Chapter Text
“Hi,” Sam said, sliding over to the chair next to T’Challa at the bar.
T’Challa looked over, surprised and amused.
“Hello,” he answered. “How did it go?”
“Smoothly,” Falcon informed him. “Cap and Bucky are on their way back to the US now.”
“And the others?”
“Sharon, Tony, Wanda and Clint too.”
T’Challa nodded, taking a swig from his glass.
“How did you find me?” he asked, his tone a little guarded.
“I have to admit, it took some time. But I’m not as stupid as I look.”
The Wakandan king gave his colleague a inquisitive glance. Falcon shrugged, his smile disarming. Sam then looked a bit unsure of what to do now that he had actually found the man.
“A drink?” T’Challa offered.
“Man, thanks, but I shouldn’t...”
“I insist,” T’Challa said, signalling to the man behind the bar. “To celebrate the successful extraction of the Winter Soldier.”
Sam bit his lip and then agreed, leaning against the flat wooden surface.
“He really hates being called that,” he pointed out, and T’Challa grinned.
“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” he said.
Sam nodded and chuckled a little.
“My lips are sealed. What do they have here?”
T’Challa ordered him a gin and tonic, which happened to be one of Sam’s favorites. The king ordered himself another and suggested they’d kick back for a while in the lounge. Sam sat down against the low sofa, looking tranquil, but T’Challa couldn’t relax yet, too wound up from the events of the past few weeks.
“Why did you need to find me anyway?” he said.
“There wasn’t any room in the helicopter and I volunteered to stay. I thought I might ask if you could put me up until it’s safe to fly back.”
“Of course. You are a very self sacrificing man, mr Wilson.”
“Please, call me Sam,” Falcon said, taking a swig from his glass. “And I'm not, really. Steve really likes Barnes and it seemed more important to get him home. Besides, it gave me a chance to spend more time here.”
T’Challa nodded, still impressed.
When the bar closed, the most convenient place was a penthouse close by that T’Challa owned.
“It’s probably too late to drive back to the base now anyway, and I need to attend to some matters here in the city. It's not big but it has an extra bed. Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, yawning.
Next thing, they heard a woman shout for help further up the street.
“Come on,” Sam shouted, and T’Challa followed him as he ran down to help. They bumped into the assailant and Sam threw him into a wall, shattering the bricks behind him.
“Stay,” the hero growled.
T’Challa turned to the woman, looking as frightened of them as she had been of the other man. He talked to her gently in xhosa and she relaxed as she heard the native tongue.
“Thank you,” she said, shivering a little. “I live right here but he attacked me as I was going inside. He’s my ex and he just got too much to drink. Please, I just want to go home.”
She slipped away down the street. T’Challa didn’t want to stop her. Sam waited before he let go of the man, and T’Challa had a talk with him too, sternly, a hand on his shoulder. Sam could have sworn he saw a small wisp of purple smoke emerge from T’Challa's hand, but he wasn’t sure. Then, the man walked away, and T’Challa urged him towards the city and the hotel.
The new king walked inside, making himself another drink. Falcon let out a small whistle as he looked around the apartment. T’Challa wished he had cleaned it up more before leaving last time, he had left clothes everywhere and some stale bread on the kitchen counter.
“Make yourself at home,” he offered, and Falcon sat down on the couch, eyes big.
“I thought you just rented this place, but you actually live here, don’t you?”
“Well, it’s one of many places I can use,” T’Challa shrugged. “Now, the room to the right upstairs should be clean, and there are fresh towels in the closet over there.”
“Thanks, man.”
They looked at each other.
“You got any good music?” Sam asked as the silence stretched out.
“The CD stand is over there.”
“CD?”
Sam scrunched up his nose as he walked over to it.
“Don’t you have more advanced stuff than that? Something wireless?”
“You can look it up if you want,” T’Challa offered with another shrug. “My staff leave me all kinds of things and I haven’t really gotten around to try them all.
He knew he had the latest of everything, but he hadn’t payed much attention to the technological advancements lately, instead training in the jungle to be able to take over his father’s legacy. He had only been back a couple of weeks before the meeting with the UN, and he still wasn’t sure about his abilities and connections to the ancient magic yet. Being updated on the latest pop music was the least of his problems.
T’Challa sat down on the sofa, watching Sam Wilson go through his music, the frown on his face only getting more pronounced. It was actually kind of entertaining to watch. Then, Falcon walked over to the TV and made a sound of excitement. He whipped out his phone and turned on the screen. Soon, a funk inspired rap song blasted out of the speakers.
“I like this one,” Sam said, sitting down with a grin, adding more songs to the list.
“Never heard it,” T’Challa confessed.
Sam frowned again and swiped his thumb over the screen. A new song turned on.
“What about this one?”
“No. Sorry.”
Sam paused the music and regarded him.
“I will make you a list,” he said. “No man should be without Marvin Gaye or Uptown funk.”
T’Challa wasn’t sure why, but he felt like had just been dealt a great honor.
“Okay,” he said, unwinding a little, and smiling. “Thank you.”
Wilson beamed at him and turned the music back on. Most of it was actually decent. After a while T’Challa actually did recognize something.
“This is “I’m so excited”, I think?”
Wilson’s face lit up.
“Yeah, with the Pointer Sisters! This is such a good song!”
He started singing, and looked so happy, and T’Challa could feel himself get affected by the other man’s excitement, the liquor making him less guarded than usual. When Sam got up for the chorus, he did too, and he felt very free. The music made him feel light and... was he glowing?
Sam stopped dancing and just stared at him. T’Challa looked down on his hands. They were faintly glowing violet, fading as he looked at it. Shame filled him.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, glancing up at Sam, expecting him to be frightened. “I haven’t been as good at controlling my powers after my father passed.”
“Don’t worry about it, man.”
Sam’s tone of voice surprised him. Falcon sounded like he knew what it was like. He wasn’t scared either, or pitiful. Instead, T’Challa felt a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I was kind of worked up after my parents died too.”
The tone, the understanding, it was too much, too soon. T’Challa didn’t know how to respond. The conflicting feelings inside him made him freeze up, and Sam just allowed it, just stood there and waited. When he took his hand away, T’Challa missed the heaviness of it.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.”
Wilson sat down but didn’t turn the music on. T’Challa gathered himself. Sam Wilson was certainly a calming presence. Almost too good, even.
“I think it is best that I retire for the night,” T’Challa said. “Do you wish to accompany me tomorrow while I do my errands, or do you have other plans?”
“No other plans,” Sam said, smiling warmly. “I’d love to come, if that’s alright with you.”
T’Challa’s heart skipped a beat.
“Then I wish you a pleasant sleep,” he said, striding over to his bedroom door. “Good night.”
Closing the door, the regent looked at his hands. This was bad. He had seen his father do many incredible things, but he had never seen him glow. Maybe it was the Panther God, trying to send him a message of some kind? But what?
He slid down the wall and hugged his knees. He wished his father was still there. He reached out into the dulled silence of his room, but no one answered.