#samtember2022

samtember 2022 - Day 23

02 Samtember 2022: Boat / Fishing

I am fire. I am life incarnate

A quick drawing of Sam using his shield to protect himself from the rain for @samtember2022 (26th September - Rainy day)

my convenience store dream boy

sambucky | T | 7.9k | one shot | 5+1 | complete | ao3

a cap!sam/bodega owner!bucky au, written for @samtember2022 day 23: cake cake cake and @samwilsonbingo square N5: captain america (bingo #6!)

a wonderfully happy birthday to captain america himself, and the lovely anthony mackie! (why yes, i did get this in literally 15 minutes before midnight on the 24th in my timezone. technically not late!)

summary:

five times captain america sam wilson saved bodega owner bucky barnes, and one time bodega owner bucky barnes saved captain america sam wilson

excerpt:

“Do you think I’m gonna get to meet Hawkeye?” Kate asks excitedly, ignoring the throat-clearing cough from Clint. She looks over at Bucky. “Maybe you’ll get to meet Cap, Buck. He’ll fall in love with you like you always dream he does when you stare at the shirtless calendar he did that you somehow never seem to change from July of three years ago.”

It’s a lot harder for Bucky to ignore Clint’s laughter than it was for Kate to ignore his coughing. “I’m a busy man, Kate, keeping this place afloat. I don’t always have time to change the calendar or even buy new ones for the current year. Besides, I bought that calendar to help out homeless vets.”

The weight of the shelf is suddenly off of Bucky’s shoulders, and he looks up into the cutest gap-tooth smile he’s ever seen and two gorgeous brown eyes, pretty enough to make him just melt.

“I’m sure they appreciate your support,” Captain America says, setting the shelf back upright with ease. “If I do another calendar this year would you remember to buy one?”

Bucky tries for suave but his voice comes out a little too far on the side of squeaky. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

Sunlight peeked through the hotel curtains onto Sam's face, stirring him from his sleep. He blinked the light out of his eyes and tried to lift his head to roll over onto his other side. Wrong move. It felt as though gravity was pulling him to the floor --scratch that-- to the basement. His arms wouldn't even budge; his sheets were twisted and tied around his waist and legs, and they felt unusually warm. The pounding in his head competed with the bitter taste of bile. Man, he hated hangovers.

Sam tried to remember what he did last night. He'd gotten kapsalon from a little spot near the hotel before wandering the streets a bit. It was his last night in Rotterdam and his flight was late-morning, so he figured a night out wouldn't hurt. Oh, that's right, he ended up at a rowdy bar. And Sam being Sam, he made friends in no time. They drank, played darts, and even danced a bit.

He remembers someone pulling up behind him, stubble brushing his neck as they wrapped their arm around his waist and slid a leg between his, a lot like--

He whipped his head around, hangover be damned. There was Bucky Barnes curled around him, soft breaths blowing the hair that covered his face.