Chapter Text
The card arrives in the mail on a Friday. Sam brings it in with a stack of other envelopes, sandwiched between his electric bill and a coupon for ten dollars off an oil change. He smiles at the sight of it, the careful yet crooked handwriting denoting his address beneath “Uncle Sam.” The postage stamp is Captain America’s shield. Sam abandons his other mail and opens this first.
Sam unfolds the paper to find it decorated with dotted confetti, crooked balloons, and a big banner across the top that reads AJ’s Birthday Bash. What follows is an invitation written in his nephew’s colorful hand: the date and time, the plan (games, cake, and presents), and a heartfelt plea at the bottom for Sam to come and bring his shield so AJ can show it to his friends.
He grins, sets down the invitation, and immediately calls his sister.
“Hey, what’s up?” she answers on the third ring.
“I got the letter from AJ,” he says. “Can I RSVP?”
“Are you gonna come?”
Sam frowns, “What are you talking about, Sarah, of course I’m coming, I’m not gonna miss my nephew’s birthday!”
“I know you want to be there, Sam,” she sighs. “But can you? Because I don’t want you breaking his heart if Captain America has to fly away and save the day.”
Reflexively, he’s insulted that Sarah would even imply that Sam would leave his nephew in the dust. But, after a moment of consideration, he understands the logic in her words. In the few months since he was publicly announced as the new Captain America, Sam has been pulled every which way. There are speeches, galas, fundraisers, interviews, and missions, missions, missions. He often wonders if Steve felt this way during his tenure, run ragged and stretched thin by the requests and expectations of everyone around him. It's exhausting. There is never a day to himself, never a weekend where he can just stay in his home and be Sam Wilson for a short while. Several times, Sam has wished he could drop everything and abscond to Louisiana just to get a moment or two of peace. He would call Sarah, make amorphous plans, then have to cancel a few hours later when someone put in a request for urgent assistance.
But, above all else, Sam cares about his family. It had been agony to be away when he was on the run with Steve and Natasha, hearing secondhand about how his young nephews were faring, how Sarah had to deal with the loss of her husband with her brother thousands of miles away and then gone completely for five years. There is a lot of lost time that he needs to make up for and he tries his hardest to, even if things have gotten more complicated recently.
“I want to be there, Sarah,” he says.
“I know that, Sam, I really do, but can you?” She sighs. He can hear the clanging of dishes and splashing of water in the background. She must be doing the dishes after dinner. “This will be AJ’s first birthday with you since the Blip. He was too young to remember any other ones with you before that. It would mean the world if you were there, Sam.”
“I know, Sarah, I know. And I can’t promise I’ll be there for sure, I can’t know if anything will happen, but I will do everything in my power to be there. I promise.”
“Okay.” The faucet squeaks as she turns off the water. “Want to talk to your nephews? Try not to get his hopes too high.”
“I will. Hand me over.”
She takes him to the other room, presumably where his nephews are making use of their evening screen time with a video game. When Sarah tells them who’s on the phone, they pause and rush to her, “Uncle Sam!”
“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”
They take turns telling him about their days. Cass had a presentation in his history class that he nailed and earned him a compliment from the teacher on his thorough research. AJ made a clay alligator in art class. It doesn’t take long for AJ to ask the question, “Did you get my letter yet?”
“I sure did,” Sam smiles and taps the corner of the paper. “You did a great job with it, I love the stamp.”
“I knew you would! Are you gonna come? Please, Uncle Sam!”
Sam swallows, “I’ll try my best, buddy.” The party is in two weeks. Off the top of his head, Sam can’t think of anything that he has scheduled for that date. Worst comes to worst, he can ask a few favors and have someone fly him to New Orleans, hitch a ride for the hour drive to Delacroix, stay for a few hours, then do the same in reverse so he’s only gone for a day. In the best-case scenario, he would have a couple days around the event to spend time with his family, but he would take what he could get.
His nephews are smart. They were beyond excited when Sam became Captain America, loved the way Sam had tried to include them in his training and let them hold the shield, but they know that the position isn’t all fun and games. They know that Sam could be called away at a moment’s notice for any reason, that he goes to dangerous places and does dangerous things. It makes them all the more grateful when Sam comes back, alive and safe, and they hug him within an inch of his life.
AJ’s voice is hesitant, but he says, “It’s okay, Uncle Sam. I know that you’re busy.”
His heart clenches, “I’ll try, buddy, I swear.”
Sam really does his best to keep his promise. He works overtime packing everything and anything he can into the days leading up to AJ’s party. He makes nice with everyone he possibly can, rubs elbows and drops hints on how busy he will be on this date so he can deal with that a couple days after, or a couple days before. He checks in with Sarah two days before and tries not to get ahead of himself when he tells her that so far, he’s in the clear.
Of course, the afternoon before, Sam gets an apologetic call from Torres. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sam knows what’s coming. “What’s up?”
“Major arms deal with the LAF tomorrow. They’re asking if you’ll disrupt the operation, confiscate the weapons, and apprehend whoever you can.”
“And I’m only hearing about this now, because?”
“Intel wasn’t confirmed until an hour ago. It was touch and go whether or not it would go through until now.” After a pause, Joaquin adds, “I’m really sorry, Sam. I tried to tell them that you’re busy tomorrow, but they’ve been on my case.”
“It’s okay, Torres, I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” He sighs, heavily. “Just send me the details. I’ll be there.”
“You got it, Sam.”
Tail between his legs, Sam calls Sarah next. She sounds resigned, maybe a little disappointed, but she doesn’t get on Sam’s case as much as she probably should. Perhaps as punishment, perhaps as mercy, she hands the phone over for Sam to break the news to AJ himself.
AJ is quiet for a long time after Sam says his piece. He can only repeat, “I’m so sorry, AJ, I really wanted to be there.”
“I know,” AJ’s voice is faint. Sam can only imagine the way he’s fidgeting with his glasses, expression twisted and pointed at his shoes. “It’s okay, Uncle Sam, I know your job’s really important.”
“I love you, buddy, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I love you, too.”
Sam sits on the couch with his head in his hands after he hangs up. He can just add this to the list of times he’s failed his family. He mopes for a bit, gathers himself, then makes another phone call.
Bucky, surprisingly, answers on the second ring, “What’s up?”
That’s another part of Sam’s life that has changed. Ever since Sam took up the shield as his own, he and Bucky have fallen into a tentative partnership. After their ordeal with the Flag Smashers, after Sam had brought Bucky back to Delacroix for their celebratory cookout, they had maintained contact. There had been months after the Blip when Sam’s every text and voicemail had been like shouting into the void. Now, Bucky responds to his messages, even if they are one word and do little more than tell Sam that the other man is still alive. For lack of anything else to do, Bucky even tags along with Sam on occasional missions, watching his back and keeping things entertaining if nothing else. Sam doesn’t exactly know what Bucky’s goal is—and of course, the other man is tight lipped about his intentions—but he trusts Bucky. It’s nice to have someone on his side that he already knows rather than the constantly rotating roster of faceless military personnel assigned to assist him. At least Torres has stuck with him, too.
Sam has gotten into the habit of calling Bucky every time he gets summoned. Sometimes Bucky is chomping at the bit to come, sometimes he declines. Sam never presses him either way, they’re not that close where Sam feels comfortable diving into Bucky’s every action and motivation. Still, there’s always a sense of relief when Bucky says yes.
“Hey, I got an arms deal going down tomorrow, you in?”
The silence on the other end is a substitute for Bucky’s staring. “Don’t you have the party tomorrow?”
Sam doesn’t know what he’s more surprised about, the fact that he had told Bucky about it at some point or the fact that Bucky remembers. “How’d you know that?”
“You told me, last week. After that hostage situation.”
Sam vaguely remembers that. A bank in the midst of a botched robbery, Sam had been in the area with Bucky following close behind. Sam had been curt the entire time. After everyone was saved, Bucky had asked Sam what’s got your panties in a twist and instead of telling him to mind his own business, Sam had let his dilemma slip. “Huh, I did.”
“Yeah,” Bucky snorts, amused. “You need to take a nap, grandpa?”
“Shut up, you’re older than me.”
“Yeah, and I’m doing great. But seriously, why aren’t you going to the party?”
“Captain America has to save the day,” Sam says with bitterness sharp on his tongue. “Duty calls.”
“You could always say no.”
Sam scoffs, “Yeah, right, that’s not an option.”
After a long pause, Bucky says, “I’m sorry, Sam. That really sucks.”
Sam likes that about Bucky, his honesty. After they resolved their issues with each other and Bucky had genuinely apologized to Sam, he came to realize that Bucky has a straightforwardness about him that makes him easier to talk to than Sam would have ever admitted a few months ago. Beyond the dark secrets and memories that Bucky keeps buried deep inside, he is an open book. He says what he wants to when he wants to and doesn’t care about the opinions of others. When he speaks, Sam can trust that he means what he says.
“Yeah, it does.” Sam rubs his temples. “So, are you in, buddy?”
Bucky is quiet for a long time again. In the background, Sam can hear the faint murmur of a crowd. He wonders where he’s taking this call. “Sorry, Sam, I can’t, I’ve got other stuff going on.”
Sam allows himself one moment of sour jealousy over Bucky’s ability to say no to whatever he wants while Sam has to do everything. Only a moment before he shoves that feeling down, tells himself that it’s been a long time since Bucky could refuse anything, that it’s good for him to set boundaries. “Alright, that’s fine, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks, Sam. Hey, I sent you a birthday present for AJ, will you get it to him the next time you see him?”
Sam blinks, “Uh, sure? You didn’t have to do that, Bucky.”
“It’s no problem. The Amazon said it would be delivered to your place tonight, you can wrap it or whatever.”
The Amazon, Sam mouths to himself with a grin. He’s touched that Bucky remembered AJ’s birthday after hearing it mentioned once, even more touched that Bucky went out of his way to get a present for him. Sam had spent a long time being intimidated by the Winter Soldier and a long time being pissed off by Bucky. It’s a welcome change to be endeared by him. “Sure. Thanks, man.”
“Yeah, well, I bought it off your account, you should really change your passwords.” Before Sam can unpack that, Bucky sighs, “Anyways, I gotta finish getting my groceries, take care.” And he hangs up.
Sam stares baffled at his phone for a few moments. He checks his account history and sure enough, there’s an order placed for a Captain America action figure out for delivery that cost forty dollars. He should be pissed at the invasion of privacy but he can only muster fondness, especially when Sam realizes he has been so busy he forgot to get AJ a gift. He still changes his password, though. What a jackass.
There’s a knock on the door a few hours later and a carboard box left on his doorstep that he brings inside. He’s slicing through the tape when his phone rings. Torres, again. He tucks it against his shoulder and continues his unboxing, “Hey, you got more info?”
“Actually, I got something better.” Sam can hear Joaquin’s grin through the line. “First class ticket to Louis Armstrong first thing in the morning, you want it?”
“Very funny, Torres. Really, what’s up?”
“No, I’m serious, you’re going to Louisiana tomorrow.”
Sam stops pulling out the bubble wrap. “I thought we just talked about his.”
“We did! But, things changed! Pulled some strings, mission got handed off to someone else, you’re in the clear for a couple of days, if you want them.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. Take a break, man, you deserve it.”
Sam beams, “You don’t know how much this means to me, Torres, thank you, man.”
“Yeah, well, it mostly wasn’t me, but have fun, okay?”
After they hang up, Sam speeds through his home with renewed vigor. He frantically calls Sarah again, spends ten minutes convincing her that he’s not pulling a fast one on her, but still allows her to keep it secret from AJ just in case things change at the last second. He relays to her the flight info Torres sent him and she agrees to ask a family friend to drive to pick him up from the airport. He hangs up buzzing with adrenaline, considers calling Bucky back just to brag about this turn of events, even briefly considers inviting Bucky along with him, but decides against it after recalling the other man already said he had plans. Sam almost finishes packing, zips up his bag, then realizes that he never finished unboxing the present Bucky got.
He pulls the action figure from its nest of bubble wrap, regards the star-spangled explosion of the packaging, narrows his eyes at the sight of his own face chiseled in plastic. There’s a plain card stuck to the front, printed in a corporate font. Bucky must have asked for a note to be added to the gift reading, don’t let your head get too big.
Sam grins and shoves it into his duffle.
Bright and early, Sam makes his way to the airport with his shield and bag in tow. The flight is good—Torres hadn’t been lying about first-class seats—and Sam treats himself to some champagne and a long nap. The flight attendant recognizes him as Captain America but doesn’t make a big deal about it, just thanks him sincerely and slips him some extra food. Since he’s headed home and in a good mood, he lingers after the rest of the passengers disembark, lets the flight crew take turns holding the shield and taking pictures with him.
Sarah enlisted Mr. Jones to retrieve Sam from the airport and they have a nice ride in his rusty pick-up down to Delacroix. Mr. Jones had been close with their parents, fishing buddies with their father while his wife had volunteered with Darlene Wilson in the soup kitchen every Wednesday and Sunday. After their parents died, the Jones’ had taken Sarah and Sam under their wing. Invites to family dinner are frequent, especially when Sam happens to be in town, and spare food has a way of finding itself in their fridge. Never to be outdone, Sarah sends the older couple food often under the guise of testing recipes.
Mr. Jones tells Sam how it’s a good thing he still makes time for family, but it’s also a good thing that Sam is serving something greater than himself. He shares old stories of mishaps with Paul Wilson, some of which Sam has already heard but doesn’t mind hearing again. By the time they roll up to Sarah’s house, Sam is warm and widely grinning with good memories and grateful that he gets to be here to make more.
Sarah probably heard the truck’s ancient engine down the road and is standing on the porch when they arrive. She walks up once they roll to a stop and hugs Mr. Jones while Sam walks around to grab his gear from the bed of the truck. Sarah insists Mr. Jones make his way inside for some iced tea and snacks while waiting for the party and rounds on Sam when the old man meanders up the driveway.
She beams at him, “I can’t believe you.”
“Hi, Sarah,” Sam wraps his baby sister in a tight hug. He breathes in the humid air of home and presses a kiss into the side of her head.
“Thank you for coming,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “The boys will be elated.”
“I’m glad I could be here.”
“I don’t know how you managed it, but I’m not complaining.” She withdraws and peers over his shoulder, “Where’s your shadow?”
Sam reflexively looks behind him then frowns at Sarah, “What do you mean?”
“You know? Tall, handsome, has a metal arm.”
“Bucky?” His brow rockets to his hairline. “Why would Bucky be here?”
“I don’t know, he came to help with the boat, you invited him down after you got the shield, aren’t you friends now? I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought him along again. Damn, I even got out the stuff for the couch.”
Sam doesn’t even know where to begin. Sure, he and Bucky are friends, but he doesn’t think they give off the impression of attached-at-the-hip friends. Then again, he can’t blame Sarah for her assumption. Bucky had been here twice in a short time. Hell, Sam had even considered inviting him down for this just like Sarah thought. “Uh, no, he’s busy.” Sam pats his duffle. “But he, uh, helped me pick out my gift.”
Sarah sees right through him with a narrowed gaze, “Uh-huh. That was nice of him.”
“Yeah, it was.” They make their way to the house. There are a couple of people in the side yard, setting up some tables with tablecloths and chairs. They wave as he and Sarah pass, ask Sam how’s he’s doing and insist he get himself some food since the party won’t start for a few hours. As they step inside, he asks, “Where are the boys?”
“At a friend’s house down the street. I wanted time to get everything set up. Besides, just because you’re Captain America now doesn’t mean you won’t pull your weight; you’re helping.”
She lends him some wrapping paper to cover the gift in, teases him over his resemblance to the toy’s face and his lack of skills in folding and taping the paper down. Then, she puts him to work. There are balloons to fill, decorations to hang both inside and out, food to make. The house is a revolving door for the neighborhood. The parents of AJ and Cass’s friends rush around getting things ready. There’s a hoard of efficiency in the kitchen, nearly a dozen people weaving around each other preparing the food and through it all, Sarah making AJ’s cake with perfect swipes of frosting along the border. Mr. Jones sits at the kitchen table, helping with the balloons between sips of his drink and espousing kind remarks on Sarah’s behalf. Sam floats to wherever he’s needed as fast as he can all for the sake of keeping his sister happy. There is laughter and old stories and good food and good people and Sam is filled with a great contentment knowing that he could be here and experience it for himself.
The party is ready by the time noon rolls around, right on time for a gaggle of children to be herded down the road. Sam grins at the way AJ stops in his tracks when he spots his uncle then sprints up the driveway at a pace that would put any super soldier to shame, jumping into Sam’s arms for a big hug.
“You came! You came!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, happy birthday,” Sam pats his back then lets AJ withdraw. Cass skids to a stop next to his brother and Sam gives him a hug and a warm greeting as well.
AJ was surely already excited for his big party, but Sam can tell that his presence further invigorates him. He’s bouncing off the walls while Sarah tries to wrangle her son to get some real food in him before he can run off. Everyone takes their fair share and then some and compliments fly regarding the quality of the food. The adults disperse into their own conversations while the kids run around the lawn, playing various games and making welcome nuisances of themselves. Presents are brought out when the kids tire and everyone gathers in a large circle around AJ while someone lingers in the background to get photos. Sam’s heart swells with pride at the way Sarah has raised her boys when AJ is nothing but polite and ecstatic over every gift, even the ones Sam would have been less than thrilled to receive at his age. He cheers when he unwraps Sam’s gift, even as the adults make jokes at Sam’s expense.
“That’s my uncle!” he cries. “Thank you, Uncle Sam!”
“You’re welcome,” Sam smiles. Since he does technically owe him, Sam adds, “Bucky helped me pick it out.”
“Sweet!” AJ peers around the crowd. “He’s not here?”
“Nah, sorry, buddy, but he says happy birthday.”
“Oh well,” AJ shrugs it off and props the action figure by his side, already moving to the next package. “He promised we could arm wrestle the next time I saw him.”
Sam hopes that Bucky has the intelligence to lose when he fulfills that promise rather than rip off his nephew’s arm, but he knows deep down that Bucky would be careful. He had been nothing but great with his nephews when he had last come to visit. Amongst family and friends and a joyous atmosphere, Sam is suddenly bummed that Bucky isn’t standing at his shoulder, making nice with the people of Sam’s childhood and occasionally sharing a sarcastic remark at Sam’s expense. Without realizing it, Bucky has wormed his way into Sam’s life, enough that Sam wants to show off this place and its people more. Bucky doesn’t have any family, any friends that he’s told Sam about. It would be good for him to have a place like this, to get away from it all and be welcomed without judgement. He resolves to invite Bucky the next time Sam is due to visit, no matter when that may be.
Once a mountain of shredded paper lies in the grass, Sarah retreats to the kitchen and comes back carrying her glorious cake, candles burning as everyone sings. AJ blows out the candles with a massive grin and cheekily thanks his mom, only whining a little when she wraps him in a hug and presses a kiss to his forehead. He’s grown up so fast, both of Sam’s nephews have. It feels like just yesterday they were chunky babies in Sarah’s arms who looked up at Sam with the wonder and innocence only a child could have.
After cake, there are more games and Sam lets AJ hold his shield and show it to his friends, even throws it around a bit with the kids at a low speed and safe distance. No amount of adoring fans could compare to the cheering crowd of children at his feet with his nephews at the helm. The evening winds down beneath the symphony of cicadas in the swimming flickers of lightning bugs. Leftovers are packed up and shoved into everyone’s hands, the lawn cleaned until not even a scrap of paper remains. Sam helps Sarah send everyone off with their extra food and lots of hugs. AJ and Cass retreat upstairs with their friends for a sleepover after promising Sarah that they won’t stay up too late. Sam and Sarah spend a few hours in the kitchen doing the dishes and reminiscing on their own childhood birthdays and Sam couldn’t be more glad that he came.