Last chapter! Thanks again to cairistiona7 for being the beta for this story, and for having encouraged me to write this out.

Mild warning for more language!

The next morning found Sam and Clint walking down the medical wing of the facility. Sam had thought of exploring the place, and was able to drag Clint out of bed. Wanda and Scott were a different matter: Wanda, due to her need for more rest, and Scott was admittedly not much of a morning person. So it left the two men to try to rope Steve (and by extension, maybe Bucky) into checking out the place with them.

"Thought we'd find you here," Sam said by way of announcing themselves after knocking and stepping into Bucky's medical suite. The room definitely qualified as a suite, and then some.

"Hey, guys," Steve acknowledged, nodding to both from the couch near the bed. Bucky, who sat at an adjacent armchair, acknowledged them with a muted nod.

"We were gonna grab a bite then have a look around," Clint proposed, stuffing his hands in his borrowed slacks. "We were wondering if you boys would wanna come with."

"Why don't you guys join us for breakfast first? There's enough for everyone," Steve indicated the generous spread laden on the coffee table. A cart set to the side offered fresh coffee and other refreshments.

"They sure know how to feed your super-soldier asses, don't they?" Sam remarked, taking a seat beside Steve.

As the men eagerly tucked into their breakfast, Sam got a better look at the condition of Steve's oldest friend. The bruises and contusions he kind of expected; it was the glaring absence of the metal arm that was jarring. He made a mental note to ask Steve about it later. Confrontation with friends doesn't make a great opening topic over a meal.

"Oh, my god, this is really good," Sam moaned, as the warm bread and cream cheese just melted in his mouth. "And I'm not saying this 'coz we just broke out of prison, but this stuff's really, really good."

"Can't argue with you there," Steve acknowledged, in between shovelling food in his mouth. It looked like Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda weren't the only ones deprived of a good meal.

"Slow down or you'll choke," Barnes chided gently, spearing his toast and wiping his runny eggs with it. Someone had the foresight to serve Barnes' food in a tasteful-looking scooper plate.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother," he retorted with a long-suffering groan. Then his features froze, and then frowned at some internal realization. He cast a mildly alarmed look in Barnes' direction.

Barnes simply blinked lazily back, face not giving anything away. "I thought I was imagining things," he said slowly, "that you were a little shit. Guess I was right after all." There was a faint glimmer in his eyes that was hidden behind the coffee mug he drank from.

For a few seconds, Steve looked like he was in a daze, until he blew out a gusty breath, face breaking into a lopsided grin. "And you are still an asshole."

Sam traded a surprise glance with Clint, who looked vaguely impressed. They've never really heard trash-talking like this from their captain, much less directed at someone he's close to. Sure, they'd give each other shit like any other group of friends, but never outright name-calling as, well, a term of endearment. The team's betting pool would definitely need to be updated as to how much language the All-American Golden Boy could get up to.

Clint held up a placating hand. "Boys, boys. Not in front of a glorious breakfast, eh?"

That made Sam and Steve chuckle at seeing Hawkeye go all Dad mode. Bucky raised an amused brow.

As they lapsed to a more comfortable silence, Sam couldn't help but feel the heat of Barnes' attention on him for some reason, though he couldn't catch him looking on casual glances in Barnes' direction. Sneaky bastard. But he did note the silent exchange between the two super-soldiers, each look holding some conversation Sam couldn't decipher.

Then, Steve spoke up. "You know, Sam, I've never thought of asking you before," he began casually, "but I was wondering: How did you know Scott?"

Clint straightened. "Yeah, dude. You been holdin' out on us? Seeing other superheroes on the side?"

"Naw, it ain't like that, man," Sam replied easily. "You know there's only you fellas."

"Come on," Steve cajoled. "I'm sure there's an interesting story behind how you met."

"Yeah? What made you think it would be some kind of crazy-ass, superhero encounter of epic proportions?" challenged Sam.

"'Coz you're hanging out with us?" Clint countered.

"And I'm tellin' you, it ain't like that."

Barnes, who had been silent since the topic began, tilted his head to the side. "You know, for a simple question, you're taking a roundabout way of answering it."

Sam turned to him with a faintly nasty look. I hate you. "Are you saying I'm hiding something?"

Barnes shrugged his stump of a shoulder (Sam couldn't help but get creeped out by that for some reason). "You tell me."

"Since when has this turned into an interrogation?" Sam couldn't help but ask, looking at their expectant faces.

Steve held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "You know what, you're right," he concurred. "It's none of our business. If you don't want us to know, it's fine."

"Yeah, we can respect that," Clint seconded. "If it was just a boring, meeting a regular guy kind of thing, like what these normal people types do. Right, Cap?" He sounded too casual to actually be convincing.

"Of course," Steve said with a nod. "It's not like something happened that we ought to know about. Scott wasn't an Avenger…"

"But, Wilson is," Barnes volunteered.

Just keep stuffing your face over there and shut up!

"Yes he is, Buck. I mean, if they met on Avengers' business, then I should've at least been informed…"

A slow frown creased Barton's face, fixing Sam with a narrow stare. "Yeah, that's right…"

"I dunno why you're making such a giant deal about this," was Barnes' input, reaching over the food cart for muffins and coffee.

Sam snorted. "Well, it looks to me you guys are making too big a deal out of it." Something was up, a distant itch he couldn't seem to reach.

"You said something, like a good, no, great audition," Barnes recalled with a snap of his fingers.

Steve graced his old buddy with a fond little smile. "You recalled that, huh?"

And what a very convenient time for Mister Mindfucked to have remembered that, Sam groaned internally. He was really trying his best to keep any expression off his face. He was not going to cave in front of a spy, an assassin and America's icon, dammit!

Barnes gave that creepy shrug again. "It just came to me when Sam said it wasn't a big deal." His looked around his companions, eyes too wide and too pure. "What he said then. Doesn't that mean that it was a big deal?"

"A'right, a'right," Clint cut in, flapping a hand at them and shaking his head. "Forget about it."

Sam wanted to kiss him right then, but had a mind to keep playing it cool.

Clint popped a fruit in his mouth, Steve flashed a shamefaced grin, and Barnes scowled, their attention back to their momentarily forgotten breakfast. Sam took in a relieved breath.

The blessed silence could only last for so long.

"Maybe it's over a chick."

"Oh, my god…"

"A great audition, Barton. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not the one with the fried memory here."

"Aren't we so fixated on that line, Barnes?"

"Bucky has a point. What would Scott be 'auditioning' for?"

Barnes' face screwed up in contemplation. "Does Scott wanna sing?"

"Dude. Sam is no musical artist. I oughtta know: I've been to karaoke with this guy."

Sam squawked in indignation.

"What's… karaoke?"

"I'll explain later, Buck. You're gonna love it."

"For fuck's sake, guys. I'm right here!"

"So, what did Scott audition for, Sam?"

I thought you'd be on my side, Cap!?

Sam opened his mouth, resolved to nip this bullshit in the bud, but then—

"Maybe he wanted to be an Avenger…"

"Yeah, that reason makes more sense than your last one."

"Thanks, Barton."

Damn Barnes and his quips from outta nowhere!

"Did he get into a fight with Scott?"

You're breaking my heart here, Steve.

"What? Like a 'beat the crap outta each other' fight, or a verbal one?"

"Well, duh, Barnes! The first one!"

"So Wilson's the type to let his fists do the talking, huh?"

"I would, if it's my girl involved."

"I wonder who won…?"

"That's it." Sam gripped the arms of the couch to hoist himself up. "I think I'm gonna go for that stroll now. By myself. Feel free to talk around me." He made a beeline for the door, when Steve called out after him.

"You know, it's okay," he started hesitantly, "if you did have a fight with Scott."

"It's all in the past, right?" Barnes put in.

"Yeah." Steve stood, casually shoving his hands in his pockets. "I wouldn't judge if—what was that expression again?—Scott whipped your ass?"

"It's whooped yo' ass, Cap."

Sam gave Clint the death glare. "Really helpful, Barton."

Steve waved Clint down. "If Scott ever did 'whoop your ass,'" he formed the words carefully, a solemn look on his boyish face. "Just know that we will avenge you."

Sam didn't respond. Instead, he marched out with his head held high. He turned around, raised a snappy single-fingered salute, then walked away with the tattered remains of his dignity dragging behind him.

I hate you three.

~ end

Thanks so much for the support you've given this little story! I had fun writing it. I hope you all enjoyed it! ^_^