#aaou

Sam watches as Steve sinks his last ball into the pocket before turning to give him that signature, star-spangled grin. He rolls his eyes at the sight. A part of him really thought he stood a chance this time against Steve, but he should have known he was bound to lose after Steve sank two striped balls immediately after breaking. Still, the game was neck and neck until Sam scratched, giving Steve an easy shot. Now, all that’s standing in the way of Captain America and victory is the 8-ball.

“You getting nervous, Wilson?”

Sam’s hand clenches tighter around the whiskey glass he’s holding. He knows that the jab is playful, but he’s also painfully aware of the crowd gathered around the large pool table — and how they’re all staring at Steve in awe. A part of him has gotten used to the gawking. After all, they’re not staring at him — no one is ever staring at him. But the smug look on Steve’s face as he looks around at the small crowd infuriates him. Sam’s a competitive man, and he might have made a mistake befriending Steve Rogers since he seems to be the only person in the world incapable of failing.

“Just hit the damn ball, Cap.”

Steve laughs before hitting the cue ball, and Sam watches with bated breath as it pushes the 8-ball gracefully into the pocket. Sam sighs as Steve extends his hand out toward him. He begrudgingly takes his wallet out and slaps a twenty-dollar bill into his palm. Sam takes a long swig of his whiskey before addressing Steve.

“I’m gonna beat you at something one of these days.”

“You better. I’m getting tired of taking your money.”

Sam rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. When he first met Steve, he was almost painfully polite. So, it’s relieving to hear his playful banter. It makes him sound less like the legend that is Captain America and more like the man that is Steve Rogers. Steve clamps a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the pool table.

“C’mon, I’ve got a lot to catch you up on.”

Sam lets Steve lead him away from the crowded party, walking up the stairs to an overlook. He listens intently as Steve recounts the mission to acquire Loki’s scepter from Hydra’s hands. His brow furrows as Steve describes the two enhanced individuals they met while in the field.

“Sounds like a hell of a fight; sorry, I missed it.”

Steve gives him a knowing look before responding. He knows that Sam would have fought by his side. After all, he’s a soldier to his core. Steve thinks that may be why the two of them clicked quickly — there’s an inherent understanding between them — a constant baseline of duty and loyalty.

“If I had known it was going to be a firefight, I absolutely would have called you.”

Sam scoffs before finishing the last of his whiskey.

“No, I'm not actually sorry. I'm just trying to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing person’s case. Avenging is your world, and your world is crazy.”

“Be it ever so humble.”

They stand side-by-side for a few minutes, simply watching the party beneath them. Sam would have laughed his ass off if someone told him he’d be keeping Captain America company at one of Tony Stark’s famous parties two years ago. But here he is — standing beside his friend.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

“I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

Sam laughs at this, but he offers him an understanding look. D.C. is no better. Even though he’s spent far less time in the city since being tasked with finding Captain America’s childhood friend turned assassin, he couldn’t dream of leaving. He looks forward to returning home whenever he’s gone. He always yearns to see his boys at the V.A., grab a cup of coffee at his favorite downtown joint, and sleep in his own bed.

“Well, home is home. You know?”

Sam’s eyes find you in the crowd, and he can’t help but smile as he watches you double over in laughter over something Rhodey says. If he’s completely honest, no matter where his search takes him — no matter what beautiful country he finds himself in — he always returns to D.C. because of you. Steve follows his friend’s gaze, and a knowing smile spreads across his face.

“Speaking of home, when will you make that official?”

Sam glances over at Steve in confusion. Steve simply raises a brow and nudges his head in your direction. Sam glances your way again before rolling his eyes. God, he wishes he hadn’t finished his drink.

“They’re technically your date.”

Sam meant to brush off the question, but his response had a bite that wasn’t intended. Steve notices immediately. He sighs, raking a hand through his blonde locks.

It’s not like that.

Not that he hasn’t thought about it before. You were his doctor during his recovery after his fight with Bucky on the helicarrier and his fall into the Potomac River. There was something almost intimate about how you helped piece him back together. And Steve told himself that he’d ask you on a proper date after he was released from your care — even if it was just to thank you for your endless warmth in an overwhelmingly sterile environment — but then he noticed how Sam looked at you during one of his visits and he gave Sam the only piece of advice he knows: don’t wait forever.

“The only reason I asked them is because you weren’t even supposed to be stateside. You know that.”

Sam knows this. He does. But he can’t help but feel inferior as you interact with everyone at this party. He isn’t a genius, he isn’t a super soldier, and he certainly isn’t a god. During his time in the military, he was the guy they sent in when no one else could get the job done. But he’s painfully aware, as he stands in a room full of actual superheroes, that he’s just a man. He’s not anything special.

“I know, man. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve understands. Of course, he understands. He wasn’t always Captain America. He remembers being that little kid from Brooklyn who had everything to prove and nothing to lose. Steve saw that part of himself in Sam when they first met: how he still found a way to serve at home through the Department of Veterans Affairs, how eager he was to follow Captain America into a battle that wasn’t his to fight, and how he dropped everything to find a man who tried to kill him just because Steve asked for his help. Sam Wilson is a good man — maybe the best he’s ever met — but he shares Steve’s oblivious nature. One of these days, he’ll wake up and realize he does have something to lose — you.

“I know, Sam. You want another drink?”

Sam nods immediately, desperately wanting a reason to leave this increasingly awkward conversation behind. He follows Steve to the open bar at the center of the party. Before he can get the bartender’s attention, Thor slides onto the barstool on the other side of Steve. He pulls a mysterious bottle of liquor from his jacket and raises a brow at the man sitting beside him. Steve, without speaking, just reaches behind the counter and grabs two whiskey glasses. Sam watches as Thor pours a generous amount of the mysterious liquid into the two glasses. The two men clink their drinks together before downing them. Sam’s brow furrows as Steve shivers in response. From what he’s heard, the super soldier serum has made it impossible for Steve to feel the effects of alcohol. But before he can ask what they’re drinking, you steal the words out of his mouth as you lean against the bar beside Thor with Natasha behind you.

“What are you drinking, big guy?”

Thor’s smile brightens extraordinarily as your voice graces the conversation. The god throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side. You giggle at his actions, and Sam’s entire demeanor immediately stiffens — his back going ramrod straight.

“My lovely doctor — it is good to see you! This is the finest Asgardian Ale I could get my hands on.”

The jealousy coursing through Sam’s veins makes him feel sick to his stomach. He turns away from the interaction and attempts yet again to get another drink — hoping another glass of whiskey will drown the guilt clawing its way up his throat. Sam Wilson has never been a jealous man. Ever since he could remember, he had a confidence that made it easy for him to talk to those he considered attractive. Part of it was that he always knew that his interactions with others were always momentary. He never had the capability to hold down anything long-term during his time in the Air Force, so he saw every flirty interaction at the gym and every drink bought for him at the bar as temporary pleasures. But then he met you. And suddenly his feelings were no longer fleeting. Home is home — and you made yours in every corner of his mind, deep within his bones.

“Might want to pour another glass or two since we’re celebrating tonight, right?”

Natasha nudges you playfully with her elbow, and Sam’s brow furrows at the interaction.

“Oh no, Natasha. See this, this was aged for a thousand years, in the barrels built from the wreck of Grunhel's fleet, it was not meant for mortal men or women.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at the Asgardian and diverts her attention to Steve.

“Rogers, could you get us a couple of drinks here?”

Steve laughs before getting up to wander further down the bar. He manages to grab the bartender’s attention without even trying, and Sam’s jaw clenches at this. Even though he knows that it isn’t his intent, Steve’s presence manages to make Sam feel like the smallest man in the room right now. That’s part of the reason that he’s never worked up the courage to properly confess his feelings to you. The two of you were immediately thrust into the world of super-soldiers, assassins, and gods after meeting. And somewhere along the way, Sam began to feel inadequate for your attention. Before Sam falls further down the rabbit hole of self-deprecation, Steve manages to pull him out by lightly grabbing his shoulder, and a smile graces Sam’s features as Steve wordlessly hands him a glass of whiskey. After Steve hands you and Natasha drinks of your own, Sam finally asks the question that’s been gnawing at him since the start of this conversation.

“So, what are we celebrating?”

“Oh, uhm… it’s nothing.”

Sam’s brow furrows further as your expression immediately shifts into panic. Your eyes widen slightly, and your hands desperately grasp the fruity drink Steve just slid your way. There’s nothing that Sam wants more than to reach over and simply take your hands in his, but unfortunately, both Steve and Thor stand between the two of you. Before Sam can question your sudden change in mood, Natasha steps in to explain.

“I’m pretty sure a job offer from Tony Stark as the head of medical staff at the new Avengers compound upstate is a little bit more than nothing.”

Steve and Thor immediately start congratulating you on the new position, but your attention is still focused solely on Sam, who silently digests the information. You wish he would say something, anything — but he just stares into his whiskey as everyone else breaks out into lively conversation. Tony had offered you the position a few weeks ago, and Natasha was the first person you told. But that’s only because Sam was across the world working on Steve’s missing persons case. You had managed to talk to him a couple of times over the past month, but this was information you wanted to tell him in person, and you had no idea he would be at this party until early this evening, when Steve came to pick you up at your hotel.

“Okay, guys. I haven’t even accepted the offer.”

You attempt to lighten the shifting mood between you and Sam, but it doesn’t help the pit forming in your stomach. Finally, Sam looks up at you — like you’re the only person in this crowded room — and it knocks all the air out of your lungs.

“You should.”

His tone is matter-of-fact — like it was the simplest answer in the world. But it’s not that easy. Accepting the offer means picking up your life and leaving D.C. — and leaving D.C. means leaving Sam. Sure, you would see him at events like this and on the rare occasion that one of you could sneak away from work for the weekend, but ultimately, you know that accepting this position means ending whatever this unspoken thing is between the two of you before either of you could even label it. No more late nights after your shift, when you were pleasantly surprised to see Sam peacefully snoring on your couch after unlocking the door to your quaint apartment. No more coffee runs to the V.A. on your rare day off, just because you were having a bad day and needed to see Sam’s bright smile. No more impromptu movie and take-out nights, no more grocery runs, no more late-night drinks at the pub you frequent together. Your life would drastically change, and you don’t know where Sam’s place in it would be anymore. The thought terrifies you.

“Sam…”

Sam shakes his head before downing the rest of his whiskey and placing the glass on the bartop with a little more force than necessary.

“I’m going to get some air.”

You watch as Sam stands up and moves through the crowd, towards the nearly abandoned balcony. An apology tumbles off your lips as you immediately leave your conversation with Natasha, Steve, and Thor to follow after him. A shiver runs down your spine as you slide open the oversized glass door. It’s an uncharacteristically cool summer night in New York City, so as the sun went down, partygoers began making their way indoors to continue their night in the warmth of Tony Stark’s penthouse apartment. You’re just thankful for the privacy as you take a moment to watch Sam, who has his back turned to you, and based on the way his muscles flex against the fabric of his navy jacket, you’re certain that he has a white-knuckle grip on the railing. A soft sigh escapes you at the realization that the conversation you’ve been putting off is happening right now, whether you like it or not.

“What’s going on, Sam?”

Sam immediately turns to face you. His features soften as he studies you leaning against Tony’s floor-to-ceiling windows. How he wishes this night had gone differently — how he wishes that he was able to do this right. If he hadn’t been across the world earlier this week, he’d have been the one to ask you to be his date — not Steve. When he picked you up, he’d compliment your outfit before opening your car door, just like his Mama taught him. He’d have bought you a drink, asked you to dance, and maybe, if it felt right, he would have found himself on this balcony with you under much different circumstances. But tonight wasn’t a perfect night. Sam spent all day transferring from flight to flight just to make sure he made it to this party — to make sure he made it to you. And instead of celebrating an incredible career achievement, he retreated because he knew he’d lost his shot with you — he waited too long. He should have taken Steve’s advice a long time ago, but he was afraid it would ruin your friendship; however, now, standing here, he’s terrified that he’ll regret not telling you sooner for the rest of his life.

“Hey, I’m sorry. We should be in there celebrating. I’m being stupid out here—”

A sudden gust of wind causes Sam to stop in his tracks as he watches you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to trap the little heat left in your body. Without a second thought, Sam takes off his jacket and moves to wrap it around your shoulders, seemingly unbothered by the chill in his red, short-sleeve polo. His hands linger on your arms for a moment longer than necessary, and you're grateful for the warmth that both his jacket and natural body heat provide.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside. We should get back to the party.”

You stop Sam as he moves towards the door, grabbing his hand before he steps out of your reach. Sam’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours as he turns back to face you again. Concern etches deep into his features as he studies your face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go back in there.”

Sam shakes his head ludicrously.

“You should be in there celebrating with our friends.”

You sigh as you let go of his hand. Sam frowns deeply, his body immediately yearning for your touch the minute he lost contact. But he doesn’t reach out again — he lets you take the lead.

“I don’t know if I’m going to take the job.”

Sam’s concern quickly turns into surprise at the revelation, and you understand why. Anyone else in your position would have accepted the job the minute Tony offered it to them, but you’ve been putting off the decision for almost a month now. Tony has been blowing up your phone for the last week, and you were going to blow off this party until Steve mentioned that Sam had flown in for it.

“What are you talking about? Tony Stark asked you to head the new medical team for the Avengers! You’d be crazy not to take it.”

You scoff at his words before turning away from him. This time you find yourself leaning against the railing, watching vehicles and pedestrians pass by below you.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry, Sam, I do feel crazy.”

Crazy and stupid.

Maybe you’ve gotten this all wrong — misread signals and developed unreciprocated feelings. Maybe it’s always been just friendship between you and Sam. Afterall, it’s been a year, and Sam hasn’t made a move. You blamed it on his mission for Steve — figured that once he managed to find Bucky and could stay in one place for more than a couple of days at a time, that the two of you could finally define this. But maybe there’s nothing to define.

Sam sighs before moving to stand beside you. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you frown that you don’t find comfort in his touch, but instead more confusion.

“That came out wrong. You’re not crazy. Just talk to me. What’s stopping you?”

You finally look at Sam, and his eyes search yours as he desperately tries to understand what’s going through your mind. A humorless laugh almost escapes you at the sight. He really couldn’t be more oblivious. You feel like it’s obvious — everyone else has noticed. Natasha is always making jokes about the two of you looking longingly at each other. Steve makes sure to keep you updated on Sam when he’s unable to communicate with you. Hell, even Tony asked if Sam would be coming with you when he offered you the job. Everyone has picked up on the fact that you fell in love with Sam Wilson, except for the man himself.

“You.”

Sam takes an unsteady step back. The word feels like a punch to the gut — it takes the air right out of his lungs.

“What?”

“Taking the job means leaving D.C. and leaving D.C. means leaving you.”

Sam shakes his head at this.

“That’s not true. We’ll still see each other — you’re moving to Upstate New York, not Area 51.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Six hours away is a lot different than six blocks, Sam.”

Your gaze drops to the floor. Sam frowns at this, knowing you have a point. Hell, that’s the reason he came out here, right? But as the words leave your mouth, he can’t help but think of how absurd they are. Who cares if you’re moving to New York? Tony Stark could’ve asked you to head up a medical team in the Arctic tundra for all he cares. It wouldn’t have mattered — there isn’t anywhere in the world he wouldn’t follow you.

“What if I move to New York?”

Your head shoots up at Sam’s offer. This is definitely not how you thought this conversation would go. You can’t ask him to do that — it’s selfish. His whole life is there. You would never ask him to give up his position at the V.A. that he’s worked his ass off to achieve, or the small house outside of city limits that he’s practically renovated from the ground up.

“But D.C. is your home.”

Sam closes the distance he made between the two of you. He’s barely an inch away. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, and he’s looking at you with a newfound understanding.

“No, it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

Finally, Sam reaches out again and takes your hand. His touch feels electric.

“D.C. was only home because you were there.”

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes begin to water. His brows knit together, and his hands immediately come up to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shake your head as a breathy laugh rises in your chest.

“They’re happy tears. I promise.”

Sam laughs along with you, cradling your face delicately until your tears have dried up. Deciding that the two of you have waited long enough, you reach up and grab onto the collar of his polo before pulling him down to you. As your lips meet his, everything just feels right. This moment right here with Sam feels safe and warm — it feels like home.

Sam’s hands slide down your body until they find your waist. He backs you up against the railing and pulls you flush against his chest. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as he leaves a trail of slow, tender kisses down the column of your throat. For a moment, it’s just you and Sam at this party. That is, until you break away to catch your breath and realize the two of you have created quite a scene. You groan and bury your face into Sam’s chest. He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you protectively.

“I take it people noticed?”

You nod into his chest, and Sam turns his head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. Most of the partygoers were too busy with their own escapades to notice the two of you on the balcony, but then he locks eyes with Steve and Natasha, who raise their glasses towards him proudly. Sam rolls his eyes at this — there are simply too many eyes here for his liking.

“You want to get out of here?”

As you look up at him, Sam notices that your eyes drift toward where Steve is sitting. Guilt momentarily washes over your features. Sam knows that you feel bad leaving Steve, but this time, jealousy doesn’t claw at his chest. Because he knows that even though you might have come here with Steve, he’s going to be the man that takes you home.

“C’mon, we can say goodbye to them on the way.”