It's late when the three of them get up to their hotel suite, duffel bags in tow. It's probably the nicest place they've stayed in since they left Wakanda – the main living area has comfy-looking armchairs opposite a matching couch, with cushions and throw blankets. There's a sleek kitchenette too, and a small table with four chairs. It looks like something out of a magazine with the polished wooden floors and soft lighting.
"I forgot what it was like living off Tony's pay check," Sam says, taking it all in.
Steve picks up the room service menu and starts looking through it. "Same. I mean, sometimes the roaches reminded me of Brooklyn, but most of the time – well, roaches."
"That's gross, man."
Bucky disappears through one of the doors off the living area, his footsteps wandering the two bedrooms and ensuites. Cupboards get opened and closed, curtains drawn shut. Tony booked the room for them under a false name, and it's not like they need to worry about bugs anymore - the other type of bugs - but it's become routine for Sam and Steve in the last nine months, and it's been a habit of Bucky's for even longer.
Steve follows Bucky into one of the rooms, their murmurs barely reaching Sam's ears. They've only been together since last Tuesday - there was a big kiss and everything. They looked like two bears licking honey off each other's mouths. But since they split up from Clint, Wanda, and Scott two weeks ago, the other three don't even know, so Sam's had to weather the beginning of Steve and Bucky's honeymoon phase alone. Watching them pine for months on end was bad enough, but at least then he had the others to share long-suffering looks with behind the lovebirds' backs.
Sam takes the other room, his bag hitting the bed with a thump. There's a TV mounted on the wall, chocolates on the pillows, and when he peeks out through the curtains, the night lights of Barcelona stretch on into the horizon.
"Hey," Steve says, appearing at the door. "We're ordering room service, you want anything?"
"Surprise me. I'm gonna have a shower."
It's one of those rain showers, and the water pressure is perfect, the tension seeping out of Sam's muscles as he stands under the spray. They drove all day to get here, only stopping to switch drivers or take a bathroom break or tend to Steve and Bucky's monster metabolisms, so he's tired and cramped. He doubts he'll be able to sleep tonight, though.
In one of their bags – Steve's, probably, he had it last – is a copy of the amended Accords Tony sent them. They've been reading through it for two weeks, making sure they understand and agree with it all, making sure everything they spent the last three months negotiating for over the phone is in there. Clint, Scott, and Wanda have been doing the same with the copy they've got. The three of them are driving through the night to get to the hotel in time for breakfast tomorrow morning, and Tony will arrive at about eight with the UN-appointed witness in tow.
They'll sign their names on the dotted lines, and then they'll fly home in Tony's private jet.
Which will be good, to be able to go home again. Sam's talked to his family a few times on the phone, and his mom's insisting on making his favorite for dinner tomorrow. But signing the Accords means giving up certain freedoms. He's anticipating feeling just as stifled after signing as he has been in the last nine months – because it's stressful, living in such close quarters, and always looking over his shoulder, and not having a professional on hand to talk about shit with. The nightmares definitely haven't helped, either.
He gets out of the shower, dries off, and gets changed into some pajama pants and a t-shirt. The chocolates on his pillows have disappeared.
In the living area, Bucky and Steve have both changed into more comfortable clothes. They're on the couch, Steve turned a little to face Bucky, who has his feet up in the space between them. Despite sitting on opposite ends of the couch, they couldn't look any more like a couple as they pick at the food spread out on the coffee table. They're even sharing a fucking blanket over their legs, and Steve has a hand on Bucky's ankle, his thumb rubbing circles on it through the blanket.
Sam sinks down into one of the armchairs. Half of the food is already gone, plates empty save for crumbs and smeared sauce. What's still there looks good, though. There's a platter of tapas, a half-eaten bowl of pasta and salad, some pizza, a fruit platter, and a club sandwich with a side of fries.
He catches Bucky's gaze. "You owe me some chocolates, man."
"They could have been poisoned, I was doing you a favor."
Steve pushes the plate with the sandwich towards Sam.
It's the best thing he's eaten all day. They barely stopped for dinner earlier, too tired and just wanting to get to the hotel as soon as they could. Tomorrow night, though, he'll be eating his mom's home cooking.
It feels unreal. The whole prospect of going home feels unreal. He's hesitant about getting his hopes up, because something still might go wrong tomorrow, but goddamn, he's so looking forward to seeing his family again. Being able to go out without having to worry about being spotted will be nice, too.
Sam finishes the sandwich and starts on the fries. "When we get back," he says, "what's the first thing you guys want to do?"
Bucky stretches, toes visibly pressing into Steve's thigh under the blanket. "I want to go see a movie," he says. "Maybe get a milkshake after."
"We went to the movies last month."
"Yeah, but it's more fun when you've got someone to make out with in the back row." Bucky doesn't take his eyes off Steve as he says it, a small smirk appearing on his lips. Steve ducks his head, hiding his smile behind his hand as he scratches his cheek. His gaze flicks up to meet Bucky's.
Sam is living with a couple of geriatric teenagers and he is suffering. "Maybe try not to get done for public indecency the day after we get our charges dropped," he suggests before they start undressing each other with their eyes.
"Now that's no fun," Steve says.
Bucky nudges him with his foot under the blanket. "Your turn."
Steve takes a few slices of apple from the fruit platter and chews them as he thinks. "Well, I haven't been to Coney Island in a while," he says.
Sam snorts and says, "'A while', right." Bucky huffs a laugh.
Steve shakes his head at them. "What about you?" he asks Sam.
"Apart from the obvious?"
Steve's eyes soften. Sam's lost count of the number of times his mom's told him to say 'hi' to Steve for her even before this whole mess, despite them only having met once. "Yeah."
Sam puts his empty plate on the coffee table and then settles into the armchair more comfortably. He tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling.
He's been grounded for too long.
He'll have to find a reason to sign his wings out of storage or whatever – he won't be able to go for joyrides like he used to. But then he'll be up there, up in the sky with that feeling of weightlessness when he swoops, with the wind rushing past and the straps of his pack tugging, pulling him higher. In his nightmares someone's always falling – Riley or Rhodey or even him, sometimes. He'll take the panic and fear and turn it into that rush of adrenaline he's always loved. He's done it before. He can do it again.
"I'm gonna go flying," he says.