Pairings: Sam/T'Challa; Sam and Steve
Tags/Trigger Warnings: I did not mean to ship this but here we are; Steve in the modern age; not actually unrequited love
Sam kept his cool.
Really. He did. Don't let anyone [i.e., Steve] tell you otherwise. He was totally chill. Cool as a cucumber. Calm and collected. Yup.
Y'know, considering that his VA work was all about acknowledging and processing emotional trauma, he was really good at suppressing and ignoring inappropriate and unneeded emotions and reactions.
He was not feeling feels. Nope. He was in complete control of himself. Nothing to see here; move along.
There was no need for feelings while the fugitive former-Avengers were sitting in a conference room with the King of Wakanda and Okoye, the head of the Dora Milaje, discussing counter-strategies and responses to the UN's increasingly unsubtle prodding into where Captain America and his accomplices had disappeared.
"There is no reason to fear, my friends," T'Challa reiterated, his voice smooth and confident as he leaned back in his chair. "The UN cannot infringe on our borders without violating multiple treaties going back decades. They can make inquiries all they like, but they know I will view anything more aggressive as an act of war. There is no deal they can broker that will compel me to allow extradition. You are safe here, for as long as you choose to stay."
"I know that, T'Challa, and you know we're all grateful," Steve replied. "I just can't help but wonder if we're worth all this. It's gotta be putting you into a tough position, and it's for outsiders-"
"And if so, that is my choice to make," T'Challa interrupted him, face stern and implacable. "If you wish to return to the States, I will of course offer my assistance, and provide legal counsel for your trials. Otherwise, you will allow me to protect you until a more suitable deal can be brokered for your safe return."
Well, it wasn't like Steve could say anything to that.
T'Challa nodded, recognizing that he'd gotten his way. Sam was silently impressed; it was a rare man who could argue Steve Rogers into submission.
"Now," the King said, relaxing as he changed subjects. "I do have to leave you now, and take a conference call from the AU. But after lunch you should come to my office, Steven. Dr. Mgebe has the results from the latest neural scans, and she has noticed marked improvements in Bucky's frontal lobe, which she says bodes well for the viability of the neurochemical treatments. She wants to discuss possible next steps."
"Of course," Steve nodded eagerly, perking up at the news.
"I will see the rest of you this evening. Shuri has brought in a troupe for a Djembe performance after supper that I think you will all enjoy," T'Challa informed them all as he stood. "Samuel, we are still on for going down to the market?"
Sam jerked back to attention. Shut up, he had not zoned out while staring at T'Challa's lips.
"Huh-? Oh. Yeah, of course. Text me when you're good, I'll swing by and pick you up," he nodded, shifting in his seat.
T'Challa smiled at them all and swept out the door, Okoye on his heels as always.
And Sam? Sam was not staring as T'Challa left. He really wasn't. He did not notice the absolutely ridiculously graceful way the man walked and held himself. He did not notice the cut of the man's slacks.
He was thinking, damn it, and if he was staring it was into the middle distance. He was not staring at the King of Wakanda's ass.
He did not jump when his phone vibrated.
Clearing his throat, he opened up the message from Steve.
CaptainAssmerica: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
CawCawMotherfucker: Really, man? You're three feet away. What the hell are you doing texting me?
CaptainAssmerica:
Sam rolled his eyes, huffing as he pushed back from the table and stuffing his phone in his pocket as he headed out to spend some time in the palace's private library. He was beginning to rue the day Natasha taught Steve how to work a gif. [Bucky, the little shit, would probably be really proud when he woke up.]
