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Sunshine streamed on your face from the window of your New Orleans apartment, and for a minute you almost regretted you were leaving for Delacroix. There wasn’t any possible way you could stay there longer, not with the climbing rent and the urge to travel again and the fact that everything was already packed and Sam and Sarah needed you, but you definitely didn’t hate the city. Even with its numerous rainy potholes.
(Seriously. Pretty much all of the roads were crumbling in your neighborhood.)
Your room had been picked completely clean. Everything from post its to paintings had been torn off your walls, making you cringe at the sloppy paint job underneath, and you’d managed to stuff all of your belongings into the back of your car, memories and necessities pressed tightly together and prepared for the drive. The kitchen, bathroom, and sliver of living room had been returned to the state you’d bought it in last Mardi Gras.
Part of you had the urge to deliver a speech to the roof, dedicated to all the fun times you’d had under it, but between the flickery heating and the water that was always crappily lukewarm, even those were scarce.
Well then, you thought, so long, New Orleans. It’s been okay, I suppose.
You flung your bag over your shoulder and walked out of there. Your landlady was glad to see you go.
For how sunny it was in New Orleans, it was in the middle of a downpour when you arrived in Delacroix.
“Oh no!” you heard someone scream as you pulled into the driveway. “Move, move!”
You saw two kids fling their arms over their heads in an attempt to shield themselves from the rain, and you laughed to yourself when you saw who it was.
The door was flung open almost instantly and a pair of arms whisked Cass and AJ inside.
You glanced at the luggage behind you. No way were you gonna lug it into the house in this rain.
You squinted through the zooming windshield wipers again, saw the clouds weren’t even close to parting, and reluctantly unbuckled your seatbelt. With only a bit of embarrassing fumbling, you pulled out an umbrella wedged between two suitcases of stuff that was important to you, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
You summoned your umbrella like it was a rifle and sprinted full speed to the porch.
“Sarah, it’s me! Let me in!”
“Oh my god!”
The door opened again and someone pulled you inside.
“Wow, I’d thought you’d wait out the rain before you came down,” Sarah said, closing the door behind you as soon as you’d scurried onto the welcome mat, “How’ve you been, girl?”
“It was sunny in New Orleans,” you replied sheepishly, closing your umbrella and peeling your soaked sleeve off your arm, only for it to stick right back like it was glue. “But I’m good, I’m fine. How’s everyone? Is Cass finally taller than me? Where’s Sam?”
“He’s on the boat,” she said, already heading towards the living room and its coffee table full of angry red bills, “I told him not to go, but you know how dumb he is, he should be around for dinner next February.”
You snorted. “Nothing’s changed since I last saw him, I see.”
You didn’t mention the last time you’d saw him had been six years ago, before he’d been dead and you’d survived.
“Exactly,” Sarah sighed. “Come in, don’t drip on the carpet.”
Miraculously, Sam had survived his trip to the boat. You were in the middle of mashing the potatoes for the fancy dinner Sarah had insisted on when you heard the front door open and close, and you gasped in spite of yourself.
“Sam, is that you?”
You rounded the corner, saw it was him, and your mouth fell agape. You honestly expected it to be more emotional, but you only stood there like an idiot, your clothes ruffled, your hair falling out of its ponytail, potato masher still in hand. Not exactly the reunion you’d envisioned, but whatever.
Sam immediately dropped what he was carrying to hug you, and fireworks exploded in your chest as you responded, thanking whatever angel that watched over you that your knees didn’t buckle or tears didn’t well in your eyes.
“I missed you,” you said pathetically.
“How’ve you been?” he asked, and the voice was so familiar, so homely, it made you want to faint. You pushed it away.
“I’m good. Also officially older than you now,” you teased.
As he pulled away, a look appeared on his face like that wasn’t the first thing he’d expected you to bring up, but it flitted off in an instant.
“Yeah, I don’t like that,” he responded with his stupid grin.
You heard Cass stomping down the stairs behind you. “Something burning?”
Realization dawned on your face. “Shit, the vegetables!”
“Dollar in the jar, Auntie!” Cass sang, already retreating up the stairs.
You groaned while Sam smirked, and you rushed back into the kitchen.
“Oh great, you’re here,” Sarah said to her brother, not sounding grateful at all as she pried the steaming tray of vegetables out of the oven, “I got sauce to stir and you’ve got meat to fry, get to work.”
She shoved a spatula into Sam’s hands and stalked away.
“What the hell, woman!”
“You heard her,” you teased, and returned to your potatoes.
“What are we even making here?” he asked, uncomfortably gazing down at whatever was in the pan, “Don’t you wanna hear what I heard at the dock?”
“Does it have to do with money?” Sarah called from the pantry.
“No,” he replied awkwardly.
“Then no, I don’t.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but you stopped him. “How’s Bucky doing?”
“He’s still acting like an asshole, ignoring my texts, so nothing new.”
“Two dollars in the jar!” Cass exclaimed triumphantly as he flounced into the kitchen.
“Goddammit, man!”
Dinner and dessert were delicious, a little bit of everything since Sarah couldn’t decide on what she wanted to cook, and the yard had dried by the time everyone had finished, so Sam started a game of catch with the boys while Sarah poured you a glass of whatever alcohol she had in the cabinet. For one moment, it seemed picture perfect: the after-rain breeze wafting over your face, the love of your life where he was most relaxed, and you sitting in one of Sarah’s squashy outdoor chairs.
“Don’t talk about the bills,” Sarah started, reading the look on your face correctly. “I got ‘em handled, we’re all gonna be good.”
You remembered the angry red notices on the coffee table. “You know I have money from Stark’s will, if you just let me help-”
“It’s all good,” she said firmly. “I wanted you to be here ‘cause Sam’s been riled up about his lil friend, not ‘cause I’m some damsel in distress.”
“You’d know I’d never say that,” you said genuinely sincerely, taking a sip of whatever she’d poured into your glass. Tasted kind of sweet, a bit like pears…was it wine?
Sarah didn’t respond, so you fixed your gaze back onto the yard.
“Go high, go high!” AJ pleaded.
“If I go high, that’s gonna donk you straight in the head, y’all know that right?”
“I wanna catch it, Uncle Sam!”
“Fine, fine-”
He hurled the ball hard into the air and sent Cass and AJ running after it. Sensing your gaze on him, he looked back at you and smiled sheepishly. You stuck your tongue out in response.
“You’re so stupid,” Sarah laughed as soon as he’d looked away.
“Shut up,” you said back, grinning into your drink.
She smirked. “Just so you’re not surprised, I put some candles up in your bedroom. And I finally got rid of AJ’s old baby monitor.”
You gasped with your mouth around the rim of the glass. “You didn’t.”
“It had sentimental value!”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” you mumbled, and drank deeply.
Sarah winked. “I can be a wingwoman when I wanna be.”
You knew that all too well. You had fond memories of rocking ultra low-rise jeans in college and being seen as cool as long as Sarah was by your side, which was always, and there was that one story with the illegal toaster in your shared dorm room you still liked to tell sometimes. Once Sam and Riley entered the picture, you’d almost been too powerful.
You hadn’t realized you’d been smiling.
“I know I missed Sam, but I missed you too.”
“Hey!” Sam called. “Sarah, you still got them bigass speakers?”
“Don’t even try it,” he mumbled to Cass.
“I sold ‘em!” Sarah called back. “Why?”
“Aw, dang…”
“I have some small ones in my car,” you said, suddenly remembering you had left your things there, “Want me to go get ‘em?”
“Sam, go help her bring her stuff in!” Sarah called, three steps ahead of you like always.
“Yeah yeah, on it…”
He tossed the ball back to the boys and trooped out to the front yard. Draining your glass, you stood up to follow him.
When you got there, he was rummaging through bags.
“So, you been on any Falcon missions lately?” you asked as he slung a bag of clothes over his shoulders; you took out a small bin of hygiene products.
“Been skirting over Northern Africa,” Sam replied vaguely, “Nothing too world-ending. It’s been alright.”
“Yeah. Considering all the things that have been going on lately, I dunno if I want you to be there for the end of the world,” you joked as you ignored the walkway and trampled the grass instead.
Sam stopped dead, and because the alternative meant falling into him, you stopped with him.
“D-did I say something bad?”
He looked at you for a hard two seconds, and you forced yourself to look back. Emotion in his eyes looked like churning caramel.
“No,” he replied finally, “No, I just - I missed you, that’s all.”
The bin suddenly got a lot heavier and you wanted to drop it so you could kiss him, but somehow, you stayed put.
“Sorry,” you said quietly, “Let’s just-”
Still not knowing what you did to upset him (no– you knew what Sam looked like when he was upset, you knew what he looked like when he was ruminating about justice or some other Steve Rogers thing, and there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d forget the look on his face when he told you he loved you for the first time, but something was up and you couldn’t find the words to describe it) you followed him inside and tramped up to your room.
It had been unoccupied for so long that cobwebs were beginning to grow in the corners of the window, so you swatted them and turned the crank on the window until the cold breeze was flowing through the room. You couldn’t stand the sudden quiet, and inhaled to say something.
You heard Sam drop the bag of clothes on the foot of your bed, and when you turned–
He was right in front of you, and you barely had time to let a gasp escape your lips before he was kissing you.
You instinctively leaned into it, and if you groaned, it was lost in your throat. You held his face because it was the only thing you knew how to do, and for a moment it was a beyond perfect day. In the simplest terms, everything became new, even though he was the only unchanging thing you’d ever known.
The temperature suddenly rose and you were aware that your back was wedged uncomfortably into your desk by the windowside, but you didn’t care, not when Sam wrapped an arm around your back like he was hugging you mid-kiss.
“Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, mom says it’s early enough to have a bon– eurgh!”
You pulled away with a loud pop and pushed him away from you. “What?”
“What?” Sam said blankly.
“Mom wants to have a bonfire,” AJ deadpanned, clearly going through the seven stages of grief in ten seconds, “Are you coming?”
“Yeah - uh, yeah man, be down in a minute,” Sam mumbled.
AJ narrowed his eyes. “Oookay.”
He sped-walked away.
“Stupid kid,” he said.
“I hope you didn’t traumatize him too much,” you said offhandedly, going back to whatever he’d dropped on your bed, and Sam raised an eyebrow. “You do realize there’s a you in this equation just as much as me, right?”
“You started it,” you said like a little kid.
“Oh, and I’m about to end it,” he whispered, roping his arm around your waist again, but you pushed him away.
“Nuh-uh. I wanna see if Sarah has some marshmallows.”
“Why are you always pushing me away?” he asked angrily, but he was laughing, making him come off less serious, and soon you were laughing too.
“The term is cockblocking, darling,” you replied. “And I wanna wait until later.”
He stared at you. You stared back.
“That’s seriously not the worst thing in the world, is it?”
“Okay, okay,” he caved, already going for the door, “Later, alright. But definitely tonight. Is tonight good?”
“Yeah, tonight’s good,” you said sheepishly, pulling a shirt out of your bag, “Go down without me, I’m gonna get these clothes put away.”
Sam saluted jokingly, “Yes ma’am,” before disappearing down the stairs.
AJ was waiting for him when Sam came out of the front door and turned to go to the yard.
He jumped so hard his feet nearly left the grass. “Don’t do that to me, kid!”
AJ opened his mouth but saw something lying on the ground. “What’s that?”
It was a small black box, about the size of his palm. Sam scooped it up fast.
“You saw nothing,” he said quickly.
AJ was narrowing his eyes again. “Uncle Sam, what was that?”
He rolled his eyes and opened it. AJ gaped at the glistening ring inside.
“Tell no one, aight? You even tell mom and you’re dead meat. You know she tells Y/N everything,” Sam said seriously.
“Okay,” AJ replied, clearly in awe, but he blinked it away. “Can you come to the back now? I think I can throw the ball as hard as you!”