#falconshield

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This song was commissioned by Rickard Cronholm, who wanted a happy and upbeat song about his favorite champion - Viktor, and this is what we came up with! :)

Special thanks to Rickard Jäger who made the cool video and Joe Atlan for the sweet keytar solo!

Support me on Patreon -   / falconshieldmusic  

Credit:

Instrumental, chorus vocals, mix and master - Josef Falkensköld

Lyrics & voice of Viktor - AntiRivet

Animation & video - Rickard Jäger -   / rixstergfx  

Sam and Steve  - late 2014 

“A waste of fucking time,” Steve bit out as he walked into the hotel room and threw himself down on the bed. It was probably a good thing that Sam had been in charge of the keycard and therefore opening and closing the door - Steve would probably have taken it off its hinges with the mood he was in.

He was lying on his back, one arm thrown over his face, and was trying to toe off his shoes at the same time. Everything just felt like too much of an effort. 

It had been several months since the Triskelion and Bucky’s re-emergence and then subsequent disappearance. Steve had been obsessively scouring all of the intel he could get hold of through Maria’s new job with Stark and the remains of Nat’s assets. He’d flown all over the world, following up on sightings and even rumours, but no luck. Every time he arrived somewhere it was to find out that Bucky had already moved on, if he’d even been there in the first place. 

At least, for the most part, he’d had Sam with him. Sam, who’d barely known him and Nat when he’d agreed to aid them in their effort to take down HYDRA. Sam, the voice of reason, telling him when to stop, when to slow down and rest. Sam, the bonafide bad-ass who had now saved Steve by the skin of his teeth on more than one occasion. Sam, who was so god-damn attractive it should be illegal.

Nat, the loving friend that she was, had given him just enough details about what was under those tight-fit pants to make his general appreciation of Sam blossom into a full blown crush. Okay, Sam had helped with that by just being, well, Sam. Charismatic. Supportive. And as already stated, a badass.

Steve moved his arm from off his face and peered out from under his lashes. Sam was pottering around the small room, tidying up what very little mess there was, and then, unintentionally, set Steve’s heart racing when he pulled his shirt off over his head before picking up the towel from the end of one of the queen beds in the room.

“I’m gonna get a shower before you get in there and use up all the hot water,” Sam teased, grinning at Steve’s prone form. Steve flipped him the bird as Sam turned away with a chuckle and made his way into the small hotel bathroom.

This was always the worst part, Steve thought. Knowing that Sam was only a few feet away. Naked. And with his enhanced hearing he could hear Sam when he hummed or whistled under the spray. He’d also heard Sam do other things while in the shower, which had led to Steve, ashamedly, copying along and wondering what Sam actually looked like when he…

Steve shook his head. He should not be thinking about his friend like that, even if he knew that friend liked guys as well as girls, the way that he did himself. Even if Sam liked to flirt with him and leave him flustered. He should be concentrating on finding Bucky, because Bucky needed him.

The shower shut off and a minute later Sam reappeared, towel wrapped around his waist, chest still damp, and clutching his pants and underwear.

“All yours, Rogers. The pressure’s good too. Maybe a good shower will help you get out of your bad mood. I’m gonna order room service, cos I’ll be damned if I’m getting dressed to go out again. Want me to order the works?”

There he was again, looking out for Steve. ‘The works’ was code for ‘a super-soldier amount of food’. By ordering for himself he was making it look as though he wasn’t actively ensuring that Steve didn’t pass out from hunger. It apparently hadn’t taken long for Sam to get Steve’s number, although he wouldn’t put it past Nat to be slipping Sam information. Hell, she probably even had a dossier labelled ‘Dealing with Steve Rogers’.

“Sounds good. Thanks Sam,” Steve replied before sitting up and shucking his own shirt. He hesitated a moment, but realising how much time they’d already spent together, he also stripped out his jeans and socks and made his way into the bathroom in just his boxer briefs. Despite facing away from Sam, he got the feeling that the other man was watching him the whole time.

His shower took him ten minutes, and somehow, Steve managed to not jack off while he was in there, despite the urge being quite high. It did mean, however, that he had to try and hide his half-chub by holding his underwear in his hands in front of his towel before walking to the far side of his bed so that Sam couldn’t see him.

For his part, Sam wasn’t really paying attention. He’d changed into a pair of grey sweats and a red sleeveless tee and was currently standing at the hotel room door, accepting the trolley of food that had been sent up for them. On the surface it looked like a veritable feast, but Steve knew from experience that it was only just enough to keep his body going until the morning. There had to be some downsides to the serum, and having to spend a large portion of his back-pay on groceries and protein shakes was one of them.

Steve changed into his own sweats -navy - and his own tee - white and looking like it was a size too small - before moving across the room to investigate what Sam had ordered. His face lit up as he took in the selection.

“Thanks, Sam. You know me so well,” he exclaimed as he claimed the triple stack burger with its accompanying tower of onion rings and bucket of fries.

“No problem,” Sam replied. “Come on, let’s sit and watch some TV. We can eat on my bed, but wheel that trolley round your side. I’ve got all I want here.” He gestured to a large bowl of what looked like chicken and spicy rice that he’d placed on one of the side tables of his bed. Steve gave him a small nod, and then the pair of them got themselves comfortable.

Sam picked up the remote and flicked through several channels, before settling on a rerun of Hell’s Kitchen. “This okay with you?”

“Sure,” Steve mumbled around his burger. “I don’t want something I need to concentrate on.”

The next thirty minutes passed and Steve made his way through the pile of food that Sam had ordered for him, although Sam did steal a few fries from him once he’d finished his own meal. 

“You could have ordered some for yourself,” Steve jokingly chastised.

“Like you’ll miss five fries, you lug.” Sam jostled his arm against Steve’s and then they were both chuckling. The credits began to roll and Steve picked up the remote to find something else to put on. He flicked through the channels, the choices getting stranger and more niche the further up the list he went until….

“Fuck me, Daddy!”

Steve flushed, realising he’d scrolled as far as the porn channels and became very aware that he was sitting very close to Sam while on the screen a twinky young man was getting a good going over by a larger, burlier one.

“Ummm,” he stuttered out. He turned his head to look at Sam, but found the other man looking back at him with a grin on his face, but an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Didn’t know you had a ‘Daddy’ kink, Steve. But to each their own. Which one are you?”

Sam was teasing him. Obviously. But Steve found he couldn’t speak. His mouth had gone dry and in his mind’s eye he was lying on his back, Sam folding him in half, splitting him open and…

He must have been sitting silent and wide-eyed for too long, because he came back to himself, blinking at the sound of a deep chuckle, while the porno continued to play in the background.

“Oh, sugar. You’re gagging for it, aren’t you? And from the look on your face, you don’t want to be the Daddy. But are you looking for one?” Sam’s voice dropped even lower. “Want me to be your Daddy, Steve?”

“I - umm.” Steve’s brain was not co-operating, but that was probably because all his blood was in his dick, obscenely tenting his sweats, as his eyes roved of their own accord over Sam’s muscular body. Sam lifted his hand and cupped Steve’s face, brushing his thumb over one of Steve’s cheeks.

“You’re not as subtle as you think when you’re checking someone out. And that’s okay. I had a feeling there was something here when we first met, and then Nat confirmed it. But it’s down to you. We don’t have to do anything about it, if you don’t want to. Can forget this even happened, and just be friends. But I gotta let you know, you’re a sweet looking thing, Steve Rogers, and I care an awful lot for you. I’d be honoured to help you work out a little tension, if you’ll let me.”

Steve felt like a deer caught in headlights, an eerily familiar sensation. He wanted. Oh, how he wanted. But he was also conflicted. He was looking for Bucky. Bucky who he loved and now knew was alive. Should he do this? Indulge himself? He’d had no such qualms when he’d slept with Nat, and it wasn’t as though he didn’t have feelings for Sam as well, but the confusing thoughts swirled around in his mind.

“Talk to me, Steve. What’s going on in that enhanced brain of yours?” Sam was still gently stroking his face, not making any other move to touch him. Steve looked him straight in his eyes, saw the affection as well as the lust that was now clearly telegraphed and his defences, his reservations, ebbed away.

“Make me stop thinking, Sam. Please!” His plea was almost whispered - raw and desperate.

Sam’s smile widened as he shifted and moved closer, leaning over Steve as he sat on the bed and brought their lips together. 

Since waking up, despite what Nat had initially thought, Steve hadn’t been celibate, having sought out a few anonymous hook-ups with both men and women. The only problem had been that most people had assumed that because of his size that he’d naturally want to be in charge and while that may sometimes have been the case, it wasn’t what he wanted all of the time. However, as soon as Sam kissed him, leaned into it with natural dominance, Steve knew that Sam got him. Knew what Steve needed in the here and now. His heart sang and he felt no guilt as he turned himself over to the sensations.

He reached out, his hand curling into the front of Sam’s shirt just as Sam’s tongue demanded entry to his mouth. He let it in gladly, enjoying the soft urgency, filled with want, but also unhurried. He whined, his own tongue joining in the dance as Sam pressed him back onto the bed, lying on top of him. Steve didn’t know how long they made out for, slow and easy, with their bodies pressed together and their cocks brushing against each other through their clothes, but he could feel impatience - a neediness - burning through his veins, and when he began to roll his hips, in search of more friction, Sam broke away with a chuckle.

“Feeling needy, Steve? What do you want from me?” Sam questioned him gently, no doubt aware of how Steve was floating off into a different headspace. He dipped his head and nuzzled at Steve’s throat before latching onto a patch of skin and sucking a mark onto it. “We could just do this - make out and rub against each other? Or I could put my hand on you, stroke your no doubt pretty cock until you come and cry? Or we could go further? I could open you up, stretch you out and fuck you until you don’t know your own name?”

Steve let out a moan, his eyelids fluttering at the mental image Sam had painted for him. Sam just moved to the other side of his neck, raising a matching mark that would unfortunately fade too soon. “Words, sugar. Need to know you’re on board.” He reached down, open palm skimming over Steve’s chest, brushing against one of his nipples, causing it to peak under his shirt. Then, without warning, Sam pinched at it, and Steve wailed, the pain and the pleasure merging into one.

“Fuck me!” Somehow, he managed to make his voice work. “Please! Want you in me.”

Lazily, Sam brushed his palm over Steve’s other nipple, and gave it the same treatment.

“Who do you want in you, sugar?” he asked as he tweaked on the stiff nub.

“Daddy!” Steve cried out. “Wan’ Daddy to fuck me.”

Sam captured his lips again, and while Steve was dizzy and disoriented from the sudden harshness of it, Sam stripped him of his t-shirt, only breaking the kiss to pull the fabric over Steve’s head. 

Sam then moved back, stepping off the bed, quickly removing his own clothes and turning off the TV. Steve couldn’t move from where he was, his hands lying on the bed level with his head and his eyes squarely on Sam’s cock which bobbed in front of him, already shiny on the end with precum. Steve’s lips felt dry and he couldn’t help but wet them with his tongue, eliciting yet another rumbling laugh from Sam. 

“You’re cock-drunk already and I haven’t even started with you.”

He stepped closer again, his fingers curling around the waistband of Steve’s sweats, and perfunctorily peeled them from his body. Steve’s own cock bounced and slapped against his abs. Discarding Steve’s pants on the floor, Sam reached out and walked two fingers up the rigid length of Steve, from base to tip.

“Well, what do we have here? This all for me, baby?”

“‘S,” Steve mewled. “For you, Daddy.”

“And if Daddy was in the mood to ride this perfect cock, would you let him?” A disappointed noise left Steve’s throat at the question, because if that’s what Sam wanted then Steve would happily let him, but he just really wanted to be fucked right now - feel that stretch and burn and the almost overwhelming feeling of his prostate being rubbed just right by that perfect looking cock.

As if he could read Steve’s mind, Sam lay his hand flat on Steve’s abdomen and stroked upwards, soothing him. “It was just a question for another time, baby. I’m not gonna go back on my promise to turn you into a mess on my dick.”

“Yeah.” Steve shook his head earnestly. “‘Nother time. Let you do wha’ you want. But I need you.”

Sam gave him a knowing smile, before he dipped down to his bag, rummaging through it for a few moments before pulling out a bottle of lube. Then, with a broad grin, he crawled back up onto the bed, between Steve’s thighs.

“Pass Daddy a pillow, sugar.” At Sam’s gentle command, Steve reached up and snagged the one he wasn’t resting his head on, passing it down to Sam’s waiting hand. Then, with a tap to his hip, Steve planted his feet flat on the bed and lifted himself, so that Sam could wedge the pillow under his ass.

“Keep your legs like that,” Sam directed and Steve nodded his head, lower lip caught between his teeth. Sam flicked open the cap of the lube and squirted some out into his right palm, before taking a firm hold of Steve’s cock and starting to jerk it.

“Do you know how many times you can come, Steve? I take it you can recover quickly?”

Steve nodded again, before realising that Sam actually wanted a verbal answer. “F-four,” he replied. “‘Ve done four on my own.”

“Good boy,” Sam drawled, speeding up the motion of his hand so that his thumb pressed up Steve’s frenulum and over his tip, mixing the lube and Steve’s pre-cum together. “You come when you want. I’m gonna give you as many as you can handle.” 

With his free hand, Sam stroked over Steve’s body, sliding up to play with his nipples again, before going lower and cupping Steve’s heavy balls. He even dipped his head and mouthed at the soft skin of Steve’s thighs. All throughout he mumbled soft words of praise and encouragement, and it didn’t take long for Steve to reach his first peak. His hands fisted the sheet and his back arched as his cock jerked in Sam’s hold, shooting spurts of sticky, white cum over Sam’s fingers and his own stomach.

“There you go, sugar. One down…” Sam lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked Steve’s spend from them, a sight so down-right filthy that Steve’s eyes widened and he squirmed on the sheets. Sam just smiled back at him, before scooping more of the puddle up and moving his hand between Steve’s legs.

When Sam’s fingers connected with his hole, Steve shuddered, his cum still warm and slippery and Sam gently massaged at the taut ring of muscle. Steve tried to relax his body and let the sensations wash over him, but it wasn’t long before his cock was rock hard again and he was pressing up against Sam’s hand. Sam added more lube to his fingers, spreading it liberally, before pressing in with one finger. Steve let out a wordless moan, his body inviting the invading digit with ease. 

Sam pumped it in and out, quickly able to press the whole length of his finger inside Steve. He added a second, and Steve could almost hear the smirk on his face when Steve let out another groan. Sam spent a few minutes scissoring his fingers, stretching Steve out, before he crooked his fingers and Steve jerked like a puppet on a string. With a smile on his face, that Steve could only just see from under his lowered lashes, Sam started to rub gentle circles over Steve’s prostate. 

Steve was no stranger to a prostate massage, but it had been a long time since he’d had one so good. His cock was already twitching, precum coming out in little spurts with every press against that small organ inside him.

“Daddy…” he cried out, hoping Sam understood his need.

“Just relax,” Sam coaxed, wrapping his free hand back around Steve’s flushed cock and stroking in time with the pumps of his fingers. “There we go. Let it happen. Come for Daddy, baby.”

This time, it felt like a river - an endless stream - of cum just flowing from him and Steve writhed with the pleasure of it. 

Sam repeated the same thing when he added a third finger, rubbing over Steve’s spot, almost to the point of overstimulation, and firmly stroking Steve until he started to shudder. Sam this time took the tip of Steve’s cock in his mouth, sucking firmly, making it feel as though he was drawing the cum from him.

After that third orgasm, though, Sam finally gave Steve what he wanted, removing his hand and shuffling closer on his knees, before pressing his own weeping cock against Steve’s lax hole. He slid in easily, pressing in almost to the hilt on the first thrust, Steve’s primed body accepting him without complaint. He started thrusting slowly, taking the time to get to know Steve’s body like this - for them to both get used to it. He carefully avoided hitting Steve’s sensitive prostate head on, wanting to give him a reprieve for a short time and give himself time to enjoy this. Instead he leant over, his hands coming down onto the bed next to Steve’s own hands.

“Open your eyes, Steve. Look up at me.”

Steve dragged his eyes open, the delicate lids feeling as though they were weighed down with concrete. 

“You’re so pretty, sugar,” he drawled and then ducked his head down, taking Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and giving it a nip. Steve squeaked and bucked his hips up.

“More, Daddy. Please.”

“Don’t be a brat,” Sam cautioned as he dropped kisses over Steve’s collarbone and upper chest. “Just trust me. I’ll get you there. Now, wrap your legs around me.”

As Steve did so, his hips tilted a bit more, making it easier for Sam to slide his cock back and forth over Steve’s prostate. Steve drew in a ragged breath as he felt his nebulous fourth orgasm start to coalesce somewhere in his balls. His cock was trapped against Sam’s firm stomach, and his previous spend was easing the way.

Steve was starting to feel overwhelmed by it all, his hands carefully gripping Sam’s shoulders as he rolled his body to meet each one of Sam’s thrusts.

“Where do you want Daddy’s cum, baby? Do you want me to make a mess of your slutty hole?”

Steve couldn’t think of a single thing that would be better. “Yes,” he moaned out with enthusiasm. “‘M a dirty slut for you, Daddy.”

“And are you gonna come with me?” Sam asked, slyly.

“Yeah. Gon’ come. So close.” His words were slurred, the pleasure acting like a drug in his system.

“Do you need to touch yourself, or can you come like this?”

“Like this ‘s good. So good, Daddy.”

Sam altered his rhythm, slowing down, but making each stroker harder and deeper. He tangled the fingers of his right hand with Steve’s left and kissed him, each swipe of his lips an entreaty for Steve to come.  Then, with that first sensation of his orgasm racing up him, his body tightening, Steve heard Sam groan into his mouth and felt Sam’s cock twitch inside him, filling him all the way up.

Steve let himself float on the wave of bliss, only vaguely aware of Sam pulling away from him, and only because the lack of weight against his body made him feel more floaty. He tried to reach out with his hand, but it felt like a dead-weight and fell back onto the mattress.

“I’ll be right back,” Sam muttered quietly in his ear, and Steve just smiled dopily. A minute or so later, Sam’s hands were back on him, a warm, damp washcloth, wiping the sweat and cum from his skin. The pillow, that was probably ruined, was pulled out from under him, and then Steve felt Sam tugging at the coverlet, trying to get it over Steve’s frame that felt as if it was made from over-cooked noodles. 

Sam padded around the room, clearing the plates from their meal and turning out the lights until the only illumination came from one small lamp. When he climbed into the bed, his naked body brushing up against Steve’s side, Sam came to rest facing Steve, propped up on one elbow. His fingers gently raked through Steve’s hair.

“Feel better? Was that okay?”

Steve sighed happily and snuggled against Sam’s form. “Was excellent. Thank you.”

“No problem. I really do care for you, you know?”

Steve tilted his head to look up at Sam’s face, taking note of the serious expression in his dark eyes.

“I care for you too, Sam. A lot.”

Sam dropped a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Good to know. And maybe, next time, we can try for five? What do you think about that?”

Steve just smiled against Sam’s skin, wrapping both his arms around the other man and pulling him into a tighter embrace before succumbing to sleep.

Chapter 6

As they were growing up together, Bucky went through a range of realizations and assumptions, some of which he’s since grown from and some which stuck. As he grew a bit older, he realized he can’t love Steve, because Steve is a boy and he’s a boy and that isn’t allowed. Then he couldn’t love Steve, because even if it was allowed, Bucky likes girls. He likes dating girls, he likes kissing them, he likes making them laugh the same way Mr. Rogers always makes Mrs. Rogers laugh. 

Then he realized maybe he liked boys too, and maybe he loved Steve. But then Steve was dating a girl from his church named Peggy Carter, and they’d been dating a long time and Steve called her his girl. 

And they danced to Christmas carols and he made her laugh and when they looked at each other, Steve got this sparkle in his eyes and Bucky knew he loved her. And Bucky wanted to be jealous, he wanted to hate her and wanted her to fuck right off; but she made Steve smile and Bucky loves when Steve smiles. He couldn’t make himself feel jealous no matter how hard he tried. 

Of course, now he knows they didn’t last. They were just high school sweethearts; they loved each other while it lasted, but then Peggy got a scholarship to a university in England and she moved away and Steve was bittersweet about it. He knew the long distance wouldn’t work for them, but he was sad it was over. They called it quits the August they had to go off to their respective colleges, but they were still smiling and Steve let her go with the promise of one more dance, sometime down the road. 

Then he told himself, he can’t love Steve because Steve is heartbroken and he misses Peggy and even if Steve did want to be with Bucky, which he doesn’t, Bucky isn’t sure he’ll ever really measure up to Steve’s first love. 

And then Steve got over it, and he came out to Bucky as bi, and Bucky realized: he might have a chance. If Steve liked guys, and he could maybe like Bucky, maybe Steve would be willing to try dating Bucky. 

But Bucky tried; he flirted and he hinted and one day he finally asked if Steve was interested in dating, and he had said I dunno, Buck. Maybe if I meet someone I really like, again. And then Bucky knew. Even if Steve liked guys, he didn’t like Bucky. Not romantically, anyway. 

But that was fine, for Bucky. He still loved Steve, and they’re still best friends, and that’s enough. They’ll never dance to carols in the Christmas tree lights, and they’ll never laugh in each other’s arms, and Steve will never look at him with that sparkle in his eye. But Steve will laugh beside him, and he’ll show Bukcy his drawings when he won’t show anyone else, and he’ll tell Bucky all his deepest secrets. And that’s enough. 

Bucky had still been getting used to the lack of hope in his chest for Steve, when they started their spring semester of Steve’s freshman and his sophomore year. They had signed up for the same psych class, and they had gotten there early so they could steal the desks in the back right of the classroom like always. 

And then a boy sat next to Bucky, and grinned at him. “Were you in anthropological theory last semester, with Dr. Pace?”

Bucky had blinked, turning to face the boy and see if he could remember him. “Yeah, I was,” he had said, still trying to recognize him.

“I had the class in that classroom right before your class started,” the boy had said, and pulled out his notebook. “I saw you sometimes, because you would always get there early.”

Bucky had smiled at him, offering his hand. “I guess it was fate,” he started. “I’m James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Sam Wilson,” the boy had introduced, taking Bucky’s hand. “So are you an anth major or a psych major?”

Bucky had laughed, because it had been funny to him at the time. “History major, actually. What about you?”

Sam’s eyes had lit up with interest, and he had turned his whole body to Bucky. Steve was shifting beside Bucky in boredom, but Bucky didn’t wanna be rude. “I’m a psych major and anth minor. I guess you beat me, though, unless the anth class was for humanities credit?”

“Beat you?” Bucky had asked, but he had felt like Sam stole all his breath when he smiled. “I’m a double minor, anth and psych.”

“Yeah!” Sam had said, leanings towards Bucky. “You got two minors, you beat me. Plus you’re a history major, so I guess you like people even more than I do.”

“Bucky,” Steve had whispered, and Bucky had felt bad. 

“Oh, this is my best friend, Steve,” Bucky had said, reluctantly turning away from Sam to smile at Steve. He leaned back in his chair so they can see each other. “He’s a psych major too, for now,” Bucky had said. Steve really wanted to be an art major, but Sarah wouldn’t approve. 

Sam had watched Bucky talk, but he had turned to look at Steve and his smile had disappeared. “You!” he had said loudly, pointing. “You’re the guy that always passes me when I run in the mornings! You’re ‘on your left’ guy!”

Steve’s face had turned bright red, but he had puffed his chest out proudly. “I didn’t know I had earned a nickname, but sure,” he had said, his own smile forming. “Now I can say your name when I pass you, at least.”

Sam had scoffed, scooting closer to them both and grinning. “Nah, nah, now it’s personal. Now I know you. Now I gotta beat you.”

“Not gonna happen,” Steve had argued, and Bucky had forgotten how to breathe for a second. He liked both of their smiles so much, liked the way Sam had a gap in between his teeth and he liked the way Steve’s dimples popped only if he was smiling wide enough. “I’m on the track team, and they’re even talking about making me captain next year even though I’m a freshman.”

“Oh, it’s personal now,” Sam had said, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re on.”

And just like that, they became a trio. They ran in the mornings; Steve usually lapping them while they laughed and struggled to keep up. They studied for tests together, they went to parties together, they even ate most of their meals together. They made new friends together; found a larger friend group together. 

They did things separately too, of course. Bucky and Sam studied for and talked about their anthropology classes without Steve. Steve and Sam race alone sometimes. Bucky and Steve share a dorm room together without Sam. 

Bucky falls in love with Sam alone. He falls in love with his laugh, with the way he throws his head back and laughs as loud as he wants without worrying about what anyone around them is thinking. He falls in love with Sam’s smile, and the gap between his teeth, and the way tilts his head when Bucky or Steve say something he finds especially amusing. He falls in love with the way Sam argues with him, the way they can bicker for days straight but know it’s all in good fun. He loves the way Sam talks about the things he’s passionate about, loves the way he can go hours straight ranting about a subject if Bucky goads him on. He loves how Sam talks about flying when he gets high, and the way he’ll hold his arms out as if the wind could take him away if he wished hard enough. 

He gets confused alone; because he thought finding someone else to love would free him from his prison of unrequited love for Steve, but he doesn't love Steve any less. He doesn’t feel like he’s over Steve, doesn’t feel any less affection for the blond. He still wants to kiss Steve and make him laugh, and Steve’s smile still knocks the breath out of him.

He’s scared to do anything about any of it, because he doesn’t want to risk losing either of them. They’re his best friends, and that’s enough for Bucky   

~~~

The only reason Sam has waited as long as he has to ask out the man who’s captured his attention for half a year is because he thought he was in a situationship. He had tried to hit on Bucky the first time he worked up the nerve to actually say something to him, but then the blond beside him had interjected himself into the conversation. 

Now, of course, he thinks their both his best friends. He doesn’t feel the initial flair of irritation he had the first time he laid eyes on Steve Rogers. But he had backed off, like the good friend he is, to let their seemingly inevitable coupling happen. 

But it’s been a whole semester and the whole summer and a few weeks after that, and neither of them have made a move on the other. So, Sam decided: why not? The worst that can happen is that Bucky rejects him, and they can both go back to pretending it never happened.

Besides, he thinks Bucky likes him, too, anyway. He looks at Sam the same way he looks at Steve, and he gets that same dumb smile on his stupidly pretty face when he looks at the both of them. 

The final straw was after Parker did that dumb quiz at the goading of everyone else. Some of the questions made Bucky look at him, and he had been looking right back. And other than the singular awkward comment from Steve about secrets, he didn’t do anything else. He had even gone to sit next to Parker after the quiz, leaving him and Bucky alone on the loveseat. It may as well have been permission. 

Just to be safe, Sam still waited a couple weeks, just in case the pair were simply working up the nerve. But Steve didn’t make a move, and neither had Bucky. So that’s how he finds himself here, in Bucky and Steve’s apartment while Steve is in one of his art classes. 

“What’s up?” Bucky asks, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him. 

Sam grins and sits next to Bucky, bumping wrists with him. “Nothing much, how’s it going with you?”

“Fine,” Bucky says, turning his attention to the TV where some rerun is muted. “I’m a little worried about the anth paper due tomorrow, but I don’t really have anything else going on.”

Sam nods, tapping his hands on his legs anxiously. He opens his mouth to say something, and then coughs into his fist instead. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks, turning his attention to Sam.

Sam nods, scratching the back of his head before sighing. He felt so confident before coming over here, he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all the sudden. “Yeah, I’m just. I uh. I have something to tell you.”

Bucky grabs the remote and turns the TV all the way off, turning to face Sam fully. “Okay. You can tell me anything, Sam.”

Sam smiles, feeling more confident again already. He’s sure that Bucky likes him back, at least as much as he likes Steve. “Bucky…I wanted to tell you that I like you.” He looks away for a second, before smiling again. “And I wanna date you, if that’s something you wanted.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, and he swallows thickly. “Really? You like-you like me? Me?”

Sam smirks, turning to face Bucky fully. “Yeah, Buck. I like you.”

Bucky has a smile growing on his lips, and he ducks his head shyly. “I…I like you too.”

Sam laughs softly, because they’re like a couple of schoolgirls admitting to their first crush. He would find it ridiculous, except it’s hard for him to find anything Bucky does ridiculous. “So, you’ll go out with me?”

Bucky bites his lip, sighing and leaning away from Sam. “I want to go out with you, but I have to tell you something first.”

Sam quirks a brow, scooting closer. “What is it?”

“I do like you,” Bucky starts, smiling at Sam again. “I whole lot. But I also-I also like Steve. I know that’s a little…” He trails off, fidgeting and looking away again. 

Sam only shrugs, putting a hand on Bucky’s knee. “I know you do. I don’t mind it, if you don’t.”

Bucky blinks, frowning at him. “No, I mean…romantically. Like, how I like you.”

“I know,” Sam says, a fond grin settling on his face. Bucky’s eyes flit down to see it, before looking back up at Sam’s eyes. “You can like Steve too, I don’t mind. I want to date you, I want you to be my boyfriend. But if it doesn’t work out, I want you to be my friend more. We can always go back to being just friends, I won’t have any hard feelings.”

Bucky looks confused, but he finally nods, smiling. “I want to date you too.” He scoots closer, looking back down at Sam’s lips before looking back up. “And I want to kiss you.”

Sam smirks, leaning in until their lips are almost touching. “Then kiss me.”

Bucky leans forward the last little bit, connecting their lips and moving one hand up to cup the back of Sam’s neck. 

It’s everything Sam ever thought it would be. He pulls Bucky closer, ducking his head for a better angle. Bucky’s hand tightens on the back of his neck and it sends a shiver down his spine, makes him want to get that much closer. So he does; until his folded right leg is practically in Bucky’s lap and they’re as close as this angle will allow. 

Bucky moves his free hand up Sam’s chest until it cups Sam’s jaw, and Sam leans into it, improving the angle of their kiss in the process. Sam’s hands wander, one finding a home in Bucky’s long hair and the other gently fisting the front of Bucky’s shirt to keep him close. 

Sam is the one to pull away first, his head feeling dizzy after such a perfect kiss. He laughs breathily, giddy, and Bucky echos the sentiment. “Woah,” he whispers finally, his breath ghosting Bucky’s reddened lips. 

“Woah,” Bucky agrees, his usual smirk confidently in place. “C’mere,” he says, one hand sliding down Sam’s side until it squeezes his hip, gently encouraging Sam closer. “I wanna do it again.”

Sam laughs, because Bucky is just so…Bucky. But he does, he gets up on one knee and slings his left leg around Bucky’s hip so he can rest on Bucky’s thigh. He doesn’t really feel shy, per se, but the way Bucky is looking at him right now makes him feel some type of way. He’s hooked up with people since Riley, but it’s been so long since someone liked him like this. He could get used to it, he thinks. “Well?” he prompts, a grin in his voice. “You gonna kiss me again or what?”

And oh, he does. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, Sam can’t really remember. All he knows is that it felt good to kiss Bucky Barnes, and to sit in his lap, and to feel up his abs and let Bucky feel him over in turn. They only stopped kissing because Steve’s keys were jiggling in the lock, and neither of them want to deal with that just yet. So Sam had given him one more soft kiss, grinning at him in promise, before sliding off of Bucky’s lap and settling on the other end of the couch just in time for the door to swing open. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says, the TV turning on and remaining mute just in time. “How was class?”

“Good,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and locking it. “We were- hey Sam- working on shading today, and that’s always my favorite part.” Sam waves at him, and Steve smiles and nods back. He looks to the TV, making a face. “Why are you watching Friends on mute?”

“Really, really bored,” Bucky answers, shooting Steve that dazzling smirk that turns anyone who sees it’s stomach into butterflies. Or maybe Sam is biased; but Steve is not unaffected either. “Plus, I’m supposed to be working on a paper, and if I keep it on mute then I’m not technically procrastinating.”

Steve blinks slowly, brain whirring to try and follow the non-existant logic. “That makes no sense at all, Buck.” He hangs up his coat and makes his way towards the kitchen. 

Bucky shrugs, waits for Steve to be out of sight before turning his smile to Sam. 

Sam smiles right back at him, getting lost in those gorgeous blue eyes. Fuck, they may be able to not tell Steve, but Steve is going to figure it out eventually if they keep this up. And Sam, for one, doesn’t want this to stop.

~

It was perfect. Okay, it wasn’t perfect; the movie they went to see sucked ass and the popcorn had been stale. But they had fun whispering about it and making fun of it, and the ice cream they got after was delicious, and Bucky had taken Sam home and kissed him at the door. 

Sam almost invited him in, but they aren’t there yet and Sam is enjoying taking it a bit slow. He wants to enjoy the puppy-love stage while it last; enjoy the novelty of it, enjoy the secrecy from their friends. 

And now they’re walking hand in hand around campus, killing time together. Steve has a class that doesn’t let out for another 45 minutes, and then the three of them are supposed to eat lunch together. 

“I like when the weather is like this,” Bucky says, soft, like he doesn’t want to burst the bubble of happiness their enveloped in. “Cooling off but not cold yet.”

Sam hums his agreement, pointing at a tree in the middle of the courtyard. “I like when the leaves start changing color but they haven’t fallen yet. ‘S pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” Bucky mumbles, and Sam laughs at him, swatting his arm playfully. “Let’s sit under it, no one else is over there.”

Sam hums, already leading them over. “You’re just full of good ideas, babe.”

“I try,” Bucky snarks, sitting in between two roots and pulling Sam down to sit in between his legs. Sam is half facing Bucky and half facing away, one leg over Bucky’s left thigh and one under Buck’s bent knee. “Comfy?”

“Hmm,” Sam says, grinning up at him. “Pretty comfy. A little chilly.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but takes the hint, wrapping his arms around Sam and pulling him just a bit closer. Sam sighs happily and rests his head under Bucky’s chin, shifing a bit to make the angle work better. “Warmer?” Bucky teases. 

“Much better,” he agrees, kissing Bucky’s collarbone gently. 

Bucky laughs softly, gently rests his chin on the top of Sam’s head. One hand rubs at Sam’s arm soothingly, and Sam curls his hands around Bucky’s arm in front of him. “You’re more cuddly than I thought you would be,” he says after a while.

Sam snorts, pulls back to look up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, kissing Sam’s nose. “Not complaining or anythin’, just saying.” He sits with it for a second, and then shrugs. “I guess you’ve always been pretty touchy with everyone, I just didn’t-didn’t take you for a cuddler.”

Sam rolls his eyes, kissing Bucky’s chin and leaning further away after. “You should stop talking. Put that mouth to better use.”

Bucky grins and wiggles his eyebrows, making Sam laugh before he shuts the both of them up by kissing Sam. Sam’s breath is still hitching with residual laughter, but he’s very quickly distracted by Bucky’s lips, Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s chest against his shoulder. 

Sam pulls away first again, because it’s like Bucky can hold his breath forever or something, jeez, and smiles at Bucky. “I-”

Bucky had been looking at him, but then his eyes flit above Sam’s shoulder and his smile disappears. “Uh oh,” he mumbles, but he doesn't sound very distressed. 

Sam turns around, tries to follow his line of sight. “What?” he asks, surveying the area. Then he sees him; Steve, cheeks pink and eyes wide. “Oh. Uh oh,” Sam mimics. Steve turns on his heel and starts walking far too quickly to be considered normal, and Sam sighs. “Well, that didn’t last very long.”

Bucky shrugs, and it feels weird around Sam’s shoulders. “He was gonna find out eventually, I guess. I wonder why he left instead of giving us shit.”

Sam looks at Bucky, unimpressed, but he doesn’t look like he’s fucking with Sam. He’s looking after Steve, lost in thought. But he isn’t racing to get up, to chase after him; no, he’s content to stay here, with Sam in his arms, just wondering. 

Sam is starting to piece together that Bucky doesn’t know Steve likes him back. Everyone knows Steve likes Bucky back, how can Bucky possibly be this oblivious. “If you wanna go talk to him-”

“Nah,” Bucky says instantly, smiling back down at Sam. “Let him figure out what he’s feeling before we ask him, I’ve learned that the hard way too many times growing up.”

Sam shrugs, moving one hand up to cup the back of Bucky’s neck. “Okay. Then, you should kiss me some more,” he unsubtly hints.

Bucky smiles, and Sam’s heart skips a beat, and oh, this is trouble. This feels an awful lot like falling love.  

~~~

Steve has a lot of friends, and his best friends are Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. But he can’t talk to them about this, right now; mostly because this is about them.

He quickly goes through the list of people he would be willing to talk about this with. He likes Thor a whole lot, but he wouldn’t be much help here. Bruce told Steve once, when they were high at some get together, that Thor called Bruce stupid for messing around with Nat. Steve doesn’t need to be told he’s stupid right now; he knows he’s stupid. 

He doesn’t want to talk to Bruce either. Bruce is either high, angry, or he’s depressed and all three of those versions of Bruce are not very good at cheering people up. 

Wanda and Vis wouldn’t be any help at all, as much as he loves them. Wanda would just pity him and Vis would talk about how life is more than watching other people live it or some deep shit like that, probably. 

Him and Rhodey aren’t close like that, and he wouldn’t care about Steve’s turmoil even if they were. Steve always has the feeling that Rhodey likes maybe two whole people other than Tony Stark, and everyone else he tolerates. A couple psych classes together isn’t enough to get Steve on that list. 

He thinks about going to Peter, because Peter is a good friend and he’s always willing to listen and offer advice to his friends. But Peter might be too nice, and Steve really needs to figure out what the fuck is happening inside his head, even if it isn’t nice. 

That pretty much leaves Natasha, who Steve should have thought about first. She’s probably his best friend outside of Bucky and Sam, her snark and charm making him like her easily. And she likes him too, for some reason, choosing him to talk to about her struggles with Bruce and Clint. Maybe it’s time she returns the favor. 

Except for, by the time Steve gets there, he can hear her and Clint going at it through the door. Something about always doing this, and never listening, and whatnot. He knocks on the door, hears Clint loudly ask if her other boyfriend is here, wishes he could take the knock back. Natasha huffs so loud he can hear it through the door, and it’s almost a growl. She opens the door with a murderous glare on her face. “What?”

“Uh,” Steve starts, catches Clint’s eye over Nat’s shoulder. “Well, I was hoping I could talk to you about something, but it seems like a bad time…”

“I was just leaving,” Clint mumbles, hands in his pockets. 

“No you weren’t” Nat hisses, looks over her shoulder at him. “This isn’t over, you aren’t off the hook yet.” Clint rolls his eyes at her, crosses his arms over his chest. She huffs and looks back at Steve, jaw working angrily. “It is a bad time, actually. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Steve swallows thickly, nods once. “Uh…” he looks to Clint, who tilts his head at Steve with a tired smile on his face. Nat is lucky Clint is such a dick about her feelings, or he would have left her a long time ago. “Right, okay. Call me later.” 

The door is shut in his face, and Nat doesn’t even walk away from it before starting her screaming again. Embarrassing me this, walking away from me that. It would be humbling, how little his relationship problems seem to be in comparison to hers, if his problems weren’t still bothering him.

He doesn’t want to talk to Tony. He half hates the guy with his careless attitude and daddy’s money, but Tony is nothing if not brutally honest. And, Steve has run out of people to talk to, really. Plus, Steve remembers, Tony is having relationship issues as well. Kind of. And friendship issues. Is anyone in their group still talking to Tony, actually? Nat, probably. Tony could never say anything mean enough to her to scare her off; she has thick skin. His apartment is closest to Nat’s anyways. 

He’s already there before he’s decided if he’s going, and he takes a deep breath before knocking. Tony answers after long enough that Steve was considering knocking again, a scowl on his face. “Rogers,” he greets. 

“Stark,” Steve says, cocking his head to the side. “Can I come in?”

Tony narrows his eyes at the blond. “Why?”

Steve rolls his eyes, fights the surge of irritation. “Jesus, Tony, will you just let me in? What, are you expecting someone? New girl-of-the-week?”

Tony scoffs, but he opens the door wider and steps to the side. “No, I just don’t like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, pal,” he mumbles as he steps inside, letting Tony lock the door behind him. “But you’re honest and you don’t give a shit about my feelings, and I need help figuring out my head.”

Tony laughs at that, almost genuine, eyebrows in his hair. “You want me to help you figure out your head? I can’t even figure out my own head, pal.”

Steve rolls his eyes, paces the living room floor. “I think I might be in love with Bucky,” he says instead of answering.

“Okay,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that all? Took you long enough to realize that one.”

Steve makes a frustrated noise. “I saw him kissing Sam. I think they’re together.”

Tony snorts, piecing together the irony quickly, and shakes his head. “What, am I the expert of unrequited love, now? On waiting too long and missing your chance? Fuck off.”

Steve sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why did I even come here, you’re never any help. To anyone. Ever.”

Tony laughs, mean, cocks his head to the side. “What did you want me to say, Rogers? What were you expecting from me?”

“I don’t know!” Steve says, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I don’t know how to feel, and I don’t know what to do now. All I know is that I just figured out I’m in love with my best friend because I saw him kissing my other best friend and realized I want that.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Tony asks, his voice lower than it was a second ago. “Like you said, I’m not known for my emotional intelligence, or my stellar friendship.” He steps closer, and Steve stops pacing to look at him. Tony takes another step, and another, until they’re only inches apart. “That’s not my reputation,” Tony says, almost a purr, and his hand lands on Steve’s chest.

Steve feels his breath quicken, and he stares at Tony incredulously. “I want-I wanted you to…”

“Hmm?” Tony asks, lifting his palm so just his fingers are on Steve’s chest. Then he moves them down, down and down and down, and Steve half wants to yell at him and slap his hand away and half wants Tony’s hand to keep going, to not stop where he does at Steve’s belt. Tony’s fingertips hook under the belt just so, and his smirk is somehow both mean and inviting all at once. “What do you want?”

“Don’t,” Steve whispers, even if he doesn’t really want Tony to stop. His brain is too foggy for this, all of his emotions are swirling around inside and confusing him. 

Tony’s hand leaves his body, but he doesn’t step away. He simply cocks his head to the side, staring up at Steve in challenge. “I’m not going to talk about your feelings, Stevie. You know that; so what do you want from me?”

“I thought…” Steve licks his lips, watches Tony’s eyes follow the movement. “I thought you said you were straight,” he asks, buying himself time.

“Do you want me to fuck you or not, Rogers?” Tony asks, and Steve is startled by the vulgarity. 

And by how much he suddenly does, in fact, want to sleep with Tony. 

Steve steps closer, and Tony has to tilt his head up a bit to look at Steve. His eyes are pretty when he isn’t wearing his glasses, a deep brown that’s warm and inviting even if the look Tony is giving him is cold and calculating. “This isn’t a good idea,” Steve whispers, hands twitching at his sides. 

Tony smirks, then, reaches up with one hand to cup the back of Steve’s neck. It isn’t forceful or pushing; just there, just encouraging. “I’m full of bad ideas, baby,” he purrs. 

~

It’s hitting Steve all at once how completely he’s fucked up. Even more than he originally thought he messed up, before he talked with Peter. Before he thought he had messed up as much as possible by sleeping with Tony. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s aware that sleeping with someone he kind of hates isn’t a great idea. Doing so because he’s jealous of Sam and Bucky is worse. Sleeping with a guy that his friend kind of-sort of has a claim on is even worse. But telling Peter about it is by far the worst part about his astronomical fuck up. 

He had been thinking that, if it were him, he would want to know. He would want to have been told, if Sam and Bucky had just told him instead of making him watch them flirt and-

But that’s different, because Steve isn’t dating anyone new. He isn’t trying to move on, and Bucky and Sam aren’t treating him like shit. It’s so obviously a different situation that Steve wonders how he could be so self centered as to not see it.

His mother would be so disappointed in him. 

To be fair, everything about Steve’s life right now would make her disappointed. The only thing he has going for him right now is that he’s actually enrolled in college and getting good grades. Maintaining his scholarships. That’s it. 

God, he has to see her in a couple weeks for fall break. He has to face her and look into her eyes and lie through his teeth about his entire life. 

Steve rubs a hand over his face, leg bouncing rapidly. He’s just staring out the window right now, fighting the urge to grab himself a drink from the fridge. He doesn’t want to use it as a crutch like that.

Sometimes he’s jealous of his friends, like Vis and Tony. Their parents are rich, sure, and he is jealous of that; he’s more jealous that they know they’re parents don’t like them. Steve is stuck in this in between area where they like him; but would they, if they knew who we really was?

Would they still love him if they knew he left the church? If they knew he liked guys? If they knew he was an art major, if they knew he was going to be an art therapist instead of a 500 an hour one? He wants to know and he doesn’t; because he thinks he knows the answer and he isn’t sure he’ll survive it. He loves his parents, so fucking much, and he doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes as they realize they don’t love him anymore. 

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice rings, making Steve jump a foot in the air and look over his shoulder. “I’m home. Are you here?”

“In here,” Steve calls, smoothing out his pants and pulling his sketchbook closer to himself. He had been half-working on a personal piece, not anything for class. 

Bucky walks around the corner, throwing his keys in the bowl. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve looks away from Bucky, adding a few strands of hair with his pencil. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks after a long pause.

Bucky doesn’t answer for long enough that Steve stops and looks up. When they meet eyes Bucky lets out a loud sigh, rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Wasn’t sure how you would react, really. We only got together a week ago.”

Steve looks away again, deciding to add some more shadows. “You know I’m bi, right? You know I wouldn’t-”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Bucky agrees, shrugging. “Not what I meant.”

Steve runs his finger over the page, blurring the lines until it’s just solid color in the shadows. “What did you mean, then?”

Bucky sighs again, pulls the other chair at the table out and taps his fingers on his thighs. “It’s different than some guy I met someonwhere. It’s Sam. It’s our best friend.”

Steve shrugs, smudging some more shadows under the chin. “As long as you don’t break up, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? Doesn’t affect me at all.”

Bucky scoffs, scratching at the table. “Stop. I know you have thoughts about this, I saw you run away after you saw us- saw us.”

Steve fights down the surge of irritation. Bucky is being reasonable, he tells himself, he just doesn’t want to feel vulnerable. “I don’t care that it’s Sam,” Steve only kind of lies. He does care, but he doesn’t know why. Probably some unreasonable reason, the same reason why he’s mad at Bucky for dating anyone else at all. 

“So why are you mad?” Bucky asks, not taking the hint. Or maybe he knows Steve doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s why he wants to.

Steve sighs, coloring in the pupil some more. “I don’t know. I’m mad you guys didn’t tell me. Your both my best friends, and neither of you-I don’t know. I feel left out.”

“You feel left out of our relationship,” Bucky says, deadpan, and he must be in a bad mood because he’s usually more patient with Steve. 

“Yes,” Steve says, half to be honest and half to piss Bucky off. He looks up, scratching his nose, glares at Bucky. “Asshole. I meant, I’m a third wheel again and I don’t like it. I’ve never liked being your third wheel.”

Bucky looks at him, his face softening. “You aren’t a third wheel, Stevie. You’re still our best friend. And we- Sam and I agreed that if stuff gets awkward or it doesn’t work we’ll just go back to being friends.”

Steve makes a face and looks down, rubbing under his eyes and shifting the page for a different angle. “Fine, then,” Steve mumbles. He scratches his forehead, leaning back in his chair and frowning at the picture. It’s missing something.

Bucky sighs in annoyance. “Don’t be a dick, Steve.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, just as annoyed. He angrily smudges the shadows again, added more and darker streaks with his pencil to intensify them before smudging them out again. He should have brought a q-tip with him. “I told you why I’m upset.”

“I want you-Steve.” Steve rolls his eyes and looks up, scowling. Bucky mades a weird noise in the back of his throat, his breath catching. His eyes soften, and he cocks his head to the side. “You got black on your face, sweetheart.”

Steve blushes pink and rubs at his forehead where he just scratched, scowling at the back of his hand when lead comes off. “Whatever.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, stands up. “This is why I didn’t wanna tell you. Because you get all pouty when something changes.” He goes to the fridge, grabs a beer. “Want one?”

Steve sticks his tongue out at Bucky’s back, before going back to his drawing. “Sure,” he says. “And I don’t pout, I’m not Nat.”

“And I’m not Clint, it won’t work on me,” Bucky retorts, passing the beer. 

Steve grins, feeling the peace slowly be restored. “Whatever,” he says, smoothing out his shadows a bit more. 

Bucky watches him add to the drawing for a few moments in silence, sipping o nhis beer every once in a while. “So, we’re good?”

Steve looks up, scratches the tip of his nose before looking down at his thumb in annoyance. Bucky laughs, and Steve grins, rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” Bucky says. “So I can invite Sam over?”

Steve hums, looking back down at his drawing and trying to figure out what’s missing. “Yeah, sure. Order a pizza, too?”