"I'm sorry!" It's a tense moment around the table as Cass suddenly has an empty glass, and Barnes has a lapful of orange juice.
"Hey, no big," says Sam's friend in his soft, slow-talking way. "I've got other shirts." He gets up from the table, and Cass bows his head.
"It's okay; it was an accident." Sam finally gets him to smile, to Sarah's relief.
Barnes is back in nothing flat, in another dark-colored t-shirt that looks like the last one. He pats Cass's head as he sits down, kind of like a grandfather might.
Actually, Sarah suddenly thinks, that makes sense. He looks her age, but he's from another time. She can't really wrap her head around it, so she passes him the basket of dinner rolls and just smiles.
—
Later that night, after Cass and AJ are in bed, Sam looks over the bookkeeping again. As much as she hates to ask for help, Sarah is glad for her brother's. He's smart, even if he acts like an idiot sometimes.
"Want to watch TV, Mr. Barnes?" Sarah asks, offering the remote to him.
"It's just Bucky," he says, "and not really. I haven't been around a family for a while. It's just—nice."
"It's good to have you," she says, meaning it.
"Would you—do me a favor?" she asks, suddenly having an idea. "Help me with the dishes?"
"I'd—like that."
Sarah leads the way to the kitchen, leaving Sam in the living room with his calculator. Barnes—Bucky—follows.
"If I wash, can you dry?" she asks, turning on the sink.
"Sure," he answers, smiling.
That's how it starts. Admittedly, Sarah takes her time with each cup and plate. She could go faster, but why would she want to, when she's enjoying herself? There's nothing crazy or earthshattering about it, but Bucky Barnes has a nice way about him. She likes how careful he is, both with children's feelings and porcelain dishes.
Finally, when they're done, she turns to him. "Thanks so much for your help. You're not a guest any more, you know, since you did housework. You're stuck in the family now."
"Sounds good to me," he answers, and his eyes crinkle at the corners in a manner that makes Sarah suddenly feel some type of way.
"Time for bed." Sam finally shuts the ledger and gets up to head to his room.
"Good idea," Sarah agrees. She leaves Bucky to the couch and checks in on her sons, both of whom are fast asleep.
Sarah goes to bed happy. It's as simple as that. She likes that man, with his nice smile and his careful hands and his languid, earnest way of talking.
The next morning, Bucky gets up before even Sam is awake. Sarah is at the table, drinking her first cup of coffee of the day. Wordlessly, he sits down and pours himself a cup.
"Glad you could join me," she says.
"Figured I didn't have to ask, since I'm family now," he says.
"That's right," she answers.
"Hey, Sarah, I have a question."
She sees something new in his eyes—is it shyness? She can imagine those girls in the 40s dropping like flies.
"Ask away."
"I—don't know what's about to happen, with Sam and me and the shield and everything, but—I'd like to get to know you better once things calm down a little."
"I'd like that too," Sarah answers. There it is. No need to beat around the bush like teenagers.
—
The two men leave, as she'd known they would have to. Sam hugs his nephews, and then Bucky hugs them too, like it's the most normal thing in the world, because it is.
"Bye, Sarah," he says, and he winks.
Her stomach does a flip it hasn't done since she was about eighteen, and she grins. "Bye now. I'll see you next time."