disheveled [ sambucky bingo collection ]

5 | Under the Strobe Lights

Title: Under the Strobe Lights

Square Filled: Band/Singer AU

Warning: None

Summary: Singing for his band has become a chore, so Sam has decided something he'd like to do instead: like talking to this Bucky guy.

Word Count: 595

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It's the strobe lights, Sam Wilson guesses, that makes him emotionally and physically attached with the roaring crowd, cheering as if there's no tomorrow as the singer belts on the song he had only learned minutes prior. It was only to cater to his bandmates's wishes; Sam didn't seem to want this anymore as years after starting this band in college had finally dwindled down into a chore. It was supposed to be a hobby, a way to pay rent; not this.

Under the strobe lights as he stood on the stage of the club, Sam's blown eyes settled themselves on a man in the far back, and Sam could feel his breath falter as his shoulders relaxed, and it was in this moment that Sam felt lighter, as if on cloud nine. Have you only seen the way the man in the far back of the club had looked at Sam, you'd tear at the softness of it.

All of these drunk crowds and blurry faces had dulled Sam, but the man who sat with his friends in some booth had a sense of naivety that allured Sam, as if it was drained from the singer from so long ago that Sam began to crave that attention. The man's eyes travelled on Sam, but not like the predatory looks he always receives, no, this one was gentle, as if a curious animal observing its own, as if an invitation to some study they were supposed to propose. It's breathtaking, how those eyes could say so much that Sam had stopped singing altogether to observe at the man right back, and it was a few moments of silence until the crowd began to drunkenly continue the song, Sam's bandmates, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, had hesitantly continued, unsure of what to do.

Sam seemed to know what to do despite the two.

The crowd hummed and yelled out words as Sam murmured the lyrics into the microphone, and it was at that moment that the man smiled shyly at Sam as if he was afraid he'd scare the singer away. How could you ever scare the singer, hmm? He likes it. Finally, someone who looks at Sam the way most wouldn't think to do.

The bridge came, the lyrics dwindling down into instrumentals as Steve had spoken through his own microphone as he strummed on his electric guitar: "I want to thank my best friend, Bucky Barnes in the far back of the room, for finally coming up to one of our performances- Yup! There he is! The shiny burgundy leather jacket with fluffy hair- Ah, yes! Give him some love!" Steve applauded as the crowd followed along as the crowd chanted the name. Bucky. Bucky Bucky. Sam wanted to know this Bucky.

"Yeah, I see you, Bucky," Sam winks from the stage as the man in questions shyly buried his face in his hands; Bucky smiled and sent a wink Sam's way anyway, and it did things to him when Bucky had shyly tinkered with his empty glass. "Stay for the last song, I want to hear something from you,"

Bucky mouths a "Fuck you" but bites his lip quite giddily, a smile creeping onto his face as he couldn't contain himself when Sam finally gathered his free composure.

There's two things Sam would do that night: Quit the band. Have a drink or two with this guy.

There's one thing Bucky would ponder on until the end of the show: I should've come watch them sooner.