In wish Bucky Barnes takes pole dancing lessons to add to his web show repertoire, and Sam is not amused.
It’s becoming routine now.
The loud shruum of the pole segments sliding back into each other. Then a heavy THUMP through the floorboards. And then, inevitably, “Sa-am?!”
“You’re a grown man and I shouldn’t have to tell you that buying a collapsible stripper pole was a terrible idea.” Sam is totally unamused and not at all surprised when he opens their bedroom door to see Bucky sprawled in a heap on the floor. Again. “You chafe your nuts or your face this time?”
“Neither.” Bucky groans, accepting Sam’s hand to pull himself up. The glittery body oil is way too much, Sam feels like he’s being blinded by a very naked disco ball. “Got carpet burn on my ass.”
“You’re a walking car crash, Barnes.” Sam steadies his roommate when he doesn’t catch his balance very well, in spite of all his lubey glory, because Sam’s nice like that. “Dude, you actually hurt yourself this time?”
“Nah, I’m good. I just got my ankle hooked around the pole when I-” He tries to put his weight on his left foot again and winces, grabbing Sam’s arms and getting oil all over his shirt. Great. “That doesn’t feel great, actually. Ow.”
“Probably twisted it, dumbass.” Sam tries not to look too concerned as Bucky attempts to stand and cringes again. “Quit doing that!”
“I had to make sure!” Bucky whines, but the pallor of his cheeks suggests he is actually in pain beneath the bravado. Why do none of Sam’s friends have any sense of self-preservation?
“C’mon, put some ice on it and I’ll text your boyfriend. He can drive you to the medical centre.” Hours of waiting in line behind people looking for sick notes to get out of class, sure, but the medical centre on campus is still cheaper than the ER. Sam tugs Bucky’s arm over his shoulder and Bucky actually pouts.
“This is the perfect opportunity to carry me like a heroic fireman, Wilson. You just gonna let that pass you and all your muscles by?”
“You’re the dumbest shit alive.” Sam rolls his eyes and grabs Bucky, shoves him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and not the damsel-in-distress bridal move Barnes is clearly angling for. “You’re welcome.”
“Perfect, I can see your ass from here.” Bucky sounds a little strained, but he’s still quipping so Sam has limited sympathy. At least Steve is home in a few and then Mr Amateur Magic Mike isn’t his problem anymore.
“Will you kiss me better, Sam?”
“You can kiss my ass.”
Bucky smacks an upside-down kiss to Sam’s sweatpants-clad butt cheek. Sam doesn’t know what he did to deserve these people in his life.