Chapter Text
Sam looked at his calendar. He glared at the cartoon birthday cake on April 14, 2022. It was mocking him. Sam sneered back at its stupid smiley face. It wasn’t friendly. It was snide and patronizing. The icon was exactly ten months from today. Sam wanted to make senior partner by his 40th birthday. He had less than three quarters to prove to Fury he had what it takes, but the truth was unless something drastic changes at work, Sam was fucked.
He was the youngest associate to make junior partner in the history of the firm, and then stalled out. Sam busted his ass. He had the highest number of billiables, brought in more new clients than any other partner, yet he kept getting passed over for senior partner. He had his buy in ready to go. Sam knew what it was. It was the single tax.
Fury was a family man. He went out of his way to cultivate a warm and close-knit environment at work, which Sam loved, but now the things that drew him to Fury and Associates were holding him back. Sam had ten offers out of law school. He would already be a senior partner at Walters, Murdock, and Nelson. Fury would never admit it, but he only promoted associates with families after a certain point.
Sam didn’t even know if he was aware of it. Fury was all about responsibility and company loyalty. Family was in their mission statement three times. His boss thought that being single revealed something about you.
So, Sam was 39, and the longest relationship he had ended three years ago. Sam was focused on work. He loved his job, getting people justice. Not having a family meant he could give 100%. Sam was certain Nick saw it as immaturity and having commitment issues. His boss wouldn’t come out and say it. He would just make little faces when he asked about their weekends. Luke got a smile for talking about his daughter’s ballet recital versus Sam detailing the Nas concert he went to. Fury would ask when Sam was going to settle down.
At company events, associates got significant face time with Fury if they could shove a kid in his face for him and his wife to fawn over. Barton, Sam’s competition for the next senior partner slot, had a fucking baseball team full of kids. Sam was screwed.
The company retreat was coming up in two weeks, and Sam needed to shake things up. If he had a partner and hinted at kids maybe Fury would listen to his idea about a free legal clinic for vets and accepting more pro bono cases. Sam made the firm 40 million dollars last year. They could let him have one million to help those less fortunate than themselves. You have to have a partner first, Sam thought, smacking his lips. A devious plan popped in his head. Nah, you’re not that desperate are you?
Sam looked across the way from his office. Clint was showing Fury pictures of his toddler snuggling with the family golden retriever. Sam rolled his eyes. Barton had been showing it to everyone today, especially the senior partners. Fury and Barton laughed, their heads back. Fury clapped the man on his back and headed for his office. Motherfuck, Sam thought.
-o0o-
Bucky chopped fresh parsley lightning fast and sprinkled it on the two dishes waiting to go out. He moved on to the presentation on another set of dishes, streaking the gastrique across the white plates. Bucky was tired. He was doing the executive chef’s job while being paid as a sous chef. The lunch rush slowed, and Bucky walked into the fridge to start prepping for the dinner service.
The owner walked to the door, “Bucky, you're such an asset. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Cut the bullshit, Pearce. Grillo’s not coming tonight is he?”
“He says he’s sick.”
“He’s a cokehead, and I’m getting tired of picking up his slack. We got a rave review last week in the Times- my first ever. Grillo got the credit.”
“Bucky you're good, great even, but he’s a household name- a celebrity. They come because he’s the executive chef. Think of the experience you're getting. In five years time-”
Bucky zoned out. Did this asshole really just say in five year’s time- being paid shit? His paycheck barely covered his rent. He was making it because of the money his grandparents left him. He was building Grillo’s reputation instead of his own. He wanted his own restaurant one day. He needed capital and working here was just making him slowly chip into his nest egg. It wasn’t that much and would be gone in a few years if he didn’t get a raise. Bucky didn’t have five years.
“I understand all of that, Pearce, but I can’t keep doing my job, and Grillo’s, and not be paid for it. Covering a few times is one thing, but I’ve been putting up with this shit for a year, almost two now.”
“Bucky, you know the restaurant business is so temperamental. It’s not a good time. To be truthful, I’m doing everything I can to keep the doors open. If things don’t improve, I may be looking at layoffs,” Pearce hinted.
Bucky eyed the older man. Pearce was a restaurateur. He had 6 five-star restaurants in major cities in the US. The restaurant Bucky worked at, Roast, had a Michelin star. They were packed every night. They had reservations until 2022. Pearce was doing fine. If there was one thing Bucky hated it was manipulation. He hadn't had the best childhood, and bullies were his pet peeve. He knew right then this fucker had every intention of continuing to take advantage of him. “Let me make it easier for you,” Bucky said, taking off his smock, exiting the fridge, grabbing his shit, and walking out the back door.
He ignored Pearce calling him back, and pulled up his savings account on his phone. He would be okay for a while, but his nest egg was going to disappear pretty fast if he couldn’t find another gig. Bucky hopped on the train. He stopped by the bodega for a few items and then headed home to his apartment. He sighed looking at the notice on the door. When it rained it poured. Shit, Bucky thought, taking down the letter. He opened the door, and Alpine glared at him from her perch on the couch. He had disturbed her nap.
“Sorry, Kitty. Dad’s home early,” Bucky said, putting down his grocery bags in the kitchenette.
“Meow,” Alpine offered. Bucky went over to his couch and sat down, pulling the cat into his lap. He petted her for a while, and then ripped open the letter already knowing what it said. His building had been sold. Rent would be rising.
Bucky’s quiet neighborhood was beginning to be gentrified. Bucky grew up here. There were working class families here, and now they wanted to turn it into an artsy millennial haven. Ironically, Bucky had the look, but he didn’t have upper middle class money, especially since he just quit his fucking job. Bucky went into the kitchen to put away his groceries. A thought occurred to him and he pulled out his phone. The phone rang three times. She was pissed. He let the line ring just to annoy her.
“What do you want?” Nat asked.
“Why do I have to want anything? I can be calling to say hello,” Bucky lied.
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, fine. Remember when you suggested becoming a private chef-”
“When you kept whining like a baby at brunch?”
“Yeah, you said you had someone looking for one,” Bucky recalled.
“That was a year ago.”
“It was not,” Bucky said, putting away his milk. Was it? He thought. Shit, life was just passing me by.
“It was. I haven’t spoken to you in a month, almost two.”
“You know my situation at work.”
“Which is why I suggested quitting,” Nat said. He could hear typing. Nat was one of the best headhunters on the East Coast. She also grew up in this neighborhood. They used to live right next door to one another.
“I took your advice,” Bucky admitted.
“After a year.”
“So, do you know some people?”
“Not off the top of my head, but I’ll look into it,” Nat said.
“Thank you. Hey, I’m unemployed now. I have more free time. I can cook dinner tonight. I’ll make your favorite. We can watch movies,” Bucky suggested.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it?” Bucky asked.
“I haven’t spoken to you in a month, almost two.”
“Nat?”
“Fine, but were watching Show Girls,” the redhead informed her friend.
“Jesus Christ,” Bucky sighed. “Fine.”
-o0o-
Sam was going through the contacts in his phone, looking for anyone willing to help him. Misty laughed at him. Leila cussed him out. Wade asked for one million dollars. Sam was so desperate he was about to dial Riley’s number when Nat snatched the phone out of his hands. Sam reached for his phone. Nat handed it to Steve who put it in his pocket.
“We have a rule. That you agreed to,” Steve said, eating his taco.
“I wasn’t working,” Sam replied.
“You weren’t calling all your exes and friends to help you get a promotion?” Nat asked. Sam pursed his lips and went back to his lunch.
“I want to know why I am not a contender?” Steve said. Nat snorted.
“I love you, but you have a tiny problem with authority figures. I don’t need you lecturing Fury on deforestation caused by globalization and capitalist greed or some shit you read in the New Yorker.”
“I do not and I wouldn’t,” Steve gasped.
“You do, and you would,” Nat confirmed.
“Wade doesn’t have a problem with authority figures?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, but he’s morally depraved. I need someone charming and who would take my money without any strings or misgivings,” Sam explained.
“How much money are we talking about?” Nat asked, biting into a mandarin orange wedge.
Sam grimaced, “Fifty thousand dollars.” His friends already claimed he had sold out. Although, Nat wouldn’t blink an eye, she was pulling it in as well.
“Fifty thousand dollars?” Steve asked. Steve was a college professor. He taught art. His most popular class was something called “Art and Activism”, it was like the mantra of the blonde’s life. Fifty thousand dollars was more than half of Steve’s salary for the year.
“I need them for a week in July- twenty-four hours a day, one weekend a month, and for various events through the rest of the year and next year. They’ll have to be on call to really sell it. I don’t know anyone who wants to do that shit. I wouldn’t want to do it. I have to make it worth their while.”
“You realize this is crazy, right?” Steve said.
“Not as crazy as being passed over for a promotion because I’m a bachelor.”
“You could try to actually meet someone,” Nat suggested.
“It would take too long, time I don't have. The retreat is right around the corner. Barton is making his play. I have to head him off.”
“You really want to lie to your mentor like this?” Steve asked.
“No. I don’t, but I do want to level the playing field. I do want the legal clinic,” Sam replied.
“The millions of dollars,” Nat added.
“I’m not going to front like I don’t want that too. I just want him to hear me out. If Clint is better, he’s better, but this way I know it’s because of the job I’m doing and not my relationship status.”
“You realize you might be proving his case,” Nat pointed out.
“It’s pretty sneaky, Sam.” Steve agreed.
“You should be into this. I am conducting a social experiment on singlism. By doing this I am sheltering Fury from future lawsuits. I’ll keep a log and document if he treats me differently and submit a report at the end of this. I might even publish,” Sam said, thinking of adding another accolade to his CV.
“Yep, you're a lawyer,” Steve said, accusingly.
“A report that can be used as leverage. I like it,” Nat said.
“That’s not-” Sam stuttered. He thought about it, “Fuck.”
Steve handed Sam his phone back at the end of lunch and went to the restroom. Sam started flipping through his contacts again.
“Would you consider going up to hundred thousand dollars if the person was really good at being charming?” Nat asked.
“Nat, I bring you to all my functions. Fury knows you're my good friend and you like the ladies.”
“Not me.”
“A hundred thou?” Sam asked, grimacing. It wasn’t very likely.
“What if they were live-in and a private chef? You eat out all the time. I don’t think you know where your kitchen is. The second floor in your brownstone is full of junk. You already have a cleaning lady.”
“Live-in and $100, 000. Are they going to suck my dick too?” Sam joked.
“No, but I guarantee they will do the job you want, leave you alone, and feed you delicious food three times a day.”
“I don’t know. You know how I feel about my cave.”
“Now your cave will actually have food in it. You know you have it. That’s two hundred thousand dollars sitting on your arm right now, and that’s just your work watch,” Nat commented.
“You vouch for this person.”
“If you don’t get the promotion it won’t be because of him.”
“Him?”
“Do you trust me?” Nat smirked.
-o0o-
Bucky narrowed his eyes at the redhead glued to his side. She was quieter than usual. He was weighing if he should ask what her deal was. She would reveal her secret on her own time anyway. Bucky ate his pasta trying to block out the garbage that was playing on his screen right now. He would read, but Nat would veto the idea by throwing his book across the room, and pick an even more horrible movie after this one.
“I think I found you something,” Nat hedged.
That was fast. Bucky looked over to her, “Okay? Why does it sound like I’m not going to like it.”
“Because you're not going to like it. It’s $100,000 and comes with free room and board for two years. Your lease is up in two months right?” Nat said, baiting her hook.
“Yes,” Bucky said.
“You’ll be cooking breakfast, making a sack lunch, and dinner. Also, an occasional dinner party.”
“It sounds great so far. This isn’t some weirdo, right? They don't eat soft-boiled ostrich eggs and have a mannequin or antique doll room?”
“More like a game room and library.”
“Okay, my dick is hard,” Bucky said. He loved to read. “What the fuck is the cloak and dagger about?”
“You’ll have to do some acting,” Nat said, taking a sip of wine. Her eyes glued to the screen.
“Acting? What the fuck?” Bucky sighed, “What kind of sick fuck? Please don’t tell me you hired me out as an escort. I am not wearing booty shorts or whatever to serve dinner.”
“Actually, I kind of did-” Nat smirked. Bucky jumped off the couch. “But there is no sex stuff. This guy thinks his boss won’t promote him because he’s single. He’s a great guy, super smart. And willing to pay you $100,000 to feed him and pretend to be his charming boyfriend at company events. He’s agreed to a clothing allowance as well.”
“You have lost your fucking mind. Is this what you do? Are you a madam?”
“Essentially yes, but I only match corporate whores to their overlords. Think about it, one hundred thousand dollars, Bucky- to cook for one guy for two years. No rent. You’ll have all day to work on your business plan and perfect your signature menu. He has a chef’s kitchen and pantry. He even has a rooftop garden and greenhouse. He’s giving you space in his restored 5-story brownstone. And honestly, he probably won’t be there much.”
“And what happens when he wants me to suck his dick? These rich assholes always want you to do a little extra.”
“That’s between you and him.” Nat smiled.
“Are you shitting me?” Bucky’s mouth dropped open at his friend’s nonchalance. Nat was hard to surprise, but this was...
“It’s Sam.”
Bucky’s mouth closed. His eyes narrowed. “You're a piece of shit,” Bucky said, getting up and walking into the kitchen for the hard liquor.
“Is that a yes? I set up the meet at my office for tomorrow,” Nat said. “He says you can bring Alpine.”
“Sam agreed to let me be his private chef?”
“He doesn’t know it’s you.”
“What the fuck, Nat?”
“You need a job. He needs a boyfriend. Never let your feelings get in the way of cold hard cash.”
-o0o-
Okay, Sam could admit that he may have taken things too far. It was just a stupid idea that popped in his head while he was experiencing some FOMO. Did he want to be a senior partner? Yes. Did he want one of the coveted corner offices in the building with his own personal bathroom? Yes. Did he want his own dedicated associates and assistant and larger discretion over the cases he took? Yes. But, he already had a pretty nice office with a great view. So he had to share Claudette with Jones. He also had access to the executive bathroom and break room, so it wasn’t the end of the world if he didn’t make senior partner right this second. What about the clinic?
Sam looked at his watch again. He was in Nat’s office on a Saturday when he should be at his office going over the prelims the associates were working on. This guy better be fucking Wolfgang Puck as long as Sam had been waiting. He should just forget it, go home and work on the Odinson case. Finally, Nat walked back into her office after stepping out. Sam felt underdressed. Nat was in a navy Berluti double-breasted suit. She had a real business meeting later today.
“Where’s your boy?” Sam asked for the third time.
“He’s coming.”
“Nat, maybe it’s a sign that he’s late.”
“You’re chickening out,” Nat guessed.
“Steve’s right. Is this how I want to earn the biggest promotion of my life?”
“Do you really believe it’s because you're single?”
Sam thought about it. “Yeah.”
“So, use the retreat as a test run. Pay him $10,000 for the week and see what happens.”
“I don’t know. I was tripping. I hadn’t had any sleep the other day-” Sam said, rising. Nat and Sam both turned to the door when a knock sounded. “I’m going to tell him the job is off,” Sam said, grimacing.
“Okay,” Nat whispered. “Come in.”
Sam plastered a smile on his face. It dropped when the man walked into the room. Sam pursed his lips and turned back to Natasha.
“Barnes?” Sam exclaimed. No wonder Nat was acting suspect as hell. “You want me to live with Barnes for two years and give him my hard earned money?”
“You're the one who has to pay someone to like you…” Bucky muttered.
“I don’t have to pay shit. I’m kicking models out my spot every weekend.”
“You know what I don’t need this,” Bucky said, turning to leave.
“Bye,” Sam said.
“James, you have no job, and you won’t be able to afford your rent in two months. Sam is deciding what he wants to do, but either way $10,000 for seven days or $100,000 for two years will leave you in a better place financially. Your dream restaurant could be two years away,” Nat reasoned.
“Sam you're a perfectionist, which is why your relationships crash and burn, which is also why you avoid them. You want that promotion, and you want to know why you're being passed over. You know Bucky can turn it on and make the world stop. He will also keep you fed while you’re overachieving. So, you got off on the wrong foot a few years ago. It’s time to be big boys and let it go. You’re the answer to each other’s problems. Can you both stop being assholes to one another long enough to actually get something you both want?”
-o0o-
-About Seventeen Years Ago-
Sam was laughing with Rhodey, trying to keep the snack bowls full on the food table. Steve and Nat were so excited about their homeboy coming home, and Sam was just trying to help them out. Steve had made their group of friends run over the surprise greeting three times. He kept informing folks about Bucky’s disability and not to gawk, be weird or ask stupid/rude questions. Sam doesn’t know why Steve wasn’t at the airport with Nat. Sure the guy said he didn’t want a big thing, but that’s what everyone says. If Sam went away to war and lost a limb, he wants a medal, a check, and a fucking parade. Apparently, Steve’s boy, Bucky, didn’t think the same way. Steve shushed everyone, “they're on their way.”
After four years of hearing about this dude, Sam was finally going to meet him. Sam met Nat at Columbia. She was the mysterious girl in psych that just kind of grew on him, or rather she picked Sam to be her lone friend in the class. Sam soon found out that Steve came with her like a packaged set. Which was fine, because Steve was good people. Sam didn’t realize it at the time, but they were a trio, three childhood friends who grew up together in the same neighborhood.
Steve hit the lights. Everyone hid as much as they could in the tiny cramped apartment and then the door swung open. Tony got the lights, and all of their guests yelled, “Surprise!” Sam’s brows shot up into his hairline. Bucky was fine as fuck.
-o0o-
Bucky was annoyed. He just wanted to come home and crash, but here he was in the middle of a party where he hardly knew anyone. Steve rushed over to him and threw his arms around him. The scene he was trying to avoid at the airport unfolded in front of fifteen strangers. Steve was crying. Bucky let go of some of his agitation. They did this out of love. So, he let Steve and Nat introduce him to all their artsy college friends. They saved the grinning Black guy for last. He must be Sam, the friend they would never shut up about. Sam was so cool. Sam was so smart. Right now, Bucky could see Sam was drunk as fuck.
“Buck, this is Sam, my roommate,” Nat said.
“And one of my best buds,” Steve added.
“Nice to finally meet you, Man,” Sam smiled.
“Yeah,” Bucky said, shaking Sam’s hand. Bucky couldn’t come up with anything appropriately pleasant and polite to say. There was an awkward silence.
Sam filled it, “I hear you have all the dirt on these two. We’ll have to get some beers sometimes, and you can fill me in on all the embarrassing moments.”
Nat rolled her eyes. Steve hooked his arm around Sam’s neck. “Okay, Pal. You don’t get to know my secrets until you reveal the Misty and garlic press story.”
“Never,” Sam smiled.
Nat smirked, “I think I need to press some garlic right now.” Steve snorted. Sam threw Steve’s arm off his shoulders.
“You're ruining my first impression with your boy,” Sam laughed. Bucky looked between them, completely lost. Sam glanced at him again and smiled. “Okay, I’m going to let you guys catch up,” Sam said. “Between Hilda and Thor we need to go make another beer run anyway.”
Bucky watched Nat and Steve pull out twenties and handed them to Sam. Sam grabbed his coat and went out the door with a White and Black guy following him. Steve hugged Bucky again. He only released him when someone called him over to get his opinion on a newly discovered Pollack. Nat looked Bucky in the eye to make sure he was good. She had an intuition about these things. He nodded, and then a tall brunette woman came over to flirt with the redhead.
Bucky hung back. People would migrate over to him every once and a while and try to talk to him. He would answer their questions, but he was out of practice with small talk, which was crazy because he had just spent six months in Indiana recuperating with his parents, grandparents, and sisters. Everyone in his family talked a mile a minute. It allowed him to fade into the noise. Steve and Nat’s friends however were polite, they actually expected an answer to their questions instead of talking over you. They seemed like good people. Bucky just wasn’t in a good place.
Steve kept trying to come back over to Buck, but he kept getting called away. Nat hadn’t left his side, but neither had Maria. Bucky learned her name listening to them flirt. A song came on that Maria loved. She pulled Nat’s arm.
“Go ahead, I’ll be okay,” Bucky said to Nat. She nodded and went to dance with her friend.
Steve migrated back over. “I have it on good authority that Dahlia thinks you're cute. Why don’t you go talk to her or any other girl in the room.”
“I’m good,” Bucky said.
“There’s some pretty fellas here as well,” Steve replied.
“I can tell by your puppy eyes that you're into that guy Erik. He’s the sexiest.”
“I think Sam is pretty sexy too,” Steve hinted.
Bucky should have seen this coming. He was out of practice. His nitwit friends were trying to set him up. “Not my speed. He’s a bit too smiley for me. He has choir boy written all over him,” Bucky said, taking a sip of beer. Steve’s eyes widened.
“Hey Steve, here’s that package you wanted,” Sam said, slipping a pack of condoms into Steve’s hand. “Me, Rhodey, Tony and Erik are about to head out. Tony got an in at that new club on 55th.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Steve grimaced.
“Hey, man-” Bucky tried.
“It’s your opinion, bruh. I learned not to let others define me a long time ago,” Sam winked at Nat out on the dance floor, and then left with his friends.
-o0o-
Sam was being a petty asshole because he liked the idea of Bucky Barnes having to serve him breakfast, but it also meant the cyborg would be in his house when he was sleeping. Nat talked about how Bucky had murdered a shit ton of people in the army. Instead of extensive counseling, they gave him awards and shit. Thank fuck, the man decided to pursue help himself.
Sam wasn’t scared of Bucky. He just didn’t want the man to have any advantages over him. They were forced to interact occasionally because they were friends with the same set of people, but Sam didn't get the fun and loving side of Bucky that his friends raved about. He wasn't rude, but he wasn't very warm either. It was cool; everybody didn't have to like him. Liking and living together were two different things.
They were at a coffee shop down from Nat’s office. Sam was sipping on his coffee when Bucky sat down. “Look, you can back out. Now that you know it’s me,” the man said.
“I’m aware of my options, Barnes, and you're not as scary as you think you are, but I do need to figure out what the hold up is at my job. Do you think you can do this?”
“I got a rave review in the Times.”
“Dude, no offense, but I could care less about the food. I know that’s your thing now, and it’s a nice bonus, but I need charming human Bucky, not grumpy asshole Bucky.”
“What do you mean my thing, now?” Bucky asked.
“I mean you have been finding your path.”
“Your saying I’m flighty.” Bucky replied. Anyone else and Bucky wouldn’t give a shit what they thought of him. Sam was the only person in the world who had this power.
“That’s not what I said. Some people wander, and that’s cool, but about this situation, are you up for it? I know I’m not your favorite person. Can you pretend to be into me for a week?”
“I’m up for anything that pays me $10,000 for two weeks worth of work,” Bucky muttered.
“Cool,” Sam said. He pulled out his phone looking at his calendar.
Bucky watched him flip through the device. He sighed, “I never said I didn’t like you.”
“You didn’t have to say it,” Sam said. “Okay, I have some time on Wednesday. You can meet me at my office and we can go over some things. I’ll draw up a contract.”
“Contract?” Bucky asked. What happened to looking a person in the eye, their word? Sam didn’t trust him. That bothered Bucky.
“Yeah, a contract. Uh…” Sam said, answering a text from an associate.
Bucky pursed his lips. He was fiddling with his phone again. He was always messing with that thing. It was Saturday. It was beautiful out. Bucky and Alpine had a date on his balcony with a good book. Maybe he would read Lord of the Rings again. “Instead of going to your office, I can cook for you at my apartment to interview as your private chef. I realize you're hesitant, but I’m good. Nat says you eat out all the time, you would save money, and I could use the reference.”
“I don’t want to promise anything, Bucky. Let’s just try to get through the retreat.”
“No obligations. We need to interact in a more intimate way anyway to sell it,” Bucky pointed out. Sam looked up at him with wide eyes. Bucky looked back unperturbed. He was telling the truth. “That can’t happen at your office.”
Sam exhaled, “Fine. Your place on Wednesday. Any other demands?”
“Can you be fair and not let our differences…” Bucky started.
“Oh, you want to be fair now?” Sam said, standing. He left a tip on the table.