my demiromantic!sam headcanon truly makes its entrance in this chapter,, what exciting times we live in ;) i am delighted by the positive feedback this story has received and i also could not be happier to have converted so many people to sarahmay! quick psa: my update schedule will be slightly different for the next two chapters; i explain how in detail in the end notes. with that out of the way, i hope you enjoy!

CW: alcohol (wine) is consumed in the fourth section of this chapter; take precautions when reading as appropriate to your needs

xXx

It wasn't that Sarah ever seemed unhappy. Sam knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. His sister loved her life—loved her two boys, loved running the family seafood business, loved the way he and Bucky went above and beyond with helping her out whenever they happened to be in town. Which was more often, as of late. At least in terms of them being around at the same time.

But Sam knew the stress sometimes got to Sarah. She was only one person, after all, and moreover his sister was a good person, the kind of good where she wouldn't hesitate to overextend herself a hundred times if it meant life was a little bit easier for someone else.

He'd never say as much to her face, of course. That was against the sibling code.

But lately? Sam would be hard-pressed to name a time where he'd walked in a room and Sarah wasn't smiling. She was laughing more, too, especially when she had her phone with her. And on the subject of her phone, she definitely had that device on hand more often in the last month or so. Which had led Sam to but one conclusion: his sister was talking with someone.

As in, talking with them. Extra emphasis required.

And as her brother, Sam felt it was only appropriate he knew the identity of this mystery person that had wormed their way into Sarah's daily routine. Or—well, it was more accurate to say he felt it was appropriate his suspicions be confirmed that said person was none other than May Parker. Sam didn't believe he had a 'right' to know, of course—such logic was a disconcertingly possessive rhetoric that Sam loathed—but it was just so obvious Sarah was talking with May. All Sam needed was an admission.

"None of your business," was what Sarah had airily told him when Sam first asked her. Dead end there. Cass and AJ didn't know, either, though Sam hadn't particularly expected them to. If anything, they were more curious than he was about this person living so far away who'd still ensnared their mother's attention in a matter of weeks.

Which left one person for Sam to ask.

"You and Sarah are always talking behind my back, right?" Sam slung the shield at the largest cypress in the yard, spinning around to better absorb the shock when it bounced off two other trees before flying back at him.

Bucky was currently helping him retrain at full strength with the shield, and by 'helping,' Sam meant Bucky was staring in his usual overly-intense fashion with his arms crossed over his chest. Occasionally he might provide a halfway-decent word of advice.

Bucky grunted in response. Typical.

"Come on, man. Do you or do you not?"

Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes. "No, we don't always talk 'behind your back.' But Sarah and I are friends, so yeah, sometimes we have conversations you aren't part of. Deal with it."

Ugh. Sometimes Sam yearned for the days when Bucky was shit at communication. In Sam's idealized memory, those were the times Bucky managed to land only a few verbal barbs while Sam never missed. Now they went back and forth snarking and sniping at each other, evenly matched.

The epitome of aggravating.

"Right. Thanks." Sam spun around, hurtling the shield so it bounded off all four trees in the yard before he caught it with both hands. "So, has she talked to you about the mystery person she keeps texting?"

A frown creased Bucky's lips. "No. And if she had, why would I betray her trust by telling you who it was?"

Christ. Nothing more annoying than when Bucky made a good point. "Because I only want to know out of the goodness of my heart?"

Bucky snorted. "Please. You want to know out of some misguided sense of protection over her."

Sam stumbled mid-throw at the reading, as it felt… inaccurate, but for a reason he couldn't quite discern. Sam barely managed to duck and avoid the violent return of the shield from his overpowered sling. It landed with a thunk in the smallest of the yard's cypresses, and there was the low sound of metal scraping against metal as Bucky walked over to yank it out the trunk with his vibranium hand.

Rather than think too deeply about what part of Bucky's interpretation was ringing so wrong a note, Sam decided to focus on the positives. He was an optimist like that. "Wow, Buck." Sam gave him an appraising look, a small grin tugging at his lips. "I take it your new therapist is working out well for you, huh?"

Bucky flushed. "Maybe." He offered Sam the shield, which Sam accepted. Ugh—the leather straps were still uncomfortable when pressed against his bare forearm, even with a layer of sweat easing the friction. "But that's not the point here."

"Since you won't tell me anything about Sarah and her new friend, it could be the point," Sam suggested with a shrug. Maybe he was imagining things, but Bucky's eyes seemed to follow the rise and fall of his shoulders with unusual closeness.

"I told you, I don't know anything about Sarah's new friend," Bucky repeated. "Why don't you just ask her? You're the one always fussing at me about the importance of 'open and honest communication.'"

Sam snorted. "That's because you need the reminder." Bucky scowled in response, and Sam hid his smirk by turning away to throw the shield again, catching it with a backflip after five successful rebounds.

"I'm just saying," Bucky grumbled after a pause. "Practice what you preach, or whatever."

The 'or whatever' lessened the strength of Bucky's conclusion, but not so much where Sam could deny his friend had a point. That said— "I did ask Sarah. She shot me down."

Bucky tilted his head. "Did you ask her, or did you demand that she tell you?"

Wow, fuck this guy. "Jesus Christ, Bucky, I did not 'demand' anything from her." Firstly, Sam wasn't stupid enough to do that with Sarah, no way no how. And secondly, his mother had raised him better than that.

"Well, if she hasn't told either of us on her own and she didn't want to talk about it with you when you asked…" Bucky gave Sam a pointed look. "Have you considered waiting for her to tell you when she's ready?"

Sam groaned, pausing in his rapidfire slinging around the shield. While respecting Sarah's boundaries was by and large what he was already doing— "Man, stop being right. I miss when you were emotionally constipated."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. I miss when you weren't an asshole." A wicked smirk curved the corners of his mouth upwards. "Oh, wait. That never hap—"

Sam chucked the shield at Bucky, knowing his friend's supersoldier reflexes would easily prevent him from getting slammed in the face with the metal. Sure enough, Bucky dodged like it was the most natural reaction in the world, while Sam barely managed to catch the rebound with a backwards stagger.

He supposed he'd brought that upon himself.

"You're throwing it too hard again," Bucky said, leaning against the tree Sam had unintentionally assaulted with the shield.

Sam sighed, though the sound came out as more of a tired huff—catching the shield there had really knocked the wind out of him, damn. "Thanks, Buck. Care to share more of your infinite wisdom about how I can avoid falling back into that habit?"

"Not until you promise to leave your sister alone about her mystery man."

Sam snorted. He seriously doubted it was a man Sarah was chatting up, but— "Don't worry. I planned to back off, anyway." Sarah knew what she was doing, and Sam would begrudgingly respect her privacy. She'd always begrudgingly respected his, too.

Well. When it counted.

Sam hefted the shield on his right arm, extending it out towards Bucky. "Now get your scrawny ass over here and show me the stance I keep screwing up."

"My ass is not scrawny," Bucky grumbled, but he joined Sam nonetheless. Sam expected him to take the shield off his arm and demonstrate how to better leverage the happy medium of throwing force, hence why he'd offered the oversized vibranium dinner plate to Bucky in the first place, but instead Bucky moved to stand directly behind Sam. Sam's breath hitched at Bucky pressed his chest to his back, guiding Sam's arm with his own.

A decision which was totally fine with Sam, for the record. Increased proximity with his closest friend—wow, was it sad that a once-brainwashed supersoldier who looked irritatingly good for his old age was yet again Captain America's closest friend?—was not at all a big deal for Sam. They'd trained together a million times before. What difference did the removal of a few inches of space make?

A big difference, if Sam's racing heart was any indication. And with that damn superhearing, Bucky probably knew it, too. Unfair.

"You need to treat the shield as an extension of yourself. Remember?" Bucky nudged Sam's right elbow upward so the shield was lying almost fully horizontal. "If you threw a punch with that much power, you'd miss your target, end up off-balance, and leave yourself vulnerable to retaliation." He poked Sam's ribs—fully healed from their bruises, as of about a week ago—which earned him an over-the-shoulder glare from Sam. "And you are vulnerable enough already, unless you've forgotten."

"Yeah, yeah. My weak bones," Sam grumbled, pretending Bucky's touch to his side hadn't sent butterflies soaring through his stomach. "Now back up. I'm trying again."

And if Bucky took an excessively long time withdrawing himself from their close contact, one hand skimming past Sam's hip and the other across his bicep—well, Sam pretended those touches hadn't given him butterflies, either.

xXx

"But Momma, we want to meet them!" AJ whined, giving Sarah what she knew were his finest puppy dog eyes, an expression he'd perfected at age 6. Two years later they were still going strong, if more effective on Sam and Bucky than herself.

She sighed. "Baby, it's not that simple—"

"Come on, Mom," Cass interrupted, joining his younger brother in the cajoling. "Whoever you're talking to must be really nice, or else you wouldn't be talking with them all the time! Can't you at least tell us who they are?"

Sarah sighed again. Her boys knew her too well, because while she was immune to puppy dog eyes, she was weakest when they tag-teamed her. "Cass. AJ. I know y'all both love getting all up in my business, just like your Uncle Sam"—a smile tugged at her lips when they both snickered—"and of course I want everyone to meet my new friend one day, but she's a nurse, which means she's very busy. She also lives in New York—I can't ask her to drop everything and fly all the way down to Delacroix."

"Sure you can!" AJ said, beaming at her. "You always tell us there's no harm in asking."

"You always say the worst that can happen is someone will say no!" Cass added. "Please ask her, Mom, please?"

Turning her own words against her. Damn, her boys were clever, just like their father had been.

"Alright, alright, I will ask," Sarah began, placing a hand on her hip and giving them both a stern look, "but you have to remember that like you just said, the answer might be no, okay? And if it is, we have to respect that." It was one thing for her kids to parrot her advice to her—it was a whole different ball game getting them to apply it.

"Okay!" both exclaimed. The excited twinkles in their eyes made Sarah question if they had really and truly processed what she'd told them, but… Ah, well. She and May had been in regular contact for almost—no, over?—a month now. If May wasn't able to flat out visit Louisiana, then Sarah could at least arrange a video call.

That would help get Sam off her back, too. Sarah appreciated her brother's concern, really, she did, she just wished Sam understood the real cause of it. Love had always been a little different for him. For the longest time, it had only been Riley. Now, of course…

Well. Sarah was sure her brother would recognize his feelings for a certain supersoldier in due time.

"Now shoo," Sarah said, pushing those unnecessary thoughts from her mind and tapping both of her boys on the backs of their shoulders. "If I'm gonna call her, I ain't doing it with y'all's nosy little selves listening in."

Cass and AJ burst into giggles but obeyed, disappearing down the hall and into their shared bedroom. Sarah waited until she heard them start squabbling about some new video game they wanted to get before she lifted the landline off the wall, sighing as she leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter. It was 4:27 now—5:27 for May. But it was Thursday, meaning May had the graveyard shift, so odds were that she would indeed be home right now. Possibly eating dinner, though?

Sarah refused to go back on her word to her boys, but nonetheless she struggled to ignore the guilt gnawing in her stomach at the massive request she was about to make. Before she could talk herself out of it, though, Sarah punched May's number into the keypad.

May picked up after three rings. "Sarah! Or, Sarah's landline. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Is that Ms. Sarah?!"

Sarah bit back a laugh as Peter's voice floated through the background of the call—he was clearly shouting from some other room in the Parker apartment.

"May, tell her I said hi!"

"Don't worry, I heard him," Sarah said with an amused chuckle before May could speak. "Tell him I said hi, too, and that I hope he's doing well."

May relayed the message, then said, "I can tell you myself that he's doing well. He just wrapped up his junior year at Midtown and intends to relish as much of the summer as possible before college applications come at him full-force in September."

Sarah whistled. "Well, I wish him luck." She shook her head, amused. "Not that he needs it, of course, with a mind like his."

"Tell me about it. I'm so proud of him, even if he has caused me a million new gray hairs."

Sarah laughed, loud and true. "Oh, come on now. There isn't a single gray hair on your beautiful head and you know it, Ms. Parker."

"Ha, right! You always know how to flatter me, don't you? Fastest way to a woman's heart is making her feel younger than she is." There was the sound of movement on May's end of the line, bare feet padding across a tile floor. "Anyways. Before I take us on too much of a tangent, I'm guessing you had a reason for calling?"

"Yes, I did." Sarah chewed her bottom lip, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Like she'd told the boys, and like they had told her—the worst that could happen was a 'no.' And knowing May, it would be a hugely apologetic and regretful 'no,' with maybe even a few tears shed. "See, my boys have been curious for a while now about the mystery lady I've talked to so much over this past month, and that curiosity is finally starting to get the best of them. They want to meet you."

Out of habit, Sarah began pacing through the kitchen, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go while her left hand gestured at her side to no one. "And I told them it's almost impossible you can just leave New York out of the blue, but since it is summer, I figured I'd at least ask." She chuckled—maybe a little weakly. Nerves getting the best of her. "That promise seemed to satisfy them."

There was a long pause at the other end of the line, and just as Sarah was starting to worry that she'd been too forward in her request, May said, "So you—well, your kids want me and Peter to visit you guys in Delacroix?"

Sarah withheld a relieved sigh. Barely. "Yes," she confirmed, "but there's no pressure and no rush. I know you work a lot and Peter obviously just got out of school, so I understand if y'all can't find the time or can't afford a last-minute trip. It's no big deal. The boys can make do with a video chat."

"Hey, slow your roll," May teased, and Sarah could practically picture May's little half-smirk that tended to accompany such a tone. "I didn't say we weren't interested." She clicked her tongue, a sign she was thinking hard, weighing her options. "I mean, I do have a lot of saved vacation time. I'd have to talk to Peter, but I'm sure he's in need of a break, too."

Sarah's heart skipped a beat. "You're saying…?"

"That I'd love to come down to Delacroix for a week? I sure am." May was grinning broadly, Sarah knew she was. "Obviously it will take me a while to straighten out the details with my higher ups, but I work my ass off at that hospital. If they don't grant me my deserved time, Pepper will help me sue them."

Right, Pepper Potts. Sarah sometimes forgot the Parker and Stark families were on a first-name basis. "Great. Let me know as soon as you've got your ducks in a row. Y'all can stay in the guest room at my house."

"What? No, no. Peter and I can get a hotel, we don't want to intrude—"

"It's no intrusion, remember?" Sarah said with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if May could see the gesture through the phone. "I told you the offer of expense-free room and board goes both ways." She was sure Bucky would have no issue moving back to the couch for a week. It was no secret there were still nights he slept on the floor, anyways.

Hell, maybe moving back to the couch would be the final straw in Bucky and Sam getting their shit together and sharing a room.

No more than sharing, though. Not while she and the boys were in the house.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind—"

"Trust me, I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure," Sarah promised. "As long as I have a heads-up before y'all are coming down, I can get the room in tip-top shape, easy."

May laughed, at last relenting. "Alright. Thank you. I appreciate it more than I can say."

Sarah started to ask more about May and Peter's potential travel plans, but was interrupted by a loud crash echoing from—Lord, she didn't know if it was Sam and Bucky outside or Cass and AJ in their bedroom. Too much testosterone in too many directions.

"Well, that did not sound good," May remarked with thinly-veiled amusement. "I take it we'll have to continue this conversation later?"

Sarah sighed. "Yep. I need to figure out the hell is happening in my own home." She shook her head. "I'll text you tomorrow, after your shift ends?"

"Sounds great. I'll ask my boss about vacation time tonight."

"Perfect."

They exchanged goodbyes before Sarah hung up, placing the landline back into its spot on the wall with a low click before she resigned herself to investigating what had caused the loud noise. And seeing as the sound hadn't been followed by not-so-hushed whispers or a desperate cry for Mom!—yeah, she had a feeling the grown men in her life were the ones responsible.

Sure enough, Sarah stepped onto her back porch to see Sam and Bucky standing guiltily over a shattered flower pot. A certain circular red, white, and blue hunk of metal lay on the ground beside it. She held up a hand before either man could launch into an unnecessarily long-winded explanation or apology. "Just clean it up, boys."

Sarah then pointed directly at Bucky, noting with amusement how his face went a shade paler. "Calm down, Bucky. I'm not gonna fuss at you." She leaned against the wooden frame of the back door, a smirk tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm just letting you know that you'll have to sleep on the couch for about a week. Not now, obviously. But soon. Maybe within a month. Unless, of course…" Sarah's gaze flickered knowingly to Sam. "There's somewhere else you'd rather stay the night."

Sarah spun on her heel and returned inside the house before either of them could comment, laughing as Sam's startled sputter was cut off by the door swinging shut behind her.

Oh, life was good. Life was so, so good.

xXx

Sam had been right—obviously—that the new constant in Sarah's life was none other than the lovely May Parker. What he had not anticipated, however, was for their friendship to progress so quickly that the Parker family was coming to stay with them for a week's vacation in July. Cass and AJ were ecstatic to meet May and Peter, Sarah's excitement about the impending visit was quieter but still present given how every day she was straightening up something around the house, while Bucky was indifferent about the whole affair.

And Sam?

Well, Sam was walking the line between being delighted for his sister and managing his anxiety at the rapid speed with which things were changing. And this change was good, Sam knew that, it couldn't be anything other than good if Sarah could hardly stop smiling when she talked about or with May.

But just because Sam knew didn't mean he understood. Per se. It had taken Sam years before he'd recognized his feelings for—

"You're thinking way too hard right now," Bucky said dryly, placing a stack of blankets beside the couch for himself to use that night. "It's disrupting the relaxed vibe of the room."

Sam snorted. "'Vibe'? Who taught you that, Cass or AJ?"

Bucky didn't answer. "What's on your mind?"

Sam rolled his eyes, moving into the kitchen to grab his keys off the counter. He and Sarah were leaving to pick up the Parkers from the airport in less than ten minutes, once his sister finished tidying up the guest room to her satisfaction. "There's nothing at all on my mind, Bucky. Why would there be?"

As soon as the words left Sam's mouth, he realized shit, he'd left himself wide open for a 'brainless' joke. Fantastic—just the ego boost he needed.

But Bucky either didn't notice or chose not to take advantage of the opportunity, as his gaze simply narrowed when he followed Sam into the kitchen. "Because you talk too much, except when you're thinking really hard. You've been quiet for the past five minutes. Ergo, something is on your mind."

'Ergo.' Now that sounded more like the centenarian Sam knew and lov—

And tolerated.

"Well, you're wrong," Sam said, lightly knocking Bucky's vibranium shoulder with his fist. He knew better than to tap any harder—he'd almost shattered his knuckles twice before. "There's nothing on my mind you'd need to worry your pretty little head about."

Bucky scowled but was blushing pink, probably a reaction to Sam's use of 'pretty'—the intended effect, in other words. "Let me guess. You're still obsessing over your sister and May."

Sam rolled his eyes. Rude. "It's not 'obsessing' to be a tad worried." Worried about himself, really, and what wasn't clicking more than he was worried about Sarah.

"What, because you don't think she's capable of handling herself?"

Sam glared at Bucky. "No. Don't put words in my mouth, Barnes." He trusted Sarah. He had full faith that his sister knew what she was doing.

Hell, maybe Sam's faith was the damn problem. He was—was more than happy to see Sarah smiling all the time just from having a casual conversation with May. It reminded him of how he used to feel after getting off the phone with Riley. So what, then, was causing a knot to tie and untie itself in the pit of his stomach?

Sam suspected it was the fact he couldn't identify the problem that made him even more anxious.

Bucky looked like he wanted to press further, but he didn't manage to get a word out before Sarah walked into the kitchen with her purse slung over her shoulder.

"Okay, Sam, you ready to—" She cut herself off with a blink, eyes flickering between the two of them. "Did I… interrupt something?"

"No," Sam said stiffly, breaking eye contact with Bucky. "Let's go."

Sarah snorted. "Okay, so I did interrupt something." She shifted the straps of her purse, sighing. "Look, whatever y'all's problem is, try to tone down the masculinity and use those conflict resolution skills I know you both have discussed in therapy."

Easier said than done.

"Sure," Sam agreed, if only to end the conversation there. "Now let's get going before we're late to the airport."

Sarah did not appear convinced by his words, but she relented, thanking Bucky for keeping an eye on the boys while they were out before she and Sam left through the side door and climbed into his truck.

Much to Sam's relief, Sarah asked neither what was on his mind nor what was going on between him and Bucky during their drive to New Orleans. Instead, she kept the conversation focused on the Parkers' arrival and the sights they should take the two to see during the short week they'd be in town.

"Oh, we have to take 'em to Charlie's," Sarah said as they were approaching the exit to the airport, an opinion Sam immediately seconded. "And maybe Crave, too?"

"Hell yeah, we should bring them to Crave." Sam turned off the interstate. "I know Peter loves Thai, so stands to reason his aunt does, too. Crave will be perfect." Crave was a small restaurant that fused Cajun and Creole recipes with different Asian dishes, and calling the final products 'heaven on Earth' was the understatement of the century.

Sarah tapped at her phone, presumably adding the restaurant to the itinerary she'd started prepping the second Sam had pulled out the driveway. "It's a shame they can't stay longer than a week. There's so much we could do together but just not enough time for all of it."

Sam bit his lip, unsure how to respond. "Well, you could always come up to New York with me more often," he finally suggested. They were now approaching the airport proper. "I'd take care of everything you needed—hotel, food, plane tickets."

Sarah sighed. "As perfect as that sounds, I can't just leave the boys with Mrs. Mayeux all the time."

"You could bring them with you."

"Every trip? Nah, not a chance." Sarah sighed again, shrugging. "It's fine. May and I knew from the start that our friendship would be mostly conducted over the phone." A content smile curved up the corners of her lips. "At least it makes every time we do get to see each other in person feel that much more special."

Sam looked away as a warm expression lit up his sister's face—not from discomfort, no, more because… well, it was like Sam was intruding on a private moment. He found himself looking away a second time, too, when they arrived at the airport and found the Parkers, trying to put all his focus into smirking at Peter rather than witness the tight manner with which Sarah and May embraced.

He didn't succeed.

Huh. Sam hadn't realized how tiny May was compared to Sarah—at least 6 inches difference in height?

"So this is Louisiana?" Peter asked, pulling Sam out of his thoughts. Peter's eyes flickered over the crowd flowing past them. "No offense, but I kind of thought there'd be fewer people."

Sam chuckled. "To be fair, this is the international airport in the Big Easy. You're bound to have more visitors." He took the Parkers' two suitcases from Peter, because sure, even though the kid had superstrength and could work his nerves like a professional, Sam still had manners. His mother and grandmother would roll in their respective graves if he let a faux rivalry interfere with Southern hospitality. "When we get to Delacroix, you'll feel the small-town vibes more."

Peter nodded, unconvinced. "If you say so." He tugged at his collar, grimacing. "It's even hotter than I expected. And wetter."

Sam snorted, fighting down an amused grin. "Welcome to a Louisiana July, kid."

The four began heading back to Sam's truck. Sam allowed Sarah and May to pull ahead, the two women chatting excitedly about some book they'd apparently been reading together. When he was certain they were out of earshot, Sam struck up a new line of conversation with Peter. "So… Your aunt and my sister are pretty close?"

Peter gave him a suspicious—albeit amused—look. "They text every day and call each other at least twice a week. Do you really need me to answer that?"

God, this kid had definitely been Stark's protégé. "I think you know what I mean, Parker."

Peter's expression shifted to one of complete and utter innocence. Warning bells blared in the back of Sam's mind, but he suspected they were sounding— "Well, yes, Mr. Wilson. I would say they're as close as you and Mr. Barnes are. Is that the answer you were looking for?"

They were sounding too late.

Sam glowered at Peter, not that the expression was particularly threatening given how heat rose in his cheeks at the not-so-subtle implication behind Peter's words. "You must think you're hilarious."

"Actually, I know I'm hilarious. My girlfriend says so."

This was going to be the longest week of Sam's life.

xXx

Sarah tried to keep the first day—well, half a day—of the Parkers' visit as relaxed as she could. They'd have plenty of time over the course of the next week to explore the different sights of Delacroix, which was already the smallest of towns, and as such Sarah saw no need to cram anything into a single afternoon.

Of course, 'relaxed' could only go so far when Cass and AJ were introduced to Peter, and the three boys promptly got along like a house on fire. Fortunately, Sam and Bucky were there to help with containment duty, and complete chaos was somehow avoided.

"Thank you for welcoming us into your home so… warmly," May commented, her voice almost wistful. Sarah reasoned that such a dreamy note could be attributed to the glasses of Sam's favorite red wine they'd each finished, both having moved onto their second a few minutes ago. Dinner had long since been finished and the leftovers put away. "I mean, I knew you all would, but…"

"But there's always that nagging little voice," Sarah finished with a nod, taking a sip of her wine. "I get it."

She and May were currently sitting across from each other at the kitchen table as the boys—all five of them, Lord help her and May—sat on the floor of the living room in a shape vaguely resembling a circle and argued about UNO. Upon meeting Peter, AJ and Cass had decided to side with him on anything and everything, much to the dismay of their uncles. And 'anything and everything' of course included the rules of UNO, too.

"Look, you can't stack Draw 2 cards," Sam protested, shaking his head. "Didn't the UNO company come out and say that on their official Twitter?"

"They did," Bucky agreed, earning a scoff from Peter and riotous laughter from Cass.

"Uncle Bucky, you don't even know how to use Twitter," AJ scolded. "If Peter says we can stack them, then we can stack them!" He placed his yellow Draw 2 on the top of the pile, and Sarah had a feeling her brother was withholding a muttered curse—or two or twenty—as he drew four cards.

"I hate all of y'all, for the record."

"Aw, don't be a sore loser," Peter crooned, placing down a yellow skip. "UNO."

More aggravated shouting and near-delirious laughter ensued, and Sarah shook her head in amusement before returning her attention to May. Her friend was looking at her expectantly, and Sarah realized— "Oh, I'm so sorry." She chuckled. "I was watching their game. I think I missed what you said."

May laughed. "Don't worry, I was just admitting to something mildly embarrassing." She tapped the rim of her wine glass. "In vino veritas!"

Sarah raised a teasing eyebrow, as if her heart hadn't skipped a beat to hear May use Latin. Classical literature was not Sarah's absolute favorite, but she'd still place it somewhere in her top 10. "Is that so?"

"Mhm." May's eyes twinkled even in the quieter light of the kitchen. "Did you not wonder how I managed to arrange my time off so quickly?"

Sarah tilted her head at the question. 'Yes and no' would be the most accurate answer. She had initially considered three weeks to be a very quick turnaround for someone to arrange a full seven days off, but Sarah had then recognized she possessed no frame of reference whatsoever for how vacation time was designated at hospitals, especially hospitals in New York.

"Maybe a little," she ended up saying. The wine must have made Sarah more forthcoming, too, because she added, "But I was too grateful to think much into it. I mean, like hell you'd catch me complaining about getting to see you sooner."

May gave Sarah what could only be described as an expression akin to the 'heart eyes' emoji—one of May's favorites, Sarah knew from their lengthy text threads—and if Sarah wasn't tipsy bordering on not-quite-drunk, she'd probably have flushed in response.

"You are incredible," May gushed, placing the hand not holding her glass over her heart. "Way cooler than your brother. And I say that totally unbiased. I mean, who gives a shit that he's Captain America?" She took a sip of her wine, winking at Sarah. "Spider-Man and Sarah Wilson are the only superheroes I care about."

Sarah laughed hard enough her shoulders shook, and she was forced to place her glass down for fear of the red liquid sloshing out and staining her favorite orange top. Which she definitely hadn't worn today in honor of May's arrival.

"Okay, no need to stretch the truth there, flattered as I am to hear it." Sarah rested her chin on her right hand. "I think you're the real superhero, though. An ER nurse who nine times out of ten works the graveyard shift and manages to take great care of a teenage boy?" She shook her head, grinning. "Now that's damn impressive, honey."

"Please. You're the one single-handedly raising two boys and running a seafood business on your own! And according to Sam, you look after half the kids in Delacroix during your free time. I don't hold a candle to you."

Sarah chuckled, this time aware May's praise had succeeded in making blood rush to her cheeks. Ah, well. She'd have time to be embarrassed tomorrow, when sobriety had returned. "How about this?" Sarah sat up straight again, lifting her glass. "We've both done our damn best to make ends meet over the years. No reason for pointless comparison."

May smiled, the kind of wide, sappy grin that made little wrinkles form at the corners of her eyes. Sarah found it impossibly adorable. "Damn right. To us."

"To us."

They clinked their glasses, both taking a drink after at the same time. Sarah allowed her gaze to travel back over to the boys' UNO game, where Peter had apparently won, as he was no longer playing and was instead assisting AJ and Cass at the same time. Much to the annoyance of Sam and Bucky, of course.

Warmth blossomed in Sarah's chest at such a familial sight.

May snapped her fingers, drawing Sarah's attention back to her. "I never answered my own question!" She tucked her hair behind her left ear, giving Sarah a bashful grin. "The reason I was able to arrange time off so quickly is because I may or may not have started talking to my boss about a week's vacation the day after you left New York. You know. Back in May."

Sarah's jaw dropped, a reaction she normally might have found embarrassing, but thank God for alcoholic immunity to shame. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"No, I'm serious! The whole time I kept berating myself for how premature it was, but…" May shrugged, cheeks pink. "I said screw it and pull all my eggs in one basket, hoping and praying your offer to have us visit had been genuine."

Sarah couldn't stop herself from giving May a tender smile. "I told you, I don't make offers unless they're genuine. And hey—" She reached over to give May's free hand a quick squeeze. The touch sent electricity tingling through her fingers, brief as it had been. "You're here now. So if you need help carrying that basket… Let me know."

It was quite possibly the stupidest line Sarah could have delivered in response, which she blamed on both the wine and her continued rustiness at flirting. But it must have done the trick, as May beamed at her with such brilliance Sarah could swear she was staring at the sun. "This week is going to be the best trip of my life, isn't it?" May asked, and Sarah laughed.

"Trust me, I'm about to do everything in my power to make it so." She placed her near-empty glass down, fishing her phone out her back pocket. "Sam and I actually started putting together an itinerary today. Want me to run some of our ideas by you?"

"I mean, I trust anything you two recommend."

Sarah paused. "Okay, how about you help me schedule instead?" She didn't wait for an answer to get up from the table—remarkably steady on her feet—and return with the calendar she kept hung on the fridge. It was less marked on than usual, given that July had only just begun and it being summer meant Cass and AJ weren't busy with half a dozen after-school activities. In fact, the most significant events currently listed were 'Parkers arrive' and 'Parkers leave,' Tuesday to Monday.

Sarah placed the calendar on the table, smoothing the wrinkles in the bottom corners before grabbing a blue pen from a cup nestled in a corner of the kitchen counter. "We've got a whole week to work with, so let's make the most of it."

May cheered, earning them both quizzical looks from Peter and Sam, but Sarah ignored their reactions. Her focus remained on the adorably eager woman before her. Really, Sarah was starting to wonder if she'd know how to navigate her life anymore without May's bright presence to guide her.

Of course, maybe that was the wine talking.

For the next half hour, Sarah worked her way down the basic itinerary she and Sam had put together, discussing each possibility with May before they together decided the best time and marked it on the calendar. The aquarium in New Orleans, for example, was family-friendly, which meant all five of them could go—and Sam and Bucky, if they were interested—and that a weekday was their best bet for avoiding at least some of the crowd. Similarly, Charlie's was the perfect place to have dinner on a Friday night, as the restaurant was full of life and discounted meals, so they penciled that in accordingly.

And thus the planning continued, until every day had at least one activity assigned to it, even if said activity was something as simple as wandering about the docks and swimming in the lake.

"Wait, hold on." May tapped Saturday the 10th, two days before she and Peter would be flying out. "We don't have anything marked here."

Sarah chewed her bottom lip. "We could use that as a day to relax."

"Isn't that what Sunday will inevitably be for?"

Sarah chuckled. "True." She skimmed through the list on her phone. Almost every activity had been set aside already, except— "Oh, Saturday might be a good day to go to Crave."

May tilted her head. Sarah pretended she wasn't mesmerized by how May's long hair swung forward over her left shoulder with the action. "What's Crave?"

"Another local restaurant. They blend Cajun and Creole meals with Asian dishes."

May whistled. "Shit. That sounds really good."

Sarah laughed at her unabashed bluntness. "Yeah, it is." She lifted her pen. "Crave works for you, then?"

"Yep, works perfectly for me."

Sarah had only written the first two letters of the restaurant's name on the calendar when she paused. Saturday nights were when Cass and AJ's favorite TV show came on. She could make them skip it and watch the recording, of course, but it was the only show she allowed them to watch regularly.

Maybe, then…

"How would you feel about it being just us?" Sarah's voice softened with the suggestion, and she didn't quite meet May's eyes as she finished writing the name of the restaurant. "At Crave, I mean. Leave all the boys at home."

"Oh, let us escape from the testosterone?" May teased, eyes glittering with excitement. "I think that sounds wonderful." She reached over to give Sarah's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's a date."

Sarah exhaled in relief, an almost sheepish smile pulling at her lips. "Yeah. It's a date."

When she started to move the pen away, May stepped forward and placed a hand on top of hers. Sarah pretended her heart hadn't skipped a beat at their newly-close proximity, as May now stood directly behind her. An inch back from her or an inch forward from May would completely press their bodies together.

"You forgot something." May's voice was as soft as Sarah's had been as she guided Sarah's hand—and by extension, the pen—across the calendar. Around the word 'Crave,' they together drew a clumsy but distinct heart. The curved line overlapped with the edge of the letters, but Sarah couldn't bring herself to care, instead giving May the shyest smile she'd allowed herself in a long time.

May then laughed, the bubbly sound filling Sarah's chest with a warmth incomparable to any sensation alcohol could produce.

God. This woman was going to be the death of her, wasn't she?

As May tenderly squeezed her hand, Sarah decided she wouldn't have it any other way.

xXx

Sam was typically an early riser. He liked to greet the dawn with a long run, taking at least five laps around the Wilson property and returning home before anyone else awoke. He didn't always succeed, since Sarah tended to rise early, too, what with being the mother of two young boys. All the same, Sam had a schedule and he liked sticking to it.

But there were exceptions. Times where he slept in, often without meaning to. Late mornings fueled by restless nights.

This was one of those mornings.

Sam stumbled out of bed at 8 AM, almost a full three hours late for him. He dragged himself into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, splashing cold water onto his face and hoping—praying—it would wash away the image of Riley falling and falling and falling and burning and breaking that remained seared into his mind's eye.

It didn't.

Sam sighed, water dripping down his cheeks in a manner not unlike tears. Damn. Today was not shaping up to be great.

When Sam shut the faucet off and hung up his washcloth after drying his face, he realized the house was oddly quiet for 8 o'clock on a summer morning, with the exception of a low sizzling from upfront that he couldn't identify the source of. Sam knew Cass was old enough to be reaching a point where he liked sleeping in, but AJ was still so young that there was a 50/50 shot he'd wake up early enough to rival Sarah or Sam himself.

Then again, Sam reasoned as he padded quietly down the carpeted hall, everyone had been up late last night. The Parkers were probably exhausted from their flight, while Cass, AJ, and Sarah were likely drained from the general excitement of having guests over. Of course—Sam bit back a chuckle at the realization—it was probably fair to conclude his sister and May were also sleeping off the few glasses of wine they'd shared.

Sam stepped into the kitchen, readying himself to prepare a cup of desperately-needed coffee, only to be greeted by none other than the Wilson household's token supersoldier standing over the stove and making…

Scrambled eggs?

"Good morning to you, too," Bucky said wryly as Sam stood there gaping. He tilted his head towards a mug resting on the edge of the island. "Heard you wake up. Made your coffee."

Sam somehow shook himself out of his stupor. "Thanks," he managed to say, grabbing the cup and taking a slow lip. It burned his tongue—exactly the dagger-like pain Sam needed to distract him from the dull ache in his chest leftover from his dream. Based on the hint of sweetness, it seemed Bucky had prepared the coffee exactly the way Sam liked it: with two teaspoons of vanilla creamer.

"So, uh… Why are you up this early?" Sam asked, breaking the silence between them as he leaned against the island. "And making eggs?"

Bucky shot him a flat look. "I don't like how surprised you sound."

Sam rolled his eyes, fighting back his first smile of the day. "Come on, man. You sleep like a log on your best nights until 8 or 9. I would know, because there's nothing you hate more than when I try waking you up for a run." Sam was successful in such attempts maybe a tenth of the time. "Also, you're still kind of a hazard in the kitchen."

Bucky frowned. "Even I can't screw up eggs."

Sam snorted into his mug. "Don't jinx yourself." He hadn't missed the way Bucky chose not to address the first half of his comments, though, so he paused for only a second before adding, "Was it not a good night, then? That why you're up early?" Cooking was a fair distraction from a nightmare—Sam could testify to that.

Bucky nudged the eggs around the pan. "Actually, it was a great night." He jerked his head towards his cell phone, which Sam noticed was balanced on the arm of the couch maybe half a foot away from where Bucky's ears would be positioned if he was lying down. "I set an alarm for 7 so I could wake up and cook breakfast. Figured everyone would be pretty tired from last night."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Bucky's consideration was sweet, but what had really caught Sam's attention… "You know how to set an alarm on your phone?"

"Don't need to." Bucky grinned at him, looking so pleased with himself that Sam almost burst out laughing. "Cass showed me how to use Siri."

That comment succeeded in earning true laughter from Sam, though he suspected his lack of sleep made him find the idea of Bucky using Siri more hilarious than he normally might. "Oh, now there's a great image. How many tries did it take you?"

Bucky's face reddened, and he dropped eye contact with Sam. "Four."

A sound escaped Sam's lips that suspiciously resembled pfft, as if he was an immature tween for a second period in his life. "Wow. That's"—he snickered—"well, four is better than five."

"Uh huh." Bucky finished scrambling the eggs in the pan to his satisfaction, carefully using the black spatula to move them onto a large platter already more than halfway covered with eggs. "You think another five eggs will be enough for everyone?"

Sam scrutinized what Bucky had already prepared. "Better make it six or seven. Parker's appetite rivals yours, remember?"

"Right. Spider metabolism."

A beat passed, and Sam took another sip of coffee before asking, "Were you just planning to feed everybody eggs, then? Not that eggs aren't a crucial part of a healthy and hearty breakfast, but—"

"Honestly, I thought you'd be up before me," Bucky admitted, cutting Sam off, "so I was planning to see if you'd be willing to do the real cooking. Pancakes or French toast or something."

Sam grimaced, and it was his turn to break eye contact with his friend, instead staring down at the dark liquid of his coffee. "Ah, shit. Sorry."

Bucky shook his head. "You don't need to apologize. It's my fault for assuming."

Sam placed his mug down, massaging his right temple before exhaling slowly. "Well, I'm up now. Might be a little too late for pancakes, but…" A small grin tugged at his lips despite the exhaustion still deep-set in his bones. "Can't go wrong with jam on toast."

Bucky laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's been a staple breakfast food since before my time."

"And we all know you're a regular dinosaur." Sam moved towards the fridge, pulling out a loaf of bread—he still thought it should be a crime to refrigerate bread, but Sarah's house meant Sarah's rules—and a jar of strawberry jam. Afterwards, he switched their toaster oven on, since it always needed about five minutes to heat up before anything could be put in.

"Did you have a rough night?" Bucky's voice was low as he spoke, the softness of his tone only compounded by the fact that he was facing the stove and thus talking away from Sam.

Irritation pricked in Sam's throat at the question, but he knew that was more a reaction to the lingering shakiness from his dream than it was a response to Bucky's concern. He swallowed the sensation.

Instead of letting himself get caught up in painful memories for a second time, Sam focused on the back of Bucky's shoulders, watching how his friend carefully cracked each egg into a ceramic bowl before beating them together with a fork. He used his right hand, of course, the vibranium one cradling the side of the bowl to hold it steady.

"Why do you ask?" Sam finally replied, voice stiffer than he would have preferred. Four minutes until the toaster oven was ready. "Your superhearing working on overdrive?" He didn't remember screaming, but he never knew for sure.

Bucky shook his head. "I told you I slept through the night." There was a high screech as the fork scraped hard against the side of the ceramic. Sam winced at the sound, and to his credit, Bucky did, too. "Sorry. I just…" Bucky sighed, turning around to face Sam with the bowl of eggs still in hand. "You don't usually sleep in. Especially not for almost three hours."

Sam didn't meet Bucky's eyes, keeping his gaze glued to the orange timer on the toaster oven. Three minutes. "Maybe I was just tired."

"Maybe you're a bad liar."

"I don't think you're in any place to criticize someone's ability to lie—"

"Sam."

The use of his name caused Sam's gaze to snap up and meet Bucky's eyes, his friend's expression as steely as their icy color.

"Fine," Sam admitted after a pause. "You're right, it wasn't a great night. But." He pushed off the counter to grab his coffee, sipping at the liquid now rapidly approaching room temperature. "I'm good now. Nothing you need to worry about." Two minutes until the toaster oven was ready.

Bucky gave him a look so skeptical Sam would have laughed had he not been the one under fire. "When you start making the same excuses I do, that's a sign there's a problem."

Sam rolled his eyes. One minute. "Gee, thanks."

Bucky hesitated, but he turned back to face the stove, carefully pouring the beaten eggs into the pan. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'm here to listen. If you need it."

Sam sighed. He placed his coffee down, stepping forward to give Bucky's right shoulder a quick squeeze. "Thanks, man. I know you are."

The toaster oven beeped, and Sam released Bucky's shoulder to begin pulling slices of bread from the bag. He said nothing further about his dream. Maybe later he'd want to talk about it. Be able to talk about it. But not right now.

Not with Riley's desperate, dying expression still so fresh in his mind.

They worked in silence after that. Bucky soon finished scrambling the eggs, joining Sam to help prepare the toast. Sam pretended his heart didn't flutter each time Bucky placed a gentle hand on his hip to indicate he was moving past him.

"Wait, you're out of butter knives," Bucky said as he pulled open their utensil drawer, a small frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

Sam chuckled. "It's fine. We'll run the dishwasher after breakfast. Either grab a spoon or check the other drawer."

Bucky stared at him blankly. "You have another fork drawer?"

Sam's chuckling became genuine laughter. "Wow. You've been to this house how many times, and you still don't know where we keep the other set of silverware?"

"We've never needed extra silverware," Bucky grumbled, face dusted with pink. It was cute—an observation Sam decided to pin solely on his lack of sleep.

"Well, every day's a school day." Sam placed two new pieces of bread inside the toaster oven before taking Bucky by the waist and steering him towards a wooden drawer on the left of their fridge. "Second one down. Pull it open, push it closed. Think you can handle it from here?"

"Shut up," was Bucky's eloquent response, and Sam laughed again as he released his friend's waist. He started to turn back towards the counter, where the final slices of bread were waiting to be toasted, but something on the fridge calendar caught his eye.

Next Saturday, the 10th, had… a heart on it? A rather sad-looking, wobbly heart, if Sam was honest, encircling most of the word 'Crave.' Referring to the restaurant, he assumed. And if there was a heart of all shapes around it…

"A date," he muttered under his breath. Sarah and May, it had to be.

"Who's going on a date?" Bucky asked, now holding two butter knives. "Not you, I'm guessing."

Sam snorted. "Screw you, I could get a date if I wanted to." He just… rarely wanted to. Dating apps and blind dates had never worked for him, much less casual hook-ups. Sam had to—had to know someone before romance even crossed his mind. Which was probably why he'd never been seriously interested in someone before or since Riley, because Sam hadn't and didn't know anyone the way he'd known Riley.

Well, there was Bucky, now. But that hardly counted.

Right?

"Good point, I can't imagine Captain America would need help with the ladies."

"Hey, I am perfectly capable of getting a date of any gender with solely my own personal charm," Sam said, offended by the implication he'd all but have to go out in uniform to land a date. "No title required."

Bucky chuckled, offering Sam one of the butter knives. "Well, you're 1:0 against Steve there."

Sam's half-genuine irritation dissipated, a snort escaping his lips as he accepted the knife. "Ouch. Low blow."

"Yeah, he was so short before the serum that low blows were all he could hit."

Sam burst out laughing. "Oh my God, Buck." Steve's ears were probably burning up in that nursing home he was in, hidden on the moon or wherever.

A pleased smirk formed on Bucky's lips, as if he'd been waiting all morning to hear such genuine, elated laughter from Sam.

"Anyways," Sam managed to say once his snickering had died down and they'd both started spreading jam across beautiful golden-brown toast, "I'm assuming it's Sarah and May. Going on a date, I mean."

Bucky nodded, humming. "Good for them."

It was good for them. Sam was delighted to see his sister get back out there, especially with someone as wonderful as May. Although Peter Parker could work Sam's nerves, it was clear May had raised the kid well—further testament to May's charm and patience. But despite Sam's certainty…

There was still a sense of anxiety eating away at his stomach. Sarah and May had only known each other for two months, verging on three now, and Sam just didn't understand how—

Unimportant.

He refused to think about it right now.

"What about you?" Sam asked Bucky instead of dwelling further on his internal confusion. He placed a perfect piece of toast on a plastic plate.

Bucky scooped a serving of eggs onto the same plate. "What about me?"

"Have you been on any dates lately?"

Bucky scowled, and Sam bit back a laugh. Really, Bucky was the human personification of Grumpy Cat. "Kind of."

Sam raised an eyebrow, seeing as it wasn't the 'no' he'd truthfully expected. "'Kind of'?" he repeated. "You'll have to be more specific."

Bucky sighed, shoulders slumping. "I tried dating apps for a bit. Didn't like them very much." His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Too many pictures of people's… genitalia. And what was with all the tigers?"

That earned a snicker from Sam even as he pretended his heart hadn't skipped a beat at the revelation Bucky wasn't looking solely for female company. "No idea, man. I don't pretend to understand dating apps, either."

"I did have one… almost good date," Bucky continued after a pause. Sam could tell from the hesitation in his voice that Bucky was blushing, no looking over required. He glanced anyway. "But it probably would've been better if I hadn't walked out on her."

Sam nearly dropped his butter knife. "You walked out on her?!"

Bucky groaned, scraping more eggs onto a new plate. "I know, I know. Not my finest moment."

"Uh, that's an understatement."

"In my defense, this happened before you dragged me into the Flag Smashers mess. I wasn't in a great headspace then."

Sam scoffed. "I dragged you? Nah. You were the one who showed up unasked for at the airport and demanded I bring you to Germany." He paused. "Actually, no. You didn't even demand it—you just boarded the damn plane."

Bucky was giving him a shit-eating grin. "Really? That's not how I remember it."

Sam rolled his eyes, but he withheld his snarky retort because of Bucky's far-too-pleased smirk. "Shut up and serve the damn eggs." Smartass.

"Do you think you'll start dating again?" Bucky asked after a pause, a new hesitance to his voice that Sam couldn't identify the source of. "Now that everything's more… stable, I guess."

A pang shot through Sam's heart, his stomach dropping just like it had in his dream as he'd watched Riley fall, fall, fall—

"Don't know," he managed to say. It was as honest of a response as Sam could muster right now. "I just… I'm not looking for anything one-off, you know?"

Not wanting to keep the conversation so centered on himself, Sam redirected the focus back to Bucky. "What about you? You weren't in a great headspace then, but it's fair to say you're in a better one now, right?"

Bucky snorted. "The bar was in hell, but yeah, I guess so."

Sam kept his attention on preparing the plates in front of him, but he could feel Bucky's gaze flicker across the side of his face all the same. The intensity with which Bucky stared made heat rise to Sam's cheeks, only fading when Bucky looked away.

"I don't know either, though," Bucky continued after a pause. "Like you said, I'm not sure I'm interested in casual dating anymore."

Sam wasn't sure why his heart sank at that. But he forced a smile onto his lips. "Understandable. How's this—if we aren't both married by 50, we marry each other for the tax benefits?"

Bucky gave him a scandalized look, more so than Sam thought the situation warranted, hilarious as the reaction was. "You want us to—what?"

Sam laughed. "You've never heard people say that before?"

"No!" Bucky said, as if Sam's suggestion was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard. "You don't—you can't just—marriage is more than—"

"Alright, alright, Mr. Old-Fashioned," Sam interrupted, chuckling at Bucky's stumbled response. He took advantage of their close proximity as they finished preparing the last of the breakfast plates to nudge Bucky's hip with own. "I'll marry someone else for the tax benefits. I bet Torres would volunteer in a heartbeat."

An odd, almost queasy expression flashed across Bucky's face, but it was soon replaced by his signature scowl. "Hell no. Don't ask Torres. I'll marry you." A pause. Red-faced, Bucky hastily added, "For the tax benefits. If you don't find anyone else to get with your stupid ass by 50. Or whatever."

"My ass is sexy, thank you very much," Sam said with a smirk as he moved to wash jam off his hands in the kitchen sink. Seemed that teasing Bucky was the perfect distraction to get Sam's mind off the events of his sleepless night. "In fact, you should be grateful that I'm extending the offer of marriage to you first. You know how many people would kill to marry Captain America?"

Bucky snorted, apparently having recovered some of his dignity. "I think you should be embarrassed that I'm the first person you're making the offer to."

Sam tilted his head. "Aw, fuck." He sighed. "You're right. How far have my standards fallen?"

Bucky grinned at him, and Sam had a feeling today might not be so bad after all.

xXx

IMPORTANT: as i mentioned, my update schedule will be slightly modified for the next TWO chapters. chapter three is comparatively much shorter simply because of how the chips fell, so i will be posting that update this upcoming tuesday. because kataang week (hi atla fans) also begins next week, i will be posting chapter four of this story on the following saturday (instead of friday). thank you for your patience and understanding!

as always, feel free to scream with me on tumblr starkravinghazelnoots :)