Chapter Text
“Um, is that thingy supposed to be doing that?” you asked Sarah, pointing over at the hissing pipe on the boat, a plume of steam rising out of it and into the afternoon sky.
“Damn. No,” Sarah said, sighing sharply and heading over to the apparent disaster, the latest in a string of them produced by that old boat. “Sam!” she called out, gesturing widely toward the pipe.
You followed her, watching helplessly as Sam tried his best to mitigate the situation. You felt kind of bad, wishing you knew more about boat repairing, but you were doing the best you could during this whole process. Paul and Darlene had died when you were pretty young, but that boat meant just as much to you as it did for Sarah and Sam. It was part of the family’s history, a history that you were only a small part of, but it was yours nonetheless. Paul and Darlene always made sure you knew that.
You sighed, glancing at Sarah who was frowning down at the clipboard in her hand, muttering something under her breath. You were just about to call out to Sam, to see if you could do something to help, but someone else beat you to it.
“Excuse me,” someone said softly behind you, brushing past you and stepping down into the boat with Sam. He looked back at you and gave you a small nod and a smile before saying a few things to Sam, grabbing a tool and effortlessly fixing the fussy pipe.
“Who’s that?” you said to Sarah, looking at the stranger, short-haired and wearing jeans, along with a gray t-shirt and a dark denim jacket. He had a dusting of facial hair, eyes squinting under the Louisiana sun. There was something familiar about this stranger, but you couldn’t quite figure it out.
“I have no clue, one of your brother’s friends, I guess,” Sarah said, shaking her head over at Sam. “Sam, take a look at this. I called the guy, but he said the part won’t be here until next week,” she said, meeting Sam at the edge of the boat, handing him the clipboard, the two of them absorbed in more repair stuff.
You couldn’t help but grin over at them. Whenever Sam got on Sarah’s nerves, he became your brother, as if you were the one related to him by birth and not the other way around. You felt like it, though. Even though you were adopted, you felt like you were connected to the both of them by something stronger than blood and DNA. You wouldn’t trade them for the world.
You chanced a glance at the stranger again, only to find him already looking at you. He smiled at you, eyes bright and blue, you could see now, one corner of his mouth slightly higher than the other. It was the kind of smile that would make anyone smile back, no matter what mood they were in. Your face muscles moved of their own accord, your grin widening into a full-on smile as if you had known this man your whole life.
“I’m Bucky,” he said, leaning forward a bit, his own smile widening along with yours.
Your heart did somersaults, though you tried your best to hide it, despite the goofy grin on your face.
“Y/n,” you told him, and he repeated your name back to you, saying it with care, as if he were savoring each syllable against his lips.
Geez, you wanted to hear him say your name a thousand times more.
He smiled up at you again, giving you another small nod before heading over to where Sam and Sarah were. You looked over at your siblings, both of whom had paused their important musing to take in the small scene that had just unfolded, ridiculously suspicious and skeptical looks on their faces as their gazes bounced from you and Bucky.
You rolled your eyes at them, pressing your lips together to contain the smile that invaded your face. “Can I help with anything?” you asked them, avoiding eye contact with your brother’s very, very attractive guest.
Sam was about to say something, something undoubtedly smart, but Sarah stopped him, shooting him a warning glance before turning back to you.
“You can start dinner. The meat is defrosting in the sink,” she said, and you didn’t miss the whisper of a grin on her face as she said it.
You nodded, turning in the direction of your car, pointedly avoiding another glance at the stranger named Bucky. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to handle another look, your face still warm from that initial encounter. As you walked away, you heard a soft thud, followed by a wounded “ow” and Sarah’s laughter.
“That’s my sister, man.”
“Good to know. Can you not hit me?”
“Can you not stare at my sister?”
You were still smiling by the time you drove away.
***
Bucky Barnes.
Bucky freaking Barnes.
Your brother was friends with the freaking Winter Soldier.
A quick Google search had confirmed the identity of your handsome stranger. You had remembered the big deal surrounding his pardon, but you would have never imagined you would sitting across from him at your dining room table while he ate your chicken-and-sausage gumbo.
“Mmmm, this is good. When’d you learn how to cook like this,” Sam said, nudging you a little and flashing you a warm grin. You nudged him back, shaking your head and chuckling a bit.
“I’ve always cooked this good,” you said, taking another bite of gumbo.
You stole a look at Bucky, and he looked right back, an annoying fluttering igniting in your chest. You held his gaze for maybe a second, risky with Sam right there, but it was electric, alighting over your skin from the top of your head, to the tips of your toes. He didn’t grin at you like before, but his eyes bored into you, through you, before he took another bite of gumbo himself.
“So how long you staying this time—boys, don’t do that,” Sarah asked Sam, reaching over and giving AJ’s head a light smack for starting a mini food fight with Cass.
“Can’t say,” Sam said, his tone turning serious. “Things are quiet for now, especially after everything with Walker, but Karli isn’t going to just give up,” he shared a look with Bucky.
“Well, we take what we can get,” Sarah said, shaking her head and pursing her lips at you and Sam. “It’s like I have to beg y’all to come back home.”
“I actually have a valid excuse,” you said, taking a sip of lemonade. “I’m trying to get a degree, not flying around with pigeon wings and fighting killer robots and sorcerers,” you said, giving Sam another nudge, which he happily returned.
“Thank you. Sorcerers, not wizards,” Bucky chimed in, directing his comment pointedly at Sam.
“There’s no such thing as wizards,” you added, and Bucky looked you again, risking a wry grin your way. You fought the urge to bite down on your lip.
Damn. Just damn.
“Stay out of this, this is a family dispute,” Sam warned Bucky, but there was no real weight behind it. He turned to you, taking a sip of beer and tipping the bottle’s neck toward you. “What about school, how’s that? Getting straight A’s?” he asked, frowning jovially at you.
“It’s college, no one cares about A’s as long as you pass,” you informed him, waving him away and taking another bite of food. “But yes, I do have a pretty decent GPA, thankyouverymuch. I made Dean’s list last semester,” you told him, beaming over at your big brother. You always liked making him and Sarah proud. There was a sizable age gap between you and them, so they practically raised you when your parents passed. You always wanted to make them proud. It was your way of thanking them for everything.
“That's what I’m talking about,” Sam said, grabbing your shoulder and giving you a shake. “She’s the smartest one in this bunch. NYU, almost a full ride. It’s a really good school,” he bragged to Bucky, ruffling your hair a bit. You dodged his hand, fixing your hair as best you could, hoping he didn’t make a complete mess out of it.
“I’m familiar with NYU, it was around during my day too,” Bucky said in reply, turning his attention to you. For some reason, whenever he looked at you, you felt exposed, like he could somehow see more of you than you wanted him to. “Very impressive. So you spend time in New York,” he made note, less of a question and more of an interesting finding.
You nodded, trying not to give away the fact that you had spent a good portion of your afternoon googling his life story. You wanted to ask if he ever made his way back there, but you weren’t sure what you’d do with that information.
“Do you like it?” Bucky asked, innocently enough.
“New York, or NYU?” you asked, placing your chin on your knuckles, leaning towards him just a smidge. Not so innocent.
“Both,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you mischievously.
“I love it. Both,” you said, trying to hide your grin, placing the tip of your pinky between your teeth.
Just then, a piece of sausage went flying across the table, hitting Bucky square on the forehead, sliding down his nose and onto his plate. He blinked, reaching up and wiping at the sauce on his face, glancing down at his fingers as if it were a mysterious substance from space. He glared at Sam.
“I told your ass to stop staring at my sister,” Sam said, his warning accompanied by the stifled giggles of the boys. Bucky was poised to reply, when another flying sausage whizzed over the table, tragically missing Cass and making its landing on Sarah’s chest. AJ covered his mouth with both his hands, his eyes as wide as saucers.
“See what you did?” Sarah glared at Sam, wiping at her shirt menacingly. “You’re a bad influence. The next person to throw their food gets to clean this whole house by themselves. And I mean spotless,” she threatened.
Everyone behaved for the rest of the meal.
***
You were thirsty.
That’s why you were going down to the kitchen, it had nothing to do with the cute guy sleeping on your couch. Nope. Not at all.
You had tried to talk yourself out of it, but your feet wouldn’t listen to you, propelling you out of bed and down the stairs. You moved as quietly as possible, cursing yourself because the poor guy was probably asleep and you were hoping not to wake him.
It was dark when you got down there, save for the faint traces of moonlight that reached in through the windows. You ignored the living room, keeping your focus on quietly getting a glass from the cupboard and pouring yourself some water from the Brita.
“Nice shirt.”
You jumped about a thousand feet into the air, clutching at your chest and gripping the pitcher like your life depended on it. You turned to find Bucky sitting up on the couch, a good portion of him shrouded by shadow.
“Geez, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned.
You waved him away, laughing a little and tipping some water into your glass. “It’s okay, I’m fine. I just thought you were asleep,” you said, taking a sip and turning to face him.
“Is that a cat? Wearing a bow” he asked, reaching over and turning on the standing lamp by the couch. He was fully clothed, and you thanked your lucky stars. You probably would have spontaneously combusted if he didn’t have a shirt on.
You looked down at your own night shirt, the faded Hello Kitty logo on your chest peeking up at you. You suddenly wished you had sleepwear that was a bit more…mature. You were also hyper-aware that you didn’t have on a bra. Nice.
“Yes. Do you have an issue with bow-wearing cats?” you challenged him, taking another sip of water to hide the grin forming on your face.
He made no such effort, that infuriatingly cute lopsided smile from earlier gracing his lips. He took a quick sweep of you from head to toe, and you shifted under his gaze, trying to fight the insecurity creeping over you.
“Water?” you asked him, gesturing to the Brita.
“Sure. Thank you,” he said, nodding a little, and you poured some for him, bringing it over to the couch and handing the cool glass to him.
You stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure if this was an invitation for you to stay or go, but then he shifted a bit on the couch, as if he were making more room for you on the cushions, and you decided to sit, leaving a respectful distance of about a half-cushion between you.
“So, NYU. What’re you studying?” he asked after a beat, leaning back and turning his head to face you. You looked back at him and he seemed genuinely interested, giving you his full attention.
“English literature,” you said abashedly, knowing all too well the assumptions people made about anyone who majored in English. Still, you never tried to hide it. You were proud to be an English major, assumptions be damned.
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known,” Bucky said gently, glancing down at his drink and back at you, giving you a shy grin as if he had said something wrong.
Your eyebrows raised, betraying your surprise before you took a sip of water to compose yourself. “So you’re a fan of Dickens,” you noted, as casually as you could.
Bucky shrugged, stretching his arm out across the back of the couch, not quite near you, but you could feel the faint heat of his skin on the back of your neck.
Good lord.
“He’s okay,” he said, unimpressed. “Great Expectations was a bit…contrived.”
You scoffed, leaning a bit further into the couch, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, as if they were reaching out to his arm behind you. “I wish my 19th Century lit professor could have heard you say that. I’m pretty sure he’d have an aneurysm, and then I wouldn’t have to write his term paper,” you said, rolling your eyes at the 20 paged monstrosity waiting for you when you got back to school.
Bucky laughed, really laughed, tilting his head back, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. You wanted to swim in those crinkles, dive into the blues of his eyes. Girl, get a grip, you chastised yourself, gulping down the rest of your water.
“Sam’s right, you probably are the smartest one in the bunch,” he said, his gaze turning thoughtful and warm. You smiled and looked away, suddenly interested in your fingernails. He shifted his arm slightly, coming dangerously close to grazing your skin.
“Not really,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m only the kind of smart that can help you pass a Shakespeare course. Sam and Sarah are the kind of smart that’s actually useful around here,” you said, shame prickling up your spine. It wasn’t something you had ever spoken aloud before, and you had done it in front of Bucky Barnes, of all people.
He frowned, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
You sighed, but something about him made you want to elaborate. “Maybe it was because I was the youngest, but Paul and Darlene never really showed me the ropes of the business. I helped out where I could with small things, but they mainly wanted me to focus on school, to get good grades and go to college. When they passed, Sam and Sarah still wanted that for me,” you explained, glancing over at Bucky. He was completely absorbed in what you were saying, a small wrinkle in between his brows. You shifted on the couch so you could face him better, tucking one of your legs under you before you continued.
“I don’t know anything about running a business, or profit margins or whatever. And I certainly know zero about fixing up a boat. I just wish I could be more useful to them,” you admitted, looking down at your hands again.
He was quiet for a moment, clearly considering his next words carefully. “Well,” he began, one corner of his mouth twitching upward, “just because certain knowledge doesn’t apply in all situations, doesn’t mean that it’s worthless. You just have to find where your knowledge is useful,” he said simply with a tiny shrug.
You considered him for a moment, suddenly grateful that you had come down for a drink of water. “So profound for someone with a metal arm,” you said, and you cursed yourself for trying to inject humor into the moment.
To your relief, Bucky just laughed, rolling his eyes at you and nudging your foot with his. “Besides, you seem pretty useful around here to me. That was the best gumbo I’ve ever had. It was the only gumbo I’ve ever had, but still,” he said, and you laughed along with him. “I think you’re selling yourself short. They value what you’re doing as much as you value them, I can see it,” he said seriously, that warm and thoughtful look returning to his face.
You smiled at him, unable to find the right words to thank him. Instead, you shifted again, leaning over until your cheek rested on his forearm, your eyes never leaving his. You felt his fingers dance along the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You reached forward, delicately grasping the chain that hung off his neck.
“Are these your original dog tags?” you asked, resting the dulled silver plates in your palm. “From World War II?”
The two of you dived deep into conversation, sleep long forgotten, the sun already chasing the moon.
***
You jolted awake, vaguely aware that you weren’t in your room, blinking a few times to orient yourself.
Bucky jolted awake, too, sleepily snaking his arm around you and pulling you closer to him, as if to protect you from some unknown threat. You groaned and rubbed your eyes, just registering the battle noises that your nephews were making by the kitchen.
“Hey, guys, put that down,” you said groggily, resting your head on Bucky’s chest, just noticing the slight ache in your neck, probably from sleeping on it wrong. “That thing is like, a hundred years old,” you said, waving your hand at them lazily.
They scurried to put the shield back in its bag, giggling as they ran out of the room at the realization that you were awake. It was then that your brain caught up to your current situation, your head still on Bucky’s chest, his arm still firmly around you. A sleepy chuckle rumbled through his body, reverberating through yours and sending warmth through you.
“It’s vibranium, it’s not like they can break it,” Bucky said, his voice deep with sleep. You tried not to think about how sexy it sounded.
“They’re pre-pubescent children with energy for days,” you said, lifting your head and rubbing at your eyes. “They’ll find a way, trust me.”
He laughed again, this time turning his head to face you. That’s when you realized how compromising your current position was. You were basically on top of the man, your bodies pressed together and tangled with the sheets that Sarah had laid out on the couch for him. He seemed to become aware of it too, his eyes roaming your face, sweeping over your hair, your nose, your lips.
“Hi,” he whispered, his breath tickling your cheek.
“Hi,” you whispered back, your hand finding its way to the metal of his arm. You both watched as your hand roamed over it, following the grooves and curves of gold. You would have expected it to be cool to the touch, but it was warm like the rest of him, as if it had always belonged there from birth. You looked back up at him, inhaling sharply at just how radiant he looked with the early morning rays spilling onto his face. You were pretty sure you could have stayed that way forever, but you were rudely reminded that you weren’t the only two adults in the house.
“Boys, why are you running through this house? Get ready for breakf--” Sarah called out, stopping short when she stepped into the living room and saw the two of you on the couch.
You and Bucky scrambled to detangle from each other, getting up and awkwardly standing in front of Sarah, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of your sleep shirt. Her eyes bounced back and forth between you and Bucky, her mouth still formed around the word “breakfast.”
“Good morning, Sarah,” you offered, if only to break the silence. “How was your night?”
She looked at you up and down, placing a hand on her hip. “How was my night? How was yours? Did you sleep down here?” she said, looking over at Bucky with the same incredulous expression.
“We weren’t sleeping the whole time,” Bucky said, and Sarah’s eyebrows shot up, her jaw hanging open, looking back at you sharply.
“We were talking!” you clarified quickly, giving Bucky a small nudge to his side. “Just talking. I came down for a glass of water, and he was up, so we talked. We must have fallen asleep at some point,” you said, gesturing to the two empty glasses on the coffee table as if they would absolve you of any suspicion.
Sarah didn’t look particularly convinced, but she didn’t voice it, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at the two of you.
“You’re lucky it was me and not your brother,” she said, shaking her head at you.
You gave her a look, crossing your own arms. “What’s Samuel gonna do?”
“Impale him with those wings he got,” Sarah said, pointing at Bucky. “And send you to a nunnery.”
“Do they even have those anymore?” you asked, rolling your eyes and flopping your arms to your sides exasperatedly. “I’m an adult, I can do what I want, with whomever I want to,” you said, picking up the empty glasses and walking them over to the sink.
Sarah scoffed. “I’d like to see you try to convince him of that.”
You pushed your hair out of your face, walking past her and to the stairs. “Well, then he shouldn’t bring his cute friends around the house,” you said, not bothering to turn and see Bucky’s reaction.
***
“Hey kiddo, whatcha up to?” Sam said, ruffling your hair as made his way into the living room later in the day, carrying the shield on one of his arms. Bucky was in tow, with his backpack slung over his shoulder, standing off at a safe distance.
You gave him a small smile, super aware of the fact that you were sitting on the couch, the scene of your earlier crimes. You put your book aside and pushed Sam’s hand away, running a finger along the curve of the shield.
“I’m reading up for class. Break is almost over. Superhero duties already calling again?” you said, melancholy creeping into your tone. You felt like you had just gotten your brother back, you didn’t want him to go so soon.
“Nah, we’re just going out front. Gonna throw this around a bit. Cyborg here is the only one leaving” Sam said, looking down at the star-spangled disk on his arm, almost warily. You had the passing thought that it suited him. There was a pang in your chest at the thought of Bucky leaving, and you hoped it didn’t show on your face.
“Sarah kicked you off the boat, didn’t she? She told you it wasn’t the water pump,” you said, looking up at him smugly.
Sam just ruffled you hair again, thwarting your attempts to swat him away. You had the sudden urge to stand up and hug him, which you readily did, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face in his chest. After the Blip, you had decided that you’d never miss the chance to hug your brother ever again. You were proud of him, the work he chose to do, but it was dangerous, and you never knew when it would be the last time you saw him.
“Love you, Bubba,” you said, using the silly nickname you had given him when you were younger.
“Love you, too,” kiddo,” Sam said, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “Now get back to reading. Can’t have those grades slipping,” he said, giving you a tiny shove towards the couch. He gave you one last kiss on the forehead before heading down the hall towards the door and to the front yard.
Bucky lingered behind, his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“So this is goodbye,” he said, looking more sheepish and shy than you’ve seen him this whole time.
You nodded, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Yeah. This is goodbye.”
There was a pause, neither of you knowing how to bring this past day and a half to its closure. You took the only step you could think of, sticking out your hand in front of you, closing some of the distance between him and you. He looked at your hand for a moment, and you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you.
We woke up twisted together like a pretzel, and we’re just gonna shake hands?
But it was the safest option, you both knew it, so he grabbed it, holding it firmly and giving it a gentle shake.
“It was nice meeting you, Y/n,” he said, and he gave you the damn grin again, the same one that put you in this situation in the first place.
You quelled the fluttering in your belly, nodding professionally and taking your hand back. “It was nice meeting you too, Bucky”
He nodded, taking one last moment to look at you before following after Sam down the hall. You took another deep breath, looking down at your copy of Jane Eyre on the couch, trying to tell yourself not to go after him.
Your feet didn’t listen to you again, taking you down the hall, catching him just as he was about to step out of the screen door.
“Bucky,” you called out, and he turned, his eyebrows raised expectantly. You could have sworn there was a bit of relief on his face too.
“Do you have a phone?” you blurted out, wincing slightly at yourself. He paused for a moment, looking at you quizzically as if he had expected you to say or do something else. He reached into his back pocket, holding out a black flip phone to you, circa 2006.
“Okay, I know you were born in the Proterozoic Era, but this is excessive,” you said, taking it from him. It literally felt you had excavated a fossil. “I’m not saying you need to get an iPhone, but at least something with a touch screen, my goodness,” you said, turning it over to inspect further.
“Alright, alright,” he said vexingly, though there was a grin on his face.
You smiled at him, shaking your head a little before flipping the phone open. It took you a little while to navigate, but you managed to insert your number into his contacts, flipping it closed and handing it back to him.
“Now you have my number,” you told him, clasping your hands behind your back, rocking a bit. “My break will be over soon, so if we find ourselves in New York at the same time…maybe we could go out and grab something stronger than water,” you said carefully, fighting the urge to run in the other direction.
Bucky grinned down at his phone, wrapping his fingers around it and bouncing it a couple of times in his hand. He glanced out at Sam, who was already throwing the shield, before bringing his gaze back to you.
“Your brother would kill me,” he said wryly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “And he knows people that could make it look like an accident.”
You shrugged, taking a couple of steps closer to him. “What my brother doesn’t know, can’t hurt him. Or you,” you said, taking a couple more steps. You were almost chest-to-chest with him.
He looked back at Sam again. “I would hate to lie to him,” he said, though there was no real conviction behind it. He glanced down at your lips.
“It wouldn’t be lying,” you insisted, your hand grazing his. “Think of it as helping my big brother mind his own business.”
Bucky laughed, and you got to admire those crinkles again. You were already in love with those crinkles. Damn.
He shook his head at you, stepping out the door, taking a couple of steps backward off the porch. “Goodbye, Y/n,” he said with a small two-fingered wave.
“Goodbye, Bucky,” you said with a wave of your own, letting the screen door shut between you.
He smiled at you one last time before turning and heading over to Sam, catching the shield as it whizzed between the trees.
You were suddenly very, very, excited to get back to class.