They’re in the kitchen making soup when she first brings it up.
“I think Steve and Bucky might get along,” Sarah says, tone nonchalant, but the gleam in her eyes tells Sam that she’s clearly been thinking about this for some time now. Sam pauses, knife hovering over the half chopped carrots on the cutting board in front of him, eyes flicking suspiciously over to his sister. She gives him an innocent smile and pushes an unopened bag of baby carrots towards him.
“Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes,” Sam asks, but it doesn’t come out as a question. His brow furrows, thinking it over. “What makes you think that?”
Sarah shrugs and rinses her hands under the sink before she checks on the rolls on the windowsill, rising in the warm, Louisiana breeze. “They’re both veterans. Both kind and also incredibly lonely. They could use more friends.”
Sam goes back to cutting vegetables, shaking his head. “Sarah,” he starts, almost warningly. She skirts around him to grab butter out of the fridge, and he sighs. “You know you can’t push these things. Steve just got back a couple weeks ago. He’s barely opening up to me, and I just got him to start coming around the house. He’s just started feeling comfortable working on the boat, I can’t jeopardize that.”
“You won’t,” Sarah insisted firmly, unwrapping the butter and placing it in a bowl. One, two, three sticks before she continues. “Bucky’s been hiding himself away, only coming to help clean up after we hand out the meals. He needs some interaction, and he needs some purpose. I think it would be a great idea to get them both working on the boat together. Friendship and a goal.”
Sam empties the cutting board into the bubbling pot on the stove before aggressively ripping open the next bag of carrots. “Is that something he’d be interested in? I know he’s. . . particular about trying new things.”
Sarah snorted and placed the bowl of butter in the microwave. “Bucky just needs a little push sometimes. He thinks he can’t do things just because he’s missing an arm. But there’s plenty of things he can do, and he just needs to think about those instead of all the things he-”
“Sarah,” Sam interrupted, tone sharp, and she fell silent. “It’s only been a couple of months since he lost it. He’s still adjusting, and we can’t push him too much.” They both work in silence for a few minutes, just the steady sound of the knife slicing through carrots and hitting the cutting board.
Sarah pulls the bread from the window and puts it in the oven, keeping her back turned to her brother. Sam watches her, studying the way her face is pulled in a frown, and admits defeat with a sigh. “Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to introduce them to each other,” he conceded, rolling his eyes at the way she lights up and a grin spreads across her face. “But- But we can’t push them, okay? Just a little nudge. We need to start small.”
Sarah squirms in place before throwing her arms around Sam and giving him a too firm squeeze that has him wincing. “Okay! Don’t worry, Sam, this is going to be the greatest thing to happen to either of them.”
Sam hopes that’s true.
Sam’s only met Bucky a handful of times.
He knows the amputee is quiet and jumpy around loud noises, which is why he prefers to clean up rather than serve the meal with Sarah and whatever other helpers she’s roped into feeding the community. He does not seem particularly fond of AJ and Cass, both of which seem to have an odd fascination with him.
He keeps to himself and stays quiet as he works methodically, albeit slower with his disability. Sam watches him from where he’s helping Sarah package up all the dishes to take home and wash. He doesn’t seem to notice Sam watching at first, his long hair hanging over his face, and he has to constantly stop and tuck it behind his ears.
Once, Bucky looks up, and freezes when he catches Sam watching. Sam, though, just smiles and gives him a small wave, neither of which are returned. He turns to Sarah with a soft sigh. “Is he coming over?” He asked, handing over a serving spoon.
Sarah nods and takes the spoon, placing it carefully in the tub next to all the other dirty dishes. “Yeah, I managed to convince him that he needed some fresh air and we certainly can’t eat all of ma’s apple bars ourselves.”
Sam snorted and wiped down the table with a damp cloth. “Of course we could eat all of those. We just shouldn’t.”
“Exactly.”
They both pause in unison and glance over at Bucky, who is throwing trash away from each now empty table, paying them no mind. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt despite the heat of the day, and the left sleeve is pinned up to keep it out of the way. Sam watches and once again thanks his lucky stars that he came back in one piece, even if part of his heart died when his best friend plummeted from the sky.
“Anyway,” Sam said, clearing his throat and tearing his eyes from Bucky. “Steve’s over now, working on the boat. I thought once we get there, we could convince him to take a break, and I guess we can all eat a little snack before hopefully we can persuade Bucky to get out on the boat. You sure he even likes boats?”
Sarah shrugged and a grin crossed her face. “I don’t know, but he’s going to learn.”
Sam punches her arm and then wanders over to Bucky, who is now wiping down tables. He tenses as Sam approaches and doesn’t lift his head, scrubbing at a sticky spill from lemonade served with the food. “Hey, man, I’m Sam. I’m Sarah’s brother,” he introduced, offering a hand.
Bucky reluctantly pauses his cleaning to take Sam’s hand, shaking and struggling to maintain eye contact. Sam doesn’t mind, taking a generous step back so as not to crowd the other man. “I know,” Bucky replies, voice deep but softer than predicted. “Sarah talks about you all the time. Her annoying older brother.” His eyes flick up to Sam, and there’s a playful tug of his lips on one side. Sam laughs at the unexpected quip, throwing a glance over his shoulder at his sister.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s me. Y’know, she’s lucky to have me, really. Otherwise, who would keep her in line?” Sam teased back, and Bucky’s smile widened.
“Exactly. I’ve got three younger sisters, and they’re always complaining about me, too. I think it’s just what they do.”
Sam nodded in agreement and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sarah told me you were coming to the house to enjoy some apple bars with us?”
That has Bucky tensing up again and his eyes drop back down to the half clean table. “Oh, uh, I told her I might, but I’m not so sure. I don’t really want to impede on your private time at home.”
Sam waved his concern away, shaking his head. “Nonsense. If anything, you’ll be a welcomed distraction. Sarah gets a little stressed out planning these dinners, and I think sometimes she forgets that her life exists outside of the kids and community. Besides, I’d love the opportunity to get to know you better. I always hate bothering you when you’re helping Sarah out.”
“Oh, okay. I guess I can come over, then,” Bucky gives in, going back to scrubbing the table. Sam grins and resists the urge to clap him on the back like he does with his other friends. Instead, he just nods maybe a little two eagerly and takes another step back.
“Cool, cool. Guess I’ll let you finish up, and we’ll talk some more at the house.”
Sam isn’t expecting an answer, and he doesn’t get one. He gives a half wave that goes unnoticed and heads back over to Sarah, nodding affirmatively. She practically squeals in response.
When they arrive at the house, there’s a series of loud clangs coming from the boat, followed by a few choice curse words. Sarah and Sam exchange a glance and Sam nods. “I’ll go check on him. I’ll be in soon.”
He unbuckles and climbs from the car, then jogs the short distance to the boat. He climbs aboard quickly, then follows the continuous curses until he finds Steve. The other man is drenched in sweat from the Louisiana heat, and his shirt clings to his ridiculously large frame. Sam tries not to stare, but he can’t help it for a moment, then drags his eyes up to Steve’s face that is pinched in frustration.
The swearing has stopped with Sam’s approach, but Steve’s expression tells him that it hasn’t stopped inside his head. “Hey,” Sam greets, approaching slowly. They’re both standing in front of the engine that is smoking and radiating heat hotter than the air around them. Steve’s got a wrench in one hand, and a hammer clutched in the other. There’s a few dents on a couple pipes coming from the engine, and so he carefully reaches out to take both tools.
Steve doesn’t resist, letting Sam remove them from his hands easily and letting out a heavy sigh. “Talk to me, man,” Sam urges, tossing the tools in the vague direction of the toolbox off to the side. Both of them clang loudly to the ground, missing the box.
Steve paces towards the door, then back, breathing out harshly again and shaking his head. “I can’t get the engine to start, and there’s nothing wrong with it. I already replaced the pipes and there’s nothing blocking it. There’s plenty of fuel, so I don’t know what’s really wrong. It should start on its own at this point, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t, but clearly I’ve fucked up somewhere and now it-”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam interrupted, halting Steve’s pacing by grasping him tight by the upper arms. Steve startles out of his thoughts and his rant, seeming to deflate in place like a balloon. “You’ve been working on this engine off and on for weeks now and it’s never gotten to you. So really, what’s the real reason you’re all worked up?”
Steve’s shoulders sink further and he draws in a deep breath, looking down at their feet. “Just feel useless again, I guess. Helpless, really. No wonder I couldn’t save the guys, I can’t even fix a goddamn straightforward engine.”
Sam squeezes his friend firmly but not unkindly. “No, don’t say that, Steve. Losing the guys wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could, okay? We’ve been through this. There was no way you could get out in time to save them. And this engine? You’re going to figure it out eventually. There’s no rush to get this boat up and running, alright? Don’t let this stupid hunk of junk break you down, okay?” Steve nods reluctantly, and Sam squeezes him again. “Now come on, let’s take a break and get a snack, okay? We’ve got some delicious apple bars inside.”
Steve casts a reluctant glance over at the dead engine before nodding another time and following Sam off the small boat. They both head up to the house in silence, and Sam holds the door for him. Steve steps into the kitchen and freezes when he sees Bucky sitting at the table with Sarah.
“Hello,” he greets kindly, and steps further into the room, almost nervously. Sam places a hand on his back carefully and steers him to the chair next to their guest. Steve sits down dumbly and Bucky nods in his direction, wiping crumbs off his face with the back of his hand.
“Hi, I didn’t know you were here, I’m sorry.”
Steve shook his head as Sam placed a bar down in front of him on a small plate, not that he seemed to notice. “No, please, don’t be sorry. I didn’t realize the Wilson’s had invited a guest. I’m sorry, I probably stink, I’ve been outside all day working on the boat.”
Bucky’s eyes dart to Sarah and narrow almost in accusation. “You didn’t tell me that boat was yours. Does it run?”
“Not yet,” Steve answers even though the question isn’t directed at him. Bucky’s eyes flicker back over, and Steve flushes under the attention. “I’m fixing it up. Or at least trying to. Helps keep my mind and body busy.” Bucky’s gaze takes in Steve’s figure appreciatively before he smiles small.
“What all do you have left?”
Steve, comfortable with the familiar topic, and taking the project under his wing, launches into a series of all the work he has and hasn’t done yet. Bucky listens with fascination, asking questions whenever he gets a moment to speak, and his eyes barely leave Steve as he talks. Sarah nudges Sam under the table and his attention turns to his sister, who has a smirk on her face and eyebrows raised towards their two friends.
Sam rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and polishes off the remainder of his apple bar and wipes his hands on his pants, standing up. “Well, I’m going to help Sarah with cleaning up from the food. Steve, you’re welcome to use our shower as always unless you want to keep working.”
Steve smiles up at him and nods, setting down the apple bar and licking some caramel from his thumb. “I think I’m going to give the engine another go. See if I just needed a break.”
“Can I help?” Bucky asked softly, cheeks blushing pink as he watched Steve, eyes on the thumb now covered in saliva. Steve doesn’t seem to notice him staring. “If, um, if you want some help. I don’t know how much help I’ll be with just the one arm and I’m sure you’ve gotten yourself into a groove that you-”
“Sure,” Steve interrupts not unkindly, a warm smile crossing his face as he stares openly back at Bucky. “I’d love a second pair of eyes. Maybe you’ll have some ideas to get that thing started that I haven’t thought of.”
Bucky relaxes, and the shoulders that had been slowly hiking up to his ears relaxed, slumping back down as he nodded. “Okay.”
They continue to stare and smile at each other with almost matching goofy smiles, and Sarah shoots him another triumphant stare from between them. Sam rolls his eyes a second time and heads out to the truck to retrieve all the dirty dishes.
He hates when she’s right.
Nearly two hours later, Sam hasn’t seen Steve and Bucky. He can still hear them out on the boat, laughing together. Steve’s laughter is loud and bubbly and makes both Sam and Sarah smile just to hear it. Bucky’s laughter is softer and less frequent, but more genuine, and Sam thinks that maybe Sarah is a better judge of character than he likes to admit.
“Well they’re getting on like a house on fire,” Sarah comments, a hint of smugness in her tone. Sam sighs dramatically, but the smile on his face negates any annoyance he’s trying to display.
“Yes, I guess they do. I’m a little worried with how long they’ve been out there, though. It’s hot, and I don’t want either of them passing out from heat stroke. We have any more of that lemonade from the other day or did the boys drink it all?”
“I think there’s still some in there,” Sarah comments, drying the last spoon that they had cleaned. “But speaking of the boys, I should probably go pick them up.” She brandished the spoon threateningly at her brother, who was pulling the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. “Samuel Thomas Wilson, don’t you dare fuck up all the hard work we’ve put into making them friends.”
Sam holds up his free hand in surrender to placate her. “I won’t, I won’t.”
She glares at him for a moment longer before putting the spoon away, satisfied. “Good. Now behave yourself. I’ll be back soon with the boys.” She paused, trying to lean up to give his cheek a kiss, but he yelps and squirms away from her, making her laugh. “Alright, asshole, don’t accept my love.”
“Your love is wet and disgusting,” Sam insisted, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile. “Why can’t you just hug me like a normal sister? It’s always kisses with you people.”
Sarah laughed again. “It’s just the way it is, Sammy. Love you.”
He echoed the sentiment, and she slipped out of the door. Sam poured two glasses of juice and carefully made his way out to the boat. There was no laughter coming from it, and Sam almost considered that maybe they’d managed to slip past him into the house without him realizing.
Then, quietly, he heard Steve speaking.
“I felt so helpless. I was meant to be their leader. To drag them through hell and make it out the other side. It was one for all and all for one, right?” Steve’s voice is raw and rough, and Sam’s only ever heard it like that during their therapy sessions. “But there was nothing I could do. I watched him execute them all. One by one, until it was just me. And he fucking spared me because he knew how much I would rather go out with them. I was a piss poor captain.”
“That’s not true,” Bucky interrupted, voice fiercely protective in a way that surprised Sam. It must have surprised Steve, too, because he didn’t argue like he usually did. “You just told me there was nothing else you could have done. And it’s not like you just sat there and watched him kill your group. You fought the best you could, because that’s what a good captain does. Don’t let their deaths go to waste. They died and you lived, and they’d want you to live your life without all this guilt.”
It’s close to what Sam’s told Steve in the past, but coming from Bucky’s mouth, it seems to have a different effect.
“I guess. I just… they didn’t deserve that. We could have gotten out, I gave them the option to go home. But they didn’t. I led them to their deaths.”
Bucky snorted, and Sam stepped closer to the boat, not wanting to step onto it and give away his position. He felt awful eavesdropping, but turning back now didn’t feel like a good option.
“They were grown men capable of making their own decisions. They knew what the risk was. We all know that. Does that make it my fault for getting my arm blown off when I volunteered to go to base? No, it doesn’t. Shit happens, Steve. And it’s terrible, I know. I can’t imagine losing my team like that. But it doesn’t make it your fault.”
There’s silence for a moment, and Sam finally feels the guilt of eavesdropping catch up with him, so he backtracks a few steps before approaching again, whistling joyfully. He steps onto the boat loudly. “Steve? Bucky?” He calls, and Steve answers him from down below the deck.
The two of them are standing close to one another, and Sam wonders whether Bucky had been touching Steve before he arrived. Either way, he grins at the two of them, dirtied and sweating, then holds up the glasses of lemonade.
“I brought you both something to drink.”
Steve grins and reaches out, taking both cups and offering one to Bucky. “Thanks, Sam. I always knew there was a reason you were my favorite Wilson.” Sam laughs and surveys the way Steve’s eyes dart back to Bucky, making sure he was drinking. Steve’s eyes are soft and fond in a way that Sam’s never really seen before, and he internally groans.
This was going to go way beyond friendship.
Sam was going to have to admit Sarah was way more than right about the two of them.