Phone Calls and Letters
Steve and Sam’s conversation (Sam in bold)
“Hey buddy, don’t mean to interrupt your honeymoon, but Wanda went off grid. Thought you’d want to know.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Couple days. Left her phone and everything.”
(To Bucky): “It’s Wanda. She took off.”
“Stop letting your boyfriend distract you. Steve. Steve. Hellooo, still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“It’s nothing you need to come back for. Not until your mission is over.”
“No, I’ll head back now. It’s fine.”
“Did you get laid? Don’t come back if you didn’t get laid.”
“Sam. Don’t.”
Bucky, in the background: “Tell him I hate him.”
“Aw, tell that little Soviet asshole I hate him too.”
(To Bucky): “He says he hates you, too.”
“Tell him he needs to work out some of that angry energy on you.”
“No, I’m not going to tell him that.”
Bucky, in the background:“Tell me what?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you even made a move yet? You realize this is your priority.”
“No, stop. I’m coming back tonight. What if something happened to her?”
“Steve, I’m sure she’s fine. Can’t you check up on her without having to leave?”
“Hang on. (To Bucky): Buck, do you think Shuri could help me find her?”
Bucky, in the background:“If anyone can do it, it’d be her.”
“See, lover boy agrees.”
“Fine, I’ll stay, but only until I get Shuri’s help, and then I’m going to pick Wanda up myself in the morning.”
“Good. That means you have all night to get fucked. Literally. You’re the bottom, right?”
“Uh-huh. Fuck you, Sam Wilson.”
“LANGUAGE.”
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Sam and Nat’s conversation in French (Nat in bold)
“Hi, Nat.”
“Hey, Steve. Is there a reason you’re answering in French?”
“Because I know you’re calling to talk about the person I’m in the room with and I know you’re going to try to force me to say something incriminating, so I’m correcting for that ahead of time.”
“The whole point of this little vacation was for you to find out if Bucky remembered that he’s in love with you. Am I to take this as you admitting that you haven’t told him?”
“No, I haven’t technically told him. There’s a lot of other shit we have to work through first.”
“Language. If you come back without telling him, I’ll throw you out a window.”
“I don’t know, Nat. Should I even tell him? If he remembered, wouldn’t he …”
“Is he being distant?”
“God, not at all.” Steve sighs heavily.
“Well, are you too stupid to realize he’s coming on to you?”
“I really don’t think that’s the case.”
“How often does he touch you?”
“Jesus, Nat.”
“Don’t go all Blushing Virgin on me now, Rogers, just answer the question.”
Steve pauses for a long time. “Almost constantly.”
“You’re sure he hasn’t made a pass at you?”
“It’s not … If anything, I’m the one pushing it.”
“Steven Grant Rogers, are you being handsy?”
“Oh, God. A little? I got carried away last night.”
“Dish. What happened? Did you kiss him?”
Long pause. “No …”
“You paused way too long, so let me rephrase. Were your lips anywhere on his skin?”
Another long pause. “Kind of.”
“And you didn’t think this was the right time to confess your love?”
“Well …”
“Oh my God, you told him. Did he say it back?”
“Yeah, he did.”
Nat scoffs loudly.“And that wasn’t enough? Get your shit together, Rogers. You’re being too vague. Just say it with me – Bucky, I’m in love with you.”
“I can’t, he’s sitting in the room with me.”
Nat pauses. “Which is why we’re speaking French, right? You said he doesn’t speak it.”
“Oh, shit. What if he does?”
Nat hangs up.
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Steve and Sam’s conversation (Sam in bold)
“There’s too much bad to sludge through, I guess. He hasn’t gotten to the good ones yet.”
“I’m sure it’ll take a little time. He hasn’t remembered any of the good parts yet?”
“Well, yeah, but most of what he remembers is from before the war. Before we …”
“Started knocking combat boots?”
“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry for calling, Sam, I just didn’t …”
“Who else are you going to complain to about your sex life?”
“No, my … “
“Excuse me, your lack of sex life.”
“My lack of sex life, right.”
“That’s what I’m here for, you know that.”
“No, I know you really don’t want to talk about this, so I appreciate it.”
“Are you kidding? Listening to Captain America wax poetic about his amnesiac boyfriend from a hundred years ago? I live for this sentimental shit.”
“Oh, of course, I’m sure you love to hear me act like a teenage girl. I’m sure Nat told you all about that conversation.”
“She told me you hadn’t made a move yet, even though I told you to.”
Steve is silent for a moment. “I didn’t tell Nat, but I … I did make a move, Sam.”
“Hold up, you what?”
“I kissed him.”
“YOU WHAT.”
“We were both a little bit drunk, and I was leaving, and I just … I kissed him.”
“And you’re just now telling me? Wait, can you even get drunk?”
“Evidently I can, because I kissed my best friend and freaked him the fuck out.”
“I’m sorry, didn’t you already profess your undying love for him?”
“Okay, yes, I did tell him I love him, but …”
“And didn’t he say it back to you?”
“Yeah, he said it back, but I … maybe he didn’t mean it the way I did.”
“Steve, when was the last time I told you I loved you? Never. Because, alright, maybe I do, but I would never say it to your face. That’s weird. That idiot loves you. Like you love him.”
Silence on Steve’s end.
“You still there?”
“Sam, I gotta go.”
“Lover boy show up?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Godspeed, Captain.”
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Bucky’s dirty poem, hanging in the Smithsonian (first letter of each word)
See Those Evening Violet Embers Increasing, Marching In Skies So Young.
Over, Under, Seeking Out, Fleeing Upward.
Crowning Kings In Nights Glorious.
My Unreachable, Callous Heart Aches Now, Deeply.
Years, Once Unsteady, Rise Calmly; Only Cautiously Kindled.
Gathering Of Dusk Innocently Wakes ANight That Thunders Off,
Sinews Underneath Clashing Knuckles.
Yesterday: Open, Uncertain.
Otherwise: Frighteningly Fleeting.