Chapter Text
They’re in Chicago playing the Cubs when it happens. It’s the sixth inning, and Steve’s at bat (always in the nine-spot even if he actually does manage to get on base occasionally), and everything’s going well, he’s got a 3-1 count and the strike zone’s been small tonight. Wood’s been a little wild, but nothing too crazy, when suddenly he lets his fastball fly, and the next thing Bucky sees is Steve in a heap on the ground.
The only thing that keeps Bucky from sprinting to home plate from his spot in the dugout is Wilson’s grip on his jersey.
"Not your problem, Bucky," he says softly. "No matter how much you want it to be."
He takes a deep breath, because he knows it’s true; Sam’s one of only a handful who have any clue that he and Steve are closer than just friends. This is neither the time nor the place to give that away, so Bucky stands silent with his teammates as the trainers and medics assess the damage.
*
The team shuffles through their post-game cool-down and showers in furtive silence. It was a hard-fought loss tonight, and would have been even without the brawl in the bottom of the sixth inning. Most everyone is out of the showers and in the middle of changing clothes when Peggy storms into the locker room.
"There is no excuse for what took place out there tonight," she says in that quiet, clipped way of hers that sparks more fear than shouting ever would. "You boys played sloppy, and we don’t have enough of a lead in the standings for that luxury. I expect better of you." She eyes each one of them in turn; most look away.
"Barnes, Rogers, my office. Now."
Barnes and Rogers—both long dressed in their civvies, since they’d been thrown out of the game for causing the brawl—follow Carter into her office while the rest of the team pretends not to watch them.
Nobody can hear what Carter’s saying with the door closed, but they can read the faces. It’s not pretty. Bucky looks chagrined, but Steve—stupid, reckless Steve, whose habit of beaning players who insult his teammates or his manager is starting to give him a reputation—just looks determined.
"Even if he issues an apology at the press conference, don’t think that one’s ever gonna be sorry," Stark mutters as he turns back to pulling on his pants.