wilson may’ve been a preacher, but he wasn’t the sanctimonious kind. Sam’s father felt a true calling and became a pastor to spread the word of God and help the members of his community — not judge them.
“Come home with me tonight, and I’ll treat you way better than decent.”
Sam laughed, but James hadn’t exactly been joking.
“Man, do you ever give up?” He asked, but his phone buzzed before James could respond.
“Is it the infamous boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound annoyed at having their conversation interrupted, even though he kind of was.
“Nah, just a text from my sister.” He started to open it when he noticed the time displayed in the corner of the screen. “Jeez,” he exclaimed, shocked. “Can you believe we’ve been talking for over an hour?” He paused. “Can you believe I’ve been waiting on this dude for over an hour?” The second question seemed to be more for himself than James.
“Fuck this,” Sam mumbled under his breath, looking more irritated by the second. “I’m getting an Uber.”
“Don’t leave,” James said, slightly panicking as he watched Sam pull the app up on his phone and start typing. “Forget him. Stay and have another drink with me.”
“No, I better not.” Sam was still looking down at his phone, ordering the Uber. “I have anymore to drink tonight and I just might cuss his ass out whenever he finally shows up. I’m just gonna get a ride.”
“I’d be more than happy to give you a ride,” James offered, and there was so much innuendo in his voice that Sam had to look up at his face.
Just as he expected, James was openly leering at him, but Sam just shook his head.
“No thanks, man,” he replied briskly, as he pocketed his phone, having completed his order. “Not really the kind of ride I was looking for.”
“But it could be just the kinda ride you need,” he pressed on shamelessly.
“We’ve been having a good time, don’t get creepy now,” Sam said, but James could see from the tiny smile on his face that he was amused.
“My bad,” he responded sheepishly. When he spoke again his voice had lost its seductive quality and returned to normal. “I really can take you home though if you want. It’s no problem.”
“Nah, it's cool. My Uber’s already on its way,” Sam said, as he stood up. And if he sounded a little disappointed to his own ears he could only hope that James didn’t notice.
“My disappearing boyfriend aside, I had fun tonight. I’m glad we met, James,” Sam said, sticking out a hand.
“Me too,” he replied, standing and grasping Sam’s hand firmly.
Sam’s hand was soft and warm, just like the man himself, and the second they touched James would’ve sworn on a stack of bibles that he felt a bolt of electricity that sent his heart into overdrive. He knew it was crazy, but for one wild moment James seriously contemplated never letting go. ‘Cause if it felt this good having Sam’s hand in his own, he couldn’t imagine how incredible it would be to have those hands on other parts of his body. He knew that he had to try one more time; he couldn’t stand the thought of that being their one and only time together.
“Sam,” he said, tugging the man forward slightly. “Please let me take you home. We don’t have to do anything,” he continued quickly. “I just don’t want tonight to end, at least not yet.”
Sam was quickly coming to the conclusion that he was drunker than he’d thought. James’ gaze was feeling damn near hypnotic and Sam could feel himself swaying into the man’s space almost against his will.
“I...” he started, finally willing himself to speak.
James brought his hand that wasn’t holding Sam’s up and placed it upon his waist, giving him a gentle squeeze. It was meant to be encouraging, but it had the opposite effect because Sam abruptly pulled his hand away and took a step back.
“I gotta go, James,” he said a little forcefully, but even though he spoke the other man’s name it almost seemed as if he was addressing himself. “Bye,” he whispered, and then practically sprinted out the bar without another glance.
“I’ll be seeing you, Sam,” Bucky called after him, and it sounded more like a promise than anything else.
“Bucky,” Natasha began, seemingly having materialized at his side out of nowhere.
“I swear to God, Tasha,” he said, looking at her with a grin. “Boyfriend or not, that man’s gonna be mine one day.”
“Bucky,” she tried again, only to be interrupted for a second time.
“I didn’t get his number, but I know his name. And Lord knows we’ve found a whole lot of people with way less information to go on.”
“James!” She snapped, and this time Bucky's grin dropped and he paid attention.
“I was just talking to Steve, and I…” She paused and took a deep breath. “I know who he is.” Natasha looked downright miserable as she went on. “More importantly, I know who he belongs to.”