Sarah lets herself in the back door and nearly drops the package she’s holding when she hears Bucky say, “Hey!”
“What?!” she asks, one hand on her heart in a futile attempt to still its racing.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he yells in unbridled excitement as he enters the kitchen carrying her gift. “I got you a tree! It’s a fig tree. I love you this much. I got it at, uh, at a flower shop; and I saw it and I was like ‘fuck flowers, guys, she wants a tree!’ It was hell to get in the car, but I did it.”
“Oh my gosh, Bucky! It’s perfect! Can you put it in our bedroom? Right by the window?”
“You got it, doll.”
“Thank you. And, uh, stay there. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
He pauses mid-stride and looks at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
She waves the package in her hand at him and says, “I’ve just gotta put your gift on. Shouldn’t take me long… there’s not much to it.”
Head Canon / Sketches for Prologue of Upcoming One-shot Fic: “Formal Introductions”
“Momma?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Momma! I’m a big kid now. If you’re gonna call me baby, you have to add Wolf to it.”
“You want me to call you Baby Wolf, AJ?”
“Well…yeah!” He grins around the mouthful of sugar cookie he’s devouring.
She knows where all this came from. She’s not exactly mad at it.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Bucky Barnes is a 107 year old White yankee from New York, a US Army Veteran and former POW, former international Russian assassin/HYDRA spy and Wakanda warrior, she’d consider him and her 8 year old Black son to be two peas in a pod: White Wolf and Baby Wolf. Both tender-hearted and kind. Both fiercely loyal to family and friends. Both sometimes stubborn as mules. Both happiest when snuggled up on her. Both owners of her heart.
“Ok. Yes…Baby Wolf?”
“Now that you and Uncle Bucky are, like, going steadily…can he come with us to visit Daddy?”
“It’s going steady. Did you ask him if he wanted to? And where did you hear about going steady?”
“Uncle Sam said Uncle Bucky gets all smiley when he thinks about you when they’re at work, and that he acts like you guys are goin’ steady. He said Uncle Bucky’s fixin’ to ask you to go to The Prom. What’s The Prom?”
“We’ll talk about all that later, sweetheart. You and Cass can definitely ask Bucky if he wants to come with us to visit your father. But…don’t be disappointed or sad if he says no. Ok? The cemetery might be an uncomfortable place for him, because of all the people he…remembers and have passed. But I’m sure he’d be happy if you guys asked.”
She takes a dishcloth and wipes the cookie crumbs off of her child’s mouth.
“And…” she murmurs and tries to hide her grin, “I’m gonna smack Sam upside his head next time he’s here. Goin’ steady….”
As Sarah is rinsing out a glass, AJ looks over and sees her smiling to herself. And he can tell by the way she kind of glows, that his Momma is blushing.
************
A quick wave to @pickwick12 over at AO3 for the nickname “Baby Wolf”. Because of the lovely “Bucky and the Wilsons” series she wrote, that nickname is ensconced into my headcanon too.
“It’s really nice to see how much people started shipping Bucky and Sarah, because initially we broke a whole love story with them. There was a scene where Bucky knocks on the door and Sam is not there, in Louisiana, and she answers, and she looks at him and smiles, and he says “I’m Bucky”, and she’s like “I know who you are”. So, we broke the entire love story, and then, again, there’s just no way, like… Unless you’re gonna mangle the actual stories to force Bucky to be in Louisiana enough to make that happen, it just wasn’t working, but I think people felt it in the little bit of space that we had.”
Ok well bucky CAN be in Louisiana enough for it to happen now that he’s free to do whatever the fuck he wants (wait out that NYC apt lease and move)
For everybody talkin’ ‘bout Bucky thinking about Steve’s long-dead mama…or thinking about Sam…or anybody else when he was smiling with his whole heart and CLEARLY had run his eyes over that beautiful Black woman standing right there? HERE is the link to the interview. Right from the mouth of the person who created the damn thing.
Want what your heart wants. Ship who you want. You can do that. But we saw what we saw *and so did you* unless you’re working with a massive case of Denial or something else.
They extensively talked about, wrote, broke, and shot scenes of Bucky Barnes and Sarah Wilson’s burgeoning love story. But things being what they were, couldn’t fit it into the 6 episode series that had already had its plot messed with by covid. 7 episodes would have made it official. They had 6, and they gave us a big old “hey! check this out!” in episode 5. And it took less than, what, a minute? Hell. YES.
Anyway, I sincerely hope that in Captain America 4, there is at least a little indication that this relationship is official and Sarah Wilson is the new Laura Barton, meaning that we know that at least one Avenger has a Home Life that they return to when they’re not Superhero-ing.
Maybe in a future Avengers flick, some of them visit Delacroix, stay with Bucky and Sarah for a night and have seasoned food out in their backyard.
I don’t come up to the sky to tell you how to barrel roll or whatever, so don’t come down here and start messing around with things you clearly don’t understand.
SARAH WILSON in THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (1.05)
April Showers Brings Shenanigans and Foolery - The Vacation Edition:
“Vacation Interruptus”
Day 4 — Tuesday Evening
Rated: T
Relationships: InTheDoghouse!Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson
Inspired by Sebastian Stan’s cover story photo spread in L’Officiel hommesmagazine.
**********
Every time a text from him started with “Sorry Buck,” they knew.
And Sam knew they were on vacation. That’s why he didn’t do his usual text-and-wait-for-Bucky-to-call-backthing.
This time he called directly.
He called just as Sarah and Bucky were getting ready to enjoy the dinner they prepared together.
Being that she’s a Grown-Assed Woman, Sarah didn’t cry, but she wasn’t happy…at all.
Bucky didn’t punch a wall, but he took his cellphone and stalked out the front door, slamming it behind him.
(He knew that slamming doors wasn’t something Sarah tolerated in her home so, by force of habit, that slam was like a last-second pulled punch because had he actuallyslammed the door, it and the frame would’ve had to be replaced on the 1930s-40s era mansion.)
Bucky didn’t do much fieldwork anymore, but he and Sarah knew he could still be called if there was a Situation. It could happen at any time because that’s his job and the nature of the biz: Team Cap. Avengers Adjacent. Superhero.
Call it what you may. It is what it is.
That’s why along with their few pieces of vacation luggage, Bucky brought The Backpack.
The custom-made backpack with special compartments that discreetly held 7 of his fixed-blade knives along with his Work Clothes, some toiletries, and as always, a couple of books. He also had 2 gun scopes and his work laptop with its accessories. The team would have any other as-needed firearms and a burner phone waiting for him on the transport.
The car would be arriving about an hour after Sam’s call.
He had 10 minutes to get packed and prepared, and then time for he and Sarah to…
He wondered if she would even want to talk to him right now, let alone anything else.
While he was outside getting the rundown, she found some Tupperware and packed both his dinner and hers for him to take with, loaded the dishwasher, did a cursory cleanup of the almost already clean kitchen, then she went upstairs to the bedroom, opened the doors leading out onto the balcony overlooking the large swimming pool, and tried to think of anything other than him leaving.
“Jarvis…?”
“Yes, Ms. Wilson…” The A.I. voice coming from the bedroom’s speakers was soft, soothing, and had a posh British accent.
“Pool lights. Grotto setting…please.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
When the lights in the pool and in the surrounding foliage slowly started to glow in the encroaching twilight, they began to cast a soft ambient light up into the bedroom as Bucky quietly walked in.
“Sarah…I didn’t mean to just…and slam the door like that. I was…angry and didn’t want—“
“You’re angry?” she scoffed, but didn’t raise her voice. She also didn’t turn around to face him, either. “Welcome to the club, Bucky.
So…how long before they come get you, and when will you be back?”
(She called me “Bucky”. Shit.)
“The car should be here in about an hour, and Sam says 3 days. I’ll be back on Saturday. Nandi—“
“You got everything you need?”
“I need you. Bast dammit, baby. I don’t want to go. You know I’d—“
“And we both know Sam wouldn’t’ve asked for you if he didn’t need you, but that doesn’t make it…it doesn’t mean I’m happy about this.”
“I know, Sarah. Uxolo—“
“You can be ready in 10. That gives you 50 minutes to get over here and take both our minds off of Sam calling and you leaving me here alone on our vaca—“
He was already across the room and she was in his arms before she finished her sentence.
Touching his forehead to hers, his hands settled on the small of her back, pulling her closer.
“Let’s not talk about Sam, or me leaving. Not right now, Ok? Not when we only have 50 min—“
“40. You’ll have to shower and suit up—“
“We’ll have to shower…” he picks her up and carries her to the bed, “and I can suit up in 5.”
“James…just come back to me safe and in one piece, mthandi.”
“I will, intanda.”
“Youbetter.”
49 minutes and 45 seconds later…
He makes it downstairs just as the car arrives, with 15 seconds to spare.
Reblog Sunday - The AU Edition: The Renaissance Songbooks by @btwxsixesandsevens
One of my favourite SarahBucky AU series was released this past November for the 2021 Fleur De Louve Month on Tumblr.
It’s a self-contained series that takes place during the Renaissance, with Lord Buchanan and his Lady Sarah.
Just little side step from the Jazz-inspired Sarah Bucky Songbooks, you get all of the SarahBucky goodness, with Guest Appearances and a Renaissance era music playlist!
Sam stands in the chapel, looking up at the stained glass and thinking about ends of the world.
Bucky stands just across from him. He’s wearing Sam’s ancient grey US Air Force hoodie and sipping solemnly from a juice box. Sam is thinking maybe they could put a tabletop in – convert some of those pews. In college he’d spent a week bartending to cover for a friend, and he wasn’t half bad.
“So we’re adopting four kids now,” Bucky says, into the quiet.
The chapel isn’t big enough for his voice to echo. It just sounds out, matter-of-fact, and Sam, already wearied by the inescapable, unchangeable burden of life, says,
“Yeah.”
Bucky takes another sip of the juice. It’s apple flavoured; there’s a little cartoon Macintosh on the front with its thumbs up.
“Okay,” he says, and in a way, Sam supposes, that’s the beginning of it all.
Sunday Reblog - The AU Edition: hopelessby@philtstone
Yes, Dystopia, but…so much more about Family & Community and just Living Day to Day.
And also, Love slowly and gently blossoming as The World Ends once again.
The Summary and tags let you know what’s what, but note, you absolutely don’t need to know what “Arcane” is to get this. Do NOT let that stop you from reading this 18 chapter series.
what would aj and cass call bucky if he and sarah were dating and he lived with them?
If I may…
They called him Uncle Bucky from first day they met him..
But, as Sam never gets tired of reminding Bucky, his “Uncle” status is a step beneath Sam’s as Sam is their Momma’s actual brother. (“Big brother” according to Sam. “Little brother…now,” says Sarah.)
The boys call him “Uncle B” around their friends. (Their friends call him “Sargent Barnes” or “Mr. B”.)
Cass, wanting to be Grown, started calling him “Uncle James” for a while. Eventually, he went back to Uncle Bucky.
Fast-forward: One day, not long after Bucky proposed, and Sarah (and the boys) accepted, AJ found him in the dining room on his laptop,
“Uncle Bucky?”
“Yes, AJ?”
“When do we get to start calling you Dad?”
Some day, it will be a title he’ll cherish even more than he does “White Wolf”.
This idea has totally distracted me from writing my main series for the last 2 weeks. Perhaps this moodboard will be enough to quiet it down…or perhaps this is the springboard as well as a moodboard.
Circa 1872: Miss Sarah Wilson meets Sergeant J.B. Barnes at a church fundraiser…they dance.
Sgt. JB Barnes and Miss Sarah Wilson? And dancing??
I’ll be over here waiting with + for a story, because YES, PLEASE.
Tags: SarahBucky, Bucky in the Shower, Singing, Memories, fluffy!
Words:1.7k
Thursday was Bucky’s day off. It was the day he had the house to himself all day. On Thursdays, he ran his errands, had his coffee dates with Perry, made sure that Mrs. Barker, the across the street neighbor, didn’t need anything. That Thursday, he trimmed Mrs. Barker’s hedges, for which he was paid with a paperbag full of peaches. He had no idea what he was going to do with them, wondered how many peaches he could eat before he got sick. Probably a lot.
***
Thursday was Sarah’s most unpredictable day. Prepping for the weekend rush could be exhausting, some weeks, enough to make her drink. But some weeks, everything aligned and just *worked*. This Thursday was a magical one — no one called in sick, the deliveries all came on time. She was empty handed by noon and decided to treat herself to a few hours at home. Maybe enjoy some time with Bucky before he left to DC for the weekend.
1) I love this fic! Bucky finding and learning to be comfortable with a part of his voice, shouting, through singing. And he picks a song that is in essence a shout from the heart.
And I love the conversation he and Sarah have about why he’s singing, and a little of his history.
2) It’s Adele’s Birthday! I am ever gobsmacked at the sound of her voice on the chorus of this song. It sounds like her heart just opens completely. No extraneous melisma, no screaming. No real acrobatics. Just…singing the damn song.
To paraphrase Sarah: “If you don’t sing along on that part, you just might be a robot.”
Pairings: Marc Spector/Original Male Character, Steven Grant/Original Male Character, Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson
Warnings: non-descript depiction of violence, swearing
Words: 4585
A/n: why did I write this much. bouncing up and down like a rubber ball being thrown around by a hyperactive 4 year old. Which is essentially me. Help
_________________________________________
“You do know that what you’re doing here is illegal, right?”
Cem frowned. Many would say that facial expressions were readable, but truthfully, the cook felt rather illiterate at the moment.
Still, some kind of sense should be able to be made out of the mans drawn together eyebrows, observant eyes and pearly whites peaking out from the left corner.
“Not per se, no.”, he tried to argue as he adjusted his stance. “Looking you up on Twitter and finding your nephews account isn’t what I’d call illegal. Well, actually, it kinda is- would be- if I did it for like, you know, weird reasons.”
Another man entered the room. His expression was much more readable than the first guys’; Cem was very much fluent in One-Wrong-Move-And-I’ll-Whoop-Your-Ass, and he really hoped this wouldn’t end up in a scuffle.
Because he, without a doubt, would loose. Better clear this up quick then.
Raising his hands, he took a step backwards.
“Uhm, what I actually wanted to say; I need your help.”
Quick and spot-on, like ripping off a bandaid. Silence, sticky as the remnants of adhesive clinging to the skin, followed.
The men exchanged a look.
“Help? What kind of help? You know the Avengers aren’t your personal guard dogs to beat up sleazy landlords for you.”, Samuel Wilson finally spoke, crossing his arms. The man to his left, James Buchanan Barnes, chuckled.
“Exactly, that’s Jones’ job.”, he snickered, earning a shove.
Cem relaxed, if only slightly. At least they didn’t look as if they were about to beat his ass to a pulp anymore.
“Okay, okay.”, Barnes started again, feigning hurt as he rubbed at his vibranium shoulder. “You gotta use your words man. Help’s got a pretty broad definition, ya’ know? You gotta be more specific.”
Yeah, right. He did have a point with that. The cook shifted again, putting his weight from the right foot on the left.
“Yeah, um, maybe we could sit down for that? If you’re okay with it, of course. Because… it’s a damn long story.”
_______________________________________
Bucky nipped on his beer, the taste of alcohol on his tongue faint, but welcome. Sure, a Heineken was no match for his superhuman metabolism, though he couldn’t help but savour the miniscule amounts of ethanol in his system.
“Okay, so I think I got this part.”, he mused, setting down the bottle. “Your husband developed multiple alters whom you get along with or don’t, depends. And you want to get them professional help.”
The guy across from him, Cem, as he’d learned, shifted his head slighty to and fro, a frown written all over his features.
“Yeah, for the most part. We’re not sure how many alters there are yet, though.”
Now it was Sam’s turn to frown.
“That’s good and all…”, he spoke, taking a swig from his bottle aswell. “But how can we help you with that? I’m sure there’s a lot of qualified psychiatrists and therapists where you’re from, you wouldn’t really need the Avengers help to get a refferal.”
To their surprise the man in front of them flustered, a hand reaching up to rub at his neck awkwardly.
“Ah, well, how do I put this-”, Cem babbled, now nervously biting his lip and cramming around in his pockets. “Maybe it’s best I just show it to you. I can- I can trust you guys, right?”
See, if you’d have asked Sam to make a list of values most important to him, loyalty would be in the top three, no doubt. The guy would rather fight a murderous, mind-controlled supersoldier than break the trust placed into him, Bucky thought with fondness.
“If there’s someone you can trust, it’s this guy right here.”, the man proudly declared as he threw an arm over Sam’s shoulders. “You can trust me too, because if I’d break it, Sammy here would beat my ass.”
With growing satisfaction, Bucky noticed the tension in Cems body to fall, his chest rising with a deep breath.
“Okay, okay. Um, here- wait, it’s not turning full-screen… there!”
A phone was placed in front of them, the screen protector sporting a single, offensive crack from left to right. On the screen itself however, something else was going on.
A bathroom. Big, lots of mirrors and sinks. Then finally-
Screaming, banging, the sounds of stuff breaking. The door to the bathroom swung open and a man stumbled in, clutching at his arm and looking around with wild, panicked eyes.
“Who’s tha-”
“Shush!”
As if on cue, Steven animatedly started to talk to Marc, or rather, yelling at him. It took a moment for the two Avengers to realize this and that the man on screen was not, in fact, talking to himself.
Banging. Heavy banging. Debris flew towards the panicked man, but he didn’t seem to care much. His eyes were fixated on the mirrors, his reflexion, but Cem knew better.
Bucky cocked his head.
“Really don’t wanna know what’s behind this door if I’m being honest.”
Instead of shushing him, Sam seemed to be too invested in watching the screen and might’ve actually agreed with the other.
Then it happened, almost all too fast.
The walls flickering with ancient hieroglyphs, swallowing the offensive neon lights overhead; Steven going slack-jawed, his head tipping backwards with his eyes wide open; the door bursting from it’s hinges - something entirely made a claws and teeth and hatred launching itself at the man, tearing him to the ground with all but a single care about his wellbeing.
Cem flinched, looking at the horrified faces of the men in front of him. He had too, the first time Marc had shown him the recording. Which may or may not have resulted in a very tear-filled night and also several threats towards a certain someone.
An agonized howl ripped the cook from his thoughts, redirecting his attention to the jakal having been kicked off of the man in a fairly frightening display of strength.
He stood, eyes glowing with nothing but godly light and determination as bandages from beyond their plane of existence wrapped themselves around his body, covering every inch of skin that was to be seen.
Marc didn’t waste a second to grab hold of the jakals hind legs, dragging it back into the bathroom to deliver blow after blow, increasing in fatality.
A last, pained wheeze, then; finally. The jakals body went limp, even the last twitches of pain subsiding.
The recording cut off just as Marc looked at the camera, the bandages and armor and otherwordly glow dissapearing until he was just a Marc again.
Silence.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but -”
“That was the freakiest shit I’ve ever seen!”, Sam interrupted the turk, face one of pure exasperation. “And- I’ve met a wizard, dude!”
“You’ve met a wizard dude?”
“Well he’s- nevermind. But, can you like, explain to us what the hell that just was?”, Bucky chimed in aswell. His previously emptied bottle was swiftly replaced by a new one.
Cem reached for his first.
“Okay, um, you know how I told you how Marc has DID?”
Both men nodded, something along the lines of “Duh.” written all over their faces.
“Still doesn’t explains how he turned into Casper and beat the shit out of this giant ass dog.”, Sam challenged, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Oh dear.
“Ah…”, the cook fumbled with a bottle cab, tracing his thumb across the outer ridges. “Told you guys it was a long story. So, uh, Marc and I went to the Marines together. Was alright until he got discharged for his ‘history of mental illness’.”, Cem mocked, mimicking quotation marks with his fingers. “Anyway, we got married and joined CIA right after. Wasn’t really ours either so we ditched and he went to being a merc. That went well until-”
He stopped, blinking rapidly and licking his lips. He’d almost forgotten how much he hated talking about this part simply because of the horrid memories, but it couldn’t be avoided. Not if he genuinely wanted to get them the help they need.
Cem startled when a hand found his shoulder. He looked up to see Sam smiling at him, kind and carrying. Hmm. Bucky really seemed to have been truthfull when he’d proclaimed the others undying pledge to loyalty and kindness.
“Easy, dude, we got plenty of time. My sister and nephews will be here in ten, I’m sure she won’t mind us slackin’ a bit, okay?”, the Captain assured Cem as he squeezed his shoulder lightly.
Given how nice Sam was (and what he’d seen on his nephews Twitter), his sister surely would be as nice of a person as he’d envisioned.
A warm breeze caught them, tiny droplets of water sprinkling their faces like freckles. Cem had been too caught up in trying not to invoke the Avengers’ fury upon himself and his loves, that he’d completely missed to admire his surroundings.
The dock was hardy. Well loved too. Every blemish the cook had spotted had been taken care of; a slightly lighter colored plank, glistening nails and freshly painted handrails. People were out and about. Repairing the smaller boats, no bothering with the big one that had PAUL & DARLENE written on the side. A bunch of elderly men loudly arguing about the repair of a truck one of them had recently purchased. Children chasing after each other, their feet trampling over the weathered plank and almost crashing into a woman carrying a fairly delicious smelling pot.
As if on cue, Cems stomach rumbled.
The woman approached them, enamel pot now expertly balanced on her hip as she lifted her finger to her lips, daring the cook to say something.
Creeping closer and closer -
“Hey, where’s your husband if you don’t mind me- GOD DAMNIT! Sarah!”
Sam jumped in his seat upon being grabbed by the neck like a misbehaving kitten, his shoulders scrunching up in an instant. Both Bucky and the woman burst out laughing, the later letting him out of her grip only to ruffle over his buzzcut.
Must be his sister, then.
“Hi!” Cem stood, maybe a little too fast, laying his hand over his heart and then extending it towards her, a most welcoming smile exposing his teeth. “I’m Cem, nice to meet you!”
She took his hand, an equally as warm smile on her face.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Sarah, Sam’s sister. Did he try to invite you to the cookout already?”
Bucky snickered, obviously used to these kinds of conversation.
“Ah, not really.”, the cook confessed, scratching at his chin. “Just needed some help and I figured they could help me.”
He shrugged. Somehow this whole ordeal was starting to feel weird. Sure, he’d been really desperate (still was) when he’d sought them out for help, but that didn’t justify borderline stalking them on social media and showing up at their home uninvited.
The three exchanged a look, obviously aware of Cem’s inner turmoil. Given how none of the boys said anything, Sarah had to take matters into her own hands.
“Hey.”, she offered, putting a hand on the cooks shoulder. “Listen, how about you actually come to the cookout as I said? Everything’s better with food and I’m sure we’ll find a solution for your problem. 'kay?”
To put it mildly, Cem was stunned.
“I- yeah, yeah, that sounds… that sounds nice… uhm, can I by any chance bring someone? We can bring food aswell!”
_______________________________________
Marc hummed in approval as he finished licking the spoon his husband had just handed him clean, putting it in the hotel room sink next to the other used utensils.
So far, he had yet to discover a flaw in being married to a Michelin star chef.
Except for not being allowed to eat the curry because it was for a cookout, that was.
“You know I’m gonna be really mad if I don’t get to eat half of that later, right?”
Cem chuckled as he walked over to the mercenary and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his arm sneaking around his waist.
“Don’t you dare make a scene, you know damn well I could cook this for you anytime.”, he scolded playfully. “There’s also two Avengers there and I’m really not trying to get on their bad side.”
Marc huffed, turning in his husband’s hold to be able to look at him properly.
“I would never.”, he feigned innocence, though it was clearly betrayed by the sly smile on his face.
Cem rolled his eyes. He knew Marc was just messing with him, but he wasn’t going to be mad about it either. Instead he leaned forward, capturing his husbands lips in a tender kiss. The mercenary positively melted, his hand coming up to run his fingers through the short hair on the back of his head.
“Do we really have to go?”, Marc complained against his husbands lips, earning a mix between a groan and a chuckle. “We put on a movie, make it all nice and cozy, share that delicious kosher thai-curry you made…”
Dammit, why did he have to be so convincing? No, he had to be strong. Never show weakness.
“You know we can’t do that love.”, Cem shut the other down, as much as it pained him to do so. “Also, they seemed like genuinely nice people. I’m sure they can help.”
Marc nodded, but seemed… inattentive. His focus straying somewhere else. Following his line of view, Cem found his husband looking at the reflective surface of the hotel room dinner table; either not paying attention or speaking to one of the others.
Where they about to switch?
The cook carefully entangled himself from their embrace, putting a respectable distance in between them in case he’d be met with an alter he wasn’t… well, in a relationship with. Still, a hand on his upper arm remained to show Marc that he was still there, that he wasn’t leaving.
His lashes started fluttering; a telltale sign that someone different was about to front. A small twitch of his cheek, his breathing slowing.
Cem waited patiently as the other stood still. It had been some time since someone other than Marc had fronted, not since they’d left their appartement to catch their flight to Louisiana.
Their more or less spontaneous vacation had been booked immediately after Nazan, Cems sister, had excitedly called them to tell them that she was pregnant again.
See, you might’ve noticed already, but in this household the cook was the one with the best and most spontaneous ideas. This included booking a flight four days earlier than needed and not, as some might deem responsible adult behavior, to New York where Nazan and her husband had recently moved to, but instead to Louisiana.
To… pay some Avengers a surprise visit and ask for mental health care professional recommendations.
You know, like everyone would.
Cem looked back up and noticed that the others irises had dissapeared almost completely, his lashes still fluttering, if only lightly.
He blinked. Again. And again.
Finally, dark brown looked up, meeting Cem’s. A smile spread over his face, and the cook immediately recognized that expression.
“Well hello there…”, he greeted Steven, the corners of his mouth lifting aswell. The gift-shopist wasted no time to wrap Cem in his arms in a rather unusual display of impetuousity, burrying his face in the crook of his neck. Startled, but not negatively so, the taller reciprocrated, burying his face in the crook of Steven’s neck aswell.
“You alright?”, Cem whispered. The man nodded against the fabric of his shirt, drawing a deep breath.
A comfortable silence blanketed the two, the only sounds coming from the cook rubbing soothing circles into Steven’s back.
“We should start getting ready.”, he explained. “I told them we’d be there around five. That okay for you?”
Again, a nod.
“Yeah, yeah… Marc said they were nice?”, Steven asked, untangling himself from their embrace while fumbling with the fabric of the taller mans shirt.
Now it was Cems turn to nod in confirmation.
“Well, they were a bit intimidating at first, but they seem pretty okay. They’ve got those murderous looks down though, especially Barnes.”
Steven chuckled.
Yeah, maybe this wasn’t gonna be that bad.
_______________________________________
“You think this was a good idea?”
Sam looked up to where the other was standing in the doorway of the cabin, arms crossed over his chest.
“What, inviting Cem and Casper to the cookout?”, he replied sarcastically, tucking the photo he’d been looking at back into the window frame. Bucky shot him a look.
“No, buying only three packs of corn for the shrimp boil. Of course I mean them!”
The more or less newly minted Cap snorted, shaking his head. A small wave rocked the boat gently, but not nearly hard enough to throw the two men of balance. Neither could the soft breeze wafting through the cabin and out the window, filling their lungs with warm, salty air. Sam savored the taste as he made his way over to Bucky and gently placed a hand over his still crossed arms. The later scowled, averting his eyes.
“What if he loses control?”, he murmured, still not looking at Sam. “What if someone gets injured, hm? We’ve both seen the guy beat the shit out of that giant ass coyote.”
“It was a jackal, Buck. And I’m very sure Cem only wants to find help for his partners and that they’re not trying to do any harm. Very sure.” Bucky grumbled something under his breath, still not entirely convinced. “He also said that they can control themselves at all times, you know tha-”
“Sam, Bucky! Get your asses out here, the truck doesn’t unload itself!”
Both men groaned in unison. Almost managed to sneak away without being noticed, but no.
“Why’s Sarah so damn observant?”, the older groaned, tipping his head backwards until it hit the doorframe.
Sam snickered in agreement. Leaning forward he pressed a kiss to the other man’s cheek, staying close to his ear.
“Can’t wait 'til she busts out the toddler leashes. Did-”
“Sam!”
“Coming!”
_______________________________________
If Steven had really desired a concussion, he could’ve just rested his head against the bus window.
Thing was, he didn’t, and Cems shoulder was much more comfortable. He sighed as he made himself comfortable, his forehead resting against the others neck with his arm now around Steven’s shoulders.
The anxiety of being affectionate in public had faded from the first time they’d been out together, but it was still very much there. Sure, they had a lot of privileges and didn’t need to be nearly as cautious as others; still, even the faintest hint of a nasty look made Steven’s stomach turn.
Something, movement in his peripheral, caught his attention.
“Your think too much.”, Marc said nonchalantly, stifling a yawn.
“You say that as if it’s something new.”, another voice piped up. Where was… there. Jake’s face, distorted slightly by the single crack, looked at him from the black screen of Cems phone.
The gift-shopist remained quiet, shrugging as his only reaction. A sigh.
“We should sleep more.”, Marc tried to start up the conversation again. “Maybe getting a shrink is really not a bad idea.”
No one said anything, but the others… actually agreed. They couldn’t keep using Cem as their unpaid personal therapist anymore, that couldn’t be good for any of them. Besides, getting out of their little circle and meeting new people didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. Even Marc and Steven had caved after a, rather surprising, agreement of both Cem and Jake on the matter.
The bus jerked, smacking Steven’s head straight into the cooks jaw.
“Ah, fuck!”, Cem groaned, muffled by the hand in front of his mouth. “Bith my thongue.”
“You bit- you bit your tongue?”
Nodding, a pained expression on his face. Marc snorted.
“Stop laughing.”, Steven scolded. He reached up, carefully cradling the others jaw. The turk pinched his eyes shut, a sour expression on his face.
“Marc, ith you can hear me, you’re a thackass and I won’t thave any curry for you.”
“Wha- I didn’t even- I laughed at Steven!”, said jackass tried to defend himself.
Oh, now it was his fault.
“Marc said he laughed at me, not at you.”
Before the cook could even open his mouth for a rebuttal, an announcement bell rang throughout the bus, catching almost every passengers attention.
“Next stop: Sweetwater Guide Service & Marina.” Pause. “Prochain arrêt: Service de guides eau douce et Marina.”
The monotone women’s voice repeated the announcement twice more before quieting again.
“Come.”, Cem said as he wrestled himself out of the seating and took hold of Steven’s hand. “That’s our stop. And tell Marc this is not over yet.”
Sure enough, the bus stopped a few seconds later, opening it’s doors.
Both stepped off, hand in hand in bag with curry pot inside. Several other people had stepped of the bus with them, all loaded with food, drinks and broad smiles.
Together they made their way towards the dock, an elderly lady even striking up a conversation with them about their homemade cookings.
The dock looked even lovelier in the soft evening light, bustling with people setting tables, cooking or generally just having a wonderful time together. Steven’s grip on his hand tightened, Cem squeezing right back. He knew that big social gatherings and meeting now people wasn’t really the others forté; he also knew that they all had agreed on being in need of help and that surely no one would mind them excusing themselves for a few or leaving a bit earlier.
That was, if they didn’t deem that a danger to the general public and decided to throw hands on the spot.
“Cem! Over here!”, Sam’s voice ripped them from their thoughts, said man grinning and waving at them from a small group of people.
The cook recognized a few of them; he also recognized his partner going stiff. Another squeeze of the hand.
“Don’t worry.”, he whispered as they approached the group. “We’re all here. And we’re not afraid to kick ass.”
That actually coaxed a laugh out of the other, just as they reached the destined table.
“Hey guys!”, Wilson greeted both, a broad smile on his face. His eyes found the bag. “What did y'all bring? Smells delicious!”
_______________________________________
“And you- you got fired for vandalizing a toilet?”, Bucky wheezed, trying his best to not spit potato salad all over the table.
The others at the table were clearly amused aswell, if their expressions and poorly hidden grins were any indication.
Additionally to Sam, Bucky and Sarah there were also the laters sons, AJ and Cass. Joaquin Torrès, “Falcon in training”, had joined their little get-together shortly after the others, bringing mentioned potato salad with him.
To be fair, it was positively divine; Cem just had to ask for the recipe.
Steven blushed, staring into his plate.
“I’m just glad they didn’t press charges.”, he confessed, poking at a piece of lettuce with his fork. “Would’ve been really interesting trying to explain to the police that I was being chased by a jakal and Marc-” He sent a look towards AJ and Cass, as if contemplating what to say next. “I’m… you’ve seen the video.”
Sam and Bucky nodded. Sarah looked a little confused, but a look towards her brother who showed her the knife-across-throat gesture seemed to clear things up.
“Oh, oh okay.”, she nodded, pursing her lip. “And you had no idea you had DID?”
Steven shook his had.
“No, no idea. Cem was visiting Nazan and their parents long term at the time, so he couldn’t have cleared things up either. I really thought I was possessed or something.”
Sarah nodded again. Now she seemed even more intrigued than before.
“How did you find out then?”
“I found a phone and a storage key in my walls. Went all around London and to all the different branches, found- an ancient compass, threatened Marc with getting us locked away, saw a God and passed out.”, he shrugged, ignoring the faces the others made at the mention of a God. His hand found Cem’s under the table, the other squeezing his lightly and rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “Cem found us and we had a… conversation.”
The cook snorted.
“With conversation he means we screamed a lot and were momentarily convinced we’d gone bonkers.”
“Sorry, but can we go back to when you said you saw God?”, Bucky suddenly interrupted, his face scrunched up in disbelief. “Was that a metaphor or…?”
Steven looked up. His eyes went searching for something, scanning all over the place. They finally seemed to settle near one of the smaller boats, almost out on the water.
The others followed his line of sight, but obviously found nothing.
“Can you- can you see it?”, Torrès asked, sounding a tad bit antsy. “Is it here?”
When the gift-shopist nodded, many expressions changed. Excluding Cem. He’d seen too much shit that he rarely could be bothered to react to something miniscule like this.
“He’s looking at the water.”, Steven mentioned absent-mindedly.
The present Avengers exchanged a look.
_______________________________________
While the evening had started out a little bit concerning, it had all in all been amazing.
Cem and Steven were, as they’d found out, very pleasant company. Their thai-curry had been absolutely delicious and the later had spent almost two hours telling the a little too hyperactive kids about ancient Egypt while the cook had given them the baseline of what they were dealing with at the moment.
Turns out, they just needed a specialized psychiatrist. Maybe a few more friends. Sam and the others certainly wouldn’t mind inviting them again.
“Here.”, the hero spoke as he gave them a small piece of paper. “Call that number and say I sent you. Doctor Sherman is the best, I’m sure sure she can help you.”
“What’s the second number for?”, Cem asked as he looked at the paper Steven was holding for him to see. They were both stocked up on leftovers from the cookout, the cook holding at least six styrofoam boxes under his arm.
Sam smiled.
“That’s my number, call when you need anything. Oh and, text when you’re in the states again by any chance.”
At that Steven looked a little surprised, even more so that his other.
“I- yeah, yeah, we’ll do. Wait-”, the later fumbled around in his pocket, producing a pen and a slightly crumbled napkin. He scribbled down something, using a styrofoam box as a writing board. “Here, now you’ve got our number too. Just, call, whenever you need something too, I guess.”
He smiled someone crookedly as he handed Sarah, who was standing next to her brother, the napkin. Bucky and Torrès had said their goodbyes a little earlier, due to cranky kids and some government officials calling for their services.
“Okay. See you guys then, and get home safe!”
Goodbyes, handshakes and even a hug were exchanged until the Wilson’s decided the two were good to be sent on their way.
The walk to the bus stop was spent in comfortable silence, hand in hand and a smile on each of their faces.
Things were starting to look up. For all of them.
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While on a mission tracking some stolen StarkTech in Northern Africa, Captain America/Sam Wilson meets Taweret/Layla El Faouly.
At the stakeout, they start talking about aerodynamics and flying techniques, and their wings, speaking a gumbo of both their languages as she speaks English and he speaks a bit of Egyptian.
More to come…because I want to see her eventually visit New Orleans and we see how Taweret takes in Mardi Gras.
Personally, I think she’d showed up at Sarah and Bucky’s after a long night of reveling, and can’t understand why she’s layered in beads and trinkets, but they make her giddy.
She doesn’t remember where she last saw Sam, “but he looked like he was having a wonnnderfultime!”
