It was a rambunctious night in the club. Bucky eyed Steve as he approached from the opposite direction of the club's parking lot, knowing his friend had gone to the jazz club down that same street to talk to the bartender. Steve refused to ask for her number, yet he still went there at least once a week and dropped fifty plus bucks on good whiskey for the privilege of a few glances and a cordial sentence here and there.
"Any developments?" Bucky clapped a sullen looking Captain Rogers on the back.
Steve shrugged him off. "Who all's here?"
That bad, huh. "Let's get you another drink, buddy," Bucky consoled. They could both hear Tony shouting for the SI gang to gather at the front, velvet ropes drawn aside specifically for them, and to Bucky's surprise, Sam Wilson jogged up behind them.
"Can't start the party without me," the man grinned, polished from head to toe in a crisp burgundy shirt, white jeans, and of course, his pure white shoes with rainbow soles.
Bucky threw a hand around Steve's shoulder, partly for his friend and partly to hold himself steady. He should hate him, right? Sam's a hardass-in every sense of the word-and still...Dammit.
The whole group shuffled in until they had to squeeze through streams of people toward their booth. Steve got separated for a moment when Bucky realized Sam's hand was latched to his shoulder for guidance through the crowd. Then Steve was back with Vision in tow. Like any club, the dim and flashing lights made everything a little harder to process, and maybe that was the point. Miraculously, a dozen shots waited on the table as the last person trickled through.
"Gentlemen," Tony bellowed, "finally you showed up. Now, let's get partying!" He ripped the shot down his throat in one swoop.
Bucky glanced at Steve as his friend held up a shot to the light, checking it was brown and he wouldn't mix liquors, but then Steve handed over both to Bucky and Sam. Chivalrous, that was Steve. Bucky then watched the momentary break in Steve's facade as the blond downed his own shot in one. Bucky followed, purposefully avoiding looking to his right, instead watching the varying faces of distaste and delight around the group. Vision's was particularly gruesome. Bucky elbowed the virgin partier. "Burns goin' down, huh?"
"It is certainly not something I could see myself becoming used to drinking."
Poor Vis was in for it, and Bucky shook his head, laughing as Tony pedaled more shots around.
"You'll be fine. You should probably take a few more shots. Need to loosen up!" Tony told Vision, small clinking glasses being pushed in his general direction. Bucky did not envy the insistence that was thrust upon the younger man for his first night out on the town. To his merit, Vision did take most of the shots he was offered like a champ, until Steve intervened.
"Knock it off. The kid doesn't need to drink so much."
"What, he needs to loosen up," Tony protested. "Poor kid's first time in a club, he needs to make sure he gets lucky tonight!"
Bucky couldn't help his eye roll at the conversation unfolding before him, glancing around the flashing environment before a certain sultry voice to his right chimed in with "Hey now, don't doubt liquid courage. I know for a fact my sister would've never gotten married if my brother-in-law hadn't had at least two shots to loosen up before introducing himself. Just don't drink too much."
Bucky leaned toward Sam so he could be heard in the din. "How'd that work out for sis?"
Sam pursed his lips and shot Bucky some side-eye. "Last name's Wilson again." Bucky nodded, amused, and screamed over the noise to add, "my sister just braids my hair when she's nervous. See?" He bent his head to the side to showcase the three small plaits tucked into his hair tie, but when his head angled toward Steve pathetically nursing his second shot as if rationing in the field, Bucky had to act. Though sad to leave the warm scent all around Sam, Bucky scooted the foot or so over to his friend and offered "I'll go with you to the jazz place and make sure you close the deal."
"Don't be cras, Buck." Steve's gaze continued to bore a hole in the glass with laser focus.
"Not like that, but maybe if she's into you, I can be repulsive enough that she'll throw herself at you. Ya know, move things along."
Steve whipped his head around in a truly insulted look. Bucky had never seen Steve so intent on a woman-so intent on anyone for that matter-and while the pouting face was cute, it would quickly get annoying if he sulked all night.
As if Steve were watching from the back of his head, he nabbed Vision's arm just as the skinnier blond made to stand.
"Where're you trying to go, slugger?" Bucky focused on Vis's eyes to make sure he wasn't too drunk or close to being sick. Steve seemed to assess the same thing and let Vis go without more fuss. Tony took over the intrigue before Sam boomed behind Bucky.
"Some beautiful damsel out there getting your circuits firing?"
Steve snapped at that. "Sam, he's not a computer. Don't treat him like one."
"Loosen up, Capsicle!"
Bucky was surprised when Sam swatted for his attention and waited for him to shift back over in the booth. "What's gotten into him?" Sam asked as quietly as one can in a club blaring dance music.
"He's just salty because he didn't get the girl at the jazz club's number."
Sam placated, eyebrows raised in surprise and approval. It was the same look he gave Bucky each time Bucky confirmed something of his work had gone correctly. That smug look of shock that something so normal should happen made the liquor in Bucky's stomach sour slightly. More liquor would help. Buck took another shot.
Steve continued to nurse his tiny cup of whiskey. "She's the bartender. It's a process. I didn't wanna bother her while she worked."
"Punk," Bucky drawled, possibly slurred, with a knowing look.
"What, jerk? I'm playing it cool."
"Any cooler and you'd be on ice! That's all I'm saying...Capsicle," Bucky tested out Tony's nickname for his friend, enjoying a hearty laugh and being shaken by both shoulders for his trouble. Steve took a sip with his pinky jutted out for effect.
"Oh, let the man sulk," Sam barked over Buck's shoulder close enough to feel the heat of breath at his ear, nudging another shot towards his elbow on the table. "You're falling behind."
Bucky quickly tipped the liquor back with a dramatic "ahhh."
"And what the hell is taking my prototype so long from you guys?" Sam's smile was warm, leaning his weight on the table to get closer, but the jump to work talk made Bucky bristle. It reminded him that this was not the completely separate space for fun that he wanted it to be, but boy oh boy, did he want to have some fun with Sam, even if all he could do was put him in his place for one minute in the dark.
So Bucky shrugged casually. "Yours isn't the only project we design for. Sorry, pal."
By the way Sam straightened and crossed his arms, the competition was accepted. "A half a billion dollar stealth suit and you're pulling the it's-in-the-queue card?"
"You want the scope on that drone buddy of yours to have—"
"-name's Red Wing!"
Bucky threw back another shot. Sam joined. "—anywhere near the precision of say, yours truly," Bucky cooed, pausing to indicate himself with a pristine, toothy grin, "then you're just gonna have to be patient. Don't want your winged buddy to snap into Red Blob when he's fifteen-thousand feet up." Bucky really outdid himself this time, leaning so far forward that he was inches from Sam's face. Maybe some water would be good. He searched the table and reached for the icy glass in front of a newcomer.
The beautiful redhead perched on the lap of a nearly drooling Bruce eyed him over her own straw, giggled deeply, and watched Bucky down half the glass before leaning forward to interject. "You know, boys," she offered, "you could always settle this on the dance floor, like men." Her full red lips gave them a devious curl.
A beat passed where neither man moved, but then it's hard to say who hurtled the table first because Sam and Bucky both scrambled over the leather seat in a tangle of insults and shoving arms.
He let the thrumming music wash over him on his way through a dozen or so sweaty people, half-blinded, half-absorbed by the fantastic colors swirling around. Were those brighter than usual? Didn't matter. Bucky closed his eyes and let his body start moving to the beat as he pushed up the sleeves of his thin tee. He'd show that hardass how much fun he could have even after being critiqued because if there was one thing Bucky was 100% sure of it was that he could have more fun than stuck-up Sam Wilson. He opened his eyes to said-stuck-up riling the crowd around him up to clap in time with the song.
They flossed. They did the wave. They did the worm. They moonwalked. Bucky was actually impressed by Sam's range of motion in his hips, distracted momentarily before deciding: time to bring out the big guns, the shit not very many people could do. Sam started almost an interlude of the robot, probably while he thought up his next move, so double-jointed Bucky swept his arms into the same starting angle, then pulled his left arm all the way up and behind his back before lowering them back in front of him.
Sam looked horrified, his Running Man suddenly off rhythm as he stared at Bucky's circling shoulder. "Man, that's gross."
Bucky did a few more of his naturally-unnatural circles, holding Sam's attention. "The ladies love it. I'm flexible."
"The ladies do not love that. You look like a disassembled Mr. Potato Head," Sam shouted, mimicking Bucky's best eye roll.
Bucky winked at a pair of women off to his right. "Loser says what?"
Sam dove into a split on the floor accompanied by a little howl, unable to hear Bucky. "What?" He popped back up from his James Brown move in time to see the shit-eating grin again. "Dammit, I hate you."
DJ Sparkles called over the mic to announce, "ladies and gentlemen, Colonel of the Dancefloor, James Rhodes is in the house!"
Bucky whipped around to where Sam looked over his shoulder. There was Rhodey tearing it up in front of a full circle, spinning three ladies at a time like some sort of human-juggler. "Son of a bitch," he heard Sam say not-so-quietly. Bucky turned back to find Sam nearly pressed flush against his chest, Sam still watching Rhodes while Bucky was smothered by the heat of coconut oil in his lungs again.
Bucky licked his lips slowly, body still moving-and brushing Sam's-to the ambient thud of the base, glancing up into a strobe by accident. He couldn't think. He wanted vacation. He wanted contact. He still wanted Sam to suffer a bit though; he simply couldn't think of anything except the man's heat against him. Bucky backed away a little. Maybe he needed more water.
"Hey?" Sam pumped his fist in front of his chest a few times, biting his lip to get the face right. "Do you remember that guy from last month?"
Why didn't he think of it? He was the one actually there. "That guy was ridiculous!" Bucky's face lit up like a Christmas tree, running his fingers through his locks in remembrance. That was the same night he made out with...what's-her-name and Sam ended up with a picture of it. Nope, Bucky wasn't worrying about that now. He focused on imitating the tiny, pulsing movements. "Do the Zemo," he shouted, throwing his head back excitedly.
The boys were utterly lost in the nuance of squeezing just the right power into the circling of their elbows, though they were a little too drunk to nail the precision.
Rhodey didn't let that deter anyone, joining in before demanding, "everybody do the Zemo!"
The infectious joy spread until the whole dance floor mimicked the one little move, a few adding their own little twist of jumps or a second fist. Sam cackled, smacking Bucky on the shoulder as the other concentrated with a pinched face.
"You know that's pure white boy moves, right?"
Zero fucks were given. Bucky threw his hair back triumphantly. "Do the Zemo!"
DJ Sparkles, huge beard and long blond hair striped with dreadlocks, mumbled over the mic again. "I mean, looks a little stupid but you're havin' fun so…"
When he laughed at that, Bucky realized he was holding his dry mouth open in the sweaty air, so he composed himself as best he could and wandered back over to the table for water. On his way Tony clapped him on the shoulder, phone in his other hand pointed at the crowd.
"This is literally why low-light mode was created. I'm convinced. Pure gold tonight."
"Glad to help," Bucky croaked back, returning to the tabletop in search of icy-clear liquid. Steve was gone. Buck picked up one glass only to have the redhead pluck it from him, shaking her head. She was biting on a neon yellow drink sword, removing it to fish out fruit to feed Bruce, who was still stuck beneath her. She took pity on Bucky and scooted the correct drink over to his slightly blurring vision.
Then Vision himself returned, inexplicably more flustered than Bucky, rubbing at his neck with wide eyes. "Excellent idea, Barnes," he said as he settled himself into the booth beside Bruce and his straddling redhead.
Someone slapped Bucky's ass, and when he whipped around a very busty blond winked and waved at him. His gaze lingered over the several other people visibly raking their gaze over him. Nailed it. Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and bit down slightly, pleased with himself. He deserved a reward, but no sooner had he reached for one of half-a-dozen shots in the center of the table than another invisible someone ran their hand all the way down his side. He reacted too slowly to see, turning around in the wrong direction, off-balance from too much swiveling, and Buck leaned back onto the table with braising elbows.
"I mean, I hate your guts and all, but I'd fuck you if you asked." Bucky thought he heard Sam's voice behind him, so he yelled "What?" over his shoulder and squinted as if it would help him hear.
Vision leaned forward to answer but not before Sam's wide hand was slapped over his mouth, giant blue eyes above the warning black hand. That time, it was definitely Sam who yelled, "Nothing! Right, Vision?" The alarmed blond nodded behind the hand until it released.
"I was mistaken," Vision corrected.
Bucky narrowed his eyes, drunk mind slowly working through the words he thought he heard across the hammering beat of music. He felt...the same? Maybe. But he wasn't going to give Sam the satisfaction. Men and women all across that dance floor were openly jumping at the chance, so if Sam wasn't gonna make a move, Bucky wouldn't cave first. Nope. Not a chance.
Bucky slammed another shot. Vision looked impressed. "I can only hope to someday match. You can drink an incredible amount." Bucky allowed himself a smug grin. "Thank you, Vision. I can." And so Bucky took another shot. He remembered nothing else that night.
Buck was toast. Everyone could see it, but still the bulky brunette held himself together for a full hour and a half, leaning on the table, leaning on the booth, and finally, leaning on Steve when he returned with his own mysterious brunette. Bucky hiccuped a shocked hello at the woman over the straw of his water-force-fed to him by Vision who had given up the new hobby of drinking immediately after returning from the dance floor-while Sam had been keeping his mouth shut as much as possible while hiding in the back of the booth.
Steve's lady reached over and offered Sam her hand. "Peggy Carter," she said with a smile.
"Sam Wilson. Nice ta'meet you," he slurred, not so drunk that he wasn't keenly aware his body betrayed him. Peggy replied with something close to "lovely," but the noise took her words before Sam could be sure. In fact, it was just that now: noise. The music blurred together in unpleasant, shrill streams. Time to go home.
Sam wasn't the only one to think so. Steve, done with shouting at people for the night, made eye contact with Sam and pointed towards the exit. Sam remembered why he and the other Captain got along so well and hurriedly shuffled out of the booth. Peggy slipped a card into Steve's hand before making her way farther into the club, back towards the VIP tables and balcony, and Steve pocketed the paper, smiling. He nudged his head toward Bucky and tossed one of the brunette's arms over his shoulder, hand supporting his waist. Bucky didn't seem to have much trouble walking; it was aiming himself that proved tricky.
Before the three cleared the front entrance, Steve looked back over his shoulder. He strained but didn't see what he was looking for, so the blond released poor drunk Bucky's arm from around his shoulder and balanced him by the door. They were far enough from the noise that Sam could hear him say "gonna tell Tony we're leaving" without much trouble, and Steve slipped away into the dark.
Sam didn't even have the chance to turn back toward Bucky before he was pinned sloppily to the wall, one thick forearm with a rolled up sleeve by his shoulder blocking the door. The flat of Bucky's palm smoothed down the front seam of Sam's jeans, firm, sure, almost pressing. Pieces of his disheveled dark hair fell over his face. If Buck's eyes weren't so light, Sam might never have seen how wide his pupils were when a deep growl said "Wanna see who wins in the bedroom, Sammy?"
Sam's spinning head fell thunk against the wall behind him while he processed that question. Oh shit and fuck yes were among the thoughts that popped up immediately, along with no wonder some rando made out with this guy in public. The hot hand on him moved, and Sam had no idea whether to be relieved or disappointed by that.
Their locked gaze broke when Bucky slowly blinked before looking down, and Sam let out a strangled cough. Bucky's finger dragged across the fabric until he tucked it into Sam's front pocket and curiously cocked his head to one side.
"Are those...are these Luckys?"
Sweet, baby Jesus. The purchase had had the desired effect, but seemingly at the moment Sam was least prepared to follow up. Thankfully, within seconds, there was Steve again, saving Sam from having to think too hard about what to say next. Also thankfully, from the angle of the hall, Steve could not see where Bucky's hand was, and the finger fell out of Sam's pocket when Steve took Bucky's arm again.
Sam let the cool night air sober him while he emptied his lungs into the dark. "My car's that way," Steve nudged again, this time down the street. "Took a cab," Sam admitted and flagged one down at the curb.
Bucky whined and pulled on Steve who begrudgingly led him to the open cab window. More hair fell into Bucky's face as he leaned forward, so Sam took one of the tiny, loose braids Bucky's sister had put in and combed it back behind the man's ear. "Night, Sneaks. Night, Cap." The fruity scent of Buck's shampoo got trapped in the cab all the way to the apartment, or perhaps Sam's swimming mind imagined it. Sam didn't care. He had plenty to think about.