where you belong

by 1-800fangirl

"And I just meant that it's good you don't know French." A smirk slipped onto Sam's lips. "We can talk shit about you in front of your face and you won't have a clue." (The Wilson family speaks Louisiana French. Bucky doesn't. He finds a home with them all the same.)

a few notes: you do not need to know louisiana french to read this fic! if you happen to know referential french, that's awesome, but louisiana french does have some linguistic quirks, so brace yourself for those lmao. and if you are a native louisiana french speaker, i love you, and i hope my fic doesn't disappoint!

also—there is a point in the fic where some clifton chenier plays on the radio in the background. the song is called "I'm Coming Home (To See My Mother)," and while you obviously don't need to play the song while you read the fic, there may or may not be some slow dancing related to it, so. if you're an auditory person, maybe that will enrich your reading experience! but again—it's not a requirement lmao and any relevant lyrics are in the fic. (it's not a songfic tho, lol, if anyone was starting to get worried.)

and lastly, i couldn't find confirmation that bucky knows french in mcu canon, so he doesn't know french here! which is why you don't need to know la french to read this fic—you're in the same boat as bucky.

MOVING ON. this fic is 95% self-indulgent (the other 5% was me practicing my la french lmaoo kindly don't judge it too harshly) and as such i shoved soooo many personal headcanons into this story, lol. i hope you enjoy my unabashed pushing of the "wilson family speaks la french" and "bucky needs to Experience louisiana" agendas!

xXxXxXx

"You need help fixing the rest of the boat?" Bucky asked, absentmindedly flexing his vibranium fingers. He wondered if Louisiana's higher humidity would affect its functional capabilities—knowing Shuri's overzealous levels of preparation, probably not.

He'd avoid dunking it in the ocean all the same.

Sam stared at him for a moment, weighing the offer over with an intensity Bucky hadn't quite prepared himself for. "Yeah," he finally said, clapping Bucky on his normal shoulder. "I'd appreciate that."

The touch was familiar, and yet possessed a newness. Warmth, almost. Bucky determined Delacroix's comforting atmosphere compared to the icy tension of Latvia and Madripoor was the likely cause.

Bucky started to reply, but was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice from behind.

"Sam, Mr. LaFleur wants to know where he should put the extra cables—" The voice stopped short, and Bucky turned around to see a gorgeous woman with dark skin and deftly-woven braids that were pulled up into a ponytail. She gave him a once-over, a mixture of suspicion and mild amusement glimmering in her eyes. If Bucky was honest, it was a better reaction than he'd expected to get from the townspeople.

"Hi," he said, throwing on a charming smile like it was the 1940s again. "Bucky."

She returned his smile with a small one of her own, and Bucky immediately saw the family resemblance. "Sarah," she replied, clutching her clipboard to her chest and tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. The 'Wilson' went unspoken, but Bucky heard it all the same.

"Sarah." Bucky maintained his warm smile, ignoring the unamused side-eye Sam threw him at his repetition of her name. Maybe it would have been smarter to drop the old-fashioned charm and stay in whatever remained for him of Sam's good graces, but really. The last thing he needed was to make a poor first impression around Sam's beautiful sister.

"Tell Mr. LaFleur he can hold onto them until tomorrow," Sam instructed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll pick them up from his place in the morning." He shot another warning glance at Bucky, who this time relented, dropping his gaze to his feet. "I see you've met Bucky. Bucky, this is Sarah. My sister."

The thinly-veiled threat—in jest though it could have been—lacing Sam's voice was clear. Bucky probably would have laughed had he not been on such thin ice already. Since he'd, well, shown up in Louisiana out of the blue after ditching Sam in Latvia. Resentment towards him was more than warranted, for that and… other reasons.

Sarah didn't seem to take her brother's icy tone seriously, though, rolling her eyes in response before giving Bucky another warm smile.

Sam huffed. "Alright, no more extended eye contact for you two. Bucky's staring problem is bad enough as it is." He ushered them both forward, his hand warm against Bucky's lower back even through the two layers of dark clothing. "Sarah, I heard Mrs. Mayeux was looking for you earlier—"

Sarah snorted. "You'd better not just be saying that to get me away from your friend."

"He's not my friend, and no, I'm not. David told me she was asking about making AJ and Cass some beignets because they helped her clean up her yard the other day, but she doesn't want to—"

"—to accidentally use any ingredients AJ's allergic to, got it. I'll talk to her." Sarah cast a brief glance at Bucky, who pretended not to notice. Mostly to avoid the potential of Sam's wrath. Which was a shame—Sarah's eyes were as pretty as her brother's, and he wouldn't have minded getting lost in them for a while. "So is this the Bucky I've heard so much about," she finally asked, pushing her braids over her shoulder, "or some other tall, dark, and handsome guy with the same gruff persona?"

Bucky couldn't resist giving Sam a shit-eating grin. "Oh, you've talked about me before? That I'm—"

Sam scoffed before Bucky could finish that thought. "Yeah, I've talked about you. Mostly complaining about your annoying ass."

"Annoying? I always thought my ass looked pretty good."

"Dammit, Bucky, we are not discussing your ass in front of my sister."

The smirk on Sarah's lips told Bucky she didn't mind such a topic, which Bucky of course did not point out to her brother.

Sam finally dropped his hand from Bucky's lower back, and Bucky found himself regretting the cool emptiness left behind. "But yes, this is the Bucky. The grouchy old coot I'm sometimes forced to work with."

Bucky had halfway prepared a snarky retort when Sarah laughed and said, "T'as jamais mentionné qu'il était un bel homme, Sam!"

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, her words computing with only partial effectiveness in his mind. Something about Sam not mentioning a man—

"Ah, wait!" Sam exclaimed, holding up his index finger a few inches before his sister's mouth. "Hold on. I don't know if we can do that around him." The group slowed to a stop, Sam stepping in front of Bucky with his arms crossed. "How many languages do you know?"

Bucky frowned. "However many HYDRA programmed me with." He wasn't sure, if he was honest. The other winter soldiers knew at least 30, but he'd been… developed separately from the primary group. Most of the languages he held in the back of his mind weren't used on a regular basis.

Not anymore.

Oh, shit. Should he have mentioned HYDRA in front of Sarah? Bucky bit back a grimace. Too late now—

Sam sighed, derailing Bucky's train of thought. "Great. That's very specific, Buck." He licked his lips, which Bucky paid closer attention to than he cared to admit. "Alright—do you know French?"

Bucky tilted his head. "I know three Romance languages. Spanish, Portugese, and Romanian." An awkward smile tugged at his lips. "I also know Latin. Which would only be useful nowadays if for some reason I decided to attend an old-fashioned Catholic mass." He paused before shaking his head. "But I don't know formal French, no."

Sam chuckled. "Well, we don't speak referential French down here, anyways." He eyed Bucky with suspicion before shrugging. "Alright. That's good enough for me." Sam then turned back to his sister, walking forward and adding, "Je t'ai pas dit parce qu'il est pas beau. Et je pense pas pour ça."

"Tu penses pas du tout—"

"Wait, what do you mean 'that's good enough'?" Bucky managed to ask, matching Sam's stride before he could be left in the dust on the docks.

Sarah gave him a small grin that Bucky couldn't help but return. "C'est mignon, Sam—"

"No, no, we are not going there," Sam interrupted, shaking his head at his sister before returning his attention to Bucky. "And I just meant that it's good you don't know French." A smirk slipped onto his lips. "We can talk shit about you in front of your face and you won't have a clue."

Bucky scowled. That didn't bode well. He knew Latin, of course, but French just had to be the Romance language most divergent from its Roman roots. So he was screwed to understand only a fraction of anything spoken by the Wilson family that wasn't in English. "Right," he grumbled. "At least I have that to look forward to today."

Sarah laughed when Sam squeezed his metal shoulder and teased, "Hey, that's the spirit!"

If Sam's hand and Sarah's gaze lingered, Bucky didn't comment. It was weird enough being on the end of two forms of affection simultaneously—adding commentary would only make it more awkward. Besides.

He couldn't say he minded the dual attention.

"So," Sarah mused after a beat had passed as they continued away from the docks. She gave her brother a mischievous grin while gesturing to Bucky. "Ton ami est seul, ou—"

"Don't even think about it."

"Quoi? Tu envieux?"

'Envieux.' That was only a syllable longer than 'envy,' wasn't it? Of course, knowing Sarah had said something related to 'envy' but understanding nothing else whatsoever lent Bucky little idea as to what they were discussing.

"Sarah, on est pas après avoir cette conversation—"

"Alright, alright," she interrupted, laughing. "I'll lay off." She tilted her head towards Bucky. "I think we've driven him off the deep end already."

Sam gave Bucky an expectant look, and Bucky responded the only way he knew how.

"Oui."

(He didn't think the siblings would ever stop laughing.)

xXxXxXx

Sweat dripped from Bucky's brow as he tore off another layer of deteriorating metal from the lip of the boat. It wasn't that the labor was hard—no harder than facing eight supersoldiers on an 18-wheeler—but the Louisiana humidity made the air around him little better than warm water. He was practically swimming with every step he took. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he'd worn a short-sleeved shirt, but…

Well, he didn't want to make things weird. Sam insisted everyone in town was nice, and Bucky believed him, but that didn't mean he was going to unabashedly bare his most defining trait. Not yet, at least.

In other words, Bucky was content as he could be with suffering beneath the Louisiana heat. Being close to the bay helped, what with a gentle sea breeze blowing through every so often. Sarah taking time to continually restock their water was great, too. Bucky felt bad she had to keep stopping her own work to bring them the drinks, though, but upon telling her—

"Oh, I don't mind," Sarah said with a laugh and a twinkle in her eye as she gave him another two bottles, this time of beer. She lightly poked his right arm—his normal arm—once her hands were free. "Pas grand chose. J'aime la vue, you know?"

Bucky blinked. "Uh—"

"Sarah, stop distracting my partner!" Sam hollered from the deck, yanking at a horrific mess of tangled red and yellow cords. "He needs to get back to work!"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I don't mind the distraction," he told her, offering Sarah an easy grin.

Sarah giggled, shaking her head. It was a lighthearted sound—airy, like a breath of fresh air. "Il dit qu'il écoute pas la distraction!" she called, earning a muffled shout from her brother. "Équand je peux le demander sur un rendez-vous?"

Bucky had a feeling Sarah had just relayed his words to Sam, plus a little extra. But 'rendez-vous' meant something like… appointment, he was pretty sure. Sarah wanted to have a meeting with him? About him?

"Joue pas des games avec lui! Ou avec moi! Je vas séparer vous-autres avec un poteau."

"Ooh, t'es envieux parce que tu veux être avec lui? Dis pas à moi j'ai tort, je connais que je suis pas."

"C'est pas de tes affaires!"

Sarah's laughter only grew in volume. "You know that's not a 'no,' Sam!"

Bucky's left eye twitched. Okay. They'd said… something about separation, business, and envy again. What were they envious of? Did he need to be envious of someone? Hell, this wasn't far off from how he'd felt his first few weeks in Wakanda—everyone speaking Xhosa in front of him while he didn't understand more than a few words. Not that he'd expected them to speak English solely for his benefit. The 'vibes,' as Shuri would call them, just happened to be similar.

And unlike Shuri and Ayo, who seemed to have enjoyed helping him learn Xhosa in their free time, Bucky wasn't sure Sam would ever want to teach him this… not-referential French. Sarah might, though. But he doubted Sam would let him be alone with his sister longer than half a second.

As it happened, Bucky would eagerly accept tutoring from either Wilson sibling.

"T'es plus mal que notre mère," Sam grumbled. "Elle essayait toujours de me mettre sur un rendez-vous."

"Because you barely had the guts to ask Alexis out on your own senior year! Mom was only trying to help out. I'm just continuing what she started."

"Par flirter avec Bucky? Seriously? Yes, that's incredibly helpful for me."

A grin stretched across Sarah's lips. "At least you finally admit you need help."

Bucky could only stare at her in utter bewilderment. Asking 'Alexis' out? Something about flirting—with him? What the hell had they been talking about? At this point, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Based on the wink Sarah threw him, Bucky had a feeling his suspicions weren't far off. The question, then, was whether Sam wanted to flirt with Bucky, or wanted Bucky to stop flirting with Sarah. The latter seemed more likely, but…

"I'll let you get back to work, before Sam gets so pissed he climbs off the boat to charge us down," Sarah said with a chuckle. A gentle smile now tugged at her lips, one that caused a certain tenderness to glimmer in her eyes. "Thanks for staying to lend a hand, by the way. Sam might not admit it, but he really appreciates your company. And your muscles."

Bucky heard a grumbled, "I do not," from Sam and barely managed to bite back a laugh. "Right. It's not a big deal, though." He had nowhere else to be for the rest of the day, and besides. Louisiana seemed like a nice place. Hot and humid and weirdly sticky, but nice.

Sarah shrugged. "Doesn't have to be a big deal to be a big help." She waved at him, slowly turning to walk away. "See you at dinner, Bucky."

"Bye, Sarah," Bucky said, reciprocating her wave with one of his own and once more putting on his most charming smile. He watched her leave for a good ten seconds before he shook himself out of his stupor and returned to the boat. Sam shot him a dirty look as Bucky stopped across from him, to which Bucky responded by chucking one of the beer bottles at his stupidly attractive face. There was a faint redness to Sam's cheeks as he caught it—maybe the heat was getting to him.

"If you keep flirting with my sister, I'm gonna have Carlos chop you up and feed you to the fish," Sam warned, unscrewing the metal cap.

Bucky could barely restrain a wide grin at Sam's comment. There was little more satisfying than getting under the Falcon's skin. And hey, it wasn't like Sarah wasn't doing half the flirting, too. "No," he went with instead, shaking his head and doing his best to maintain a level tone. But was he agreeing or disagreeing?

That was up to Sam's interpretation. Petty revenge for all the discussions Bucky had understood so little of as they occurred right in front of him. He'd probably have picked up more if they didn't speak so damn fast. Which…

Was probably intentional, now that he thought about it.

Bucky's vague response earned him a suspicious look, but Sam didn't press further, instead taking a swig of his beer.

Unable to resist the urge to further tease him, though, Bucky added, "So—your 'partner,' huh?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "The hell are you talking about."

"When you were first telling your sister to let me be, you called me your partner." Bucky grinned at him. "Does that mean we're a team now?"

Sam ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "What if I told you it was a slip up and you're reading too much into it?"

"I'd say you're a goddamn liar."

"Fair." Sam tapped the green bottle with his thumb, the quiet tink echoing through the glass somehow audible even with the ocean waves crashing behind them. "We are partners for the sole purpose of fixing this boat. Nothing else."

Bucky shrugged. "I can live with that." He took a drink of his beer. "Well, I'll be on my way back home tomorrow," he continued after a long pause, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. "Gotta catch my flight, get a hotel room for the night… Crash, you know?"

For as easy as it had been to flirt with Sarah, it seemed the skill of subtlety eluded Bucky when it came to Sam.

Sam gave him an amused look. "So you just gonna set me up like that, huh?"

Bucky tilted his head, shrugging. "Well, I don't wanna make it weird for your family—"

"Just stay here," Sam interrupted with a laugh, gesturing around him. "The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or have six toes—"

'Or use a vibranium arm' went unsaid, but Bucky heard it all the same. "Okay, I get it," he said with a tentative smile. "People are… nice." He paused, then added, "Sarah said she'd see me at dinner, so does that mean she'd already planned—"

Sam groaned. "Yeah, she knew I'd offer up our place to you for the night. Go figure."

Bucky's smile widened. "Come on. You act like it's a bad thing she knows you so well."

"It's not bad," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Just aggravating. She always beats me to the punch." He muttered something else under his breath that Bucky didn't quite catch, though he was fairly certain he heard, "Et elle me beate toujours aux bougres, aussi. Shit."

Bucky nodded in agreement with Sam's first statement, contemplating the knowledge that Sarah might know her brother better than Sam knew himself. Because if that was true…

He really appreciates your company. And your muscles.

Bucky kept his gaze levelled behind Sam rather than meeting his eyes. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from flushing scarlet if they looked directly at each other, at least when the thought of Sam appreciating his arms was still on his mind. He could try to blame the heat, sure, but Sam was no fool. Usually.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Bucky decided to say instead of further pondering the baffling feature of humanity known as 'emotions.' "And for letting me help you out." He tapped his vibranium hand against his thigh. "It's kinda nice getting to use my arm to build instead of…"

"Destroy?" Sam guessed, and Bucky nodded.

"Yeah."

Sam shrugged. "That arm does whatever you tell it to, Buck." He took another swig of beer. "Maybe you need a creative hobby. Some kind of constructive outlet. Whittling? Painting? I bet you'd have fun with watercolors."

Bucky chuckled. He understood the sentiment—something to use his vibranium arm for on a regular basis that didn't involve punching or beating or any other type of aggressive force. "I'll look into it. Thanks."

Sam downed the rest of his drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Bucky's gaze probably lingered on Sam's lips for too long after the fact, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He could always blame heatstroke. Again: Sam wouldn't buy the excuse for a damn second, but at least they'd both get a laugh out of it.

"Alright," Sam said, placing his bottle aside before he clapped his hands together and stood. "We've still got shit to get done before we can call it a day."

Bucky nodded, finishing his own beer. "Tell me what to do and I'll take care of it."

Sam bumped Bucky's vibranium shoulder with his fist as he stepped over a pile of discarded metal. "That's the can-do attitude I like to see."

The wide grin on Sam's face was an expression Bucky liked to see, too.

xXxXxXx

"AJ, Cass, this is Sam's friend Bucky," Sarah said once everyone had taken their seat at the table for dinner. Bucky noted the warning look she gave her sons as she added, "Soyez respectueux, okay?"

The stress on manners was part of Southern hospitality, he presumed. Or maybe just a Wilson thing. Albeit one that didn't apply to Sam, who of course made taunting Bucky part of his daily routine. But Bucky couldn't complain—he gave as much as he got. Today, he'd even go so far as to say that their regular teasing had inched towards thinly-veiled flirting while they'd repaired the boat. Disrupting personal space, twice as many smirks as usual, even the occasional wink—

Bucky forced himself to return to his attention to the plate before him. There would be time to obsess over every minute interaction he'd had with Sam later.

The two boys stared at Bucky before exchanging an uncertain yet strangely eager look.

"Bucky?" the older one—Cass—whispered. "As in…"

He trailed off, but Sam finished his nephew's sentence before the conversation could turn awkward less than a minute into their meal, for which Bucky was silently grateful. "As in the guy I know from work, yes," Sam said with a firm nod. "That Bucky."

"The one who's super strong?" AJ asked excitedly.

Bucky bit his tongue to hold back a smile. It had been a while since he'd hung out around kids. Not since his recovery in Wakanda, at least. "Maybe," he said, succumbing to a small grin. "Remind me to do some heavy lifting around you tomorrow and you can judge for yourself."

Cass and AJ exchanged another eager glance, and Bucky had a feeling tomorrow couldn't come soon enough for them.

"Sam va pas écouter la levée, non plus," Sarah teased, earning a dramatic eye roll from her brother.

"I know how to keep my eyes on my work," Sam said pointedly, stabbing his shrimp with extra force. The 'unlike you' was silent, but Bucky bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh all the same.

"Speaking of work—how much progress did you make on the boat today?" Sarah asked, shifting the conversation towards a more typical topic for over a meal. "Any chance you'll be able to wrap it up tomorrow?"

Sam nodded, taking a sip of water. "Should do. I'm gonna get up early to make sure it'll be finished before afternoon."

Bucky made a mental note to wake at the crack of dawn, too. Lend a hand. Maybe remember to use the metal one more often. Or his normal arm, if his sleeve was pulled up and Sam was watching.

Sarah beamed at her brother. "That's great!" She exhaled a relieved sigh, leaning back in her seat. "It is so good having you back home, Sam. I can focus on the kids and the restaurant and everything else without the damn boat constantly in the back of my mind."

Sam nodded. "I know." He hesitated, fork hovering over a second shrimp before his hand lowered to the table. "Je suis désolé que je peux pas être ici plus souvent—"

Sarah shook her head. "Tu connais je les veux pas comme ça, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "Ça change pas que je suis pas ici quand je devrais être."

Bucky concluded he was intruding on a personal moment between the siblings and chose to focus on his meal rather than on the French he barely understood. Shrimp creole, Sarah had called the recipe when he'd earlier asked her what smelled so good. A simple meal to make, apparently, but a delicious one, with shrimp, bell pepper, onions, garlic, and all kinds of spices.

After a single bite, Bucky was inclined to agree. The flavor—it exploded in his mouth, the kind of taste that would linger on a person's tongue even after downing an entire glass of cold water. If this was a simple Sarah Wilson meal, he couldn't begin to imagine how delicious a complex one would be.

Huh. Maybe cooking was the hands-on hobby he should take up. He could even ask for lessons from Sarah. Primarily because her company was lovely and her experience was clear, but there was also the delightful bonus that it would annoy the hell out of Sam.

"Do you like it?" AJ asked, and it took Bucky a moment to realize he was the one AJ was speaking to.

"Oh—yes," he replied. "It's very good." He took another bite, as if to prove he wasn't lying.

AJ scrutinized his reaction before whispering to his older brother, "Maman a mis moins assaisonnement dans son repas, ouais?"

Bucky glanced down at his plate, suddenly wondering if he needed to be concerned about its ingredients.

Cass snickered. "Ignore him, Mr. Bucky. We're glad you like the food. Our mom is the best cook in town!"

Bucky chuckled. "I'd say she's the best cook in the state, but I haven't eaten anywhere outside of Delacroix yet."

Cass nodded, and once Bucky had—seemingly—returned his attention to his food, he whispered to AJ, "Yeah, elle a définiment fait."

"Don't tease Bucky about his weak taste buds," Sam said with a chuckle. "We'll expose him to real food in good time. He's gotta build up a tolerance first."

Bucky figured he should have been more offended by Sam's commentary on his lack of taste, but instead his mind decided to hone in on the implication that Sam wanted him around more often. As in, visiting Louisiana on some kind of semi-regular basis. And even if his trips were solely for food—hell, it wasn't like Bucky could complain about that.

"He can have some of Mrs. Mayeux's beignets tomorrow!" AJ offered, beaming with pride at his suggestion.

"Can he come to Mardi Gras next year, too?" Cass asked, his mouth full of rice.

"Mâche pas avec ta bouche pleine, s'il te plaît," Sarah chastised. After Cass gave her a thumbs up, she turned her attention to Bucky. "I can't say I would mind having you and your smile around more often, even if you are just playing tourist."

Sam rolled his eyes before Bucky could come up with an appropriately polite and borderline flirtatious response. "I can't believe you won my whole family over so quickly. They're supposed to be on my side."

Bucky grinned at him, shrugging. "It's my natural charm."

Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, it's those baby blues. Makes everyone goo goo gaga over you."

Sarah gave her brother a sly grin. "Tu peux pas prétendre que t'aimes pas ces yeux bleus, aussi. You ain't fooling anyone."

Bucky understood 'like' and 'blue'—that and the red rising in Sam's face told him everything he needed to know about Sarah's teasing comment toward her brother. "If it's any consolation, Sam's eyes also get all the ladies fawning over him," he said, resting his fork on the edge of his plate. "When we were—"

Bucky cut himself off. He couldn't exactly say Undercover at Sharon Carter's semi-legal party in Madripoor in front of two young children. So instead he went with, "When we were… at work a while ago, he had a group of five girls swooning just by smiling at them."

Bucky remembered the moment clear as day, mostly because half of him had wished he had been on the receiving end of such an easygoing smile from Sam. But he supposed he hadn't earned that privilege yet. Which Bucky did plan to address—he was just waiting for a quieter moment with more… privacy. Between the two of them.

"All the ladies, huh?" Sarah commented, hiding her grin behind her glass as she took a sip of water. Her gaze flickered over to Bucky. "I see."

"Dis-le pas," Sam warned his sister, but there was no real venom to his voice. At least none Bucky could discern, given the amused glint in Sam's eyes.

Sarah gave him an innocent smile. "I would never."

"You know what? I'm gonna end this conversation before it starts," Sam said, shifting in his seat. "AJ, Cass—how was school today? Didn't you both have a test?"

"AJ had a spelling quiz, I had a math test," Cass corrected, and the two boys controlled the dinner topics from there on out.

After the meal, Bucky offered to help Sarah with the dishes. "It's the least I can do to thank you for letting me stay here tonight," he explained, keenly aware of Sam's suspicious stare trained on his back. "And my mother taught me that the person who cooks should never have to clean the dishes from the meal." He allowed a beat to pass before he gave her a lazy grin. "At least not alone."

"Your mother was a smart woman," Sarah said with a grin. "Thank you, Bucky. I appreciate the help."

In two short trips, they'd moved all the dishes into the sink, with Bucky washing while Sarah dried and loaded the dishwasher as needed. It was mostly plates and utensils, with one pan and a cutting board leftover from Sarah's cooking.

"Don't feel like you need to rush through them," Sarah instructed with a laugh as Bucky began vigorously scrubbing orange-red sauce stains off a plate. "The way I see it, doing dishes is a way to relax. Clear your mind from the stress of the day."

Bucky hesitated, but nodded, slowing his pace with the scrub brush. "Right."

"'Doing dishes' better not be code for 'cozying up to Bucky,' Sarah," Sam called from the room adjacent to the kitchen. Bucky could see out the corner of his eye that Sam was fiddling with an old radio, adjusting the silver antenna.

Sarah laughed again. "Don't be ridiculous. You know I wouldn't beat around the bush." She accepted the plate Bucky had finished scrubbing down, rinsing off a few soap bubbles before placing it in the dishwasher. "Besides, j'allais dire que 'réparer le bateau' c'est du code pour 'être intime avec lui,' ouais?"

Bucky snorted, certain enough of what he'd just heard. He couldn't deny the strange intimacy that had come about between him and Sam from fixing the boat together.

"Aha!" Sam pumped his fist as the sound of accordion and rubboard filled the front of the house. "I knew it still worked." He grimaced as the sound crackled with static from the radio before clearing up. "Although I still think we should get a new one."

"This was our parents' favorite radio station," Sarah explained to Bucky as Sam started adjusting the volume, her voice softer than before. Bucky noticed that same softness met her eyes, too, as she fondly watched her brother pull AJ and Cass into the living room to catch the end of the upbeat tune. "Zydeco, jazz, blues—rich music, you know?"

"Is this 'Je Me Reveiller Le Matin'?" Cass asked Sam eagerly. The second his uncle nodded, Cass grabbed his younger brother's hands and pulled him into a hopping and skipping dance, moving his feet wherever the rhythm took him.

Bucky nodded to acknowledge Sarah's comments, rinsing soap off the last of the plates before moving to wash the greasy pan. He remembered that during the early years of the war, Cajun and Creole music had been sort of an… up and coming genre. The songs were a source of comfort for a few of the Southern boys overseas, though Bucky of course wasn't sure how the genre had fared once he'd… gone MIA.

"Sam likes having AJ and Cass listen to the station," Sarah continued. "Since our parents didn't have the chance to share it with them like we know they'd have wanted to."

Bucky helped her load the final utensils into the dishwasher, accepting a second towel to dry his own hands as Sarah finished drying the pan. "That's really sweet of him," he murmured after a pause, placing the towel on the counter before leaning back to watch Sam with his nephews.

It was… strange for Bucky to see Sam so relaxed, to watch his not-partner be at ease in such a domestic setting.

Good, though. Strange, but good.

"Ooh, this is a great song," Sam said as the radio changed to a more easygoing tune, his step slowing as he started swaying to the beat. "AJ! Cass!" The boys appeared at his side in the blink of an eye, both of their faces breaking out into giant grins as they realized what was happening. Soon, they fell into step with him, all three moving in circles to the relaxed rhythm.

"And AJ and Cass love these dance nights, too," Sarah said with a chuckle, shelving the pan and hanging up both towels beside the sink. "Gives them an excuse to hang out more with Uncle Sam and to stay up late even if they have school the next day."

A smile tugged at the corners of Bucky's lips, both from Sarah's comment and from watching Sam continue to dance with his nephews. Even from across the room, he could hear Sam hum along to the song's beginning instrumentals.

And with that sound, comfort washed over Bucky, tension easing from his shoulders for the first time all day. A warm meal, a warm house, a warm family… If he didn't know any better, he'd have said it was too good to be true.

I'm, I'm coming home

Bucky could feel Sarah's gentle gaze on him, and he found himself dropping his eyes to the floor. He'd been staring at Sam for too long and with too much awe, anyways. Sarah smiled at his reaction, but didn't press. "Who's the artist?" he asked after a pause.

"Clifton Chenier." Sarah moved next to him, leaning against the counter to join Bucky in watching Sam dance with her sons. "King of Zydeco."

'Cause I feel, you know I feel oh so all alone

Bucky nodded. "I like it."

Sarah chuckled. "Hard not to." She grinned at him. "Although I heard Sam gave you a piece of his mind for not fully appreciating Marvin Gaye."

I'm coming back home and meet my dear old mother

Heat rose in Bucky's face. "I never said I didn't like Marvin Gaye," he protested. "Just that… I prefer 40s music."

"Don't worry, I'm only teasing." Sarah tilted her head towards the living room. "Clifton Chenier got started in the 50s, before Marvin Gaye. Maybe that's why you like it more—closer to your time."

'Cause that's where I belong

Bucky bit back what probably would have been a too-loud laugh, instead settling on a small grin. "Yeah, maybe that's it."

After a pause, Sarah turned so she was directly facing Bucky, one elbow resting on the granite countertop. "I know Sam won't tell you this yet, so I'm going to. You are always welcome in Delacroix. Okay?"

You know all, all of my friends

Bucky stared at her. The sentiment was impossibly flattering, but… "I can't impose like that." He gave her an awkward smile. "I'm just the guy Sam knows from work."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "You think that's all you are? All Sam will let you be?"

They all saying it's not a bad choice for me

Bucky bit his lip, glancing to his right. Sam was still preoccupied with entertaining Cass and AJ, showing them how to do a proper swing or—or something along those lines, Bucky couldn't concentrate enough anymore to be sure. "I…"

"You have a home here," Sarah whispered. She squeezed his right forearm. "And unless you do something majorly shitty to my brother or my kids, you always will. Okay?"

I'm coming back home, yes I'm coming back home

Bucky watched as Sam moved in a slow circle with Cass and AJ, the accordion's easy rhythm flowing through the man's body as naturally as blood through his veins. A tender smile tugged at Bucky's lips and a hopeful flower rose in his chest, crimson petals blossoming outward against his better judgement. "Okay."

Sarah shook her head, chuckling. "Tu devrais voir comment tu le regardes, Bucky. Comme s'il a pendu la lune."

'Cause that's where I belong

Bucky flushed, his gut telling him her words were somehow related to the steady presence of his eyes on Sam. "Well. Your brother does keep telling me I have a staring problem."

"Mm, that's probably because he's the one always on the receiving end of it." Sarah offered Bucky her left hand before he could deny her words. "Danse avec moi?"

Bucky smiled at her. "I'd love to." But as he placed his non-vibranium hand in Sarah's, they were interrupted by none other than the hero Sarah had just finished teasing Bucky about.

"Oh no. Sarah, you are not dancing with that old man."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I dance with old men at jazz night all the time."

"Yeah, but at least they look their age!"

Sarah shot her brother a look, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Quoi, tu veux danser avec lui au lieu de me laisser?"

Sam rose to the challenge, or so Bucky inferred based on how Sam threw his hands up in exasperation before pointing at the both of them. "You know what? Yes, yes I do."

Sarah clicked her tongue. "Ah, well." She pulled Bucky into the living room, the amused twinkle in her eyes so very similar to the expression Bucky had seen on Sam all day while they'd repaired the boat. "Another time, Bucky." She released his hand, turning him around to face her brother. "Enjoy the dance."

Bucky's throat was tight, but he somehow managed not to lose his composure as Sam took one of his hands in his own.

"I hope you don't have two left feet," Sam commented as they began to sway to the song, which Bucky had a feeling would soon be reaching its end. A shame—he was enjoying the warmth of Sam's hand in his own and his friend's gentle touch on his hip more than he cared to admit. "If you do, that's considered automatic exile from this house."

Bucky relaxed into the simple box step, giving Sam a lazy smirk. "Come on. You already know I was a ladies' man back in the day."

"Yeah, according to you and Steve. Not exactly credible sources."

"I can second the claim," Sarah said innocently, dancing in circles with both of her sons.

"You don't count," Sam retorted, his adamance earning laughter from both his sister and Bucky.

"Then decide for yourself," Bucky suggested after a beat passed. Before Sam could protest, he took the lead in their dance, moving Sam's hand to his shoulder before dropping his own to Sam's waist. In retrospect, maybe not the wisest idea, seeing as he wasn't at all familiar with the song. But Bucky committed to the decision—step and sway, step and sway.

It wasn't often he got to stand so close to Sam, Bucky realized as they were dancing, other than recently rolling through that field of bright yellow flowers with him. And that had technically been work-related, if unexpected. But this?

Sam's palm was warm against his own, and a gentle—if amused—smile crinkled at the corners of his eyes. His expression was… content. Like his friend was at peace for the first time in too long.

Bucky was sure the same could be said for his own expression, as he was unable to fight off an embarrassingly bashful grin as they swayed to the rest of the song. Sam's hip fit perfectly beneath his grip, and the way the fingers of their other hands intertwined so easily held an intimacy Bucky would never forget. Dancing hand in hand, swaying side to side with only an inch or two of space between them—

Bucky closed his eyes, and before he could talk himself out of it, he gently pressed his forehead against Sam's.

He heard his friend inhale. The briefest of moments passed before Sam reciprocated the touch, leaning in with the same tenderness and vulnerability.

'Cause that's where I belong

Yeah, Bucky decided. It was.

xXxXxXx

Bonus:

Even on his most restful nights, Bucky was a light sleeper. As such, the quiet padding of footsteps past the living room and into the kitchen woke him, though he kept his eyes closed to avoid alerting whoever it was to that fact.

"Sam? T'es réveillé? Pourquoi?"

Sarah's voice was low, though Bucky doubted her speaking louder would lend him much clue as to what she was saying. Probably asking why Sam was awake. Which Bucky himself was wondering, too, as he hadn't woken up to the sound of Sam's footsteps—only Sarah's.

Sam chuckled. "La même raison t'es. J'ai voulu de l'eau."

"Hmm." Bucky heard a glass being filled. "Si tu dis so."

"Tu me crois pas?"

"Well… Je pense que t'étais après voir à ton ami. Mais je suis pas ici juger."

Sam snorted. "Wow. Very kind of you, even if you're completely wrong."

"Oh, sure. J'ai vu comment vous-autres était après danser ensemble."

Sam simply chuckled in response. A comfortable silence filled the home, and Bucky had almost drifted off to sleep a second time when Sarah spoke again.

"T'aimes bien lui. Don't you?"

Sam choked on his water, or so Bucky deduced from the sudden coughing fit that followed Sarah's question. "Mais, Sarah! Il est mon—"

"Ouais, ouais, il est juste ton ami. Je connais."

"Tch. Peut-être pendant une bonne journée."

"Sam."

Sarah's tone was one Bucky recognized—mostly amused, but undeniably a tad exasperated. He'd been on the receiving end of it numerous times in his life. Pre-HYDRA, for the most part.

Sam sighed. There was the sound of glass clinking against the counter—Bucky assumed one of them had placed their cup down.

"Yeah, I like him," Sam admitted after a long pause. "He's a good guy, even if he sometimes acts like a dick. Bucky's just…" He exhaled slowly. "Struggling. And we don't always see eye to eye."

Sarah chuckled. "Do we ever always see eye to eye with anyone, though?"

"I—" Sam laughed, too. "Okay, good point."

"There's a reason the neighbors say I'm the smarter Wilson."

"Hey now, don't start a battle you can't win."

"Speak for yourself, Samuel."

Another silence fell, filled only by more clinking as now-empty glasses were presumably placed in the strainer. Bucky didn't dare move a muscle for fear of either noticing he was awake. In his defense, he hadn't meant to overhear their conversation. Any and all eavesdropping in occurrence was entirely unintentional.

"Tu vas y dire que t'aimes bien lui?" Sarah asked her brother. "Comme amis ou… quelque chose de plus?"

Sam sighed. "It's complicated, Sarah."

"It doesn't have to be."

A beat passed before Sam replied. "Je vas y dire quand je connais comment je me sens, okay?"

Sarah laughed. "Alright. Not much more I could ask for from your stubborn self." Bucky heard her press a soft kiss to her brother's forehead. "Goodnight, Sam. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

"And don't stay up much longer. You'll wake your partner up if you keep staring a hole through him like that."

"I said goodnight, Sarah."

Sarah's laughter faded into the back of the house, and it wasn't long before Sam's footsteps followed her own. There was a moment, though, where they seemed to linger before the couch Bucky slept on. But soon Sam, too, had returned to his bedroom, and Bucky was able to relax as he was alone once more.

Despite his best efforts to suppress it, an elated smile tugged at his lips.

Sam liked him, huh?

Bucky could work with that.

xXxXxXx

Translations (if anyone was really curious):

1. Sarah: "T'as jamais mentionné qu'il était un bel homme, Sam!" (You never mentioned he was a handsome man, Sam!)

2. Sam: "Je t'ai pas dit parce qu'il est pas beau. Et je pense pas pour ça." (I didn't tell you because he's not handsome. And I don't think about that.)

Sarah: "Tu penses pas du tout—" (You don't think at all—)

3. Sarah: "C'est mignon, Sam—" (That's/He's cute, Sam—)

4. Sarah: "Ton ami est seul, ou—" (Your friend is single, or—)

Sam: "Don't even think about it."

Sarah: "Quoi? Tu envieux?" (What? You jealous?)

Sam: "Sarah, on est pas après avoir cette conversation—" (Sarah, we are not having this conversation—)

5. Sarah: "Pas grand chose. J'aime la vue, you know?" (No big thing. I like the view, you know?)

6. Sarah: "Il dit qu'il écoute pas la distraction! Équand je peux le demander sur un rendez-vous?" (He says he doesn't mind the distraction! When can I ask him on a date?)

Sam: "Joue pas des games avec lui! Ou avec moi! Je vas séparer vous-autres avec un poteau." (Don't play games with him! Or with me! I'm gonna have to separate y'all with a pole.)

Sarah: "Ooh, t'es envieux parce que tu veux être avec lui? Dis pas à moi j'ai tort, je connais que je suis pas." (Ooh, are you jealous because you want to be with him? Don't tell me I'm wrong, I know I'm not.)

Sam: "C'est pas de tes affaires!" (None of your business!)

7. Sam: "T'es plus mal que notre mère. Elle essayait toujours de me mettre sur un rendez-vous." (You're worse than our mother. She was always trying to set/put me on a date.)

8. Sam: "Par flirter avec Bucky? Seriously?" (By flirting with Bucky? Seriously?)

9. Sam: "Et elle me beate toujours aux bougres, aussi." (And she always beats me to the guys, too.)

10. Sarah: "Soyez respectueux, okay?" (Be polite, okay?)

11. Sarah: "Sam va pas écouter la levée, non plus." (Sam won't mind the lifting, either.)

12. Sam: "Je suis désolé que je peux pas être ici plus souvent—" (I'm sorry that I'm not here more often—)

Sarah: "Tu connais je les veux pas comme ça, Sam." (You know I didn't mean/intend it like that, Sam.)

Sam: "Ça change pas que je suis pas ici quand je devrais être." (That doesn't change that I'm not here when I should be.)

13. AJ: "Maman a mis moins assaisonnement dans son repas, ouais?" (Mom put less seasoning in his meal, didn't she?)

Cass: "Yeah, elle a définiment fait." (Yeah, she definitely did.)

14. Sarah: "Mâche pas avec ta bouche pleine, s'il te plaît." (Don't chew with your mouth full, please.)

15. Sarah: "Tu peux pas prétendre que t'aimes pas ces yeux bleus, aussi." (You can't pretend you don't like those blue eyes, too.)

16. Sam: "Dis-le pas." (Don't say it.)

17. Sarah: "Besides, j'allais dire que 'réparer le bateau' c'est du code pour 'être intime avec lui,' ouais?" (Besides, I would say that 'repairing the boat' is code for 'being intimate/close with him,' yeah?)

18. Sarah: "Tu devrais voir comment tu le regardes, Bucky. Comme s'il a pendu la lune." (You should see how you look at him, Bucky. Like he hung the moon.)

19. Sarah: "Danse avec moi?" (Dance with me?)

20. Sarah: "Quoi, tu veux danser avec lui au lieu de me laisser?" (What, you want to dance with him instead of letting me?)

21. Sarah: "Sam? T'es réveillé? Pourquoi?" (Sam? You're awake? Why?)

Sam: "La même raison t'es. J'ai voulu de l'eau." (Same reason you are. I wanted some water.)

Sarah: "Hmm. Si tu dis so." (Hmm. If you say so.)

Sam: "Tu me crois pas?" (You don't believe me?)

Sarah: "Well… Je pense que t'étais après voir à ton ami. Mais je suis pas ici juger." (Well… I think you were checking on your friend. But I'm not here to judge.)

Sam: "Wow. Very kind of you, even if you're completely wrong."

Sarah: "Oh, sure. J'ai vu comment vous-autres était après danser ensemble." (Oh, sure. I saw how y'all were dancing together.)

22. Sarah: "T'aimes bien lui. Don't you?" (You like him. Don't you?)

Sam: "Mais, Sarah! Il est mon—" ([Mais = general expression of exclamation], Sarah! He's my—)

Sarah: "Ouais, ouais, il est juste ton ami. Je connais." (Yeah, yeah, he's just your friend. I know.)

Sam: "Tch. Peut-être pendant une bonne journée." (Tch. Maybe on a good day.)

23. Sarah: "Tu vas y dire que t'aimes bien lui? Comme amis ou… quelque chose de plus?" (Will you tell him that you like him? As friends or… something more?)

Sam: "Je vas y dire quand je connais comment je me sens, okay?" (I'll tell him when I know how I feel, okay?)