"We gotta talk."
Sarah hands Bucky the last dish. Drying has become his job whenever he visits. He likes having a task that belongs just to him.
"All right," Sarah answers, beautiful in her sweatpants and faded t-shirt. She brews hot water in an old electric kettle and hands Bucky a mug with a bag of Earl Grey floating in it. "This always helps me when I'm trying to have a heart to heart," she explains, sitting down at the table with her own mug and motioning to Bucky to follow.
"You probably thought it was weird that I wanted to come here without Sam," Bucky begins.
"Not really," Sarah answers. "You're my friend and an uncle to those boys asleep in the next room. You don't need my brother as a reason to visit."
Bucky just looks at her for a few seconds, fingers fidgeting with the handle on his mug. "You mean that. You're not just being nice."
Sarah laughs. "Yeah, I mean it. I'm not that nice. Just ask Sam."
Bucky can't help smiling back, but he quickly turns serious again, looking down at the checked pattern on the tablecloth. "Thing is, Sarah, I was raised in a time when it wasn't right to lead somebody on if you had—intentions."
Sarah quirks an eyebrow. "You looking for an apology for leading you on, Sergeant?"
"Huh?" Bucky looks up in surprise and catches her eye. "I—meant me."
"I know," she smiles in amusement, but I haven't exactly been subtle since you introduced yourself on the boat. I've got you doing dishes and watching my kids." Sarah shakes her head. "Sounds kind of bad when I say it like that. What I mean is, I think I've been pretty straightforward about pulling you into our lives. Wouldn't have done that if I didn't mean it."
Bucky rubs his hand across his face and tries to regroup. She's just too good at surprising him in her gentle way. "I was serious, too," he finally says softly. "But with me, it's complicated, Sarah. You gotta be sure it's not too much."
"What's not too much?" She reaches across the table and holds his hand—metal instead of flesh.
"I did some real bad stuff, Sarah. I went to the war with those old guys you used to dance with. I didn't come back the same. You know about the Winter Soldier?"
Sarah nods. "Sam talks, especially when he thinks his sister is getting in deep."
"What'd he say?" Bucky asks, hanging on the answer.
"He said you're a good friend and one of the strongest people he's ever met, because you went through hell and came out better instead of worse."
"I didn't just go through it," Bucky says. "I took a lot of innocent people with me."
Sarah leans across the table slightly and takes his other hand, looking him straight in the eyes. "You still the guy who did those things?"
He meets her gaze solidly and shakes his head. "Nope. I'm just Bucky now."
"Well, Bucky," she says, "what do you want to do now?"
"I want to keep coming here and being with you," he says simply.
"I want that, too," she answers, picking up her mug and clinking it against his. "To our future, whatever it is."
They both get up from the table after a few silent, companionable minutes. "It's been a couple of decades since I dated," Sarah says. "Thanks for not making it awkward."
Bucky comes around and pulls her close to him. It feels too soon for a lot of things, but he can't resist showing his affection. Sarah is tall; she returns the embrace, and her touch is substantial; he feels a surprising sense of security and warmth in her arms. He wants to impart care and protection, but he gets just as much back.
"Bucky," she says, head on his shoulder, "I'm surprised by how much I like you."
"Sam's going to kill me," he answers, cradling her tightly while they both laugh low so they don't wake the boys.