Work Text:
“You know, I usually am not as open about this,” said the man next to Sam, “Hard to be khaki whacky when you don’t know who’s a greaseball who’ll flap their lips to a flat foot, but I feel like I just – I can trust you, that you wouldn’t. And I know it’s weird to shoot a shot, especially when you don’t know me – and maybe this’ll be a goof on my part and go all belly up on me, but holy mackerel, sweetheart, you’re dynamite, and if you’d give a fella a chance, I feel like a night on the town with me could be a gas.”
He was shaggy-haired; scruff like he could shave right now and have a five o’clock shadow in an hour. His eyes seemed curious and weirdly flirtatious in a situation where neither of them seemed to know what was going on. He was even leaning closer to get near Sam, his smile very “come hither, I’m a good time”, and for some unknown reason, the dude was definitely wearing Sam’s Air Force shirt and there was some sort of red string tying Sam to this absolute nonsense man, thin yet durable (Sam tried to pull it off but all he felt was pain ), connecting them by the left side of their chests.
“Seriously? You think this is the time to ask for whatever you’re asking?” asked Sam, trying not to focus on how this asshole was definitely wearing his shirt; he knew because the holes were in the right place, the fade was just right and that was definitely his shirt .
So, why was this guy wearing his shirt?
Sam didn’t know where he was. It looked like a game show, honestly. Like some weird, too bright, intense colors of pink and red and purple everywhere game show filled with heart decorations that felt grifted from some old dating show.
“Probably not,” said the man, conceding, “But then again, I’ve never been great when it comes to timing.”
“You’re not worried about being tied up like this?” asked Sam, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not against you being kinky,” said the man with a wink.
And.
And Sam had to gape at him for a moment.
“I am tied up too ,” said Sam.
“Not what I think about when it comes to this, but I’m sure we can figure this out,” said the man.
“How do you think I tied you up if I’m tied up?” asked Sam, genuinely confused.
“What? You can’t tie a fella up before tying yourself up?” asked the man, “Clearly, you are underestimating yourself.”
Before Sam could answer that , game show music blared into the room, the lights around them somehow becoming brighter as Sam turned his attention to someone floating onto the stage – probably the host to whatever bizarre show Sam had somehow been kidnapped onto. A beautiful man in a gaudy outfit of red, gold, and silver, like some sort of otherworldly armor, drifting down as he said, “Hello! And welcome to – ”
A crowd that wasn’t in the audience shouted, “The Marriage Game!”, cheering and clapping as the man touched down onto the stage, grinning at the nonexistent audience.
“The what?” asked Sam, his brain trying to processes “Marriage Game”, tied to a chair, connected to the man next to him by a string between their hearts and why , “You can’t be serious.”
The host gave a full belly laugh, tipping backwards as he did it, much too dramatic for it not to be more for the not-there audience than anything as the audience laughed along with him.
“Marriage?” whispered the man connected to Sam, faltering, looking suddenly uncomfortable, shaken, “Don’t make fun of me.”
Something about that rattled Sam, made him annoyed . Sure, Sam had found the man coming onto him before to be a lot , but the guy couldn’t see Sam as marriage material? Fuck him.
“Oh you two – you two are fun. I just knew you’d be fun,” said the Host, wagging his finger at the two of them and shaking his head as if to say “These guys”, “Let me introduce myself again. I am – ”
“Eros!” the hallucination of voices that made up the crowd filled in, as if this was a thing he always did, that this was part of this twisted show; there was even a sign that fell down with his name, neon light art depicting love and lust around it, some sort of troll-like creature sitting on the sign.
A troll-like creature hopped off, continuing the host’s introduction.
“He is Royal Prince of Titan! Defeater of Black Roger and Black Robert! The Great Adventurer! And, most important of all, the Knave of Hearts!” said the troll, Eros nodding affirmatively, the not there crowd making clapping noises, “And he is here to bestow upon you a gift!”
“So, tying us up like this and forcing us to play a weird game show against our wills is a ‘gift’,” said Sam, not amused.
“You’re whacky if you think this makes any sense,” said the man next to him, anxiously pulling at the restraints, but not even his robot arm was making any leeway, “I want out. I’m not suffering this – I’m cutting out.”
Sam felt more wounded by that than anything. Which was stupid, because it wasn’t like he’d want to marry a random stranger either, but it felt almost more hurtful that this dude couldn’t even deal with the mere concept of possibly marrying Sam.
“Here’s how the game works,” said Eros, completely ignoring both of their reactions, “We’re going to play a series of games; go through some – scenarios. Relive pivotal moments in your relationship. If you still love each other by the end of the game, well, you earn your memories back! I’ll even marry you on the spot. But if you don’t…”
The troll makes a “Snip, snip” scissor gesture with his hand.
“I’ll be severing your tie to one another forever,” said Eros.
Something about that made a chill run down Sam’s spine.
No .
That was the only thing that came to mind, feeling panic, tension at the mere thought, turning to the man and seeing… seeing the same mix of fear and confusion about the fear on the man next to him.
Well.
At least they were on the same page about one thing, even if neither of them understood why .
Eros turned back to the audience, the game show music ramping up again, the invisible audience waiting in anticipation, ready to cheer after the man’s next words as he said, “Now, who wants to place Meet-Cute, Meet-Ugly? Everyone – place your bets! Meet-Cute or Meet-Ugly?”
The crowd turned into a flurry of sounds, neither “Meet-Cute” nor “Meet-Ugly” seeming to overtake the other, Eros turning to them.
“Do you two want to guess?” asked Eros.
“I don’t want to play this,” said the man next to Sam, as if something was gnawing at him, something he couldn’t quite place, but was there , something he didn’t want to think about.
“**** you,” hissed Sam through his teeth, feeling uncomfortable with the situation, getting a creeping suspicion that he was not going to like the next part, barely registering that his swear was censored.
Eros simply shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” said Eros.
“No – !” the man next to Sam blurted out before Sam even noticed the chair he was in falling into some trap door on the stage, Sam sharing a look of horror with the man next to him as he felt the sensation of falling, the world becoming darkness as the restraints of the chair left him, a tug of the string straining and hurting as he felt Bucky somewhere above him getting dragged into the darkness too by Sam .
Suddenly, Sam found himself… in a car?
Well, the roof of his car. Face squished onto the ceiling. Still tied to the man who was next to him who was falling to catch up to Sam.
And this had to be Sam’s car. Needed to be, Sam knew this car, he drove it all the way from Delacroix to D.C. himself. And there were – okay, so there were mannequins. The type you’d find in a store, sitting in the seats near Sam as he drove on what felt like an old Hollywood set, the car not exactly moving but the background projecting a highway next to him. The mannequin to Sam’s right had a blonde wig on and a sign tacked onto it labeling the mannequin “Sad Boy Himbo with America’s Ass”; in the backseat to the right was one with a red wig labeled “RIP Gone to Soon, Only Intimidating One of the Batch”; and in the backseat to the left was one that said “Pretty Sure This Guy Was Important, For Like, Five Seconds”.
“What the fuck,” said Sam finding himself falling into the front seat, his hands moving on their own to grab ten and two –
“I think the correct phrase was ‘Stick a cock in it’. Wait no. It was cork,” said Eros, his voice booming from the radio, “And then the only actually terrifying one of you three was like ‘Sixteen hours, cutting close, blah blah’, and then Himbo with a Heart of Gold and Butt to Strut was like ‘Use DNA’ or something and No Name Number Seven-Hundred-and-Five over there was like ‘You’re Crazy, Bad Plan’ then BOOM – ”
Sam flinched as he felt the glass of the window behind him smash open , seeing vaguely in the rearview mirror how someone grabbed the mannequin right behind Sam, tossing the mannequin to the screen next to him, Eros making faux-screaming sounds as an actual man on the screen gets run over by a bus on the other side of the freeway.
“Fuck,” said Sam, hearing gunshots from above, strings moving the remaining mannequin in the back to the front into the blonde-wigged mannequin’s lap as Sam stopped the car, the man from before , the one that was next to him in that chair, connected to Sam by the fucking heart toppling off the car in a series of swears , looking horrified as he stared Sam and his car filled with mannequins down.
Before Sam could ask the man what the hell he was doing, the man’s eyes widened as he yelled, “Behind you – !”
But it was too late, the car behind Sam was bulldozing into his, wrecking the back, driving him straight into the man before him, and the man, like Cirque de Soleil, flipped agilely, Sam feeling the smash of the back window as the man body-slammed the top of Sam’s car with a THUMP. Sam foot tried desperately to slam into the breaks as if that would help until the asshole stuck his hand in Sam’s windshield and took his steering wheel .
“What the fuck?” yelled Sam.
“Don’t ask me!” yelled the man back, “Maybe I – Maybe I had a good reason?”
The scene… Froze?
“Ooh, good question!” said Eros, lights flaring up, Eros smiling at a not-there audience, “Did Bucky Barnes attack Sam Wilson’s car because A) An evil mastermind was trying to trick Sam into doing something and he needed to save Sam’s life? B) America’s Ass had it wrong the whole time and Bucky was trying to warn Sam not to stop the helicarriers? Or C) Bucky was sent there to assassinate a few cuties?”
“Can I – can I vote A?” asked the man – Bucky Barnes, why did that sound familiar , “I’d like to choose A. I’m not sure if I understand B and, well, C is…”
Sam glared at the hand currently holding his steering wheel outside of his broken windshield.
“You seriously think this is A?” asked Sam, “You think I’d be fooled by some nefarious dick and you think the only way to stop me is to fling a guy out of my car and try to get me into a car wreck?”
There seemed to be hesitation in Bucky’s voice as tried to come up with the words.
“I don’t… I don’t know… This isn’t me – this doesn’t feel like me,” said Bucky.
Sam kept glaring pointedly at the steering wheel.
“Well, it sure feels like it to me,” said Sam.
“I’m telling you, this isn’t me ,” said Bucky, “Something’s not right about this.”
“Sure, because you’re definitely not causing me to get into a car accident right now,” said Sam, “Definitely not. That’s where steering wheels go when you’re trying to use them to drive .”
An incorrect answer sound hit Sam and Bucky like nails on a chalkboard, a huge “X” blazing in front of them, neon and burning Sam’s eyes, making him squint.
“Aw. Sorry, but wrong answer,” said the troll-like creature, “The correct answer is “C” – Sent there to assassinate a few cuties. By HYDRA command.”
“No,” said Bucky, his voice cracking, “No, that’s not true, I wouldn’t. I don’t – Nazis are – Crezi că aș lucra cu monștri care ucid oameni? ”
Sam didn’t get it. Why would he be playing this messed-up game with the kind of person who’d do this to him? Who would work with Nazis?
“Oh, you say that like you had a choice,” said Eros, glancing at the two casually before turning back to the crowd, “Fun fact – Bucky Barnes, previously of Howling Commando fame – ”
“That’s how I knew the name,” whispered Sam, the face clicking to an extent, but Bucky’s face had been cleaner in the photos, clean-shaven, taper-cut hair.
“I was part of what?” asked Bucky, sounding like he had no clue what was going on, like he… didn’t remember his time on the frontlines, like he didn’t know that he…
He died .
How was Bucky Barnes, childhood friend of Captain America himself, tied to Sam if he was dead?
“Bucky,” said Sam, not sure what he was trying to say, not sure why he was trying to say it to a man that Sam didn’t particularly like, but something about all of this felt cruel.
“ – Was taken by the Soviets… seemingly. Until he quickly found out that HYDRA scientists were being taken in by people who should have been friendly with him,” said Eros like it was a mildly interesting fact, like he was talking about how gibbons or sandhill cranes mate for life, “He was tortured and transformed into the infamous killing machine of the twentieth century, the fist of HYDRA, the Winter Soldier. Talk about a Meet-Ugly – with the worst possible cyborg to cross paths with.”
The crowd laughed.
A man was tortured, and they were laughing at a not great joke.
“I got this car in two-thousand-seven,” said Sam, a little dazed, making eye contact with Bucky, “I moved to D.C. in this car in twenty-thirteen.”
“How could I be hunting people down as a ninety-six-year-old?” whispered Bucky.
“You don’t look ninety-six,” Sam pointed out, the both of them laughing more out of hysteria than anything.
Because this was insane.
“Maybe you’re so youthful because you got stuck with the serum. Like Cap,” said Sam, vaguely remembering what he read in the books, Bucky… looking horrified .
“Who’s Cap?” asked Bucky, as if he didn’t want to know.
“Steve Rogers,” said Sam, a little confused.
Bucky’s face plummeted.
“What the hell is ‘the serum’?” asked Bucky, “And why did someone give it to Stevie? To me?”
Sam – moved. Not much. Just his hand. To grab this man’s hand. Because even if Sam wasn’t sure if he could like this guy, even if he seemed terrible, well… maybe it would be okay. To hold his hand. To tell him he would be okay. Sam placed his hand on the hand holding that steering wheel, locking eyes with this stranger, and Sam couldn’t help but feel like he’d placed his hand there so many times.
Before Sam could say anything, the entire scene undid itself, Bucky and Sam falling down into the darkness, Bucky’s hand being ripped away from Sam, and before Sam knew it, the two of them found themselves in those chairs again, tied up once more.
“Wasn’t that the worst Meet-Ugly you’d ever seen? Now, should we see how the happy couple got to know one another?” said Eros, grinning to the crowd, “Does anyone want to see some of the highlights of the European Tour?”
The crowd cheered and whistled.
“Right after this commercial break,” said Eros, Eros walking off stage, leaving Bucky and Sam mostly alone as Sam heard people moving around backstage.
“Please tell me we’re not seeing the frontlines,” whispered Bucky.
“I wasn’t born when there were frontlines,” Sam whispered back, “I don’t think that’s an option. Unless time travel was somehow created. Which. I can’t see that happening. Question: When are you from?”
Bucky frowned.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Bucky.
“I mean, it’s obvious that our minds are swiss cheese because of whatever this weird entity is doing. When do you think it is?” asked Sam, “I think… well, it’s really foggy, but the last thing I remember is meeting Steve Rogers while out on my morning jog March thirteenth, twenty-fourteen.”
“It’s. Um. July nineteenth, nineteen-forty-three for me. I was… I was walking home from the Stark Expo. Going to ship out the next day,” said Bucky, frowning, “I… I never come back, do I?”
“I don’t know,” said Sam, shrugging, “Maybe you do. Just took you a little while longer then you anticipated.”
Bucky snorted.
“I don’t know. Something tells me that I’m not the same man that I was before,” said Bucky, “I won’t be the type of person anyone would want to meet again.”
“Hey, no. Terrible things happen during war. And you were captured. A POW,” said Sam, thinking back to his own experience, trying not to, but knowing that it was showing on him, that anyone could tell if they were paying attention, “When you come back from war. When you feel like you’ve failed people. Feel used up, spit out with barely any safety net to catch you, well… You might feel like no one would want you back. I knew I ran from my own feelings. Horrified about what I couldn’t do. Who I couldn’t save… maybe that was wrong, but I couldn’t look Sarah in the eye, I couldn’t be near anyone who knew him, I had to – ”
“Hey – no. It’s fine,” said Bucky, trying to move his hand, but realizing again that his arm was fucking tied down , trying to scoot closer with his chair, finally getting close enough to brush Sam’s hand, “You’re okay. Whatever you did, whatever you didn’t do. You’re okay, Sam.”
Sam felt something in him ease a bit.
Sam didn’t trust it.
Tensing to spite that feeling, not wanting whatever this calmness was because Sam didn’t know Bucky, Bucky didn’t get to make him feel okay, his hand flinching from Bucky’s touch.
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” said Sam, “How do you know?”
Bucky opened his mouth, but before he could say anything a trap door opened from under Bucky, the both of them swearing, Sam feeling the pull of the string dragging him along with Bucky, the chairs disappearing as they fell, Sam knowing that Bucky was somewhere under him, not knowing what European Tour meant until… Until he fell onto a rooftop, hearing… was that “Yakety Sax” distantly playing in the background? Wouldn’t that make more sense for a fast-paced goofy chase montage?
TALLINN, ESTONIA
Sam jumped at the words appearing next to him, watching them fade into the background.
The rooftop felt… familiar. Felt endearing? Sam’s hands were on a sheet of paper that had his handwriting on it – “Hi!”. Right next to binoculars. And before he knew what he was doing, Sam was folding the paper, making it into an airplane, grabbing the binoculars to see where that string was going, seeing… Bucky. Looking a little confused, mid-way through buying plums.
And before Sam knew it, he just… tossed the paper airplane. Grinning as he watched it go, watching it gliding down and hitting Bucky in the head, Bucky panicking a bit, before grabbing the paper, Sam chuckling as he watched Bucky open it up, look around, then remember the string, looking over Sam’s way and… grimacing at him. Sam grinned, feeling the world shift .
STRASBOURG, FRANCE
Sam threw another paper airplane, hitting Bucky in the head before it fell into his coffee while he sat at a café, splashing coffee all over Bucky.
VALLETTA, MALTA
Sam threw another paper airplane, hitting Bucky in the head while he was trying to haggle a guy down for the price of a pair of boots, Bucky dropping the boots on his foot and wincing.
OSLO, NORWAY
Sam threw another paper airplane, hitting Bucky in the head while he took a break on a hike, Bucky flailing and tripping, falling headfirst towards a tree.
THESSALONIKI, GREECE
Sam threw another paper airplane, hitting Bucky in the head while he wandered around Ano Poli, taking in the sights, Bucky accidentally breaking off a piece of the UNESCO World Heritage Site while trying to stop his fall, desperately trying to put the chunk of the acropolis back in place.
“Hey! Would you – ” Bucky started.
BILBAO, SPAIN
Sam threw another paper airplane, hitting Bucky in the head while he was eating tapas, almost choking on an olive pit.
“Would you stop – ” Bucky tried up again.
Sam threw another paper airplane at him for good measure, giggling.
VARNA, BULGARIA
Sam threw another paper airplane, hitting Bucky in the head while he was getting the keys to his latest temporary home, dropping the keys, the keys falling into the drain nearby, the landlord shrugging as if to say “That’s your problem now” before walking off.
“Stop that!” said Bucky finally.
“Sorry, can’t hear you,” said Sam.
REYKJAVIK, ICELAND
Sam threw another paper plane, hitting Bucky in the head while Bucky was taking in Glymur Waterfall after a hike, Bucky toppling into the water.
“Seriously?” asked Bucky, spluttering in the water.
“I don’t know, this is really fun,” said Sam, snickering.
“For you ,” said Bucky.
“None of this is as bad as an assassination attempt,” said Sam.
“That was one time,” said Bucky, “And I wasn’t in my right mind.”
Sam threw another paper airplane, but then… it shifted again.
EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND
Sam found himself right next to the grumpy nineteen-forties man, snug in a low-lit corner of some classy looking bar – The Bon Vivant comes to mind – the both of them sharing the booth seat instead of one of them in the lonely chair on the other side because who would ever choose a chair when you can sit at a booth , Sam staring down at the drink he remembered somehow ordering for himself – The Rapscallion – looking over at the one before Bucky – Resurrection – and laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” grumbled Bucky, taking a sip of Resurrection, the deep red opaque liquid passing through his lips, Sam watching those lips and – nope.
“It’s a little funny,” said Sam, elbowing Bucky and – “See! There’s a smirk. I’m a funny guy. You can’t resist the funny.”
Bucky huffed, turning away.
“How were any of those a ‘Highlight’? That was terrible,” said Bucky, “It’s like everywhere, I thought I was safe, and then you threw a plane at me , why?”
“Because it was fun,” said Sam, snorting, thinking back to what he just saw, the feeling behind it, “And you freaking out was so adorable.”
“That’s insufferable – you’re insufferable,” said Bucky, “I take back the offer for a date, this isn’t going to work out.”
PORTO, PORTUGAL
Sam found himself sitting pretty, the both of them taking up a corner on a table on a patio, grinning as Bucky poured a pitcher of caipirinha into Sam’s glass and his own, Sam taking a deep sip of the drink, glancing out at the oceanside view at the tourist trap they were sitting at.
“Well, maybe we can say that later, but I think we need to play nice here. Unless you don’t want your memories back,” said Sam.
Unless you want our connection severed , but Sam couldn’t bring himself to admit that he didn’t want that.
“Not saying I want to be near you, but… it doesn’t feel like we have much of an option,” said Sam.
“You think they’re going to believe us if we’re discussing this right now?” asked Bucky, curiously, taking a sip of his own drink.
“Something’s telling me they’re not listening right now,” said Sam, “Can’t you hear the kooky chase sequence music?”
The two of them took a moment to listen to the faint sounds of “Yakety Sax”.
“So that’s what that was,” said Bucky, still a little confused, “Okay. I’m just going to have to trust you.”
“Play nice and pretend to fall in love until whatever this is ends I think is our best option,” said Sam, “Then go on separate long vacations and never see each other again. Sound good to you?”
Sam extended a hand.
MILAN, ITALY
Sam found himself laying atop Bucky in some sort of hotel room, trying not to react to it, their arms wrapped around each other, Bucky turning bright red and unceremoniously dropping Sam off the bed.
“Drop me off the bed, why don’t you? Very cool,” said Sam, wincing, “Just great. Thank you for that.”
“How does that even make sense?” said Bucky, “How could I ever marry you?”
Sam… Sam didn’t know why that hurt so much.
“Damn,” said Sam, “That’s really how you feel about the concept of possibly marrying me?”
“What?” said the man, absolutely confused , his face poking over the bed to look Sam in the eyes, his brow furrowing, “Sam… even if I were a woman or you were a woman, we couldn’t get married. New York doesn’t have the laws, but Maryland? Virginia? They both have laws. Even if the District of Columbia doesn’t have them, you’d be stranded. And who knows what would happen to you if someone found out , even in the District of Columbia.”
Sam… should have realized. Loving v. Virginia happened in nineteen-sixty-seven. And it wasn’t like same-sex marriage was legal all across the US or… or was it now? Something prodding his mind, saying something about twenty-fifteen, something important about that, that it was legal now.
“Oh. Oh, Bucky,” said Sam, reaching out to him, patting Bucky’s cheek, “Buck. That’s – well, I wouldn’t say it’s not a problem nowadays, but neither my gender nor my race are a problem legally speaking. Not now. Not in the future.”
Bucky… stared a Sam.
Agape.
Just… mind taking time to take that in, something in Sam’s brain saying it was his robot gears taking time to move again.
“The future is wonderful,” whispered Bucky finally.
“So, play nice and pretend to fall in love until whatever this is ends?” asked Sam, “Then go on separate long vacations and never see each other again?”
Bucky smiled down at Sam.
“Deal,” said Bucky, the world falling apart as darkness encircled them, the both of them falling until they hit their chairs again, tied up in front of the invisible crowd, all of them clapping and awing, Eros watching Sam and Bucky get situated again.
“I mean, wasn’t that adorable?” said Eros, “What a sweet transition from playfulness to romance, right? And sure, maybe they had a rocky middle, what with the whole toss a guy by the jaw brainwashed incident – ”
“The what,” said Sam, trying not to let that impact him getting into the role of ‘falling in love with this man’.
“Well, he did say I was brainwashed , I wouldn’t hold it against me,” said Bucky.
“But why my jaw? Why would anyone throw another person by the jaw?” asked Sam.
“Maybe it was the least deadly throw my brainwashed mind could think of? Don’t ask me. We’re missing what they're saying. Did he just say Wakanda?” asked Bucky, Sam sighing, filing that for a “later conversation”, turning his attention back to Eros.
“Now it’s time to play – ” Eros started, the crowd answering.
“Can You Move Your Seat Up?” the invisible crowd screamed back.
“What?” said Sam before the trap door opened under him, the two of them tumbling into –
Into the tiniest Volkswagen Beetle in the world? The same “Sad Boy Himbo With America’s Ass” mannequin standing next to another mannequin with a blonde wig that was labeled “Are You Seriously Going to Make Out With Your Future Wife’s Great-Niece?”
Huh.
Bucky, judging by the string and looking in the rearview mirror, was sitting right behind Sam in the squished car.
“Dude, are you okay right there? Maybe move to the middle, give yourself some legroom,” said Sam.
Bucky glared at Sam.
“I can’t move. Can you move your seat up?” asked Bucky.
Sam… tried. He tried moving the seat up.
“You’re going to be like that to your fella?” said Bucky leaning over, his arm wrapping around the car seat and Sam, head a little too close to Sam, distracting Sam with those intense eyes, “I know that you are both literally and figuratively sitting pretty up there, me stuck in the struggle buggy, but don’t be a pill. It’s not like you don’t have a lever there. Stop pretending and move it.”
“I really am trying to,” said Sam, trying his damnedest to, glancing up at the mannequins and – “What the fuck? Didn’t that other mannequin say, ‘Are You Seriously Going to Make Out With Your Future Wife’s Great-Niece?’ Did we seriously live through this? Why am I smiling and nodding my head at this like this is a bonding moment for us – why would our friend making out with the Great-Niece of his wife be important? ”
“I think it’s because it’s Stevie. And something about us finding common ground in a friend I guess? And moving your goddamn seat up? I – I think it’s Stevie, at least, good god, what was that serum made out of? ” asked Bucky in horror, “Who gave that punk from Brooklyn muscles? Don’t they know he gets pneumonia at the drop of a hat? And you’re sure that’s not two Stevies in one big Stevie costume?”
“Oh. Um. I think the serum cured him of that?” said Sam, frowning, not actually remembering much about the ‘Before’ Steve, “I believe some scientist who switched sides injected him with it for some military experiment or something.”
“What a fathead,” said Bucky, groaning into Sam’s seat, “He was safe . I didn’t have to worry about him. And there was nothing wrong with how he was. I’m glad he’s not sick all the time anymore, but there’s nothing wrong with being a five-foot-four toothpick.”
Sam snorted.
“I can’t even imagine,” said Sam.
“It’s like seeing a chihuahua transform into a husky, it’s whacky ,” said Bucky, “Now, are you giving me room, or do you need help?”
“I’m seriously trying, I think it’s – ”
Then Sam started to hear ticking noises .
“The fuck – ! What is this?” asked Bucky, as Nickelodeon fucking slime started to drip from the ceiling of the car, Bucky trying the car doors that he could get to in vain – all locked – trying the windows too, but they both could tell there was only one way out of this.
“I think that means we really need to make this lever work,” said Sam, a little desperate now, feeling the slime on him, “You know, as a teen, I always thought ‘Nickelodeon slime! Neat! I secretly want to do Double Dare! ’ And now I’m very sure I hate it.”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” said Bucky, moving to the other side of Sam’s seat, placing his hand on Sam’s hand and gingerly taking it off to replace it, Sam feeling the callouses on the man, how there was a gentleness to that roughness, Sam forgetting what he was doing before getting gooped by more slime, “Let me get my paws on that thingamabob, see if I can make it work.”
And that was when Bucky broke the lever.
“Well, fuck,” said Bucky.
“Yeah, that’s not good,” said Sam, snickering, “Looks like I might have to escape without you. Leave you in the slime.”
“You can’t do that to me. You’re supposed to love me,” said Bucky, wrapping his arms around Sam, smearing the Nickelodeon goop on Sam, “Save me from weird green slime.”
“Ugh, maybe we can – okay, I think I have an idea,” said Sam, grabbing some of the slime, seeing that it was slick, starting to pour it and rub it near the area that seemed jammed, already feeling the slime filling the car up over his ankles, “Okay, maybe that’s better? Could you try that?”
“Smart. How did I nab myself a hipper-dipper smart fella? I never get lucky like that,” said Bucky, slowly but surely starting to move the lever, “I usually have the worst taste. Some active-duty casanova blivet or booger who’d do bupkis for me after we pom pom, if you know what I mean – ”
“Yeah, no, I really don’t,” said Sam, frowning.
“You know – raveled up our little ball of yarn? Fuck. After we fucked. You know, just leave me out to dry, assholes. Always picked people too shifty,” said Bucky, finally making some headway with the broken lever, “Ditch me as you do in an alley I guess, and end up being a total chiseler or running out of gas after ‘trying it once’ or become a cold fish and tell me I’m cutting out paper dolls, and threaten to dust me off.”
“I… I don’t actually have a lot of good experience either,” said Sam, shrugging, just watching Bucky almost get the lever fully moved, “I mean, there was – there was Riley . But other than that, a lot of guys have been…”
“Absolutely icky?” said Bucky.
Sam winced. He tried not to think about it often. It wasn’t something he liked to think about. His first time, second, fifth , there were – there were not a lot of kind guys out there, it felt like. Sam had a lot of reasons why he was closed off, but that was definitely part of it.
“People can get… weird. Especially online. Especially with the kinds of people who have a ‘type’. Or what they might say even if they don’t show the red flags at first,” said Sam, sinking into his chair, really trying not to think about that fifth time, “It’s really hard to put yourself out there when it feels like all people are focusing on is what you look like in all the wrong ways.”
Bucky moved his arm around, giving Sam a little shoulder rub, and it was – it was much more comforting than Sam cared to admit.
“I’m perfectly panic-stricken,” said Bucky, soft, Sam feeling the smile in his voice, Sam trying his best not to smile at that, “You’re a hunk of heartbreak. I’d think you’d be in like Flynn with whoever and be able to avoid jiggery-pokery from mellow men making maneuvers. What’s a joe corn like me got to moon about if even a drooly like yourself doesn’t get dynamite gravy every time. Gripes my cookies that people are treating you grim.”
“I… do not understand most of the words you’re saying, but thank you,” said Sam, face heating up, “You deserve nice things too. Even when we… take those long vacations. I hope you find something.”
“You deserve something luscious yourself. Someone who makes a pass and means it. Who’d make sure you’re given the love you need,” said Bucky, finally getting the lever, all the doors opening as the seat moved up, small waves of slime pouring out.
“You’re doing that on purpose, right? You’re messing with me – half of that is nonsense, isn’t it?” said Sam, unable to take all these compliments , Bucky’s forehead hitting Sam’s shoulder as he felt Bucky giggling at that.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Bucky playfully.
Sam wanted to say something back, maybe something more honest, because the guy did seem genuine, he seemed… nice. But of course the room unraveled, the two of them finding themselves tied up, though, thankfully un-slime-ified somehow.
“Wow! Did anyone bet waist-deep? Because I thought they’d get that sooner,” said Eros, Sam glowering at Eros.
“Hey. We didn’t even get the slime until halfway through. You can’t possibly think Sam would have thought of relaxing the jam with slime before that?” said Bucky, but no one was paying attention.
“But hey, maybe they’ll do better with this next game,” said Eros, shrugging, “You know what it’s called!”
“Perfect Date!”
The chairs transformed into desks, whiteboards falling down with markers, as Bucky and Sam turned to face one another, their arms free, Sam finding himself reaching out to Bucky, desperately so, Bucky reaching out to him.
And it was… it was them faking.
Right.
It had to be.
Sam was definitely faking the relief when he held Bucky’s hand and finally felt safe again. Because there was no way he was in love with this asshole. But he could… he could pretend. Just for a moment. Sam was a good actor.
Bucky seemed to be a good actor too, which was… great. The way he held Sam’s hand just hard enough, how he rubbed little anxious yet soothing circles into the back of Sam’s hand.
“Arms. Arms are nice,” said Bucky, feeling relieved.
“I know, right? Pro-arms. All the not-tied up arms. Can’t get enough of this arm freedom,” said Sam, Bucky snorting, which totally wasn’t cute.
Not a bit.
“This is all sweet, but I didn’t give you arm freedom just to hold hands,” said Eros, Sam feeling Bucky tense, feeling himself tense as Eros leaned on Bucky’s desk, “We’re here for you two to plan your perfect dates with each other and see if they match up with the answer.”
Sam felt reluctant to pull his hand away from Bucky. That probably played well, so Sam supposed it was okay, but it felt like Bucky was hesitant too.
“I. Um. I’m right-handed, so I need that hand,” said Bucky, smiling soft.
“Right. Me. Too,” said Sam, leaving that safety to grab the marker.
Sam looked up to Bucky. Bucky, for his part, winked flirtatiously. Which. Ugh. Annoying. Stupid cute wink.
Fuck it.
The Eros guy never said that they had to do well at these games. He only said they needed to be “in love” by the end of all of this.
So, Sam stole one more glance at Bucky and… started thinking about it. What a date could be like with him. And started to write. Hearing the ticking of a clock, the crowd chanting, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!”, hearing a buzzer going off.
“Okay, let’s see the results!” said Eros, patting Bucky’s shoulder, “You first, big boy.”
Bucky’s smile… strained at “big boy”. Sam tried not to snicker at that.
“Well, Eros, I think I have the perfect date for Sam,” said Bucky, the both of them standing up as sets for a play were pulled out, Bucky and Sam allowed to stand, only for the string connecting them to get shorter, the both of them yelping as they were dragged together, basically only enough room to walk close together, bumping each other’s arms, Sam seeing what looked to be Broadway’s reimagining of a nineteen-forties street, “Well, I assume the future’s kinder, so maybe… maybe we can hold hands. Down a street.”
Bucky hesitantly grabbed Sam’s hand, and despite its clamminess, it felt… it felt nice . This wholesome warmth spreading in Sam at the thought. Just. Holding hands. On a street. In broad daylight. Which could still be dangerous, terrifyingly so, but it was possible now.
And Sam tried to tamper that feeling down by rationalizing that Bucky might have wanted to hold someone’s hand for a long time, it didn’t have to be Sam to make Bucky happy, but it still felt good to be someone he wanted , even if it was fake.
“And we’d head on over to – **** me, wait – what the ****? Am I not allow to say ****? Why is this thing ****ing bleeping, Sam – what’s happening?” asked Bucky, bewildered, looking at how a black bar kept showing up next to his mouth with wide eyes.
“****. Yeah, that’s censoring. TV censoring. Violence is cool but language and sex isn’t,” said Sam, shrugging.
“Okay. I have questions. About violence? And language? Whatever – I actually don’t think my favorite pizza place would be open after a hundred years. No offense to Jimmy’s, but the man was too good for this world and Jimmy had an inability to figure out a way to balance black market pizza ingredients and his low, low prices. Continuously had to have ‘Save me from closing down’ block parties,” said Bucky, “Anyways, maybe we go to… a good pizza joint? If New York does that anymore?”
Sam laughed .
“Hey! I… do not know what that laugh means. Pizza or no pizza? A man only has so much money and he has to stretch it however he can,” said Bucky, Sam hiding his laughter in the goddamn Air Force shirt that was totally his and definitely a size too small for the asshole and looked way too good on him.
“Pizza is an option,” said Sam, “Though, depends on how you feel about overpriced food. Brooklyn is a den of hipsters, last time I checked, which means people overpaying for strange options.”
“So, we go to the island! Manhattan, babe,” said Bucky, a pizza place rolling up with cardboard slices, handing it to them, “Then we’d sneak to a bar. I’ve always been a fan of the speakeasy. Not many were… I suppose things are more integrated now. I used to work at one like that before it was shut down, a rare integrated one… just a busboy. Anyways, go to a bar. Maybe a sock hop together. Get a drink or three. Dance all night. I can jive, you know? I’m a real pepper shaker.”
The scene moved into a dance hall akin to something Bucky would probably know, Bucky surprising Sam with a lift move, something very swing that Sam didn’t know that made Sam a little giddy, excitement thrumming under his skin.
“You want to dance with me all night long?” asked Sam, feeling Bucky gently place him down, not sure if anyone had ever picked him up like they cared how they placed him down before, “Really?”
“I mean, I – I never really got a lot of time to go to them, and you look like the kind of guy who might appreciate a night on the town,” said Bucky, dipping Sam, Sam unable to stop the grin because no one had dipped him before .
“Yeah,” said Sam, fighting the urge to lean in for a kiss because no, this is fake , “I would.”
Then that nonexistent audience clapped and awed and whistled and reminded Sam that this wasn’t a moment , Bucky realizing that too as his face turned red, pulling Sam up and awkwardly brushing Sam down as if Bucky got dust on Sam or something, then standing up way too straight.
“Very cute date, very cute date,” said Eros, the Broadway sets being pulled off, new sets waiting in the wings, “Your turn, Sammy. What’s the perfect date?”
Sam smiled.
“Well,” said Sam, looping his arm around Bucky’s, “If we’re going for perfect , I’d take you home. To Delacroix – ”
Sam saw a weirdly Disney-a-fied version of his hometown being rolled onto the stage.
“Oh, your hometown ,” said Bucky, leaning closer, “You’re taking me home?”
“Why not? You were taking me to Brooklyn,” said Sam, feeling affronted.
“Okay, fine. But the only places I know are New York City and Shelbyville, Indiana, there’s no way I could describe Paris or something,” said Bucky, “I’m not as cosmopolitan as you.”
Sam laughed, not sure what to do with that.
“I’m not – I think we have very different definitions of ‘cosmopolitan’,” said Sam snickering.
“Come on, talk to me. Tell me what this perfect date would be,” said Bucky, leaning closer, Sam definitely not feeling a shiver at Bucky’s breath on his skin.
“Or well. Delacroix first, then Pointe A La Hache Harbor,” said Sam, the two of them walking down a fake neighborhood, “I love my neighborhood. I used to jog it all the time as a kid, but a walk around it? Beautiful. And plus, you get to meet my neighbors. They love me. They’ll probably love you too.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Bucky, “Intense for a first date, but bring it on. I love intensity.”
Sam grinned.
“Cool,” said Sam, remembering fake , remembering they were pretending , “Cool. We’d um. So, we’d walk through my neighborhood. Talk to everyone, because I love them so much and I hope you’d love them too.”
“Well, if they’re anything like you, I’m sure I will,” mused Bucky, waving to cardboard cutouts of Sam’s whole neighborhood, the neighborhood transitioning into a port.
“Then we’d drive all the way up to Pointe A La Hache. We’d go to the Farmer’s Market over there – meet my sister Sarah, her boys AJ and Cass, definitely her husband Jody, my brother Gideon, if he hasn’t gone back to Antarctica to do more penguin research.”
“Penguin research?” asked Bucky astounded, Sam nodding.
“Yeah, he’s studying mating seasons or something. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I think it’s cool,” explained Sam, “My sister’s the real person to be proud about, though. She runs the entire family business. On her own when Gideon’s out of country for research.”
“That’s amazing, my mom – she used to have her own business. Nothing big. She’d get… things for people. Nothing crazy. Food. Certain clothes. A toy or two. She always knew a guy who knew a guy,” said Bucky, “She did it for free half the time because the community – we didn’t have much. Not when the Depression hit. And when your part of a community, you try to help everyone when hard times hit.”
“That’s… that’s really kind of her,” said Sam, blinking.
“Eh, that’s just how you’re supposed to be,” said Bucky, leaning a little closer to Sam, Sam feeling his warmth next to him, “What’s next?”
“Well,” said Sam, swallowing hard, trying not to think about how close Bucky was to him now, “We’d get ingredients from the farmer’s market and we’d cook together on my family’s ship – The Paul & Darlene .”
“Your family owns a ship? Fancy,” said Bucky, Sam laughing.
“Not like that – we’re fishermen by trade,” explained Sam, “So, not fancy. Just… another part of my home, you know?”
Sam made the mistake to look at Bucky’s smile, how it turned all gooey .
“That sounds amazing, Sam,” said Bucky, and Sam got lost in that response, that voice, those eyes.
The crowd cheered. And Sam bristled at the feeling of Eros’ presence.
“Well, wasn’t that an absolute treasure of a response too?” said Eros, Sam panicking as he felt himself being pulled away from Bucky, Sam and Bucky both feeling the pain of the string between their hearts being pulled longer once more before the world placed them onto those tied up chairs, Eros waving an envelope up to the crowd, “But none of those were the right answer! The right answer was… a day at home cuddling and possibly ordering in? Really? Where’s the fun in that?”
And maybe the crowd was fucking booing that, but that just sounded like the best idea ever to Sam. Maybe he could do that… during his long vacation.
Maybe.
Sam never really took vacations, was the thing, though. And as he turned his gaze to Bucky, Sam could see Bucky yearning for that too.
“You know what? Let’s spice things up,” said Eros, Sam seeing Bucky fall down the trap door this time, Sam wincing, knowing how it hurt of being pulled like that but never being prepared for it.
And down he went into the darkness once more, the both of them… finding themselves on a bed together. Sitting on a corner. A… a video of them playing on the wall before them.
Kissing.
And heavy petting.
And Bucky about to pull clothes off – Sam’s, his own – before Sam stopped him.
“Hey,” said Sam, sounding a little tinny, soft, hand on Bucky’s midway ripping off clothes, “Hey. Not to slow our roll too much, but… I feel like we should have better ground rules for this.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bucky, confused.
“Well, there are things that I like, and things that you like,” Sam explained, sitting them both down… in the positions Sam and Bucky were in right now, Sam only realizing that he and Bucky were holding hands , “And maybe this won’t be as sexy for you, or maybe I’m killing the mood or whatever, but I think having a discussion about what we want from this, what our limits are, what we’re both okay with trying would be the best thing for what’s happening right now.”
That Bucky… he just smiled at that Sam like he was everything .
“I’d love that,” said Bucky, “Very sexy. And if I’m being honest, I feel like forties sex ed was… lackluster at best.”
Sam laughed.
“Oh, really? You think that?” said that Sam.
That Bucky punched that Sam’s shoulder lightly.
“ Sorry I didn’t grow up with the internet, Samuel,” said that Bucky.
“I didn’t grow up with it either, James ,” said that Sam, “That happened more around the time I was a teen.”
“What’s the internet?” asked the Bucky with Sam now.
“It’s – not important right now,” said Sam, knowing what’s coming next, looking angrily at the general vicinity of whoever’s running this shit show, “We are not fucking playing ‘What’s Your Kink?’ or whatever messed up game you have here. You fucking stop this right now.”
Sam was a ball of nerves just thinking about it.
“How dare this asshole try to – Listen up, you glitterati gunsel with magic powers,” said Bucky to probably a person with god-level powers, “I will ruin this. I will ruin everything if you do something to upset Sam like this. We’re tired of playing this fucking game. Now get us hitched or whatever so we can leave!”
“Are you sure you want to finish the game?” asked the man from speakers, “There’s a few more icebreakers you can do before we check the Love-O-Meter to see if you’re up to snuff.”
“We’re ready,” said Sam and Bucky together, because if there was a way to get out of whatever hell they had stumbled into, they were getting out of Dodge as soon as they could.
And as they began falling through the darkness once more, Sam held onto Bucky’s hand, did his best to keep him close.
And fuck.
Maybe Sam fucked up.
What if they weren’t ready? What if he pushed Bucky into doing this when he wasn’t ready?
Bucky squeezed Sam’s hand.
“We’re going to be okay,” said Bucky.
“How do you know that?” said Sam, feeling lost, so lost.
“I don’t know,” said Bucky, shrugging, “I just… have a feeling.”
Sam laughed.
“Great. A feeling,” said Sam, halfheartedly annoyed because… it was kind of hard to really hate the guy.
He kind of… liked the guy.
Not enough to forgive him for the steering wheel (Sam loved that car), but… enough.
They found themselves on that stupid stage, not in the chairs , and Sam couldn’t help it, he pulled Bucky into a hug . Held him close. And he was a goddamn inch or two taller than Sam, which meant Sam was kind of ducking into Bucky, but Sam kind of liked that; it felt like he could lean on someone for once; that someone might want to be his rock sometimes. When Sam needed it.
It made Sam think of that Sam and that Bucky on screen. How open they were, how Sam could feel it from just looking at them.
And Sam hated to admit it, but… he could feel it from this Bucky too. And maybe he shouldn’t hate to admit it. Because maybe he should just love the fact that he could possibly have a chance at love. And Sam could see it in his eyes too, that he was coming to that same realization. That maybe, just maybe, this could work.
“Alright, since our two contestants wish to speed the process along,” said Eros to a crowd booing, “It is time for the last event – the Love-O-Meter Five-Thousand!”
Something akin to a high striker was pulled over, the troll-like creature placing it next to Sam and Bucky. It had various stages marked by a language Sam couldn’t decipher, and by the looks of it, Bucky couldn’t either. But it also had a heart at the top, so that was probably the goal, somehow.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” chanted the crowd, because of course that was how it worked.
Sam turned to Bucky, feeling shy , Bucky shaking a bit.
“Sam. Before we do this, I just want to say – ”
Sam kissed him. Because he didn’t want to think about the what ifs, he didn’t want to think about a world without the guy in his life. And as soon as their lips touched, Sam was flooded with information. With every memory he ever had of Bucky just taking over his brain, Sam deepening the kiss as he realized just who he was kissing.
His partner.
The love of his life.
His fiancé.
And fuck the person who let some Eternal entity learn about their fucking engagement because that was terrifying .
“Sam,” said Bucky, sobbing, which given the circumstances and the relived trauma on both their ends, felt about right, “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Bucky held Sam tightly, sobbing into Sam’s shoulder.
“I didn’t think I’d be enough,” said Bucky.
Sam glared at Eros, glad that they found themselves, once more, in Sam and Bucky’s fucking bedroom in their fucking house right next door to Sarah’s – where they were before Eros kidnapped them to his weird pocket dimension.
“See what you did?” said Sam, “We’re billing you for the next six months of both of our therapists, asshole.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad,” said Eros, pulling out a variety of things, “I got you married, instant wedding – ”
Eros pointed to the rings on their fingers now what the fuck, how did he find where Sam and Bucky’s rings were? Was that a picture of them at a wedding venue getting married by Eros, why did Sam not remember that?
“ – The marriage certificate and paperwork is certified for a marriage in the United States – ”
Eros handed them the paperwork that somehow had Sam and Bucky’s signatures despite Sam not remembering signing anything.
“ – I even got you a photo to commemorate the event – ”
Eros hands them what looks like the type of photo you’d get at the end of a log flume ride, but instead of at the end, it was a photo of them reenacting the steering wheel incident .
“ – See? And – and! Proof of love? Eh? That doesn’t work unless you truly love one another,” said Eros, waggling his eyebrows.
“Get out,” said Bucky, not amused.
“What he said,” said Sam, “Out of our house. Out of our life. Never contact us again.”
“Okay, Okay,” said Eros, lifting up his hands, stepping back into a portal, “You try to help a couple out and they act like this. Sheesh.”
Sam and Bucky watched as the portal disappeared. Watched for a very long time to see if he’d come back.
They collapsed onto their bed.
“I hate space magic dimensions,” groaned Sam, “No more space magic dimensions.”
“I agree. We need, like, a sorcerer supreme panic button or something,” said Bucky, nodding, rubbing Sam’s back in comfort.
“Only good thing to come from that is that we’re married now,” said Sam in a huff, though… smiling about that despite himself.
“Ugh, we can tell Sarah we eloped, right? I don’t want to tell her that we got space game show married,” said Bucky, Sam cackling.
“We got married,” said Sam between laughs, “On the most traumatic game show ever . How? Why? Just – oh, Bucky. Our lives are weird.”
“They really are,” said Bucky, “But I’m glad I get to spend the rest of mine with you, husband .”
“Me too, husband ,” said Sam, giving Bucky a simple kiss, “Now, let's sleep for a million years then schedule a few dozen therapy sessions separate and together.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan. I knew I married you for a reason,” said Bucky, Sam letting out one last laugh as Bucky situated them both into their bed, cuddling up together, Sam distantly thinking maybe they’ll get take out later as sleep took hold of him.