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His heart was heavy, his mind clouded as he climbed the metal stairs in the dark. He walked down a hall. The walls were covered in water stains and God knows what else. Sam didn't know how he could stand the mildew smell. Sam didn't know why he was there. No, he did. He sighed. He shouldn't be. That thought didn't stop him as he knocked on the steel door, staring into the camera. There was a loud clank. The door cracked open with a groan. It proceeded to crawl to the left. Sam walked over the threshold and found himself in the dark. The door behind him slid closed. Fluorescent lights flickered on with a hum. Sam blinked, looking around. Great, he was trapped in a metal box with the Winter Soldier.
Everything inside him was screaming to go. This is a bad idea, his conscience said. His heart was trying to run away in his chest; his muscles were tensed ready to spring into action, but Sam used his breathing to stay in place.
"What do you want?" The man said through the black mask.
Sam would feel better if he could see his face, even his eyes, but the black war paint helped the metal covering obscure the Soldier's expressions, his intentions. "I want to hire you."
There was a rumble, a dry sound coming from the man. Sam was confused until he realized the assassin was laughing. Nope, Sam thought. That was reason enough to let this go.
"The great Sam Wilson needs my help? Who does Captain America want me to kill?"
Sam shook his head. "You know what, you're right. This was a bad idea." Sam walked towards the door he came in.
"He's in Uzbekistan. He has a compound there. It was dormant until three days ago. He'll just rebuild. Grow stronger because now he can fix the mistakes he made, and you won't get another shot."
"It's not right. I shouldn't be here."
"What's not right is our sham of a legal system. You got him, you did everything right, and they still let him walk to kill again. Who will be his collateral damage next time? Another busload of school children? He needs to be stopped, once and for all."
"This isn't what I do."
"It is what I do." The soldier folded his arms. "For a price."
"You could just help people, you know."
"I tried that once or twice. They took my arm, abandoned me, made an alliance with my captors, experimented on me, and stuck me in the freezer for seventy years."
"Steve got you out."
"And then he abandoned me again."
Sam couldn't argue with that. He was finding it hard to argue with anything the assassin was saying. "How much?"
"A future favor."
"No. I would rather pay in cash."
"Do you have one million dollars, Wilson? That's my base salary."
"Base?"
"I don't usually let people with less than half a million dollars in their bank account into my warehouse."
"Okay, so why am I here with my broke-ass thirty g's?"
"You're smart, and skilled, and you caught me, once."
"Twice."
"-Plus you have the highest clearances as Captain America."
"I'm not going to feed you any info or betray the government in any way."
"Figured. Here's the contract."
Sam shook his head and read the first paragraph. It was dense and full of legalese. He would need his lawyer to understand this, but he couldn't show his lawyer, because he didn't want anyone to know he was here hiring a contract killer. He did know that criminality made the document moot, but the Winter Soldier was smart. According to the second paragraph, Sam was hiring Bucky Barnes, a man out of time, to do historical consultant work. The assassin could take Sam to court and win if Sam reneged. This had so many ways of going wrong. He couldn't do this. Sam put down the tablet on the metal table. "This was a mistake."
"Tell that to the parents grieving their children tonight. To the women afraid he might find them and put them back in a cage for his henchmen and customer's pleasure. This is what he deserves. Your Captain America. You keep people safe, and protect the innocent. You're the leader of the Avengers."
Sam sighed and wiped a tear from his eye. He slid the tablet over to himself with a screech. He tried to quickly scroll to the bottom, but the document was never-ending, yet he signed his name on the dotted line. He walked to the door, and it slid open with ease. He left that room without looking back.
A week later, there was back-to-back coverage of the infamous human trafficker, Ray Drewski, being castrated, gutted, and left strung up on the gates of the United States Embassy in Uzbekistan. Every time Sam walked into his headquarters someone on the team had it playing on the TV. Sam couldn't escape the coverage or guilt. He was guilty because he didn't feel as guilty as he thought he should. He felt guilty for the relief that flooded his chest when the story broke. He felt guilty because since the trial he had arrived at peace. That dissipated when he sat at his desk.
"They're saying it's the Winter Soldier," Joaquin said.
"That's not his usual style, is it?" Isaiah said.
"No. He usually lets his long gun get it done, quickly, and methodically, but Drewski's whole organization was hit. His three headquarters were bombed, obliterated. There is only one operator that is an expert spy, skilled marksman, ranked perfect in hand-to-hand combat, and competent enough in ballistics."
"It could be a team. Every hit went down at the same time," Elijah said.
"Yeah, but I have a buddy at Interpol. They're saying it was his bullets, and his signature style is all over the eight bombs. He had everything on a timer and perfectly planned. I wonder what Drewski did to piss the guy off?"
"Cap, do you think they'll call us in to capture him?" Nichelle asked.
"No," Sam said, trying to concentrate on their next case.
"If they do, we should say no. He did the world a favor," Isaiah said.
-o0o-
Sam was letting the good doctor sew up the cut above his eye. All he wanted was some brown liquor, the oxtail stew he had on the stove at home, and his bed. He had some punch bowl cake too leftover from Sarah's birthday party. Yeah, that sounded like a plan. The man cursed under his breath when Rhodey walked into the room with his uniform on. "Nope," Sam said. The doctor applied the adhesive bandage. Sam hopped off the table. "Call Banner or Carol. My team just brought in five dudes on our most wanted list. They need a break. I need a break."
"This isn't official Avenger's business. It's a personal matter."
Sam's crossed arms dropped. "You okay, Rhodey?"
Rhodey smiled. "Oh, no. This is all you, partner." Rhodey slapped a file into Sam's chest. "I hear congratulations are in order."
Sam opened the file and glared down at- What the fuck? Sam saw red. He looked up at a smirking Rhodey.
Rhodey's brow rose. "Is that real? If not, he can be brought up on fraud and forgery charges on top of the 456 murder and conspiracy counts he's facing. "
"Hell, nah," Sam said, pacing, and then it dawned on him. They had a contract that said Sam owed him a favor.
"I didn't think so. He's still pissed over the shield and those times you caught him. I didn't take the guy as having a sense of humor, but this shit is funny."
"Who caught him this time?"
"It was a fluke. Some off-duty cops at a bar in Switzerland. I'll let them know this is fake." Rhodey was about to head out of the room.
Sam looked up from the paperwork he was reading. "No."
"No? You're saying it's real?"
"I'm saying, it needs to stay in place."
"In place? Sam. He's got something on you?"
Sam sighed. His eyes closed. This is why you were supposed to do the right thing. You put bad energy out in the world, and then it came back to you in the most unexpected fucked up ways. He was beholden to an ass hole now. "I owe him a favor."
"Sam," Rhodey said, shaking his head.
"Let it ride."
"You want me to let this ride," Rhodey said, flipping the pages and pointing to a line.
Sam read the passage, not understanding. He read it again. Sam shook his head. He was going to kill him. He was going to murder the Winter Soldier.
"Yeah," Rhodey laughed.
Sam closed the file with a snap. He swallowed, breathed. "Let it ride."
-o0o-
It wasn't enough that Sam had to fly eight hours on his week off, he also had to take a long car ride on a rickety stank bus to a black site in Bumblefuck, USA. The "discreet" guards weren't being discreet; they were gawking and currently rummaging through his bag like he was some kind of criminal. They were mumbling under their breath and shaking their heads.
Sam was annoyed, and he brought it on himself. After being strip-searched, he was finally let through eight- count them eight- heavy-duty steel doors, two laser-secured catwalks with a fifty-foot drop under them, and one electric charged force field. He was let into what amounted to a small efficiency apartment. It was sparse but clean. The furniture looked like it was made for a 1960's hotel. It didn't look very comfortable, but it got the job done.
Sam had a good mind to turn around and walk out, but he had signed the contract, and he and Rhodey talked it through. Rhodey thought he had been compromised, and he had been, so Sam had to come clean. Rhodey shrugged off Drewski's assassination. He was more interested in Bucky's play. It was over a bowl of stew Sam figured it out with Rhodey's help. Bucky had some information for him or the Avengers that he needed to pass on, and this was the only way to do it when they had him locked up tighter than a rusted jar lid. So, Sam sat on the hard-ass couch and waited. They brought Bucky into the room half an hour later in chains and striped scrubs.
Bucky smirked at Sam as they removed the irons. His hair was wild, his knuckles bruised. "Hey, honey. I'm home." Bucky plopped on the couch beside him.
Sam glared at the man but didn't say anything until the guards had locked the doors behind them. "You forged a marriage license in my name?"
"It's the only way I could get conjugal visits."
"The guards think Captain America is married to the Winter Soldier. I can't get married now."
"You got a dame?"
"That's not the point."
"A fella?"
"Why am I here?"
"I needed a private room with no camera and listening devices. Did you bring a pen and paper? The book I need?"
Sam pursed his lips but opened his overnight bag and pulled out everything Bucky requested that was allowed in. Bucky grabbed the Oh Henry bar, a pen, and looseleaf paper and started writing. Sam stood over him, and his mouth dropped open. "You're on a job?"
"Yeah, pal. You didn't think Barney Fife and Inspector Gadget caught me, did you?"
"You're making me an accessory to your crime."
"You made me an accessory to yours."
Sam's mouth opened and closed. Well, shit. He guessed he deserved this. He left Barnes to calculate angles in the prison yard or whatever. He went over to what they called a bed in this place. Bucky woke him up an hour later. "I made dinner, Sweetheart."
"Don't call me that." Sam went over and sat at the table. He looked down into the bowl of Spaghetti O's and shrugged. He hadn't had them since he was a kid, but he was hungry. He sighed into his bowl.
Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry I sullied your name with jerkoff guards who live in a backwater, but you need to get over it anyway. Captain America is what you do, the people you save. You've saved thousands. It's not your sterling reputation."
"You don't know how many people who want me to fail, who are looking for anything-"
"Racists are going to be racist no matter what you do, Wilson. Your record is perfect. You're a war hero, an Avenger, and brave, and they still knit-pick everything you do. Stop living your life for those knuckleheads. Live a little."
"I jump out of airplanes for a living. I live."
"Is that why you don't have a dame?"
"Do you have a dame?"
"Too many."
"Then why am I here?"
"Because your personal life is top secret. Their life is not. They would die a painful death five minutes after they left this compound if they were associated with me and/or be put on every government's watchlist."
"Fine. At least, tell me your target is a bad guy."
"All my targets are bad guys."
Sam thought about it. Bucky might be telling the truth. Sam had never heard of the Winter Soldier killing anyone innocent since they had brought down Hydra. "Well, I'll be- Are you a good guy?"
"Fuck no," Bucky grimaced. Sam grinned at him. "Can it, Wilson. I'm a necessary guy."
"Hmm," Sam uttered and went back to his dinner. He washed the dishes when he was finished and went back over to the couch. He had 48 hours to -what- watch the Winter Soldier plan his next hit? He sighed, pulling out a novel. He nodded off and woke up with Bucky over him.
"Go to bed, Wilson."
"I'm fine."
"Are you going to pout all weekend?"
"Maybe."
"Alright, Alright. I'll suck you off. You don't have to beg."
"What?" Sam's eyes popped open just in time to see Barnes getting on his knees.
"You're grumpy, and I have work to do. All your hem hawing is distracting."
"No. I-"
"It's a room with no cameras and listening devices, no one will ever know, and these guards think we fucked fifteen ways by now."
"You're gay?"
"I'm here…with a warm wet mouth."
Bucky was testing Sam's patience. He was currently sucking on Sam's balls and nosing at the base of his dick. He licked the length of him, his tongue playing with his tip. He sucked on the side of Sam's shaft but had yet to take Sam fully into his mouth. He wanted Sam to beg, but he would not.
Bucky thought he was smarter than everyone, and Sam would not give him the satisfaction, but it was growing unbearable. Bucky's tongue wiggled into his ass crack and that was enough. Sam grabbed him by all of that hair, firmly and guided his head back into his lap. He rubbed his dick against his lips until the man smirked and finally swallowed him whole. Sam turned to liquid heat as the Winter soldier hallowed his cheeks and bobbed up and down on Sam's dick. It wasn't very long before Sam flooded his mouth and told him to swallow.
Three weeks later, a terrorist was killed in a prison fire, the Winter Soldier escaped, and an ambassador's kidnapped boy was returned to his family.
-o0o-
Sam was annoyed. He walked off the Quinjet covered in sand and then walked onto a private jet charter headed for a floating fortress in the Antarctic Ocean. For the last week, he had been praying to get out of the scorching sun. Now, he was freezing his ass off in a cell with a double cot in it. There were no chains this time when Bucky walked in. Only a collar that looked like it was too tight. Once Bucky was in the secure room, it beeped. Bucky pulled it off.
"Really?" Sam asked.
"What?" Bucky asked, coming to sit on the cot beside Sam.
"I thought our business was concluded."
"Do you know how much planning, skill, and supplies went into offing Drewski and shutting down his entire organization?"
"Shh." Sam's eyes searched the ceilings and corners.
"No cameras. No listening devices."
"This place operates outside the law."
"They still answer to the government and Geneva Convention. Besides, I hacked their system a month ago."
"You're on another job?"
"No, but I knew they were getting close. I put a few contingency plans in place."
"So, why am I here if you don't need to plan."
"I need to plan my escape."
"I don't want to hear that, and I call bullshit. If you hacked this place a month ago. You figured out how to get out a month ago."
"Fine. They had me in solitary. I killed an inmate or three. I'm a bit stir-crazy."
"Your plan?"
"Oh, it's still on, but I'm waiting for the right moment."
"I'm not the right moment, am I?"
"No. That would be stupid. They would take away my conjugal rights."
"So, why am I here?"
"I told you I am stir crazy and just got out of solitary."
"If you are lonely, you need human companionship and touch; we could just-"
"Wilson, you better not say cuddle."
"There are many studies on the benefits-"
"I bet there are more studies on the benefits of sex."
"Maybe."
"What's your problem? You had a good time, last time."
"I don't know. I'm tired a fuck. I'm cold. This is weird. And this cot is hard."
"Your orgasm will help you sleep. Sex will warm you up. You won't give a shit about how weird it is when you're inside of me, and it'll be my back or knees aching when I bottom."
"So, we've just graduated to fucking?"
"Beats cuddling. The Avengers have been busy lately. I bet it's been a while-"
"Shut up and take your clothes off."
Sam ignored Bucky's smug face as he moved inside of him. He was right. The Winter Soldier felt phenomenal around his dick, so great, they had done nothing else but fuck and eat during Sam's stay. He had him on the floor, the metal table, against the wall, and yes, that hard-ass cot. Sam pressed Bucky's legs back and drove into him on their last day together. It felt so good, he leaned down and kissed the man. He immediately pulled back, but Bucky grabbed his head to keep him there as they lapped up each other's tastes. Uh oh, Sam thought. The lust sparked between them was kindling a deeper flame. Sam spent the next hour searing his touch into the Winter Soldier's skin.
Sam was shocked when he got home the next day and got a collect call. It became a weekly thing "to keep up appearances." They griped at each other some days; other days, Sam told Bucky about his day. Sometimes Bucky called and tried to tell him how the Avenger op in the news could have gone better, and then they griped at each other. Some days Sam read to him when Bucky seemed a bit quieter. Bucky escaped a week before their next scheduled conjugal visit. The phone calls stopped, and postcards from all over the world took their place.
-o0o-
Six months later, Sam and his team had just defeated a super-powered human trying to freeze and enslave a small European village. This so-called "Blizzard" wanted to steal a rare metal that grew naturally in the caves there. Joaquin was starting up the Quinjet when Sam got a call. Five minutes later, a helicopter was landing ready to take him to a prison camp. His team was headed back to their headquarters. Bucky better not get him killed. They weren't dealing with the US government this time. Sam wondered what desolate site he would be forced to endure for the next few days, but he was shocked when they flew into the heart of a small city. He pulled out his phone to see where he was, but there were no bars. Sam huffed. He was going to kill the Winter Soldier. They landed on top of a building, Sam got out and the helicopter took off. Sam went over to the door that led to the inside and it popped open. Barnes was there barefoot in jeans and a sweater.
"What kind of hippie prison is this?"
"The worst kind. It's one of my own making. Are you going to stand out here and gawk all night? It'll be snowing soon." Barnes turned and let go of the door. Sam ran to catch it. He trooped down the narrow stairs and found himself in a penthouse. Something smelled heavenly, and Sam's stomach rumbled. "I got some sweats, if you want to get out of those clothes."
"What is this?"
"My safe house. One of them. I'm laying low, and I started feeling antsy. I thought about your cuddling studies and looked them up."
"Why am I in your home?"
"Do you listen?"
"Yeah I do, but all that was bullshit."
"Fuck it, Wilson. A guy tries to be romantic, makes you a nice Bolognese. And you ruin it with your-"
"My what?"
"Your high moral standards."
"I was on a job, asshole."
"You were done with your job, jerkoff. I thought after that ordeal you might want to relax and get your rocks off. Eat a nice meal. Neck by the fire."
"You could have asked."
"Where's the fun in that? I like surprises, a little spontenaity."
"Where are these clothes and your shower?"
Bucky pursed his lips but led Sam into his bedroom. It had a king-size bed, fireplace, and a spectacular view of the city. "This is your safehouse?"
"One of them," Bucky said, going into the pristine white bathroom. The soaking tub was on a platform and could fit five people. The shower covered the back wall. It had no less than twenty spouts and a screen to get it started. "You want some music?"
"Sure. Something soft," Sam said, stripping out of his gear. Bucky nodded and turned on some jazz. He also dimmed the lights and started the shower.
"I'll go check on dinner."
Sam let the steam ease the ache out of his shoulder. He let the horns in the music wash over him like the water. He lathered soap over his skin, thinking about the man in the other room, his husband of two years. When he was done, he used Bucky's fancy lotion and shaving cream to clean up. The sweats Bucky promised him were on the bed. They were designer and fur-lined. Bucky left out some slippers for him as well. Sam walked back out to the main room just as Bucky was getting the plates on the table. The lights were off, only candlelight and a gas fireplace illuminated the space. The music playing in the bathroom was playing here also. Sam spied another amazing city view; Sam could see the dark outline of a mountain too. It was an amazing backdrop to the living room with its plush camel-colored couch and three floor-to-ceiling shelves stuffed with books. Sam sat in front of one of the two place settings, taking in the pasta, salad, and what smelled like freshly baked bread. "No wonder you have so many girlfriends. This looks great."
"I only cook for my husband, sweetheart."
"Okay, Barnes. What is this?"
"Like I said. I'm laying low, doing reconnaissance. I can't leave this building because I might get made so-"
"I'm not your booty call."
"Booty call?"
"Next time, fly in one of your girls when you're horny."
"I'm not bringing a girl here, and I missed you. Although, now that you're here, I don't know why."
"Oh, you know why."
"Don't flatter yourself, pal. Let's not forget, you got on that chopper."
Sam ate his dinner and his dessert. He felt better. "Thank you. That was delicious." He went and lay on the couch while Bucky loaded the dishwasher. His shoulder was still bothering him. Bucky noticed when he sat beside him and gave him a massage. Bucky claimed he needed his shirt off, then the assassin started talking about pressure points, and claimed Sam needed his pants off. Sam rolled his eyes, but let Bucky strip him, and then Bucky reached for his own shirt. "Why do you need your clothes off?"
"Everyone knows that skin to skin contact-"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Get over here."
Bucky leaned down and kissed him. There was a lot of skin-to-skin contact as Bucky rode him on the couch. Sam knew the man was flexible from his fighting skills, but Bucky's thighs muscles had to be powerful. Sam watched him bounce on his dick. Sam pulled his hair, and Bucky came across his stomach. Sam flipped them over, pushed Bucky's face down, and fucked him fast and hard until he was coming. He collapsed on top of him breathing into his ear. "I think our contract is fulfilled now."
"We're married, doll face, and I'm Catholic. Our contract is for life."
"You're Jewish."
"Did your homework, ay? I'm half Jewish. The Catholic half, which doesn't believe in divorce, is married to you."
"You don't practice either of those religions, and our wedding was fake."
"It was real in my heart, and when was the last time you went to church, PK?"
"Shut up."