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Sam Wilson is an amazing realtor. He works hard, he takes care of his clients, and he can sell any house he puts his mind to.
Unless, of course, the house happens to be haunted by an irritating, standoffish ghost who died in 1940. Then things get a little more complicated.
Sam Wilson's fugitive life, post-Accords: taking refuge in a kingdom that might as well have been magical, in a sprawling palace set against beautiful mountains and jungles, where there was a handsome man cursed and trapped in a deathly sleep in a glass coffin, and a kind and just king who was working to heal him, and a stalwart warrior from a far-off time who wouldn't leave his cursed friend, and, hell, Sam even knew a witch. Surely Sam could be forgiven if his thoughts turned to fairy tales and Disney movies.
Bucky's kind of like a Disney princess. Sam would maybe like to be Prince Charming.
"The frantic pulse of fear doesn’t ease until Sam catches sight of Barnes for the first time since the end of the battle: he’s dirty and disheveled, and still, somehow, impossibly, the best thing Sam’s ever seen. The gallop of Sam’s heart slows, and the tightness in his lungs eases so suddenly that it’s like he’s gone buoyant, ready to float away without the help of any wings. Barnes turns as if he can sense Sam looking at him, and when he meets Sam’s eyes, he smiles, and it’s the brightest damn thing on this battlefield, a shock of sweetness in the midst of so much dark bitterness and confusion. Sam smiles back, giddy with joy and relief.
He thinks, thank God Bucky’s okay.
Then he thinks, wait, what the fuck?"
After realizing there are some unexpected side effects for those who've been brought back to life after the Snap, Sam and Bucky slowly but surely learn that if they want to be loved, they must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known [via soul bond].
It starts in Paris.
“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.
“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”
“Shit,” Sam says, staring at the thin golden ring on his finger. He blinks quickly, like he’s pushing through it all: the hangover, the too-bright sunlight, the pure insanity of this moment. Bucky watches the dark curl of his eyelashes, staring for just a second too long.
Sam blinks again, then starts to laugh. “Shit. Well, I guess we’ll have to file for annulment.”
And maybe it’s the leftover buzz of the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way that Sam has started to feel like safety to him, but something makes Bucky blurt it out; he clears his throat and says, “Yeah, or we could just stay married.”
[Sam, Bucky, and a long road to peace.]
After being out in the field for a month, Sam accidentally calls Bucky "babe" during a debrief meeting in front of Rhodes, Fury, and several others. Naturally, Bucky doesn't let it go. Bucky starts calling Sam every stupid pet name he can think of whenever someone else is around. Sam tries to ignore it, but now people keep asking him if he and Bucky are a thing, and they're not, no matter what Belova tells you. Except... when one of Bucky's pet names strikes a chord, Sam starts to think that maybe he does want them to be a thing after all.
Steve gets kidnapped. Sam wakes up Bucky to go find him. Nobody is fine.
Sam is grieving widower. Bucky is separated from his wife. They meet and hit it off right away. Unfortunately, they have teenaged daughters who are vying for the same coveted solo at the holiday festival.
Sam’s in love. Bucky’s in denial. The Power Broker’s on the loose. What could go wrong?
Or, a post-TFATWS fic where Sam and Bucky try to figure out how to work as partners while secretly being in love with each other...
Madripoor is for lovers OR That Snake Shot, may not have been the best life decision Sam's ever made, of course he ends up in the local hospital. But there is absolutely no way he's telling anybody that he got taken out by some sorta back-alley cocktail, no sirree.
Canon-Adjacent, as the episodes come out,
FAKE DATING BABEY
“So,”
Sam licks his lips nervously, they shine in the fluorescent light, “Uh, if anybody asks, that drink was hella strong— with you know— aphrodisiacs and whatnot, like you said, so after the party, I took you back to my room and you had the best fuckin’ night of your life.”
Bucky’s nodding along absently, watching the door until—
“What?”