AN: This is my fave chapter in this whole fic, it just makes me ridiculously happy. I've really been looking forward to sharing it with everyone. Enjoy!

Sam felt kinda bad about leaving Bucky alone at the Avengers facility, but it was better than the alternative and some things just had to be done. Now that they knew Steve was okay, he couldn't put it off any longer. He'd never hear the end of it if he didn't go.

"I'll only be gone for a night, two at most," Sam said as he zipped up his bag.

"Where?" Bucky questioned.

"Just something I've gotta take care of."

"Is it dangerous?"

Well that depended on your definition of the word.

"Shouldn't be."

"Why do you have to go alone?"

"Trust me, it's better this way."

"What if you get caught?"

"I'll be careful."

"I've got way more experience with laying low..."

Sam knew what this was, it was Bucky asking to come too without actually asking. It probably would be better to keep him close where he could keep an eye on him.

"Alright," he allowed. "If you wanna come, then come. But don't say I didn't warn you."

xxx

"Brace yourself," Sam uttered as he pressed his finger to the doorbell. When they'd left upstate Bucky really had no idea what to expect, Sam had remained silent on the subject, but when they pulled up outside an apartment building in Harlem, he had a fair idea. Sam had grown up here.

Beside him, Sam looked as determined as Bucky had ever seen him. His trepidation was momentarily explained by the whirlwind of a woman that descended upon them when the door was flung open.

"Sam!" Before Sam had a chance to say anything, a plump, middle-aged women grabbed him by the cheeks and popped a kiss on his mouth. "You're home!" she rejoiced, throwing her arms around him.

"Just for a little while," he allowed, returning the enthusiastic hug. When she released her grip, Sam took a step back and turned to him. "Mom, this is Bucky-"

"Sam," she chastised, hands on hips. "You didn't tell us... Well," she said, face lighting up with a bright smile once more when she looked up at Bucky. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Hello Mrs-" Was as far as he got, because before he knew it his face was in her grasp and he was receiving the same greeting she'd given her son.

"Mom!" Sam admonished, sounding completely mortified.

"Oh he doesn't mind," she said giving Bucky's cheek an extra pinch. "And he's such a handsome boy."

All Bucky could do was let her carry on. He didn't mind though.

"Paul!" she hollered. "That boy of ours is home!"

Sam's father appeared in due time, wiping his paint stained hands on a rag.

"Good to see you, son."

"You too, Pop."

Apparently, Sam's father was much more restrained than his wife.

"And look here," she said. "He's brought someone home to meet us. This is... Oh."

She'd grabbed Bucky by the arm to present him to Sam's father, but she was on his left side.

"What's this?" she said, looking down and spotting his metal hand. It was too late now to think about a glove. Being with Sam, it hadn't really occurred to him to wear one.

Sam glanced at him, obviously concerned about what explanation they could give but Bucky wasn't worried. He'd tell the truth, well parts of it at least.

"WIA, ma'am. This is the best replacement anyone could come up with." He flexed his hand to show her how it worked. Without hesitation, she reached out and ran her fingers over the shiny, vibranium surface.

"That's really something," she admired. He supposed it was. "How does it work? Was it hard to get used to?"

"Mom, maybe Bucky doesn't want to-"

"Hush Samuel, there's no point being gentle about it. War isn't gentle. Your Bucky knows that."

"Yes ma'am, I do," he agreed.

She patted his left hand, as though she'd forgotten there was anything different about it. Bucky decided right then that he liked her a lot.

"He isn't 'my Bucky', Mom," Sam sighed.

"Of course he isn't," she humoured her son, patting him on the cheek while aiming a wink in Bucky's direction. "Anyway," she continued, turning on Sam. "I told you last time you can love anyone you want, as long as they love you back." She was an unapologetic and direct woman, and even Bucky who'd known her less than five minutes could guess what the next question was going to be. Sam's father obviously sensed it too.

"Darlene, have you offered the boys anything to eat or drink yet? Or are you going to leave them standing by the front door all day?"

Sam's mother suddenly looked horrified.

"No! And I just took the fruitcake out of the oven. Come in."

With practiced precision she zoomed around the kitchen, setting the table. Sam helped her while his father came over and shook Bucky's hand. Then all four of them sat down together at the small kitchen table.

"Fruitcake is gross," Sam complained.

"Your father likes it," his mother said as though that were the most important thing in the world, cutting an extra-large piece for her husband and handing it to him with a smile. "I made you some choc chip cookies," she continued, sliding a Tupperware container across the table at her son.

Sam did have the good grace to look abashed.

"Thanks Mom."

"You'll have some cake won't you, Bucky?" she asked, offering him a generous piece.

"Sure, thanks," he accepted.

"You don't have to eat that," Sam said, eyeing the cake as though it was put on this earth to personally offend him. Maybe it was.

Bucky ignored Sam and took a bite. It sent him straight back to 1930's Brooklyn when this was the only sweet they got, apart from plum pudding at Christmas. It reminded him too of the care packages his mother had sent during the war.

"I'm serious," Sam stressed, sounding a little bit panicked now. "You don't have to."

"My mom used to cook this too. It's delicious, Mrs. Wilson."

"Thank you, sweetie," she beamed.

Sam gave him a surprised look, and Bucky realised it was the first time he'd ever mentioned his family in front of Sam. Somehow, here like this, it seemed easier to talk about them even though they were all gone now.

"My little sister was like Sam though, she hated the stuff." He hadn't thought about that in a long time, the way she'd sneak him her piece so she didn't get in trouble for being wasteful. The memory brought a soft smile to his lips. Sam's mother was very perceptive and didn't miss it.

"She isn't with us anymore?"

Bucky didn't know what to say, he didn't actually know, but he assumed not. She'd be close to a hundred if she was still alive. Sam read the situation and rescued him from having to explain super serum and cryostasis. They were topics for another day.

"I'm sorry I haven't been in touch much lately. Things have been a bit up in the air."

"We saw all about that business in Germany on the news. I told you that Tony Stark was trouble. Too many big ideas. What in the world happened?"

"It's complicated Mom, but the end result is that I'm kind of wanted now."

"For what?" his father asked.

"Breaking out of prison among other things."

"Prison?" his mother gasped.

"It's okay Mom, we should never have been locked up to begin with. Things got out of hand after that screw up in Lagos. Tony wanted us all to sign the Accords but it wasn't right, so we didn't. The UN saw it as a violation and arrested us."

Mrs Wilson turned to Mr Wilson.

"Didn't I say it, Paul? That that Tony Stark was trouble."

"Yes dear, you did," he agreed.

"Anyway," Sam said. "I'm just telling you so you know and that you won't worry if I don't get in touch for a while. I have to be pretty careful at the moment until it's sorted. It's just paperwork left really. I'll be okay." Bucky knew that was a bit of a lie, nothing was likely to be sorted anytime soon, but it was one Sam's parents needed to hear. It seemed to satisfy his mother at least, enough for her clear the table and to launch into her next line of questioning. She directed her inquiry at Bucky.

"How did you meet? Was it through Sam's work?"

Sam had worked at the VA, so it was a reasonable assumption considering what Bucky had told her of his history.

"We met through a mutual friend, but yes, Sam has helped me out a lot."

She looked very proud of that.

"He always was a caring boy. You should've seen the pigeon cages around here when he was young. Orphaned squabs and broken wings but he'd set them all flying again. Wouldn't you, baby? Remember little-"

"Okay," Sam interrupted, pushing his chair back loudly and standing up. "We should probably grab our stuff out of the car."

"Alright," Mrs Wilson agreed, getting up too and heading towards the linen closet. "I'll make up your bed with some fresh sheets."

"I can do it, Mom," Sam offered following after her. "Just sit them in there and grab another set for the spare room please."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sam. Anyway, we're redecorating the spare room."

"Again?"

She lowered her voice.

"You know your father likes to keep busy when you're away. I won't hear another word about it." She shoved the sheets into his hands and banged the closet door shut. "One set is all you get."

xxx

After grabbing their stuff, they were in Sam's bedroom taking refuge. That was according to Sam anyway.

"So your mom is..." Bucky began, as he grabbed the sheet and straightened it out to tuck in. Making the bed up now, Sam said, would give them a five-minute break before dinner had to be endured. Bucky didn't think anything would have to be 'endured'. Sure, Mrs Wilson could be a little full on, but she was honest and tolerant and there was nothing wrong with that. Sam just needed to relax a little.

"Insane?" Sam offered across the bed.

"I was gonna say nice. She obviously loves you very much."

"Too much maybe. I'm really sorry about all this."

"Don't be. I haven't felt this normal since... Well I can't even remember when."

"Normal is good?"

"It's the best thing there is." Bucky hadn't always thought so, but he knew better now.

Sam gave him a smile.

"Well I'm glad one of us is having a good time."

Before they knew it, the bed was done.

"Look," Sam said. "Tonight you can take the bed. I'm happy to sleep on the couch."

"And break your mother's heart? She'll think we've had a fight. She might even think she's responsible..."

Sam gaped at him.

"Oh my God, way to make me feel the worst son ever."

Bucky shrugged.

"So quit your complaining and just share the bed with me for one damn night."

xxx

They were in too deep to back out now, but Bucky seemed to be having a good time, so Sam figured he could put up with a little embarrassment to see those smiles on Bucky's face.

"Paul," his mother said to his father. "Why don't you take the boys up to the roof and show them what you've done?"

"Alright," his father allowed. Sam knew he would never offer to show them himself, but he also knew that his dad was proud of the work he did around the apartment and would want them to see.

They followed him upstairs, emerging onto the sunny rooftop.

Sam looked around in amazement. It was very different to the last time he'd been up here. The roof had been transformed into an oasis, there were seats, gardens, and an old coop that had been repainted.

"Wow Pop, this is incredible," Sam appreciated. He stepped closer to the coop, which was now home to a couple of pigeons that obviously had injuries that meant they wouldn't be able to fly again. It wasn't ideal for them, but they had definitely ended up in the best place they could be if freedom wasn't an option.

Bucky stepped up beside him with a roguish smile, looking at one of the limp-winged birds.

"Kind of reminds me of you when that spiderkid webbed you."

"Ha ha," Sam responded, digging an elbow into Bucky's side. Bucky just smiled wider.

"Thirsty?" his dad asked. They turned to find him lifting one of the seat cushions up to reveal an ice box, from which he plucked three beers.

"Man, you've really outdone yourself this time, Pop," Sam appreciated, happily accepting the bottle. "You've thought of everything."

"No point doing things by halves," his dad replied before taking a sip of his beer. Then the three of them settled down to enjoy the new space and gaze over the street for a while. His dad took a deck chair, leaving the bench seat for him and Bucky. Sitting next to each other, Bucky clinked the neck of his bottle against Sam's before swigging his beer. It was an illusion, the beer wouldn't do anything for Bucky beyond it's refreshing taste, but Sam had to admit this was pretty great. It was nice to be home, to remember that life existed beyond international relations, terrorist threats and really big guns.

He turned and looked at Bucky again, just to assure himself that this was really happening, that they were here together. Sensing he was being watched, Bucky turned to look at him too, those lovely blue eyes alight with something Sam hadn't often seen in them, and it struck him again how he would do anything he could to make sure that his person was always safe and happy.

He'd never meant to get so swept up in all this superhero stuff, but right now, with Bucky beside him, he couldn't regret it. And to think that the two of them might be able to exist in the real world, that Bucky was happy with the idea of normal, well that was definitely something to think about.

xxx

"Son, go see if your mother needs any help with dinner."

They shared a glance, they both knew Sam's mother was completely fine with dinner. Bucky gave Sam a nod, if Mr Wilson wanted to speak to him privately, he was okay with that. He assumed Sam's father just wanted to protect his son and Bucky had no intention of hurting Sam, so there was nothing to worry about.

"Sure," Sam agreed, heading back downstairs.

When they were alone, Sam's father began.

"Darlene was right, that boy never could resist helping a creature in need."

For a moment Bucky wasn't sure where this was going, was he the creature in need? Was he being told that Sam only wanted him because he was wounded? It might even be true if they were really together.

"All this trouble, which I'm certain is much more serious than Sam lets on, is because he got tangled up with those super people. Because that's all they are, just people. Most folks don't see that when they watch them stopping an alien invasion on the news or read about them preventing some terrorist attack in the newspaper. Sam's problem is he wants to help everyone, even these people who are strong enough to save the world, but sometimes he forgets he needs support too. That he needs someone to be there for him. He needs someone to fight for his best interests. If he thinks he can help, there's nothing he won't do. I'm worried he'll take on the impossible. Someone needs to be there to tell him no if it gets too much. You'll do that, won't you son?"

Bucky had never thought about Sam being the broken one, that he might be carrying invisible wounds and need the support as much as Bucky did. But if it came down to it, and Sam needed him, there was no way Bucky would abandon him.

He looked Sam's father in the eye and nodded.

"Yes sir, I will."

Mr Wilson nodded his approval.

"Good. I wouldn't normally be this direct, but things are so big now and they move so fast. You know when I served it was with two feet firmly on the ground."

"Vietnam?"

"Two tours. Iraq or Afghanistan?"

"Neither. A sniper with a special ops unit."

"I suppose they've retired you from active duty now?"

"I'm taking a break, I might get the chance to go back in though."

"With a permanent disability injury? Times have changed."

"Yes they have."

"Speaking of," Mr Wilson said, looking at his watch. "We better get down there, dinner is always on the table a six sharp. We'll be in trouble if we aren't there."

Bucky didn't doubt that.

"Lead the way," he smiled

Sam's father took a few steps before stopping and turning back, apparently he had one last thing to say.

"Oh and Bucky, if you do see service again, you make sure you do whatever it takes to come home to him. You understand?"

Bucky couldn't make that promise, but he wasn't going anywhere by choice.

"Sir, I'm pretty sure he's stuck with me now."

xxx

Dinner was roast lamb and vegetables. Vegetables cooked in the tray with the meat, the way people used to do it before they all got obsessed with their waistlines. It meant the potatoes tasted ten times better.

"These potatoes are amazing," Bucky announced. "The best I've had in forever."

"Hey!" Sam protested from beside him. "What about mine?"

"Sorry Sam, absolutely nothing compares to a mother's cooking."

Mrs Wilson beamed.

"What did you both think of the roof?" she asked proudly, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "Didn't he do a wonderful job?"

"It's amazing," Sam praised. "Pop thought of everything."

"I like it," Bucky said. "It's peaceful."

Both of Sam's parents gave him pleased smiles.

"Where are you from, Bucky?" Mrs Wilson asked.

"I grew up in Brooklyn."

"A New Yorker?" Mr Wilson said.

"It's actually the first time I've been back since I shipped out."

Sam shot him an apologetic look. Like maybe he should've been more forthcoming about where they were going, but it was okay. Being back, or doing anything really, was bearable with Sam beside him. He gave Sam a little smile and bumped their knees together under the table to let him know he needn't worry.

"Your family aren't there anymore?"

"No ma'am, I'm all that's left now." That might not be strictly true, but even if there were still Barnes' in Brooklyn, he was dead to them so what did it matter?

"Well," Sam's mother said. "Being born into a family isn't the only way to be part of one. More potatoes, sweetie?"

"Thanks," he accepted. Natalia had said the same thing once.

"Does Mr Mitchell still have the corner store?" Sam asked. He was good at steering the conversation away from sensitive subjects and for the rest of the evening they talked about easy things. Mr Wilson told them how the renovation was coming along, and Mrs Wilson talked about being a girl in the good ol' days, though she was decades younger than Bucky.

At one point an old photo album got dragged out and Bucky saw pictures of Sam as a boy, dressed as Captain America for Halloween (he would have to remember to tell Steve that), and some with his famous pigeons.

After all the years with HYDRA and after all the unforgivable things he'd done, Bucky never could've imagined he'd be sitting here like this, welcomed by and comfortable among good, honest people. It was a huge privilege and more than he'd ever dared hope for, and he had Sam to thank for it all.

xxx

Well this wasn't awkward, not at all. He was never gonna get to sleep knowing Bucky was right there, under the same sheet, just an arm's length away. Apparently, Bucky was having problems with getting to sleep too, it was about half an hour later when his voice softly penetrated the darkness.

"So I was thinking, the reason your mom doesn't believe you about us is because she's heard this story before."

"Is there a question in there?"

"If you want to answer it, there is. Or we can just keep on pretending to be asleep."

Sam sighed, Bucky was right. He reached over and turned the lamp on. If they were gonna have this conversation they might as well do it properly.

Sam looked over to where big, blue eyes were gazing patiently back at him and it struck him, like it did every now and then, just how beautiful Bucky was. But he didn't want to think about that now, not when his memories of lost love were swirling to the surface.

"She has. It seems so stupid to have hidden it now that he's gone. His name was Riley and he died in Afghanistan. I watched it happen and there was nothing I could do."

The admission was met with silence and Sam supposed there was nothing to say. It sucked and Riley was never coming back.

"This is what you and Steve have in common," Bucky said eventually.

"We both know what it's like to watch someone we love die. To feel responsible for it. If there was a chance he could have you back, I had to give him that."

"Except he didn't want it. He left me in Wakanda, you're the one that had to stay."

Sam didn't know what to say, he didn't want Bucky to think he was some kind of replacement, or simply a way to atone for the past. That wasn't true. It had gone way beyond that now. A certain word was bouncing around in his head, but he kept it to himself. He couldn't admit his feelings so soon after talking about Riley. He knew Riley wouldn't want him to mope forever, but he also wanted to respect Riley's memory. He decided it was safest to change the subject. Besides, he knew how Bucky felt about Steve. That was a love for the ages and Sam could never hope to compete.

"I've never heard you talk about your family before."

"I guess I don't think about them much anymore. They feel like something from someone else's life. Someone good. I'm kinda glad they thought I died. At least the person they knew died a hero."

"They'd have loved you no matter what. I mean, I think my mom loves you more than she loves me at this stage and she's only known you for a day."

"Exactly. Wait until she really gets to know me."

"She'll like you even more. I know I do."

The words just slipped out and the unexpected admission hung between them. Shit.

Sam saved them both the trouble of trying to come up with an appropriate reply. He reached up and flicked the light off.

"Goodnight then." Like he said, not awkward at all.

xxx

When the time came to say goodbye, Bucky had no hesitation hugging Sam's mother with both arms.

"Thank you," he told her. He didn't say what for, he didn't need to. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She had accepted him without question.

When he pulled back she gave him a soft smile and patted his cheek.

"Two beautiful boys, I couldn't be luckier." It was a far cry from the reaction he and Steve would've faced in the forties.

He shook Sam's father's hand and shared a look with him, remembering the promise he'd made, and then it was time to go.

When they climbed into the R8, Sam hadn't even turned the ignition before he was making a request.

"Can we please pretend the last twenty-four hours never happened? And just not mention it ever again?"

That Bucky couldn't agree to, he'd actually really enjoyed the visit.

"Your parents are great."

"They can't hear you, you know?" Sam said as he started the car and gave them one last wave.

Mrs Wilson waved back, while Mr Wilson wrapped a supportive arm around his wife. Bucky wondered if Sam knew how hard it was for them to watch their only son go back to the dangerous life he'd chosen.

"They worry about you."

"I'm thirty-eight years old."

"That doesn't... Wait. What?" That couldn't be right.

"I know, right?" Sam grinned. "I don't look a day over twenty-nine."

Now Bucky felt kind of like an idiot.

"I thought you'd be over forty for sure."

"Yeah right," Sam scoffed. "Anyway, aren't you like a hundred or something?"

"Ninety-nine thanks."

"Well excuse me, spring chicken," Sam laughed, pulling out onto the street for the drive back upstate. Bucky settled back, wondering. Were they leaving real life behind or heading back to it? He didn't even know anymore. What he did know though was that a little apartment in the city was where he'd rather be.

xxx

"Are we really going to let him do this?" Mr Wilson wondered. "You know who that boy is..."

Mrs Wilson raised her arm and waved.

"He's head over heels already, Paul. We couldn't stop him if we wanted to."

"I hope he knows what he's doing."

"When has rationality ever influenced our Sam? In the end, he'll do whatever his heart tells him to."

AN: Aren't Mr and Mrs Wilson the best? I wish everyone could have parents as loving as them :)