NICKY WENT UNNOTICED IN HIGH SCHOOL. Most assumed that if one wasn't popular, one was most likely bullied, but that wasn't the case, at least not for Nicky. No, he wasn't popular, but he also wasn't one to make himself known, so he was never bullied and he never really witnessed any severe case of the sort, which was saying much as he liked to think himself as a very perceptive boy, even if he was younger than most, if not all, his peers.

"Nicholas, we need someone to work tech again!"

Nicky didn't have to turn to know who was shouting down the hall. While he did go unnoticed, it wasn't to say that he was completely shunned, he did have one friend at the school, one that he loved and cherished, even if she was a bit too much at times for his introverted self to handle.

Kimberly Trainor, a junior like himself, though actually sixteen unlike his fourteen, she was an aspiring actress and a very large presence at the school, involved in leadership and all of the school performances, more inclined towards drama whereas he was towards choir.

"Sure, I thought I didn't need to sign up, I've been doing tech since freshman year," he said, though he automatically knew he would be called out on his exaggeration, and Kim never did disappoint.

"You didn't do the third show of freshman year, nor the last two shows of sophomore because you were caught up in choir, which is perfectly fine, but that doesn't mean we know we have you on board," she said, and she used that patronizing voice that had him inwardly sighing; she meant well, and he loved her to bits, but she still saw him as a middle schooler, and it never ceased to upset him.

She must have seen it on his face, because she looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Nicholas, you know that I don't mean to."

He just shook his head and closed his locker. "It's fine. When's tech week?"

She shook her head as well. "Doesn't matter, I'll let you know when we get closer to the date, okay? Hey, Sam."

Nicky turned to see Sam Wilson walking along with some of his teammates from the football team. He smiled and reached out, giving her a small hug before turning to Nicky and greeting him briefly.

"How's it going, Kimmy?" he asked, because only Sam ever called Kim 'Kimmy' and it was a wonder why they weren't dating, what with how close they were.

"It's going good, you think you might try out for the play this time around, we need more guys," she sang with a hopeful smile which dropped when he shook his head.

"Sorry, Kim, I can't, I'm already swamped as it is, and I need to help my sister with her homework since we can't afford a tutor..." he trailed off, realizing that others were around him, and Nicky pretended not to listen, pulling out his sheet music and scanning it.

Sam caught on and seemed to relax, grateful that at least one person around him wasn't about to pry, unlike his teammates who already started whispering. Ignoring them, he said, "Nick, you trying out for a solo?"

Nicky froze and raised his eyes to meet Sam's own, shaking his head and answering softly, "No."

Sam looked disappointed and Nicky couldn't help but feel elated at the fact. "Why not? I've heard you sing, you're really good, it'd be nice to have someone who can hit the higher notes who isn't a girl. Nothing against girls, it's just we'd wow more people with a guy."

"Doesn't count, he hasn't hit puberty," one of his teammates laughed, but was immediately silenced by a sharp jab in the stomach by Sam who glared at him.

"That's not funny," he said coldly, "He can actually sing. Until you can actually carry a tune, keep your head on the field."

Nicky watched, horrified, as his friends stalked away, the others more tentative than the one who had incurred the boy's wrath, leaving Sam alone with him and Kim.

"Sorry about them, they can be really stupid," Sam said, his glower melting into a slightly strained smile.

"What were you thinking?" Nicky demanded, unable to stop the words slipping out. Sam's smile turned into a look of confusion and he rushed to explain, "They're going to be beyond pissed at you."

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"S-so!" Nicky cried, "You shouldn't have done that! You could get hurt that way!"

Sam smiled and shook his head. "They can't hurt me, I have too much on them. But thanks for worrying about me, Nick, 't's sweet."

Nicky's cheeks warmed at his words, feeling so young and small in comparison to the quarterback in front of him, staring down at the floor and scuffing his shoes. "Well, you shouldn't have done that because they were ragging on me, I don't care."

"Well..." Sam drawled, sharing a look with Kim who immediately caught on, "Since you're the reason why I'm going to get beat up later, why don't you make it up to me?"

Nicky raised his head, looking at him warily. "How?"

Sam grinned brightly. "Try out for a solo."

○ ○ ○

Nicky startled from his dream to the sound of a car alarm. His heart beat rapidly and he jumped, feeling his leg collide with something right next to him. Groaning and looking around, his heart nearly stopped as he caught sight of the other person that was sprawled out along the couch which was much bigger than it had been when he had fallen asleep.

"Oh, finally, thought you died."

Nicky turned his head to find Rhett walking out of his room with a coy smile, and Nicky was much too tired to do anything but roll his eyes and raise his middle finger, before turning his attention back to Sam who was asleep perfectly still, arms crossed over his chest and body turned only ever so slightly.

"Soldiers," Rhett said softly, and Nicky knew he was seeing himself in the way Sam slept, in how he was never fully able to shake the training instilled in him.

"Unlike me, he's actually seen stuff," the blond continued, and Nicky nodded in agreement, frowning at the pained look on the man's face, "Steve still deals with the nightmares, imagine him."

"I don't want to," Nicky breathed, and Rhett had the decency not to comment, instead reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, because he knew how much Nicky internalized everything, how much pain he felt that sometimes wasn't his own.

"Why didn't you wake me up, I could've at least given him more room," he said, prying himself off the couch and launching himself onto the other, sighing and resting his head on a throw pillow.

Rhett opened his mouth to explain, but paused, unsure of whether he wanted to or not. "Let's just say that we figured it was best if we let you two just rest, you didn't look like you wanted to be woken up."

Nicky sighed, but figured it was best not to ask; if Rhett didn't want him to know, chances were he wouldn't want to know himself.

Instead, he focused on his task for the day: visiting his brother in prison.

"Do you have any patients to see today?" Rhett asked, and Nicky cursed wildly, sitting up as he thought, only to fall back again as he remembered that he didn't take patients on a Sunday unless it was a dire situation, in which they called.

"Wow, you're an awful person," he said, looking over to Rhett who was laughing at him, "Seriously, I was so terrified for a second there."

"Sorry, but it was too easy," Rhett said, walking over to him and ruffling his hair, which always made him upset, "I'm heading back in, I'll see you later."

Nicky watched as Rhett disappeared into his room, hearing the telltale sound of the lock clicking. He could hear the sound of the bed creaking and instantly began planning to make a device that would mute the sounds coming from Rhett's room, not wanting to have to hear him and Steve doing whatever it was they got up to in his room.

"Please tell me they're not."

Nicky startled, turning to look over at Sam who had a hand over his face, eyes still closed. He laughed softly. "No, they are. They do this a lot."

Sam groaned, shifting on the couch-turned-bed, "Man. Before, he couldn't even talk to girls without getting nervous. Guys too, now that I think about it, but now he's having sex all the time. Who is he?"

"He's growing a beard," Nicky said, and Sam made a sound of pure displeasure.

"I see it, I didn't even think he could grow one," the older man sighed, moving to stand, and Nicky shouted, shaking his head in agreement as he made motions with his hands, unable to formulate words to express how much that statement resonated with him.

Sam just laughed and glanced at the clock. "I should probably head home, I need to get to work."

"Where do you work?" Nicky asked.

"The Bronx," Sam replied, and the younger man immediately tilted his head back, pulling up the map he had memorized so long ago, frowning at what he saw.

"Well, you live in Harlem, which is already disgustingly far away, then you have to get to the Bronx which is still far away from there. I mean, it's far away from here, but you'd be cutting out the middle man. Just shower here."

Sam raised an eyebrow, both out of surprise and confusion. "Seriously? Thanks, but I think I should change or else, uh, that's gonna be a very long talk with my boss."

Nicky's cheeks warmed as he realized what the man was saying. "Oh, um, well, you can wear my clothes? I mean, you're not that much bigger than me."

He walked towards him, keeping a respectable distance between them, noticing that he couldn't have been more than two inches shorter than the man. He wasn't as fit or as built, but he was sure that Sam could fit into his baggier clothes.

"Like I said, a very long talk," Sam mumbled before raising his voice, "I couldn't do that, man," he started to shake his head, and Nicky interrupted him.

"No. Seriously, you need to get to work, I don't see a problem and if you don't mind wearing my clothes and using my water, then just go," he said, already ushering the man towards the bathroom.

"I do have a problem," Sam said, catching himself against the wall right by the door, "Because they're your clothes and your water bill."

Nicky blinked. "That's not valid. Go on."

With that, the older man relented and walked into the bathroom, watching as Nicky disappeared into his room for a moment before reappearing and throwing a towel towards him in a move that was much too hostile than he was probably intending.

Sighing, Nicky walked back into his room, turning on his computers and trying to get some work done before he had to take a shower, then head over to Riker's to visit his step-brother. Wincing at the thought, he forced himself to think of something else, raising his eyebrow at the message notification on his desktop.

Moonlighting as a designer—and often inventor—of regulated weapons and tools for the X-Men and the Fantastic Four, he was often in contact with them, meaning that he had created a way for them to talk virtually without the fear of being watched or tracked by the government. He knew they were watching. He knew.

'I ATTACHED SOME BLUEPRINTS, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.'

He rolled his eyes. Hank McCoy never did beat around the bush, and he had to wonder how the man was still doing in his older age. Of course, there was the fact that mutants generally aged differently than most humans, but that was never been formally stated to the general public, so he decided to pretend that he didn't hack Charles Xavier's reports to glean more information, because that's manipulative and illegal.

'SURE THING.'

With that reply, he opened the blueprints and got to work, his eyes scanning over the various measurements and figures, trying to imagine them on a wider scale. With a sigh, he decided to do some math of his own, as Hank hadn't provided him with any fill-in measurements to work with.

Grabbing his default measurements, which just so happened to be Diana's as he stopped using Rhett's, he started to adjust things, trying to figure out who these designs could be for and trying to scale them that way, hacking into Hank's files and searching through his extensive database for the various students they had that also were a part of the teams they had.

He was so engrossed in his work he almost missed the knock on his door.

"Come in," he called out idly, not realizing that in his focus he had tuned out the fact that Rhett and Steve were still in the other room making way too much noise.

The door opened and Nicky turned in his chair, still glancing in to his math. "Hey, what's u—"

Nicky had seen many things in his life, some he would treasure, others he wished he could forget. He had seen many expected and unexpected things in his life, but no shock could ever compare to the pure, mind-numbing, IQ reducing sight that was Sam Wilson standing in nothing but a towel.

Now, Nicky was never really attracted to people by body alone. He could find them aesthetically pleasing and could be often found doing exactly that, so while he was not feeling what most other people would feel when looking at Sam Wilson dripping water in nothing but a towel, it still rendered him completely and utterly useless.

"Sorry for interrupting, but could I borrow some clothes?" Sam asked, rolling his shoulders, and Nicky could only nod and hoped that he was standing as he stumbled towards his closet, just motioning towards it for Sam to peruse.

"I-I-I'll just be out there," he stammered, motioning towards the living room before practically throwing himself out of the room, closing the door behind him and jumping onto the couch, burying his face into a throw pillow.

He brought this upon himself.

The sound of his room door opening shocked him into action and he immediately flipped onto his back, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, staring up at the ceiling with what he hoped was a pensive, faraway expression, though his inward screaming most likely snuck its way onto his expression.

"You good?"

Raising his head and propping himself up onto his elbows, Nicky struggled not to let his arms give out as he stared.

Sam Wilson was wearing his clothes. He was wearing Nicky's favorite purple button up and the pair of jeans that were loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough to look good and he should have known he wasn't going to handle Sam wearing his clothes well, but he made the decision anyway.

He was the only one responsible for the IQ damage he was experiencing.

"Y-yeah, I'm good, I just—" he swallowed thickly, forcing himself to think through his words, "I'm just thinking about visiting my brother today. In prison." Why did he say that?

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, that's tough."

"It's no big deal, really," he said hurriedly, moving to stand, "I should probably go get ready to head over there. Do you want some breakfast before you go?"

"No, I'll just pick something up on the way there, I've taken too much for you. Thank you, again, for the clothes and the shower. Your water is so much better than mine," he said, laughing softly as he glanced back towards the bathroom.

Nicky grinned. "I think that's most of the reason why Steve stays, it's for the hot water."

Sam laughed at that, tilting forward and shaking his head. Nicky forced himself not to focus on the sound or how much he wanted to hear it again. So, instead, he just continued to smile, wishing that the man would leave, but wanting nothing more than for him to stay.

"I should probably get going, but thank you again," Sam said, and Nicky was both elated and utterly destroyed.

"It's no problem at all, Sam," he said, walking him to the door, "If you ever need some place to stay or just want to drop by, the door's always open."

"Thanks, Nick," he said, stepping outside and nodding to him finally, "I'll probably back to drop off the clothes. We should catch up some time."

With that, he left, leaving Nicky to watch him go before closing his door and slumping against it.

"Yeah, we should."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I guess the trend is Sam is going to say something before he leaves and Nicky will answer it to himself, I don't know, it seems just like something they would do, I see it, I don't know if ya'll see it. Am I writing Sam okay, I don't know.

This chapter was longer than expected and I can't believe that this one weekend is going to take four chapters, but the last leg is going to be next chapter, I didn't realize it was going to be this long, but, hey, next chapter will be following Sam, which will be fun, I'm so sorry.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!