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*****
“Let me just walk you through a hypothetical,” Bucky said.
Like that was an innocent statement to make.
Like he wasn’t holding back a smile.
Like Sam hadn’t heard that before.
Sam shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. Sam knew he would be dragged into whatever idea Bucky had. Not because it was the smart thing to do. More because apparently whenever Sam was with this man, they shared exactly one brain cell between the two of them on a good day and it was very hard to keep that brain cell from getting lost when Bucky stared at him like that.
Like this was something Sam wanted to hear out.
Like Sam didn’t find himself in a number of shenanigans whenever Bucky started with, “Let me just walk you through a hypothetical.”
Bucky took Sam’s hands.
Bucky’s hands were warm. They held Sam’s hands so tenderly. Those hands were just asking for a moment of Sam’s time. Sam could feel that one brain cell between them slipping away from him.
“Can I?” asked Bucky, and his voice was so soft; it was gentle and doing everything Bucky could to not show nerves.
Who needed brain cells, anyway?
“What?” asked Sam, rewarded with a big grin.
“So, picture this, okay?” asked Bucky as he walked Sam to the end of the peer on the cloudiest day Sam had seen all year in Delacroix, “Just picture – beautiful sky. Sunset. The vibrant kind you only get near a city with a lot of smog. Those pops of orange and pink that live in dreams.”
Sam snorted.
“Smog, huh?” asked Sam curiously.
“Not the point, the point is the beauty. Don’t focus on the smog or the pollution or how we’re destroying the planet, focus on the color. The, uh – aesthetic,” Bucky said as if he only just learned the word.
“Okay,” laughed Sam as he closed his eyes for a moment to imagine this vibrant sunset before opening them once more to Bucky, “Okay, got it. Sunset. Don’t think about the Earth dying.”
“Exactly,” said Bucky beaming before he pointed to the corner where the warehouse was, “And over there – a band. A jazz band. The kind in snazzy clubs, real killer diller, very classy. They’re setting the mood, you see?”
A jazz band?
What was Bucky suggesting here?
“Mood for what?” asked Sam, amused.
“Well, you wouldn’t know until they started playing. They’d play our song,” said Bucky, and before Sam knew it, Bucky had pulled Sam into a slow dance, “Something great.”
“Our song?” asked Sam, a little baffled, but he couldn’t stop dancing with Bucky as Bucky added flair to it; a few swing moves.
“You know, I heard a song recently. ‘Can’t Hide It’ by Curtis Harding,” said Bucky as he skirted past the question, “And I can’t hide it, it’s true; I only want you.”
Sam didn’t know what was happening.
But he could hear it.
He could hear that band playing their own cover of the song.
“And there would be flowers, boatloads of flowers,” said Bucky as he spun Sam around, pointing all over the peer, “Maybe too many flowers. Maybe an arch. An arch of flowers the color of your eyes.”
“Brown?” asked Sam, trying to imagine that.
“Vincent Van Gogh tulips, Reckless Abandon irises, Dashing Groomsmen hellebores, Velvet Queen sunflowers, Nuit d’Éte dahlias, Autumn Glow Bronze hardy mums – I could list a million flowers that could work for this, Sam,” said Bucky excitedly.
Sam never imagined that before. A rainbow of dark reds, blacks, and browns surrounding him. A floral arrangement based on his eyes.
Sam felt a little lightheaded.
But.
What was this all about?
“For a flower arch the color of my eyes?” asked Sam lost in the scene; the music, the dancing, the flowers, the sunset.
Bucky.
“For the moment where one day in the not-so-distant future,” Bucky said as he went down on one knee, “Where I trick you to come to Pointe A La Hache for some errand Sarah sent us to do, only to reveal that I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”
Sam.
Couldn’t process this.
He watched Bucky mimicking opening a ring box.
“I don’t understand,” said Sam, unable to keep his heart from beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, “We’re not even dating.”
“Yet,” said Bucky as he stood up and took Sam’s hands again, “Now, could I walk you through another hypothetical?”
“What’s the hypothetical?” asked Sam, because he lost that one brain cell between the two of them long ago.
“Imagine this. It’s sunset,” said Bucky as Sam laughed hard.
“Is it always sunset?” asked Sam.
“For the atmosphere, yes,” said Bucky, “Though, I mean, in practice it might be more afternoon or night. Possibly the morning depending on schedules – not the point, this is a fantasy, Sam.”
Sam couldn’t stop smiling.
“Fantasy,” said Sam, nodding, “Got it.”
“So, it’s sunset. And I drive you here with my motorcycle. We go the scenic route you like,” said Bucky, and Sam could see it.
He could feel the wind speeding past them. He could see the gulf tides ebbing and flowing on the salty marshes as they hugged the coast to reach Point A La Hache.
Wait.
Hadn’t they driven the scenic route to get here?
“We’ll say hello to Tommy and Carlos, because of course we would, we’re polite and they just took time to do me a giant favor and make sure the setup I have on the boat is still all in place,” said Bucky.
“A setup?” asked Sam giggling, “What kind of setup? Should I be worried?”
“Not like – murder or something. I shouldn’t say that. Now you’re going to think it’s murder,” said Bucky, a little grumbly.
“I don’t think it’s murder,” Sam said before Bucky gave him a look, “I’m a little worried it’s murder.”
“It’s not murder,” Bucky emphasized before continuing, “It’s a table. On the deck. It’s got a nice tablecloth. It has a little vase of flowers – flowers the color of your eyes. It even has candles to bring in nice soft lighting.”
“For the murder,” Sam teased.
“Not for a murder,” Bucky insisted, “But I would pull the chair for you because I’m a gentleman.”
“Okay. How am I supposed to pull your chair out like a gentleman if you’re seating me first?” asked Sam, and somehow that was the question that stumped Bucky.
Like he wasn’t sure how whatever was about to happen in this scenario could work if they both had to be gentlemen about it.
“We’ll… both pull each other’s seats out?” Bucky suggested, “And we scoot on our own?”
Sam snorted.
Bucky took that as a sign of a good compromise, and continued, “And I’d go into the boat for this casserole I kept cooking on low heat in The Paul & Darlene’s oven. This one my ma taught me. Real good. Very filling. Tastes like love.”
“Tastes like love, huh?” asked Sam without thinking.
Sam could feel his face heat up as Bucky turned crimson.
“Y-yeah,” said Bucky, breaking eye contact for the first time, “It’s good stuff. You’ll love it.”
“Love it, huh?” asked Sam, and Sam, without a brain cell, knew he was getting to the heart of this, but without that damn brain cell, he couldn’t think; he didn’t know what the heart of this was.
“And we’d eat it. Talk about our days. Maybe discuss the latest season of Love Island or something. And then we’d eat this ice cream cake – who doesn’t love ice cream cake?” said Bucky, and Sam didn’t know what to do with the idea of eating an entire ice cream cake for dessert so he just nodded and laughed, “And you know, I’d drive you back that same route you love and walk you to your door. Give you a kiss good night, unless, you know, you asked me in for coffee or something. And who could say no to that?”
“The coffee?” asked Sam, “Or me asking?”
Sam didn’t know a person could turn redder, but here Bucky was, breaking Sam’s mind again.
“Both,” said Bucky, and when had Sam and Bucky walked all the way back to the side of the harbor where The Paul & Darlene was docked?
What was Bucky asking?
“What I’m asking,” said Bucky, as if Bucky could read Sam’s mind, “Is, hypothetically, would that sound like a good first date to you?”
“With me?” blurted Sam, without a brain cell to use.
“Samuel, you are the only one standing here with me,” said Bucky, maybe a little desperate, some of those nerves showing, “I would like to take you out on a date.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Yeah,” said Sam, finally collecting that singular brain cell between the two of them, “I’d love that.”
Bucky radiated joy; positively melted at Sam’s affirmation.
“Great,” said Bucky as he waved to Tommy and Carlos in the distance, “Let’s start make that hypothetical into a reality.”