drafty fic snippet: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
This is either the prologue-y first section of the larger fic I'm working on, or it's getting cut from the fic and is just a standalone snippet thing. Keep going back and forth.
When Sam reached out to Steve, after Steve approached him, he’d done it because they’d seemed to hit it off right away. He’d done it because he thought he might know a bit about what Steve had been through -- not the Captain America stuff or the frozen for 70 years stuff, of course, but the soldier stuff -- Sam was pretty sure he could relate to that. He’d sort of thought that’d be it there on the Mall -- Sam could relate, sure, but Steve was Captain America, and their encounter that day ended with Steve climbing into a Corvette driven by a gorgeous woman and driving off. Sam’s shared experience only went so far -- but Steve took Sam up on his offer anyway, showed up at the VA, and they hit it off then too.
“What makes you happy?” Sam had asked. It was a question that he asked people a lot when they sought him out there. It was a question he’d had to ask himself a lot over the years too.
“I don’t know,” Steve returned.
It wasn’t an uncommon answer, but Sam stood there for a long moment trying to decide where to go with it next. He knew where he should go. He knew professionally what he should say, but Steve Rogers had approached Sam on the Mall and Steve had approached Sam at the VA and Sam was pretty sure Steve hadn’t approached because he was looking for Sam’s professional advice.
“You know what?” Sam asked. “How about this; you ever decide you want help trying to figure that out, you let me know, all right?”
Steve smiled, looked down at his feet, and then he squinted at Sam and said, “Yeah, all right. What are you doing right now?”
“Whatever you want, man,” Sam had returned, his smile wide. “Whatever you want.”
He didn’t think that spending an afternoon lounged in a booth at a dark bar was doing much to help Steve Rogers figure out what made him happy, but they talked a lot, sat back and relaxed over a few beers. It was just like it’d been on the Mall, bouncing off each other, easily falling into a comfortable rhythm, a nice give-and-take. Steve didn’t seem to want to talk about himself much. He turned most of Sam’s small-talk questions back around on Sam, and that was fine. If that’s what Steve wanted for now, then Sam was cool with talking about himself for a while. Steve listened as Sam talked about growing up in Harlem, about his parents and his brother and his sister. They talked about New York, about the things that were the same and the things that were so completely different. Finally, Sam downed the last sip of his beer and nodded toward Sam.
“So what else’ve you got on your list?” Sam asked. “If you don’t mind me poking around in your business, that is.”
“I don’t mind,” Steve said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his book, tossed it across the table toward Sam.
Sam picked it up. “I better make sure there aren’t any glaring gaps in this new education of yours.”
“You’re looking out for me now?” Steve joked, leaned back against the booth bench.
“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “You look like you need it.”
The items on the first few pages had all been crossed off, big ones that Steve probably would have found relevant; Hiroshima and Nagasaki, V-E Day. These were mixed in with Vietnam, The Beatles and Chernobyl, the Cold War, 9/11, and Martin Luther King. Later pages got more specific, smaller scale. There were movies and books, albums and more historical events, but even smaller things too. Sam recognized the names of a few restaurants in DC, and the --
“Is this the name of the panda cub over at the zoo?”
“Yeah,” Steve said.
“You’ve never seen a panda before?” Sam asked.
“Actually I have,” Steve said. “At the World’s Fair in ‘39. The Bronx Zoo had -- I just made the note to look into it is all. Something to do. I saw it on the evening news. It’s free.”
“Oh, I know it’s free,” Sam nodded. He turned a page. “What’s this? A grocery list?”
“All right,” Steve smiled and leaned forward again, his arms leaning on the table, one hand out, palm open. “If you’re going to make fun of it, you can give the book back now.”
“I hope this is a grocery list,” Sam pressed. “Don’t tell me someone has you researching eggs, bread, and apples.”
“The book is really a catch-all,” Steve explained. “I use it for notes, lists, directions, and then yeah, the things people tell me I should look into.”
“I’m just picking on you. Calm down,” Sam laughed, though Steve didn’t seem like he was actually getting worked up at all. A little exasperated, maybe, but he was smiling, so even that seemed mostly for show, like it was part of whatever game they had going here.
Sam closed the notebook and tapped it down on the table, pressed his fingers to the worn cover. He took a moment just to study Steve, the set of his shoulders and the way that his throat worked when he took a sip of his beer. Steve caught his eye and they stared at each other, caught there until the corner of Steve’s mouth started to pull up into a smile and Steve said, “What is it now?”
Sam pressed his lips together. “I have a few of these movies in here on DVD. You wanna go back to my place? Get one or two of them crossed off your list? I mean, if you don’t have anywhere else you need to be.”
“Sure, okay,” Steve said almost immediately. “I have time.”
Sam slid the notebook back across the table toward Steve and wondered what the hell he was thinking. He could have suggested they walk up to the zoo, check out little Bao Bao the panda, or he could have offered to accompany Steve to buy his damn groceries, but he didn’t do any of that. Instead he invited the guy home with him. He wasn’t sure they were even on the same page here. He thought he knew what was happening, but then --
“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Sam said. “Just, you know, throw it out there, get it all out in the open and see where we stand. This here, what we’re doing -- this is flirting, right?”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up. His brow furrowed and he looked down. Sam was learning that Steve did that a lot, looked away, looked down, broke eye contact for just a moment, sometimes smiling a little crooked while he did so. This time Sam thought Steve might have even flushed a little. He was starting to lean forward, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face, when Steve looked back up and said, “I, uh --"
Steve started to trail off, cleared his throat. The bar was pretty dark, even in the middle of the afternoon, but yeah, Steve was definitely a little flushed.
“Because it feels like flirting," Sam continued, decided he better keep talking and give Steve some more time to process the direct nature of the question. "It’s felt like flirting since you first sped by me, but sometimes I misread these things, you know. It can be hard to know sometimes, so I just want to throw it out there before it goes any further and I do something that’ll scare you away and make me feel pretty stupid.” Or pretty beat up and bruised, but Sam was almost entirely positive that Steve wasn’t the sort of guy to take offense or get angry at Sam’s question, even if maybe they weren't on the same page, even if Steve was born in 19-old-enough-to-be-Sam’s-really-pale-grandfather. Even so, better to get this out here and now.
Steve thought about Sam’s words for a moment longer and then he nodded. He still wasn’t making direct eye contact with Sam, but when he spoke again, he didn’t stumble. “Before you do something pretty stupid like what?”
“Like what do you think?” Sam returned, his tone dry, barely missing a beat. Steve's question was pointed, leading, and Sam took the bait, knew right then that he'd received his answer.
Steve let out an audible puff of breath, almost a laugh, and then he nodded again. And then he finally looked back at Sam, his gaze steady.
“Yeah,” Steve said. “This is flirting.”
Sam spent a few seconds trying to control his face. It was a battle he was bound to lose, so he gave in, surrendered and let his smile stretch wide. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Good to know.”
Steve made the first move. He waited until they were alone at Sam’s place, just barely through the front door, and then he leaned in and kissed Sam, his touch tentative, his mouth pressed carefully against Sam’s. Sam reached up, his fingers sliding around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him close, kissing him back. That seemed to startle Steve and he felt Steve freeze beneath him for a moment, like he hadn’t thought this through and he was unsure what he was supposed to do now that he’d started it.
Steve kissed like -- well, not like Sam expected. Not like a national icon, a fucking Greek god who must have women literally chasing him around the National Mall. Steve Rogers kissed like he spent the last ninety years playing video games in his parents’ basement, like he hadn’t really believed that anyone would ever try to kiss him like this at all.
Sam opened his mouth against Steve’s and Steve responded, let out a shaky breath against Sam’s lips. Oh, this was good. Steve like this -- this was very quickly climbing the list of the sexiest fucking moments of Sam’s life, and he leaned closer, kissed Steve’s lower lip, pressed it lightly with his tongue.
Steve started, stepped back and away, stood there and stared at Sam. Steve’s mouth was open just a little, and Sam wanted nothing more than to step in and kiss him again, but Steve’s actions were pretty clear and Sam wasn’t about to ignore that startled retreat, so he stood where he was and he waited.
“You okay, man?” Sam asked. He was breathing a little heavy, could hear it in his words when he spoke.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” Steve admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Well, I don’t know about what you should be doing,” Sam said, and it was going to sound terrible, lame and cheesy, and he was sure he was trying too hard, but he said it anyway. “But what you’re actually doing is making me pretty happy, I can tell you that much.”
Steve let out a breath. “I had a nice afternoon,” he conceded.
“Oh, we’re -- you sure?” Sam asked. He took a step back toward the front door. “I mean -- I’m not trying to be that guy, but you did literally just get here.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. He crossed his arms over his chest, screwed up his face a little. His body language was mocking, trying to show Sam that he realized his own actions were maybe a little ridiculous. “I’m sorry.”
Sam shrugged. So maybe they went too fast. They’d known each other less than tweny-four hours, maybe they needed to slow things down. It was a valid reassessment. There was no reason for Steve to feel like he should apologize for that. And frankly, if slowing things down might lead to another kiss like that -- that was probably something worth waiting for.
“Maybe we should do it again sometime,” Sam offered. “Maybe actually watch that movie, go visit little Bao Bao at the zoo or something, you know. I saw you had sushi on that list. I wouldn’t mind being there when you decide to cross that one off.”
Steve laughed.
“I should’ve stopped talking after the part about the movie, right?” Sam asked, laughing now too. “I just kept going and now you think I’m a little too eager, maybe kinda desperate.”
Somehow Sam’s self-deprecating remarks seemed to be the right thing to say because Steve relaxed a little, nodded. His arms unfolded from across his chest and he reached out a hand toward Sam. Sam accepted it; a nice firm hand-shake.
“We should do it again sometime,” Steve agreed. “I’d like that.”
When Sam reached out to Steve, after Steve approached him, he’d done it because they’d seemed to hit it off right away. He’d done it because he thought he might know a bit about what Steve had been through -- not the Captain America stuff or the frozen for 70 years stuff, of course, but the soldier stuff -- Sam was pretty sure he could relate to that. He’d sort of thought that’d be it there on the Mall -- Sam could relate, sure, but Steve was Captain America, and their encounter that day ended with Steve climbing into a Corvette driven by a gorgeous woman and driving off. Sam’s shared experience only went so far -- but Steve took Sam up on his offer anyway, showed up at the VA, and they hit it off then too.
“What makes you happy?” Sam had asked. It was a question that he asked people a lot when they sought him out there. It was a question he’d had to ask himself a lot over the years too.
“I don’t know,” Steve returned.
It wasn’t an uncommon answer, but Sam stood there for a long moment trying to decide where to go with it next. He knew where he should go. He knew professionally what he should say, but Steve Rogers had approached Sam on the Mall and Steve had approached Sam at the VA and Sam was pretty sure Steve hadn’t approached because he was looking for Sam’s professional advice.
“You know what?” Sam asked. “How about this; you ever decide you want help trying to figure that out, you let me know, all right?”
Steve smiled, looked down at his feet, and then he squinted at Sam and said, “Yeah, all right. What are you doing right now?”
“Whatever you want, man,” Sam had returned, his smile wide. “Whatever you want.”
He didn’t think that spending an afternoon lounged in a booth at a dark bar was doing much to help Steve Rogers figure out what made him happy, but they talked a lot, sat back and relaxed over a few beers. It was just like it’d been on the Mall, bouncing off each other, easily falling into a comfortable rhythm, a nice give-and-take. Steve didn’t seem to want to talk about himself much. He turned most of Sam’s small-talk questions back around on Sam, and that was fine. If that’s what Steve wanted for now, then Sam was cool with talking about himself for a while. Steve listened as Sam talked about growing up in Harlem, about his parents and his brother and his sister. They talked about New York, about the things that were the same and the things that were so completely different. Finally, Sam downed the last sip of his beer and nodded toward Sam.
“So what else’ve you got on your list?” Sam asked. “If you don’t mind me poking around in your business, that is.”
“I don’t mind,” Steve said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his book, tossed it across the table toward Sam.
Sam picked it up. “I better make sure there aren’t any glaring gaps in this new education of yours.”
“You’re looking out for me now?” Steve joked, leaned back against the booth bench.
“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “You look like you need it.”
The items on the first few pages had all been crossed off, big ones that Steve probably would have found relevant; Hiroshima and Nagasaki, V-E Day. These were mixed in with Vietnam, The Beatles and Chernobyl, the Cold War, 9/11, and Martin Luther King. Later pages got more specific, smaller scale. There were movies and books, albums and more historical events, but even smaller things too. Sam recognized the names of a few restaurants in DC, and the --
“Is this the name of the panda cub over at the zoo?”
“Yeah,” Steve said.
“You’ve never seen a panda before?” Sam asked.
“Actually I have,” Steve said. “At the World’s Fair in ‘39. The Bronx Zoo had -- I just made the note to look into it is all. Something to do. I saw it on the evening news. It’s free.”
“Oh, I know it’s free,” Sam nodded. He turned a page. “What’s this? A grocery list?”
“All right,” Steve smiled and leaned forward again, his arms leaning on the table, one hand out, palm open. “If you’re going to make fun of it, you can give the book back now.”
“I hope this is a grocery list,” Sam pressed. “Don’t tell me someone has you researching eggs, bread, and apples.”
“The book is really a catch-all,” Steve explained. “I use it for notes, lists, directions, and then yeah, the things people tell me I should look into.”
“I’m just picking on you. Calm down,” Sam laughed, though Steve didn’t seem like he was actually getting worked up at all. A little exasperated, maybe, but he was smiling, so even that seemed mostly for show, like it was part of whatever game they had going here.
Sam closed the notebook and tapped it down on the table, pressed his fingers to the worn cover. He took a moment just to study Steve, the set of his shoulders and the way that his throat worked when he took a sip of his beer. Steve caught his eye and they stared at each other, caught there until the corner of Steve’s mouth started to pull up into a smile and Steve said, “What is it now?”
Sam pressed his lips together. “I have a few of these movies in here on DVD. You wanna go back to my place? Get one or two of them crossed off your list? I mean, if you don’t have anywhere else you need to be.”
“Sure, okay,” Steve said almost immediately. “I have time.”
Sam slid the notebook back across the table toward Steve and wondered what the hell he was thinking. He could have suggested they walk up to the zoo, check out little Bao Bao the panda, or he could have offered to accompany Steve to buy his damn groceries, but he didn’t do any of that. Instead he invited the guy home with him. He wasn’t sure they were even on the same page here. He thought he knew what was happening, but then --
“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Sam said. “Just, you know, throw it out there, get it all out in the open and see where we stand. This here, what we’re doing -- this is flirting, right?”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up. His brow furrowed and he looked down. Sam was learning that Steve did that a lot, looked away, looked down, broke eye contact for just a moment, sometimes smiling a little crooked while he did so. This time Sam thought Steve might have even flushed a little. He was starting to lean forward, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face, when Steve looked back up and said, “I, uh --"
Steve started to trail off, cleared his throat. The bar was pretty dark, even in the middle of the afternoon, but yeah, Steve was definitely a little flushed.
“Because it feels like flirting," Sam continued, decided he better keep talking and give Steve some more time to process the direct nature of the question. "It’s felt like flirting since you first sped by me, but sometimes I misread these things, you know. It can be hard to know sometimes, so I just want to throw it out there before it goes any further and I do something that’ll scare you away and make me feel pretty stupid.” Or pretty beat up and bruised, but Sam was almost entirely positive that Steve wasn’t the sort of guy to take offense or get angry at Sam’s question, even if maybe they weren't on the same page, even if Steve was born in 19-old-enough-to-be-Sam’s-really-pale-grandfather. Even so, better to get this out here and now.
Steve thought about Sam’s words for a moment longer and then he nodded. He still wasn’t making direct eye contact with Sam, but when he spoke again, he didn’t stumble. “Before you do something pretty stupid like what?”
“Like what do you think?” Sam returned, his tone dry, barely missing a beat. Steve's question was pointed, leading, and Sam took the bait, knew right then that he'd received his answer.
Steve let out an audible puff of breath, almost a laugh, and then he nodded again. And then he finally looked back at Sam, his gaze steady.
“Yeah,” Steve said. “This is flirting.”
Sam spent a few seconds trying to control his face. It was a battle he was bound to lose, so he gave in, surrendered and let his smile stretch wide. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Good to know.”
Steve made the first move. He waited until they were alone at Sam’s place, just barely through the front door, and then he leaned in and kissed Sam, his touch tentative, his mouth pressed carefully against Sam’s. Sam reached up, his fingers sliding around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him close, kissing him back. That seemed to startle Steve and he felt Steve freeze beneath him for a moment, like he hadn’t thought this through and he was unsure what he was supposed to do now that he’d started it.
Steve kissed like -- well, not like Sam expected. Not like a national icon, a fucking Greek god who must have women literally chasing him around the National Mall. Steve Rogers kissed like he spent the last ninety years playing video games in his parents’ basement, like he hadn’t really believed that anyone would ever try to kiss him like this at all.
Sam opened his mouth against Steve’s and Steve responded, let out a shaky breath against Sam’s lips. Oh, this was good. Steve like this -- this was very quickly climbing the list of the sexiest fucking moments of Sam’s life, and he leaned closer, kissed Steve’s lower lip, pressed it lightly with his tongue.
Steve started, stepped back and away, stood there and stared at Sam. Steve’s mouth was open just a little, and Sam wanted nothing more than to step in and kiss him again, but Steve’s actions were pretty clear and Sam wasn’t about to ignore that startled retreat, so he stood where he was and he waited.
“You okay, man?” Sam asked. He was breathing a little heavy, could hear it in his words when he spoke.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” Steve admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Well, I don’t know about what you should be doing,” Sam said, and it was going to sound terrible, lame and cheesy, and he was sure he was trying too hard, but he said it anyway. “But what you’re actually doing is making me pretty happy, I can tell you that much.”
Steve let out a breath. “I had a nice afternoon,” he conceded.
“Oh, we’re -- you sure?” Sam asked. He took a step back toward the front door. “I mean -- I’m not trying to be that guy, but you did literally just get here.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. He crossed his arms over his chest, screwed up his face a little. His body language was mocking, trying to show Sam that he realized his own actions were maybe a little ridiculous. “I’m sorry.”
Sam shrugged. So maybe they went too fast. They’d known each other less than tweny-four hours, maybe they needed to slow things down. It was a valid reassessment. There was no reason for Steve to feel like he should apologize for that. And frankly, if slowing things down might lead to another kiss like that -- that was probably something worth waiting for.
“Maybe we should do it again sometime,” Sam offered. “Maybe actually watch that movie, go visit little Bao Bao at the zoo or something, you know. I saw you had sushi on that list. I wouldn’t mind being there when you decide to cross that one off.”
Steve laughed.
“I should’ve stopped talking after the part about the movie, right?” Sam asked, laughing now too. “I just kept going and now you think I’m a little too eager, maybe kinda desperate.”
Somehow Sam’s self-deprecating remarks seemed to be the right thing to say because Steve relaxed a little, nodded. His arms unfolded from across his chest and he reached out a hand toward Sam. Sam accepted it; a nice firm hand-shake.
“We should do it again sometime,” Steve agreed. “I’d like that.”