Chapter Text
Bucky turned out the lights as best as he could figure out and settled into the bed she'd set up for him on the couch.
"It isn't much," she had said apologetically, putting a blanket down on a chair nearby. "In case you get cold."
"I don't think I'll get cold," he'd assured her. "I know it's only May, but…"
Sarah chuckled. "Welcome to the South," she replied, smiling back at him. "Maybe someday I'll get this A/C fixed."
"I could take a look at it," he offered.
She scoffed. "Don't tell me you're a mechanic, too."
He shrugged, smirking. He couldn't pretend to be humble in this case. "I mean…"
"Mm, no, I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You don't have to ask." Their eyes locked and the gaze held for a while. Bucky remembered that he was probably doing that staring thing that Sam apparently hated, but he didn't stop, how could he? "I mean, it'd be no trouble," he began again. "Call it payment for putting me up."
She shook her head, her eyes rolling. "Nah, what I need you to do is to get Sam back on the horse."
Bucky wavered. "I mean--"
"He needs to do it. He can do a lot of good here, sure, but he can do more good out there." She sighed, her head hanging as the fire of her surety dimmed. "As much as I hate to see him go."
Bucky thought it over quickly and nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll do what I can."
"Thank you." She looked down at his feet and then met his eyes again. "Night."
"G'night," he returned with the most winning smile he could manage.
Finding the dimmer had been the hardest. The house was old, but even so, it had features he still wasn't used to, even since coming back to himself. The knob that was the dimmer dial, he realized, was a yellowing plastic and he couldn't figure out how to turn the chandelier light it was associated with all the way off. So, there was a dull glow coming in from over the dining table.
That's fine, he thought, I've slept in worse.
Her kids were playing in the morning and Bucky had woken up from a dreamless sleep when he saw them. The sound of them took him back to Wakanda, to the small, basic house they'd given him for his recovery. The local kids only had time to play in the early morning before the school and work really got going and boy did they use that chance.
Opening his eyes to see these two kids playing was like a happy memory--he didn't have a lot of those, so he'd store this one away for safekeeping.
"Hey," he greeted, hoping to get in on the action a little.
"Put it back! Hurry, hurry!" The older one commanded.
Oh, the shield, Bucky realized. Sam’s shield.
When he got up and got ready, remembering the interaction, if it could even be called that, he smiled to himself, a little defeated, but also delighted. He was constantly brushing elbows with people younger than him, but children were something special.
Bucky couldn't help think that if he wanted something to happen with Sarah, he'd have to get in with her kids, too, anyway.
When Sam had threatened Bucky not to flirt with Sarah, Bucky had not been sure how to handle it. Deny that he was interested? Hope that Sam would just laugh and say, "Nah, man, I'm just joking. Go for it."? Bucky ended up doing both and then beating a hasty retreat.
It didn't matter that much, he'd be gone soon and Bucky didn't really expect he'd have any reason to be back here, as much as he wanted to see if something could happen with Sarah.
It was unusual; he hadn't really felt any interest in a girl since Natasha and it had been so different with her anyway. With Nat, the words hadn't mattered, not even the multilingual sweet nothings they could and did whisper (or shout) in their time spent together. It had just been two bodies and a vague attempt at healing.
Sarah though had a pull on him that he hadn't felt in a long time.
When she showed up, Bucky couldn't stop the big smile and, yeah, maybe she was this nice and friendly with everyone, but Bucky thought he felt a spark on her end, too.
Hopefully Sam wouldn't notice, but dammit, if Sarah wanted to flirt, shouldn't Bucky be allowed to flirt back? Bucky knew that things had changed a lot since the war, but this felt familiar, like the old days.
A question was sitting on the tip of his tongue as Bucky and Sam headed back to the house, reprimanded for not listening more exactly to Sarah's directions. He didn't dare ask it though. What would Sam make of a question like, "Why don't you want me to flirt with Sarah?" It was just a recipe for disaster.
After everything was over, after the GNC vote chaos was relatively managed and Sam was officially the real Captain America, after Bucky tied up his own loose ends, he found himself waiting and watching a goddam smartphone of all things.
It was his messages with Sam and the last thing in it was a message from Bucky.
Hi, Sam. Any news on the boat? -Bucky.
It had been 20 minutes since he'd sent it, but still no response had come. Bucky didn't text a lot, but Sam was usually faster than this.
The TV was on like it always was. Jeopardy was playing and Bucky had no intention of really paying attention, but even so, he vocally gave a few answers as he waited.
He went out for a walk in the evening, still without a response from Sam. He thought about getting takeout from the tepanyaki place, but it was still too soon. Maybe the Chinese place around the corner instead.
He had to wait a while for the food, but when he had it, he walked back home and sat himself down and dug in; he hadn’t eaten yet that day, he realized.
His phone buzzed in his coat pocket and he nearly jumped to get it.
Just that it still needs a lot of work.
Bucky looked blankly at the phone and started to formulate a response when another text came in.
We’re thinking about a big cookout this Sunday to say thank you to everybody. You free?
Bucky grinned and started to type.
Should I bring anything? - Bucky
The dots that meant Sam was typing back started and then stopped. Bucky put his phone down and took another bite of the chicken he’d gotten. Better to eat than to effectively watch water boil.
Sarah says she wants you to fix the AC, so, I guess you’d better plan on staying long enough for that
But don’t bring anything
And you don’t have to sign every text man I know who you are
Bucky chuckled and spent a long time looking for the little picture of a thumbs up to send back. It was mostly a joke, but it was becoming a high effort one and Bucky hoped Sam would appreciate it.
Once he found and sent it, he started looking for a flight.
Coming off the plane, he felt like he was full of manic energy. He tried to keep himself slow--he could go a lot faster that your average traveller--but he was struggling. He was excited to just get the hell out of there and to get to the dock where the cookout was. The dock where the four Wilsons were, the closest thing Bucky had to friends or a family. And, damn, did he want to make himself better known to one Wilson in particular.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since things had slowed down and he’d had this invitation to the cookout. If he’d had her phone number, he probably would’ve called her, but he didn’t so, it had just been a quiet, one-sided excitement. He wanted to impress her; he wasn’t sure how, but he was sure as hell going to try.
Sam had told him not to bring anything, but he’d ended up in town earlier than he’d expected and, yeah, he could show up too early to the party with nothing, or he could bring something. His parents had been very adamant that their son have good manners and, yeah, maybe it was old-fashioned, but it was him. He was old-fashioned after all.
He looked through the grocery store bakery, but none of the cakes seemed right. He managed to search “bakeries” on his phone maps, but there wasn’t much nearby. Bucky sighed and accepted that whatever gift he came with would have to be from this grocery store.
His eyes fell on a cake with Oreos on it and he decided, fine, this would be fine. As he rode in the hired car to the docks, though, he realized that this might be a statement he didn’t want to make. Would she read into the white and black? Oh God, what have I done?
The car stopped, he felt a hint of nerves. He exhaled sharply and told himself, this is no big deal, just a party.
It had been a lot of work to get the food ready, but Sarah wasn’t afraid of work. Especially work like this. Mindless service she’d done a thousand times before. Sam was the one who’d better be worried, working the grill. She looked up and frowned. Of course Sam had already pawned the job off on someone else.
She saw something else, though, too. AJ and Cass both were not doing the jobs she’d given them. She was about to call their names when she saw who they were with. Oh damn.
He was wearing a jacket and aviators and she couldn’t look away. He was holding something, too. It looked like a cake.
Sarah had thought he might be coming. She wasn’t shocked to see him, that wasn’t why she couldn’t tear her eyes from him. She was a little surprised that he’d actually showed up--flights from New York weren’t cheap and he’d just been here. But she couldn’t look away because he had something going for him. Some kind of charismatic charm and that damn smile.
She’d taken a little extra care with her outfit choices and it seemed like maybe it’d payoff.
“Sam,” she said loud enough for him to hear.
He turned to look at her, tearing his attention away from the photo-ops he’d found himself doing. “What?” he asked.
She motioned her head towards Bucky and hoped Sam would get her drift.
“Oh,” Sam nodded and moved to go say hello, apologizing to the people who were waiting for their own pictures.
“Nice of you to come,” Sarah said when she finally got away from the food prep and the people who were well-wishing.
“Yeah, well, who else is going to fix your air conditioning?” Bucky replied with that beautiful smile. He chuckled. “And who else is going to bring a mediocre cake to make everybody wish they’d just stuck to the crawfish?”
Sarah laughed. “I didn’t even get any of your cake,” she said.
Bucky raised his eyebrows, his mouth a straight line. “You didn’t miss much, believe me,” he assured her.
She elbowed him gently, but it was the metal arm she’d nudged. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” She sighed and followed his gaze, out to the horizon. “Are you staying with us?”
Bucky cleared his throat. “I mean, I don’t want to impose,” he began with a smirk.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “The couch is yours, you don’t have to pretend like you didn’t want it.”
He chuckled and Sarah glanced over to drink up the sight of him laughing at something she’d said. “Looks like you caught me.”
“Hey, Sarah!” Sam called, a little sternly.
“What?” She waited, her arms folded.
“Let’s do a toast!”
“A toast?” She looked at Bucky and quietly said, “The hell’s gotten into him?” He chuckled again and Sarah walked away to join Sam in the epicenter of the crowd.
“Alright, alright, everybody, settle down,” Sam called. “Sarah and Cass and AJ and I all want to say a big thank you,” he began. “Y’all really didn’t have to pull through for us, but you did and we’re just…” He turned and looked at Sarah. Sarah who was feeling embarrassed by how many eyes on her. One set of eyes was of particular interest to her, making her feel like she wanted to melt away into nothing, slipping through the boards of the dock. It was one thing to have a private conversation and another entirely to be in the spotlight. “We’re so, so grateful,” Sam finally finished. “You want to say anything?” he asked her quietly.
“No, absolutely not,” she whispered, shaking her head emphatically.
Sam raised a bottle of beer, handing one to Sarah and she followed suit. Soon bottles were raised all around them. Sarah saw Bucky duck out of sight and then reappear with his own bottle. He flicked the cap off with his metal thumb like it was nothing. They made eye contact and Sarah pressed her lips together, unwilling to smile publicly.
“To the new Wilson Family Seafood Company,” Sam said.
The crowd mumbled through cheers and took swigs of their drinks, Sarah included.
“And to all of you,” she heard herself add, unintentionally tipping her head towards Bucky. Another swig and a beat of awkwardness later, the crowd clapped lightly and Sam hugged Sarah. They pulled the boys in, too and she pushed her discomfort with the publicity aside.
The crowd eventually subsided and Sam looked down his nose at Sarah. “What’s going on?” he asked, sounding like he had an idea of what was going on.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, playing dumb.
Bucky slapped Sam on the shoulder and grinned at the two of them. “Nice toast,” he said. “Better than your big speech.”
Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged Bucky’s hand off his shoulder. “Look, man, I can be brief when I need to be.”
Someone had called Sam away and Bucky had no problem getting Sarah to himself after that. Even when people did come to talk to her, she didn’t walk away. She just waited for them to be done and then turned back to Bucky every time. And when the kids came over, Bucky had an idea for how to keep them occupied that would make him look good too.
He took his jacket off and told them to just hang on tight. “First one to fall’s gotta go run down to dry land and back,” he said, adding an incentive to keep them focused.
It took a little focus to keep his arm up, but they didn’t feel like much.
“Sam tells me you’re old,” Sarah said. Bucky couldn’t tell if it was a question or a condemnation.
“106,” he answered as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“What was it like back then?” she asked. “When you were a kid?”
Bucky grinned. “So different,” he began. “But I think kind of the same, too.” He breathed a laugh and remembered an important story that proved his point. It came back to him clear as day--the day his high school baseball team won the state championship. He’d pitched six shut-out innings and that was as good a story as any to tell now.
He told it well, apparently, because she laughed when she should’ve and looked appropriately impressed. “Sounds about right,” she said when he was done.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Just that I wouldn’t really expect anything less,” she explained. “Golden boy,” she quipped with a smirk.
He chuckled. “I think you got me confused with my old buddy,” he retorted.
“No,” she said earnestly. “I mean you.”
One of the kids, Cass, fell off and Bucky barked, “You gotta do it! Go! Run!”
Sarah was laughing behind him and he soaked it up.