Amends (Sambucky)

Chapter Fourty-Five

Sam's grip on the drink tightened, though he had yet to consume any of it. His sole reason was for appearance, and he was determined to put up a good one.

Especially in front of Bucky.

"Excuse me, what's your name?" Sam sparked conversation with a blonde beside him, piquing her interest.

She raised an eyebrow, "Who are you? And why would you like to know?"

"Call it curiosity. My name's Milo," Sam introduced himself.

"Mary. I'm not one of the powers you're looking for. I'm here as a plus one, and I have no crime to admit to, nor object to offer," she explained, "I'm just here for a good time."

Sam chuckled, happy with himself for finding exactly what he wanted, "Then we have that in common, Mary."

~~~~~

Bucky grit his teeth as his grip tightened on his drink, before holding the glass over the trash can and shattering it.

"You alright, mate?"

"What do you think?" he spat, brushing his hands off and moving inside.

The entire walk to the bar, Bucky had to resist the urge to gag. There were couples at every corner, every table, every inch of the dance floor, and he could not stand it. Moreover, the clock was dancing upon eleven p.m., and he had yet to explain to Sam what the dance he volunteered them for entailed.

"Something strong. Very. The strongest you have," Bucky asked as he placed a hundred dollar bill on the table. It took a lot more alcohol for him to be drunk; he only hoped it would be enough.

"Thanks," he muttered as he accepted the glass, fixing his eyes on Sam and Mary, who were talking it up in another corner.

"Mr. Spitz?"

Bucky turned his head to see yet another person he didn't recognize.

"Is that Milo? Your man?" she questioned, only encouraging Bucky's anger.

"No." Bucky decided, turning away.

She raised an eyebrow at that, "You're sure?"

"What do you want?" he huffed, glaring at the woman. If he weren't blinded by Sam, perhaps Bucky would have noticed how her dark hair perfectly framed her tanned face, or how her green eyes bore a stare almost as intense as his.

"Aren't you two doing the last dance?"

"He is. I could care less," Bucky muttered, chugging the most of his drink. It didn't work.

She looked down at her drink for a moment, like she was debating on saying something. She finally lifted her head, "Are you sure? Because Mary is not the best partner for it."

"She is to Sam."

"That might be true, but I'm certain that you know better, Mr. Soldier," she caught him off guard, making Bucky's eyes widen. He had just blown their cover.

"Do not worry," she insisted, pulling out a small badge from her purse that read FBI and the name Arya Keets, "I had to be sure before I said anything more. Do you have any leads?"

Bucky's body visibly relaxed, but he stared at Arya with the same disdain, "No."

"I see," she tried to let the conversation go, but something what clearly on her mind. Bucky sighed,

"What?"

"How are you going to leave him?" she demanded, "Experienced or not, he is not prepared for that dance. I'm not sure what happened, but you'd be a pretty shitty partner not to warn him. His situation with Mary seems like a cry for attention, so give it to him."