The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Eighty-Nine: Bullshitting, Bravado, And Beer

Here's a Spotify playlist for the chapter that I listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/78c0FfpxLDzCJiR8EIZptU?si=6042b29cd6f54248

"Bucky, are you happy to be spending Sam's birthday with him?" the bubbly news correspondent asked, shoving a microphone into his face. Mara watched from the shade of a tree, ready to jump in if things got tense as Bucky put back the beer he was grabbing for her. Sam lost his focus on the conversation he was having with an old high school friend and made eye contact with her as they waited for Bucky's answer.

"You know," Bucky chuckled, "When Sam called and invited me to this Fourth of July birthday party, I was a little confused."

Sam started to walk towards Bucky, but Sarah grabbed his arm before he could do anything drastic. They argued in hissing whispers, but she refused to let him go. Mara just crossed her arms.

"Confused?" the reporter prompted. Bucky grinned and glanced at Sam.

"Yeah, confused. Sam is such a private man. I bet he's hardly told anyone what day he was born. And this whole patriotic themed shindig?" He gestured to the flags scattered throughout the area and the red, white, and blue decorations. "It's not what I'd imagine he'd choose for himself."

"What sort of birthday party do you think Sam Wilson would prefer?" the reporter asked, smelling chum in the water. Sam glared at Mara and gesticulated violently, but she waved him down. Bucky wouldn't actually tell Sam's secret, right?

"That's just it, Mandy," Bucky smiled, dialing his charm up so high the gauge probably shattered under the pressure. "Sam prefers whatever will make the most people happy. If it's just his nearest and dearest on his boat out in the harbor, that's what he wants. If it's this whole production, complete with a brass band, by God, that's what he wants. If someone asked him to say he was born in- oh I don't know- September or something, he'd say it. He's just that sort of guy." Bucky glanced over at Sam and flashed him a brilliant smile. "Whatever you need Sam Wilson to be, he'll be it."

Sam mouthed something at Bucky and made a rude gesture he hid as soon as he remembered there were cameras and children around. Mara smirked as Bucky finished his brief interview and walked over to her with a swagger she knew would take days to fade.

"And you say I'm a shit liar," he teased, kissing her cheek with a grin. He smelled like the bay and barbeque and beer and looked like he hadn't a care in the world. She bit down her smile and looked up at him with a sharply arched brow.

"That wasn't lying," she informed him coolly. "That was creative truth telling."

"All good lies are based on truths, darling," he reminded her with a chuckle. Blame the tequila, but she couldn't resist him and instead of keeping her frown on she laughed and shook her head.

"You really are the worst, you know that?" she giggled. He nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist just as Sam came over.

"Man," he said with a whistle and a head shake. "Do you take some sort of sick pleasure in making my life harder?"

"Yes," Bucky answered without missing a beat. Mara swatted at him, but he was too busy teasing Sam to even pretend to wince. "You need the ego check, Mr. Born On The Fourth Of July," he added, making Sam take a deep swig of his beer bottle. "I really hope you're not expecting anything come September," Bucky added. "I already maxed out my budget with the Continental Army reenactors."

"Mara, control your man!" Sam griped, looking to her for some support. But she was laughing too hard to hear him.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up to see the horde of reporters and cameras walking towards them. "Looks like word got out that you give great soundbites."