"ALL I'M SAYING IS, IF YOU SCREW UP WITH RHETT, I WANT HIM, WHAT'S SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?"

Sam's laugh resounded through Steve's small one room apartment, the blond groaning and shaking his head as he sat at the small dinner table, Sam sprawled out on the small bed pressed up against the wall.

"I didn't know you were into men," Steve said casually, leaning back into his seat.

Sam blinked. "We went to the pride rallies together, I waved that pan flag like it was the only thing keeping me alive, and you thought I was straight? What kind of a friend are you?"

The blond laughed at that, shaking his head and looking up towards the ceiling. "It's good to have you back, Sam."

The older man paused at that, a feeling of guilt blooming in his chest. Ever since Tony had given them the green light to come out of hiding, helping them move back home, he had been in Harlem for as long as Steve had been in Brooklyn, but he had avoided the man at all costs, going so far as to pretend he had moved back to D.C. It was safer that way, at least at the beginning, but it hadn't sat well with him that he had to.

"Yeah, well," he said, trying to play it off, "I missed you too, man. The time off's been good, though. Didn't have to play therapist all the time, and you got someone new for that."

That had been the wrong thing to say, and he knew it the moment the words left his mouth.

"Sam, if I made you feel like all you were to me was an ear, I didn't mean that—" the blond said, looking utterly horrified with himself.

"It was a joke," Sam said, though he wasn't entirely truthful, "Steve. C'mon."

As disbelieving and utterly stubborn as Steve was, he let it go; after what they had been through, it would do the man some good to be a little less stubborn.

"You should try talking to Nicky," the blond said, after a tense silence.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "We do talk, I just texted him last night."

"No, I mean...talk," the younger man tried, motioning with his hands, and the older man just laughed.

"I can't tell if you're saying I should buddy up to him or if I should start going to therapy," Sam said, and while he was smiling, his voice wasn't.

Steve shrugged. "It could be good for you."

Sam sighed and leaned back onto the covers, groaning softly. "I can't understand that guy, I think I get his deal, then I realize I don't know him at all."

"It's hard to know someone when you don't talk," Steve pointed out and Sam rolled his eyes, fishing his phone out of his pocket, pulling his texts with Nicky and handing it over.

Steve scrolled through for a few moments, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "You just send pictures of gnomes and birds back and forth, is this how people flirt nowadays?"

"Go back to the 40's," Sam scoffed, grabbing the phone, "The guy's really flustered all the time, huh?"

Steve paused for a moment, just looking at him. Then he nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah. But he thinks highly of you, Sam, you should try to talk to him more, both as friends and maybe go to a session or two."

"Do you go?" Sam countered, unable to hide his surprise when the man nodded.

"It's hard not to get wrangled into a session when you talk to him. One minute, you're making him breakfast, the next you're telling him about the nightmares you get and the guilt you've been holding since your mom died."

Sam's mouth dropped open, and he whispered a soft, "Steve."

The man coughed. "But it's generally nice being with him, really. Just give him a chance."

Sam nodded, licking his lips. "Okay. Yeah, I'll try."

Steve smiled, and Sam had to look away. "It'll be good for you, Sam. I promise."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Why-why do you want me to talk to him so bad, what's in it for you?"

Steve tilted his head, giving him a sad smile. "I want you to be happy, Sam."

The older man laughed, splaying his hands. "I am happy, Steve. Hell, I might've been the happiest out of all of us."

Steve shook his head. "Just because you smile doesn't make you happy."

Sam frowned. "I'm not always happy. But I'm happy enough. I can still smile and laugh."

Steve inclined his head. "But...?"

Sam sighed, almost in disbelief, before shaking his head, shoulders slumping. "Alright. You win. I'll talk to Nicky."

Steve shook his head. "I don't want you to talk to him for me. Talk to him for you. If you don't want to, I'll respect that."

Sam sighed. "Thank you."

º º º

"Hey, Nick."

Nicky jumped slightly as he turned in his seat, finding Sam standing in the doorway, holding the spare key that had been made for him.

"Hey, Sam," the younger man greeted, moving so he was facing him from his seat on the couch, "What's up? You and Steve here?"

"No, just me," Sam replied, stepping into the loft and closing the door behind him, raising an eyebrow towards the series of padlocks that Nicky and Rhett hadn't gotten around to getting rid of, "Want me to lock these? How-how'd I even get in with them there?"

"I set up a system a few years back, but it doesn't matter, we don't use them anymore, but could you lock the normal ones?" Nicky asked, looking rather embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

"I understand, man," Sam said, and there was something about his words that had Nicky pausing.

"Oh?" he asked, coaxing him to explain, but Sam shook his head, smiling, and he backed off.

Instead he took a new course. "You wanna do something, I've been going over files for way too long."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, sure. What do you have in mind?"

Nicky sighed and spluttered, shrugging. "I don't know what people do for fun. What do you like doing?"

Sam laughed. "I honestly don't know. I listen to music, mess around with the people I live with, though that doesn't really work now...I hang out with the birds sometime, but I'm not letting you see that."

Nicky laughed and fell back onto the cushions, forcing Sam to walk over and lean against the back, staring down at him.

"How's Johnny doing?" he asked, and Nicky sat up, pulling his knees to his chest.

"He's doing good," he replied, "I dropped by a few days ago, he and Ben are doing good. Still messing around, but Ben backs off when he nears the line. It's nice."

"Good," Sam said, vaulting over the back and sitting on the cushions, facing Nicky as he leaned against one armrest, the man against the other, his legs more stretched out.

Nicky fidgeted as they sat in silence, glancing at his clasped hands, his face warm and his heart beating rapidly.

"I came out to Rhett."

Sam perked up at that, surprised by what he said, but tried to subdue his reaction on account of Nicky hitting his head against the back cushions, his cursing muffled.

Sam leaned forward and pulled him away, backing up when Nicky sighed and massaged his temples still cursing.

"I'm so, so sorry, I have no idea why I said that, there was just silence and I'm not super good at silence when I don't have the upper hand in it, and that's just been on my mind since it happened last night, so I'm just really—I am so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Sam said, "It's great you came out to him. All this time he didn't know you were...well, you told me you like guys so, whatever it is, you don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay," Nicky said, "I mean, if you want to know, I can tell you, I mean...I mean, I'm riding off the high so if I wanna get it all out, better start now before the insecurity sets in again and oh no, it's here."

"Breathe," Sam said, his tone firm, "Just calm down. Listen, man, I'm the last person who would judge you, okay? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I mean, I don't really care at this point—actually, I really do, but—" he sighed, "I couldn't really explain it to him all that well, but he understood because he's Rhett, but I don't really want to come out until I really have a solid grasp on it. Steve knows because he's scary, so you can ask him."

Sam shook his head. "Steve wouldn't tell me and I don't want to hear it from him. That's not his business to tell me and it's not fair for you. If you don't want me to know, I respect that."

Nicky paused for a moment, just breathing. "Thank you, Sam."

The older man leaned back, smiling. "Someone's gotta look out for the little guy."

He laughed as Nicky squawked, grabbing a throw pillow, stopping at the last second. "Shut up! I'm the same height as you now, you're not that tall."

"I dunno, man, I still feel like I have a level of responsibility over you, you know?" He laughed as Nicky shouted at him, raising his voice. "I look at you and still see the little baby who sat in the corner of choir practice, you can never really grow out of something, Nick."

"You're the worst!" Nicky shouted, just about to hit him with the pillow, but stopping. "God, I hate you."

"It's just how it works, Nick," Sam shrugged, grinning madly, and the younger man sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Call me Nicky," he mumbled softly, and Sam raised an eyebrow, humming.

"Call me Nicky," he repeated, "Steve and Rhett call me Nick sometimes, but...call me Nicky."

"I thought you hated that nickname," Sam said, and Nicky couldn't help but be surprised, so he explained, "I can't remember a lot from school, it all comes back in pieces, but I remember you nearly flipping when someone tried calling you Nicky in practice. Everyone talked about it for weeks."

The younger man sighed, shaking his head. "Great. And, yeah, I mean...I hate that nickname so much, because the people who gave it to me...I'm softening the blow. I'd rather give the name better memories by having people I like call me it than go on hating it. 'Cause it's just a name."

"Okay, Nicky," Sam said, "I'll remember that."

The smile he was given was tired, but wide, and Sam had to wonder how he could just keep it there all the time. "Thanks."

Sam nodded, patting his legs idly. "Gotta say, Nicky, this conversation doesn't really ease the feeling of responsibility I have over you—"

"You're not that much older than me," Nicky said, and he was blushing, much less hostile than expected, "I'm not a little kid, you don't have to baby me, I can keep up."

There was something about his words that let Sam know Nicky had said this before. Of course, it made sense, being so young, he had to prove to people he was on their level. Except, there wasn't any hostility in his tone, no exertion of dominance or demand of respect. Instead, there was just shy indignation.

"You're a little too cute for that, but I'll try my best," Sam said, reaching out and patting his cheek, and it took everything in Nicky not to pass out on the spot.

Before Nicky could try to find a respectable response to what was just said, he was interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

"Nicky, babe, sweetheart, love of my life..." Rhett drawled, stumbling out of his room, and Nicky immediately jumped to his feet.

"Who got you sick, was it the school, did you go visit Baxter Building? Again? I swear Reed's gotta stop messing with those bacteria, he's gonna kill us all someday—you never get regular sick." Nicky was rambling, pressing the back of his hand against Rhett's forehead, helping him back into his room.

"I dunno, but something happened...when we went to Westchester I visited the-the guys, you know? Figured since you're pals and all, it'd be cool to chat with McCoy. Uh, Summers wanted to mess with some stuff in the lab, sprayed stuff all over me."

Sam stood and helped Rhett who was practically dead weight, swaying from side to side, nearly sending Nicky toppling over.

"Want me to call Steve?" he asked, glancing between the two younger men.

"No," Nicky said, over Rhett's slurred, 'yes, please,' "If this can get Rhett sick, it could get Steve sick. We should also probably not be near him."

With that, he pushed Rhett into his room and onto his bed, pointing with a stern finger. "Stay. Okay?"

Rhett opened his mouth to argue, but Nicky closed the door, disappearing into his room for a moment before returning with a key, locking the door and leaning against it, looking over to Sam.

"Wanna go on a little field trip?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE

So it begins. There's really nothing much to Rhett being sick, but it's implying that the boys spend more time together, which is always a good thing.

The title is based off of Walk the Moon's album, because I was trying to come up with something related to talking, and I could have done a song title by LÉON, but I think that for these two, talking is hard.

So the story is gonna be taking off more towards the romantic comedies (ha not really but I'ma try) so yeah!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!