I’m so fond of you that sometimes it makes me want to fling myself off an uninsured skyscraper. Steve refrained from saying this, instead opting to blush and duck his head so he could keep up the illusion that Sam didn’t see him blush and therefore had no idea that he was currently nursing the biggest, most obnoxious crush known to man.
All butterfly-affiliated feelings were deftly swept from his chest at the mention of Sam’s family. Sam’s soft, nostalgic smile was beautiful, but it did nothing to ease the painful twisting in Steve’s chest. Sam would never go for it, but Steve privately thought that he’d let them lock him up at Hart Island in a second if Sam wanted his old life back. He owed it to Sam - he owed everything to Sam, because at the end of the day, he’d stolen this smart, gorgeous man and proceeded to systematically destroy his entire life. “I’m serious, Sam,” he said, mouth curving into a gentle smile, “I’d be okay, if you left. I’d miss you, obviously, but I swear I’d take care of myself.” He did it for years after his mom died - and then again, when he first got unfrozen. Steve Rogers was intimately acquainted with loneliness - even having encountered the deep, soul-crushing kind on several occasions. And it wasn’t even the worst pain he’d faced, not by a long shot. “You have to promise to tell me, if you want to go. That’s the only way this works.”
Steve fell silent, listening to Sam’s story with rapt attention. He never realized how starving he was for these pieces of Sam’s life until they were offered to him - little bits of his family, of Riley, of who he was like before the world let a war loose in his head. The absurdness of the story had Steve laughing, really, really laughing, like holding his stomach with one hand and pressing the backs of his fingers to his mouth with the other because he just couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Steve loved history, but only the personal, intimate kind, and only from the people who were really worth knowing. “I can’t believe you did that,” Steve said, even though he absolutely could. Sam was delightfully impulsive in the right situations. “I can’t believe you did that and you still wanna call yourself twice as sensible as me. You are a reckless flyboy and I’m sure the first thing Bucky thought when he met you was ‘oh, god. Now there’s two of them.”
—and then Steve’s amusement dried up in one second flat. “Ordinary?” he repeated, eyebrows bunched in disbelief. Ordinary? Steve didn’t know where to begin trying to refute such a frankly ridiculous claim. For one thing, Sam made perfect pancakes. And when he smiled his dorky gap-toothed smile? The whole world got better. Steve was also pretty sure he almost crashed rental cars in three different states because he got distracted by Sam singing along to the radio under his breath. Just that morning he’d made Steve laugh so hard he had orange juice coming out of his nose. How could someone like that think they were ordinary?
“Bullshit. The first time I met you all I wanted to do was impress you, because I just knew that you’d let me do it on my own–” he halted, stuttered, this part was always difficult. It was easy to talk about someone else but when it came to unearthing his own insecurities, it always felt a little like drowning. “–Free from whatever Captain America baggage I was lugging around.” Steve shrugged helplessly, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but determined to finish his thought. “You never wanted me to be anything but me. You’re warm and kind and trusting - but never naive or stupid, you don’t take shit from anybody. And, save for maybe Peggy Carter, you’re the smartest tactician I’ve ever met. So, respectfully, you’re wrong. You’re incredible.”
Steve was an enigma, a welcome challenge on the days when fugitive life proved to be less exciting than the movies pretended. Even so, Sam would have given anything to be able to see inside his brain at that very moment, to know exactly what he was thinking. Pink-tinged cheeks or not, they were just friends, and Sam wasn’t dumb enough to get the wrong idea about a guy who’d been hung up over his ex for 70 years. Was she really an ex if he’d died without ever breaking up with her? She had married another guy, right? Sam shifted on the floor, folding one of his socked feet under his leg, trying to move just enough to shake his tipsy brain out of its spiral but not so much that he jostled Steve away. It was a difficult balance.
It was the truth, because Steve was an adult man who’d survived a couple years (and more than his fair share of world-ending events) before meeting Sam, but it felt wrong to hear it said out loud. “Yeah, I know you would.” Sam agreed easily, nodding slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I think you should. I worry about you, you know that right?” A stressful task considering Steve was known for tossing himself off tall structures without much warning or protection. And Sam--stupid, idealistic Sam--had just been even more drawn in by that.
It took a moment to work the incredulous look off his face, but when he had, he shot Steve a suspicious look. “Y’know, for a guy who claims to want me around, you tell me I’m allowed to leave an awful lot. You sure you aren’t trying to subtly kick me out?” The serious look only lasted a moment, just long enough for Sam to realize that he absolutely couldn’t handle seeing Steve’s face fall if he thought Sam meant it. “What am I saying? You, subtle? No, that’s just not realistic.” He said with a laugh. “But....Yeah. I promise. You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop this.” It took everything he had not to reach out do something stupid like put a hand on Steve’s unfairly chiseled cheek. His self control only extended so far, though, and he ended up somewhere in the middle, callused palm landing on Steve’s bicep. The contact was hot under Sam’s hand, and for a moment he felt his mouth go dry again. Quietly--because they were still too close to be able to miss a single syllable the other man said--he laughed softly. “The same goes for you, okay? If life on the run ever starts to feel like yet another nail in your coffin, you let me know and we’ll turn ourselves in.” He didn’t see it happening (this was Steve Rogers after all) but he felt better having said it.
Discussing his life--the old one, before losing Riley, before his tour had ended, before he really understood what the world had in store--always felt surreal. Like he was recounting things someone else had experienced. It was a normal reaction, completely understandable and temporary, as he would have told any of the people he worked with at the VA, but he’d never really felt as connected to his memories as he did when he talked to Steve. Somehow just knowing that Steve understood the disconnect between past and present more acutely than perhaps anyone else in the world changed the dynamic of the conversation. It wasn’t fixed, by any definition of the word, but it allowed him to feel slightly more comfortable, and for that he was grateful. “Alright, alright, let’s meet in the middle and call it one-point-five times more sensible than you. We’re all about compromise at this motel, Rogers.” Sam said, punctuating the statement with a jab of his finger. “Actually I think he muttered something in Russian about wanting someone to shoot him, but Natasha didn’t give me a great translation.”
It was then that he realized he’d said the wrong thing, because Steve’s body language changed so dramatically that Sam actually sat back a few inches from him. “Oh no, it’s the eyebrows of disapproval. I’m in trouble now,” He said, because he was still pretty tipsy, and the alternative was something even stupider about Steve’s bone structure. Nat would be so disappointed in his poker face. “Steve, I didn’t mean--” But it was too tempting to hear all the things Steve thought of him, and his arguments died on his lips. This clearly meant something to Steve that he listen, so he did. “You’re a complete dork, you know that?” But he said it with a smile, words so fond he was surprised his heart didn’t leap right out of his chest and lunge at Steve. But he couldn’t express his appreciation for the way Steve cared so much without saying something he was trying not to put into words. He ducked his head, pretty sure his own face was lighting up like a christmas tree. “You really came up with all of that off the top of your head? I’m growing on you, I guess.” He paused, grin a little crooked. “You really still think about all that stuff? Years after, with tons of stupid shit under our belts, and you still think about that?” It made something funny flip flop in his stomach. Something he couldn’t let Steve read in his face.
“Alright, I won’t let you outdo me, lets talk about your positive qualities. Um, totally selfless for one thing. Annoyingly so. If I said I was cold right now you’d probably take your shirt off and give it to me.” he said with another laugh, ticking off the list on his fingers. “You never back down. You’re so stubborn you could have an argument with an inanimate object, and I’m sure you’d win it.” There was more, so much more, that Sam couldn’t possibly say without risking everything they’d built. Seeing you is the best part of my day, even though I see you every day. I’d spend the rest of my life on the run if it meant that you’d keep looking at me like I’m the most important thing you see. But those weren’t words that a guy was allowed to say to his friend. “You’ll eat anything I cook without complaint, even if it’s shitty, burnt gas station food. You...shit man, there’s a lot to say about you.” I’ll never find another person who cares about the same way you do. “I guess I’m trying to say that you’re pretty cool.” That, and so much more.
