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A Typical Date

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"Run!" Bucky yells.

Sam puts on a burst of speed, but he's still lagging behind. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Taking a nap!"

Bucky glances back, and Sam flips him off.

"C'mon, Wilson, my grandma's got a bum hip and she's faster than that."

"That was old in the forties," Sam shoots back.

He hears a series of pops behind them and doesn't think, just grabs Bucky and dives to the side. They go crashing through a door into an empty building, rolling along a dirty concrete floor. Sam grunts at the impact, but grunting is all he has a chance to do before the alleyway explodes.

Just like that, Bucky's on top of him, covering him from the worst of the blast.

The explosion settles, and for a moment Sam can't hear anything but the ringing in his ears.

"You okay?" Bucky whispers, his voice cutting through the noise.

Sam nods.

Bucky's head snaps up, like a cat. "They're coming. We need to move."

He crawls off Sam, keeping low, and Sam rolls onto his hands and knees with a wince. This was not how he'd pictured his evening going, but when a bunch of armed thugs burst into a restaurant and all you've got is a Valentine's Day present and a nice tie, sometimes it's better to live to fight another day.

His slacks catch on a piece of debris, and Sam winces at the rip he hears. Damn it, these were his favorite date pants.

Bucky crawls into a dark hallway off the main room, and Sam follows him. It's a good vantage point; they can see most of the room and the blown-out windows, but the angle and darkness will make it impossible for the armed guys to see them.

Sam stands up and presses himself against the wall. Pain shoots up his leg, and he grimaces. Shit. He must've caught something in the blast.

He must make a noise or something, because Bucky's on his feet in a flash, cupping his face. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam shakes his head and pulls Bucky's hands away. "I'm fine. Ripped my damn pants, though. Again."

It's too dark in the hallway to see Bucky's face, but Sam feels the warm ghost of laughter along his cheek. "You're too clumsy for your own good."

"Oh, is that how it's gonna be?" Sam squeezes Bucky's wrist. "That's how you want to play this? Because I got blackmail."

"Do you, now?"

"That time you tripped over nothing and fell in the kitchen? You better believe I got video."

Bucky inhales like he's about to say something back, and then he tenses and presses Sam flat against the wall. Bad guys must be coming.

Sure enough, Sam hears the crunch of glass under combat boots in the alley outside, and the white beam of a flashlight cuts through the building where they're hiding.

Sam breathes shallowly, his whole attention focused on not making a sound or a move. He's pretty sure only Bucky's close enough to hear how loud his heart is beating.

His eyes have adjusted enough that he can see the fierce glare Bucky's leveling at the guys, the way his lips are thin and tight. The footsteps don't slow, just continue crunching past until they fade into the distance.

Sam can feel the tension drain from Bucky's body, and he drops his head to Sam's shoulder. "Fuck."

Sam understands the sentiment. He reaches up and cards his fingers through Bucky's long hair. "You know, Barnes, just once I want you to take me on a damn date that doesn't end with us getting shot at."

Bucky lifts his head and looks sheepish. "Sor—"

Sam kisses him before he can finish the word. It's worth it for the way Bucky's whole body jerks forward in surprise, and then kind of just melts into Sam's. He smirks into the kiss.

"I can feel your smug smile, Wilson," Bucky mutters against his lips.

Sam drops a hand to Bucky's ass and tugs him forward. "Feel anything else, smartass?"

Bucky groans. "Fucking hell."

Sam winks. "Want to head back to the tower and salvage the last bit of our date?"

Bucky nips at his lower lip and kisses him again, but this one is so unexpectedly tender it makes Sam shudder from head to toe.

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Let's go finish our date."