Sam had spent the last few days thinking, on and off, about what Rhodey needed to get off his chest and what he needed advice on. There were endless possibilities, really, so while he knew he needed to let it go and be patient, he couldn’t help letting his mind get the best of him. They’d all been through a lot, between what had happened in their own world and what had been happening in Atlantis. If he could help, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
An enormous part of him felt like he owed that much to Rhodey, to help him in whatever way he could. He knew it was guilt-fueled, about how the two sides had fallen over the Sokovia Accords and Bucky Barnes, and he knew that Rhodey didn’t harbor any ill will now. He knew that. But Sam still looked at him and wished he could go back and change the outcome.
He arrived at the cantina fresh off his shift, grateful for the atmosphere. He couldn’t think of a better way to end the day than escaping into another world for a little bit. His eyes scanned the room, looking for Rhodey, and when he spotted him, he headed over. “Hey, man. Good to see you.”
Rhodey nodded and smiled when he saw Sam. "Hey yourself. Wasn't sure if you'd be hungry, so I ordered an appetizer sampler. You're welcome to help yourself."
It was strange, they'd both been in the Air Force, well, technically, Rhodey still was, but they'd never really had a chance to talk much after what had happened with the Sokovia accords. Rhodey bore Sam no ill will, though. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd been injured in a firefight and it probably wouldn't be the last. Not to mention, he understood Sam standing by Steve the way he'd stood by Tony. And besides, Tony's brilliance made it so that he could do almost anything he could before… as long as he had the braces.
"How's your week been?"
Thursday was one of his longer days -- not as long as some of the days he’d had in the Air Force, or even as an Avenger -- so Sam was grateful that Rhodey had thought ahead. There hadn’t been time between his work to stop, or between work and the cantina. He didn’t want to start drinking on an empty stomach.
“Not bad,” Sam answered, thinking about the weird dreams he’d had earlier. That seemed to be settled -- at least for the meantime, maybe? -- but it was hard to know. The information was out of Sam’s hands now; that part wasn’t easy to accept after so many years away from the military. “Hanging in there. Grateful that party wasn’t more wild, because turns out it wasn’t that bad after all. How about you?”
Rhodey chuckled. "Was that your first Atlantis party? Yeah… if you want to avoid the weird, BYOB. If you're up for being helpless to the whims of this world, then indulge. Did you end up kissing or dancing with some folks or something else?"
Sam winced at the memories. It wasn’t that bad, all things considered -- or at least not as bad as it could have been, apparently -- but Sam had always been very conscious of a person’s choice. To have that taken away made it hard to sleep at night.
“Both, both.” He sighed. “I’ll know better for next time.” He glanced towards the bar. “Thank God it’s safe here.”
Rhodey made a face. "My first party was like that. Felt like I was back partying with Tony and that's not a feeling I go chasing nowadays."
He smiled. "Speaking of, What's good here? This is my first time here."
Sam felt like that, too, and he hadn’t gotten to party with Tony nearly as often. They were wild, one of a kind -- at least they had been, once upon a time. Sam was pretty sure those days were behind them now. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Ah, I’m sure everything’s good. I haven’t been here that much, man.” Sam slid back out of his seat. “Tell me what you’re in the mood for and I’ll surprise you.”
"I'm pretty easy to please," Rhodey said, figuring he shouldn't limit himself too much. "Nothing that will give me a horrible hangover tomorrow though. I'm too old for that."
“No tequila, got it.” Sam grinned and then headed for the bar, mentally crossing his fingers that he guessed somewhat correctly. They’d spent enough time together at the compound that Sam felt reasonably confident. Only one way to find out, though.
He let the bartender get creative with something bourbon-like, at least as far as he could tell, so it would end up being a mystery to him as well as Rhodey. With all of the possibilities of Atlantis stretched out in front of them, it seemed a shame to not take advantage of the chance to try new things. Sam placed the glasses on the table before sitting back down, and then he leaned forward, arms resting lightly on the table. “So do we have to get drunk first before you ask me about what’s on your mind?”
Rhodey raised his glass and clinked it against Sam's before taking a long sip, savouring the taste and ruminating on it. "Not bad. Pretty good actually." He took a bite of something fried from the appetizer platter and another sip of the drink and chuckled.
"God, I hope not," Rhodey said with a smile. "And if this veers too much into therapy, feel free to tell me to just schedule an extra session with my therapist - who's great, don't get me wrong." But sometimes you just wanted someone who understood. And he was fairly certain he and Sam had a fair amount in common. "First, cards on the table, in my book, we're good. No hard feelings about the accident. I need you to know that. I don't blame you or resent you or anything."
Rhodey sighed. "Second, how the hell do you do it? Knowing someone died and having them here and not putting them in a plastic bubble for their own safety?"
Between being on the run with Steve and the battle in Wakanda, there really hadn’t been enough time to get down to the nitty gritty when it came to Rhodey. They’d been teammates for a while, friends even, and sometimes it felt like there was a deep crevasse between them now, even if it was just in his own mind. Between all of them. Sam hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear those words, even if the other man hadn’t once acted like he harbored ill will. That just wasn’t in him. But Sam -- he felt guilt, heavier than the average person. It was part of the territory, he supposed. Saving the world and all that.
The laugh that escaped his lips was dry, and Sam took a sip of his own drink before answering. “I’m no expert in that, I gotta say. I only had a few weeks on the rest of you with that information. The best I got is…” He shrugged. “Knowing you can’t hold ‘em back. You know? Tony, Natasha -- hell, even Steve, Barton, they’re always gonna do exactly what they think is right, even if they’ve gotta put their bodies on the line. That’s just who they are. We can’t stop that, no matter how hard we try.”
“I think Tony and Steve are more alike than they’ll ever admit,” Rhodey said with a smirk. “I mean, Afghanistan wasn’t even the first time Tony nearly died since we’ve been friends… though that was the first time it was different…. before.. it was always my life on the line.. but that was just life in the Air Force.”
He gave San a thoughtful look. “I’ve lost men before, but this feels… different… and I just want to smother him and lock him to the bed for his own protection. At least Morgan’s here… that makes things a little easier.”
Rhodey wasn’t wrong about their best friends. That was exactly why Sam suspected they’d been at such odds with one another -- it wasn’t that they were opposites. It was more that they were similar in ways that clashed. Stubborn, self-righteous, proud -- self-sacrificing, noble, generous.
“Harder to lose your best friend,” Sam answered, casting his gaze down at the glass between his hands. He’d been there before, and as heartbreaking as it was to lose a fellow soldier, losing Riley magnified all of the grief and anger he’d felt every other time. “Locking him away is no life, though. We can’t insure his safety, but we can be damn sure we give him the best chance he has to really live, right? This is all he has. It’s all any of us have. He’s earned the right to live it however he pleases.” Sam smiled a little. “Within reason.”
"I can only imagine." Except Rhodey could imagine. More than that, he remembered it. Remembered being there with Tony, Pepper, and Peter as Tony died. He bumped his glass against Sam's in remembrance of those they'd lost. "I'm not sure how one applies reason to Tony Stark, been trying to do that for years," he said with a chuckle.
Sam snorted into his drink. “Good point. It’s hard to apply reason to Steve sometimes, too.” Once Tony and Steve got it into their heads that they were going to do something, even if Sam thought it was ridiculously stupid, they were going to do it. Sam both loved and hated that about them.
“I think the trick is,” Sam continued, “to not control him, but to let go. He’d be unhappy if you stood in the way of him living his life. You’d be unhappy with that. That’s no way for either of you to live.”
"Heroes, eh? Defying reason for generations," Rhodey teased with a laugh. "I know. I guess… "
Words failed him for a moment and he swallowed. "It just feels like emotional whiplash. Waking up one day, remembering watching him die, his funeral, and then seeing him here and not having the space to grieve."
He shook his head. "I should probably just enjoy the time we have here."
“You should,” Sam agreed, gently. “We all should.” But he knew it was easier said than done. He understood what Rhodey meant about emotional whiplash, too. He’d gone from one battle to the middle of another, not even realizing that Natasha was gone until after. So much had happened all at once that when the realization hit, it hit like a tidal wave. Or maybe that was just because it came at the end, when Tony was dying.
“You can grieve what we’ve lost in our own world, though.” That part seemed important. Just because they were here and Tony was here didn’t mean that they didn’t still carry that grief with them. “God knows I’m going to miss Natasha every damn day, and Steve. We should all grieve. You shouldn’t hold it in. But it shouldn’t come at the expense of your friendship with him here.”
"Not sure how to do both at once," Rhodey admitted with a shrug. "Air Force trains you for a lot, but this is definitely not one of those things. Pretty sure if my grandma was here though, she'd just smack me upside the head and tell me I should be feeding Tony more. Never did learn to cook like she did. Best cornbread in town."
Sam snorted into his drink. “She probably wouldn’t be wrong. Our grandmas would feed all the Avengers, ten-fold.” Food was healing, from what he’d learned. He didn’t disagree. Food brought people together. He hummed a little, deep in thought. He wondered if that would be something helpful for the Avengers, too, to bring them together again. To remind all of them that they were still all here.
“You’re right about the Air Force, too. The military doesn’t prep us for that. It should. But it doesn’t.”
Rhodey laughed. "Here's to a full bird colonel who doesn't know how to grieve," he said, raising his glass. "Now I have the desire to just make cornbread and greens and some proper brisket and all. Not sure I can replicate my grandmama's pie though…"
Sam lifted his glass towards Rhodey’s. Despite all of his training and education, despite all of his experience with death and loss, one thing he couldn’t do much about was an individual’s own timeline. Grief was something that couldn’t be rushed. He could offer a shoulder to lean on, an ear to talk to, advice or support, but he couldn’t make anyone heal. That was something they had to do on their own. That was the hard part about what he did. As much as he wanted to help, sometimes he couldn’t.
“Sure seems like it’d be a hell of a lot of fun to taste test the pies while you practice,” Sam answered. “Bet Tony and Morgan would be into that, too.”
Rhodey chuckled. "I'm pretty sure Morgan would be outbaking all of us in a day. That child is brilliant. And as sane and organized as Pep, which is a very good thing. I love Tony, but the man doesn't always think before he acts."
Rhodey took another sip. "Now you've got me thinking about pies and such. What's your favorite type of pie?"
“Man, come on, why you gotta make me choose? What sort of devil shit is that?” Sam scoffed. “I’ll tell you this much, I’ve never met one I didn’t like. And that’s as far as I’ll go.”
It seemed to Sam that this -- pies, cooking -- was an intentional deviation, changing the subject into something easier, something less saturated in helplessness. It was something Rhodey could actually do something about. Sam got that much, but it wasn’t going to help in the long run. “This mean you’re gonna let Tony live, even if it means he does stupid shit sometimes?”
Rhodey couldn't help but laugh. Sam definitely had his number. He gave the other man a look. "Have you ever tried to stop Tony Stark from doing something? Because it usually ends poorly."
Draining his glass, he sat back. "Yeah, I'm going to let him live his life, fuckups and all, though I might also try to feed him and Morgan and Stephen some. And try and find a way to grieve for the events back home that doesn't involve wrapping Tony in bubble wrap.."
“I don’t see why those things can’t all coexist,” Sam said, glad that Rhodey felt more sure of himself now -- or at least sure enough that he felt comfortable saying he would try to manage. It wasn’t going to be an easy road, but it was something Rhodey would have to sort out on his own, ultimately. “Mama’s always said cooking is good for the soul.”
Sam finished the rest of his drink and set the glass down. “Up for round two? I think it’s your turn to surprise me.”
Rhodey chuckled. "Just remember, if I bring back something foul that you asked for this," he said with a grin as he gathered their glasses and headed for the bar.