Romance Awareness: Day 22 - Once you meet your soulmate you're literally stuck to each other for the rest of the day.
Auction: catastrophic.
Word Count: 1193
Sam's just out for a goddamn run.
That's all.
And then there's a sassy superhuman giving him shit.
Sam did not ask for this.
So he makes some jokes and a music recommendation and he kind of figures that's going to be the end of it.
But it isn't, because then Steve Rogers is showing up at his work and Sam mostly works with the PTSD folks but Steve can't even tell what makes him happy so honestly he's just as bad off as any of Sam's folks.
And this is Steve, reaching out.
And this is Sam, reaching back, because he can't do anything else.
He's not sure what he expects to come of it, but he can see what it means for Steve to even reach out like this, and Sam's not going to turn him away.
And then Steve's on his doorstep and then there's a world renowned assassin stealing his steering wheel and then that assassin turns out to be Bucky fucking Barnes.
What even is Sam's life anymore?
Then there's a capture and an escape and some woman who turns out to be SHIELD and there are planes going up, ready to hold the whole fucking world at gunpoint, so of course they're going up to stop them.
And Steve is thinking about Bucky but Sam, Sam is thinking about his niece, who just turned eight years old and wrote a paper on Gabe Jones and how he was her hero, and Sam's wondering if that's enough to put her on Hydra's radar. He's thinking about the way his sister Sarah goes out to marches and never stops demanding that people be the best that they can be, and he's wondering if that's enough. He's thinking about his family, and he's thinking about his vets, and he's thinking about everyone he knows and wondering exactly how many of them die if this goes catastrophically wrong.
This can't go wrong. It's not an option.
And then there's a hand on his wing pulling him down, and he's getting back up but there's a grappling hook in his wing and his wing is disconnecting from his pack and he's staggering to his feet and then he's getting kicked in the chest, hard, and he's expecting to go flying backward, to fall, but… he's not.
He's not going anywhere.
The sole of a combat boot is stuck, held fast to his chest, pinning the thin layer of his T-shirt in between.
What the fuck.
Sam has seen bad timing for soulmates to stick together — job interviews, therapy sessions, in the middle of a goddamn warzone — but sticking to a brainwashed nonagenarian Hydra assassin while trying to save the lives of millions of people might just take the cake.
Which, really, is just Sam's luck.
Then again, at least he's not the one stuck standing on one foot for the next twenty-four hours.
That is, assuming the Winter Soldier doesn't just do the whole brainwashed assassin thing and like, kill Sam and then hack his dead body off his foot.
That's probably a very real possibility here.
The Soldier has cocked his head slightly, and is looking at Sam in what is… confusion?
"Steve, man, you good?" Sam asks quietly, trusting the coms and Steve's super hearing to convey that even in a whisper.
"I'm good," Steve says. And then there's some heavy breathing, and then Steve is saying, "What the fuck?"
The Soldier whips his head and stares straight at Steve. Sam is, frankly, impressed that he keeps his balance. Sam is also impressed that the Soldier hasn't tried to kill him yet.
What a great start to meeting his soulmate.
The Soldier fixates on Steve, like there's something about Steve that clicks. He lunges at Steve, but his foot is still very stuck to Sam's chest, so he just winds up staggering, barely keeping his feet. Foot. Whatever.
He turns to glare at Sam.
And Sam is thinking about the way the Soldier shot through Natasha to hit his target, but didn't kill her. He's thinking about the way that everyone who got hurt on that bridge besides Pierce was collateral damage and nothing more.
The Soldier fixates. He follows orders, and those orders… must only include Steve. He tried to shove Sam off a plane, but Sam's goddamn pararescue — even an idiot could figure Sam has a 'chute. He didn't want Sam dead, he wanted him grounded. Out of the way.
"Steve," Sam says urgently, "back the fuck off."
"What?"
"He's after you. Get out of here, go anchor those targeting systems."
Sam isn't even looking at Steve, but he can feel the hesitation. "Go," he says, putting as much of an order as he can into his voice, and after a moment, Steve does.
The Soldier watches him go, but then turns his gaze back to Sam, who is still firmly anchored, still wearing a pack with a single wing.
"Who the hell are you?" the Soldier growls.
"I'm Sam," Sam says with a smile that only rings half false, which is better than he was expecting so he'll take it. "And apparently I'm your soulmate."
The Soldier blinks at him.
Without the blazing guns and flying fists, without the glare fixated on Steve, without the murder walk… well. He kind of looks like a lost puppy. A very, very dangerous, very murdery lost puppy.
Fuck, what is Sam's life?
"Soulmate?" the Soldier asks.
Oh god. How deep does the brainwashing go?
"Yeah," Sam says casually, because he knows better than to act like he's treating anyone with kid gloves, even when he is absolutely treading carefully to avoid the million landmines that are this man's psyche. "You know. You meet somebody, you stick to them for a day, you're soulmates. Meant to… well. Meant to matter to each other."
Sam refuses to say meant to be, because he's not naive. He's seen soulmates hurt each other and hate each other and walk away from each other. He's seen asexual folks find best friends in their soulmate and he's seen a lesbian woman with a straight woman for a soulmate. It's not always romantic, no matter what the stories say.
But he's never met a single person who's met their soulmate and not had their life changed.
The Soldier cocks his head at Sam in that same way — less murder, more perplexed young man.
"Soulmates…" he says slowly. "Like… Like my ma and Steve's."
Oh, wow. That is not something that made the history books. Sam has so many questions about that, but he shelves it because now is not the time.
But also, wow, because brainwashed assassins don't talk about their moms. He's not sure brainwashed assassins have moms.
He wonders if it's something about the connection that's jogging lose some memories, or if it's just the fact that he's stopped for a second.
Either way, Sam's not going to look this gift horse in the mouth.
"Sure," he says, tone light and easy.
The Soldier looks at him again — no. Bucky looks at him, eyes softer than the Soldier's have ever been.
And Sam thinks maybe, just maybe, they'll be okay.