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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part III)

Summary: (Y/N) takes a trip down to Delacroix to check in on Sam days after the international incident in Latvia, and their joined by an unexpected but welcomed guest.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a frank discussion of racism/bigotry

A/N: We’re in Delacroix for this chapter, so be prepared for lots of Sam and Bucky shenanigans! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part III) May 2024 Delacroix, Louisiana (Previous Chapter)

The first time (Y/N) had ever visited Delacroix, she was a down-on-her-luck twenty-six year old on the brink of spending yet another Thanksgiving by herself; her relationship with her parents was strained – it always had been, if she were being honest, but that year stood out as being particularly bad – and not even her brother’s pleas for peace could make both sides forgive and forget for the sake of the holidays. Her co-worker down at the VA and new roommate Sam kindly extended her an invitation to spend Thanksgiving in Louisiana with his family and town and after many assurances that she wouldn’t be a burden to them, she finally agreed. True to Sam’s word, his family and the entire small community of Delacroix welcomed her with open arms, and (Y/N) experienced the best Thanksgiving all because of their kindness and selfless generosity. Because of her flourishing career and various superhero-related incidents, she wasn’t able to visit as often as she wanted to since then but in the years following the Snap, she made it a point to regularly check in on Sarah Wilson and her two boys; she owed it to Sam’s memory to ensure that his family was doing okay after he Vanished and in the wake of losing her own daughter, it felt good to know that her emotional support was helping Sarah to take care of AJ and Cass.

“…shocking testimony on Capitol Hill ended with Walker being formally discharged from the Army and stripped of both his military rank and the title of Captain America. The ruling comes as the result of Walker’s shocking murder of an unnamed and unarmed member of the Flag Smashers on the streets of Riga, Latvia, recorded by several witnesses and posted onto social media for the world to see. According to several attendees within the closed hearing, Walker entered into a heated debate with one of the Congressional members when he attempted to cite his partner Lemar Hoskins’ tragic death to rationalize his unjustified actions and blamed the government for shaping his beliefs, but the council did not rescind their decision. No word yet on if Walker has surrendered the shield-”

(Y/N) switched her rental car’s radio to a grainy station playing Zydeco and sighed in irritation. “Nice to hear that the government’s taking responsibility for their own dumb-ass actions…”

Two days earlier, (Y/N) and Steve switched on WHiH just as the news broke and watched the uncensored video of Walker’s unprovoked actions in absolute horror. They kept calling Sam and didn’t stop until he finally picked up the phone and assured them that he and Bucky were safe, and then he explained how Walker got his hands on the Flag Smasher’s stolen super-soldier serum; he went on to tell them that he and Bucky confronted Walker after the murder and forcibly took the shield away from him, and he informed them that because the government stepped in they were benched until further notice. Six hours later, Sarah called and asked (Y/N) to come down to Delacroix out of concern for her brother’s mental health; after a brief discussion with Steve and ensuring that her husband, her daughter and their dog would be safe while she was gone, (Y/N) booked the first available flight to New Orleans.

When she finally reached the Wilson’s house, she parked behind Sam’s truck and pulled her duffel bag out of the trunk before heading up the driveway. She smiled when she saw her best friend repairing a fishing net alongside his nephews and their mother tuning up some equipment at the porch’s small table, and she called out, “Looks like Uncle Sam roped you guys into doing his chores again!”

“Auntie (Y/N)!” AJ and Cass exclaimed, jumping down from the porch and running across the lawn to give her hugs; she laughed and hugged both boys back as Sam and Sarah made their way over to them. “I got an A- on my English report!”

“And I won my class Spelling Bee!” AJ excitedly added.

“Good job, guys! I guess we’ll have to celebrate with the sweet treats I brought and some video games later, huh?” (Y/N) asked and glanced up at the older woman while the two boys did a celebratory dance. “If it’s okay with your mom, of course.”

Sarah smiled and nodded. “As long as you two make your beds before the school bus gets here and stick to your bedtime tonight, then it’s all right with me.” Both AJ and Cass ran back into the house to complete their chores and the two women shared a tight hug. “Thank you for comin’ so quickly, (Y/N),” She murmured before pulling away and gesturing towards the house. “I’ve gotta start packing their lunches, so I’ll let Sam show you to your room.”

Her best friend shot his sister a suspicious look that went ignored as she passed by and he shook his head in disbelief. “She’s a very sneaky person.”

“No, she’s a Wilson,” (Y/N) corrected, giving him a smile and wrapping her arms around him. “She knows when people need help and does whatever she can to get it to them, just like you.” Sam sighed and slowly relaxed into her embrace. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, but maybe later.” He pulled away and mustered up a smile for her benefit as he took her duffel bag from her and slung it over his own shoulder. “I guess I know why Sarah was changing the sheets in the guest bedroom last night. C’mon, Booksmart, we’ll get you settled and I’ll fix you up some breakfast.”

After (Y/N) freshened up and changed into clothing more suitable for the humidity of Louisiana, she came downstairs and sat at the kitchen counter eating the scrambled eggs and toast Sam cooked while the Wilson siblings discussed the ongoing issues concerning their family’s boat.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t wanna tell you last night when you were lookin’ all sad puppy dog in the rain,” Sarah patiently explained as she finished packing her sons’ lunches. “That’s why I gave (Y/N) a call.”

Sam sighed. “It was a rough day.”

His sister glanced away from the brown paper bags she was filling to look over at him. “You mean with Isaiah Bradley?”

“And what they did to him.”

Sarah exchanged a brief glance with (Y/N). “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Sam replied, his thumb thoughtfully stroking the rim of his coffee mug while he looked down. “I’m trying to figure out what it all means.”

“Okay, well, we’re both here for you…but as far as the boat is concerned, bottom line is that Mr. Dinh backed out.” Sarah pulled two Tupperware containers out of the refrigerator and packed them into bags. “I don’t know what to do; parts alone on that thing are gonna eat up most of what we get back.”

“Listen to me: don’t worry. I’m gonna fix the boat.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be off saving the world?” Sarah demanded while Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Why are you back here bothering me?”

He took a seat at the kitchen counter beside (Y/N) and replied, “‘Cause my family’s well-being is a part of the world.”

(Y/N) arched a knowing brow at her best friend. “So, you’re waiting for a lead?”

“…And the government stepped in and took control and kind of benched us…”

Both Sarah and (Y/N) chuckled and when AJ and Cass entered the kitchen with their backpacks, Sarah handed out their lunches and passed two extra bags over to Cass. “Please make sure Bennett and Elling each get one. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“All right.” Sarah gave her sons a bright smile as they headed out the back door. “Bye.”

“Have a good day at school, guys,” Sam added with a small wave.

“See you later, alligators!” (Y/N) called after them and once the screen door closed behind them, her smile faltered and she looked up at Sarah. “Bennett and Elling?”

The older woman nodded. “Bennett and Elling’s dad cannot get up before noon. Kids keep showin’ up hungry but are too proud to ask for any help.”

(Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy for both boys while Sam gave his sister a proud smile. “And you’re like Mom, feeding every kid in the neighborhood.” A strange expression suddenly crossed his features and before either woman could question him, he asked, “How many people still owe Mom and Dad something?”

“All of them. All that’s left, for sure.”

A smile slowly spread across (Y/N)’s face as she realized Sam’s idea. “In that case, it might be time for you two to call in a few favors…”

Sam reached into one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out their address book. “I’m gonna fix this damn boat.”

He left the kitchen in a hurry and while he started making phone calls from the other room, Sarah shook her head and smiled. “A real man of action. I still don’t know how you lived with him all that time in D.C. without goin’ crazy.”

“It’s probably because I counteracted his unique brand of crazy with my own.” (Y/N) took her empty dishes to the kitchen sink and went about washing them as she continued. “If fixing up the boat helps get his mind off everything he’s been through these past few weeks, then I’m all for it; let him channel all those feelings into something productive instead of letting them boil up inside of him.”

“The only problem with that is that until he’s ready to face those feelings, he’s gonna get in my way and mess around with things he knows he doesn’t understand.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Well, that’s when you fight dirty and just push him off the side of the boat.”

Sarah laughed and as both women chatted while they worked on packing up lunch orders for Wilson Family Seafood, (Y/N) was pleased to see the stress momentarily leave the older woman’s eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, (Y/N) joined the Wilson siblings and over half of Delacroix at the docks to help them repair Paul & Darlene; Sam had gone through his family’s entire address book and spent the day calling in each and every favor that he could, but even he seemed a little taken aback by how much of his community showed out to assist him and his sister in their time of need.

“Thank you so much for coming, Ms. Paddy,” (Y/N) smiled at the older woman standing before her and gestured towards the fold-out table further down the pier. “There’s coffee and fresh-baked banana bread for volunteers, and Sarah’s around here somewhere with a list of jobs and tasks that need to get done.”

“I’ll do anythin’, so long as it helps out those Wilson kids. Their mama and daddy did so much for this community before they passed, you know, and all while raisin’ themselves a couple of angels.” Ms. Paddy returned her smile with one of her own and patted her arm. “It was good seein’ you again, sugar. You give that husband and sweet baby of yours my best, you hear?”

After (Y/N) assured her that she would and she left to find Sarah amongst the crowd of volunteers, she headed over to where Sam stood beside a group of fishermen and their truck. “Check it out, Booksmart!” Sam excitedly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed at the wrapped machinery sitting in the truck bed. “Carlos and Tommy here brought a new diesel engine for us!”

“Sam, that’s amazing!” (Y/N) gave her best friend a hug before turning to the pair of fishermen. “Thank you guys so much!”

Carlos chuckled and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Hey, look, word goes out the Wilson family needs help? Well, we got a bit of usefulness in us.”

Sam beamed in happiness. “How do we get it off the truck?”

Before any of them could answer, the engine was easily lifted out of the truck bed and placed on the pier by none other than Bucky; the super-soldier dusted off his hands and adjusted the black glove he wore, seemingly unaware of the fishermen gaping in awe after witnessing him single-handedly lift a two-thousand pound piece of machinery. “You’re welcome.”

As the fishermen moved to help unload another truck, Sam shot (Y/N) a questioning look and she raised her hands in defense. “Don’t look at me, Birdbrain, I didn’t call him.” They both approached the bed of the truck as Bucky placed a sizable case onto the tailgate. “So, what brings you down to Delacroix, Bucky?”

“Just dropping this off. You can sign for it and I’ll go.” He patted the top of the case. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

Sam exchanged a look with (Y/N), but the tell-tale sound of a burst pipe interrupted whatever he was going to say. “Sam!”

The three of them turned to see Sarah pointing to a pipe onboard the boat spewing concentrated steam into the air; Sam jogged over and boarded the boat, reaching for a wrench to try and tighten the pipe’s loose bolt but unable to see through the thick steam. With an exasperated sigh, Bucky followed after him and climbed over the edge, but not before giving Sarah a small wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sarah replied with an uncharacteristically bashful smile that quickly dropped when she caught sight of the knowing smirk on (Y/N)’s face.

“Hold on, hold on…” Bucky guided Sam out of the way and took the wrench from him. “You gotta go up!”

The super-soldier succeeded in tightening the bolt and stopping the leak, and Sam stared at the pipe as he tossed the wrench down onto the open toolbox. “Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

“Well…I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right-handed.” Sam chuckled at that while Bucky took in their surroundings. “So, this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice.” Bucky shuffled his feet and took a deep breath before asking, “You want any help?” (Y/N) smiled to herself when Sam gave him a relenting nod and led him towards the boat’s cockpit, and she made herself appear busy winding ropes when the super-soldier stopped to check Sarah out. “I’m Bucky.”

Sarah looked up from her clipboard and clutched it against her chest as she sweetly smiled at him. “Sarah.”

“Sarah…” Bucky tested out her name with a flirtatious grin on his lips and (Y/N) was forced to bite her lip to keep from laughing when she caught sight of Sam’s less-than-pleased expression.

When both men disappeared into the pilothouse, (Y/N) whistled low and giggled at the older woman’s flustered state. “Mm-hmm, it’s that Brooklyn charm, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, Sarah, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you! He may be an old-fashioned gentleman but those big, bright, beautiful blue eyes were most definitely staring right at your-”

Sarah lightly smacked (Y/N)’s arm with her clipboard while (Y/N) laughed and followed after the two men. After doing away with his jacket and the glove he used to cover his vibranium hand, Bucky went to work helping (Y/N) sand the deck and scrape wood rot off the boat’s wooden surfaces; the super-soldier was a good working buddy, although she caught him distractedly practicing knife flips with the tools on more than one occasion, and he still managed to get on Sam’s nerves by using his enhanced strength and vibranium arm to easily complete his own tasks, which was to remove the rusted rail shear-line and repair the old wiring. While they worked, both men unconsciously relied on (Y/N) to ease the awkwardness born in the wake of their short time in Riga and while it felt a little like babysitting at times, she was just glad that they weren’t at each other’s throats anymore.

“You know, I never really saw the appeal of drinking beer after a long day of work…” (Y/N) took another sip of her beer and sighed as she rested her head against Sam’s arm. “But goddamn if this isn’t the best way to unwind.”

Sam hummed in agreement, but most of his attention was focused on the large metal case they’d brought onto the boat; they both suspected what its contents were and while (Y/N) thought it was wonderful that the Wakandans had made him new wings and a suit to match, she could see that Sam was still conflicted about taking the mantle of Captain America. Their focus was drawn away from the case when Bucky heaved a sigh and got to his feet.

“Well, gotta catch my flight tomorrow.” The super-soldier downed the last of his beer and set the empty bottle down onto the deck. “Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know? Then, I’ll have to get a ride to the airport…”

Sam snorted in amusement. “You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

Shrugging noncommittally, Bucky tossed his jacket over his arm and gestured towards the dock. “I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“Just stay here,” Sam insisted and (Y/N) hid her surprise as she finished off her own beer. “The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small t-shirts or if you have six toes or if your mom’s your aunt.”

Bucky chuckled. “Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

“But don’t flirt with my sister.”

“No.”

“’Cause if you do, I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and set her empty beer bottle down as she stood. “You’d better not let Sarah hear you talk like that, Birdbrain; I hear she’s got a mean right hook.” After giving her grumbling best friend a pat on the shoulder, she looped her arm around Bucky’s and led him back up onto the dock. “C’mon, we’ll take my rental and get you settled up at the house. We’re having Sarah’s homemade jambalaya for dinner, so I hope you brought your appetite with you.”

“Sounds delicious.” Bucky bit his lip and tried not to smile as he continued. “So, Sarah seems pretty nice…”

“She is. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s a damn good businesswoman and an even better mother…and she may or may not have a secret thing for one hundred and six-year-old super-soldiers.” (Y/N) grinned at the blush beginning to color Bucky’s cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a delicious dinner of homemade jambalaya with cornbread and a laughter-filled evening in which (Y/N) unsuccessfully attempted to teach AJ and Cass how to dance the Lindy Hop, everyone decided to call it a night and head off to bed. A brief text from Sam cut (Y/N)’s bedtime skincare routine short and she crept across the hall to his room, where he was sitting up against his headboard and staring unseeingly up at the ceiling; he asked her if they could talk about Isaiah Bradley and the shield and when she readily agreed, he waited for her to make herself comfortable on the comforter across from him before finally opening up to her.

Isaiah Bradley, an African-American soldier who enlisted in the Army just as the Cold War was beginning to take form, was one of hundreds of Black servicemen to be unknowingly turned into test subjects and experimented on with various recreations of Doctor Erskine’s super-soldier serum; the men were told that they were being administered tetanus shots and when it became apparent that the version administered to Isaiah was the most successful, an entire troop of Black soldiers was given the same version and sent out on dangerous combat missions as the Korean War raged on. While operating in Korea on Hydra’s behalf, Bucky first encountered Isaiah at a bar in Goyang in 1951 and their vicious fight led to Hydra considering Isaiah to be one of their most dangerous threats.

“God, it’s just like the Tuskegee Study.” (Y/N)’s stomach churned in horror as Sam silently nodded. “In 1943, Steve volunteered to be one of the SSR’s lab rats and he knew all the possible risks of receiving the serum. But those poor men…”

“If you think that’s bad, just wait until you hear what happened next.”

Around that same time, the other men in Isaiah’s troop had been weakened by the supposed successful super-soldier serum and were soon captured by enemy forces. The Army was planning on authorizing an Air Force strike on the POW camp in order to hide the ample evidence of illegal experimentation and the attempted recreation of Doctor Erskine’s lost work but when Isaiah caught wind of their plans, he single-handedly infiltrated and liberated the camp. He brought every single one of his fellow soldiers back to their base, but the imperfect serum running through their veins began killing them off one by one and for disobeying direct orders, Isaiah was imprisoned for thirty years.

“Steve once disobeyed orders and liberated almost four hundred men from one of Hydra’s POW camps, and they tried to award him a Medal of Valor.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and tightened her arms around her knees as she struggled to keep her anger in check. “The Army might not have gone through with their planned airstrike, but they killed those innocent men all the same. And they didn’t just lock Isaiah up for disobeying orders, those bastards locked him up to keep their illegal experimentation going. That’s what happened to him, isn’t it? They kept experimenting on him for those thirty years?”

“Not just the Army. No, the CIA and even Hydra took samples of his blood to try and replicate the super-soldier serum.”

During his incarceration, Isaiah wrote letters to his wife Faith but his captors never sent them and they even withheld the letters she’d written to him; she’d apparently been told that he was still fighting in Korea and once the conflict was drawing to a close, she was incorrectly informed that Isaiah had been killed in action. Faith passed away while Isaiah was imprisoned but in the 1980’s, a nurse took pity on Isaiah and faked his death, helping him escape the facility he’d been kept in and even gifting him all of the letters they’d withheld. He relocated to Baltimore and lived in anonymity, raising his grandson Eli and mourning the life that had been taken away from him by those who refused to accept a that there could ever be a Black Captain America.

(Y/N) was struggling to hold back her tears by the time Sam finished his story and when she spotted the grief in his reddened eyes, she wordlessly scooted across the bed and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. She always thought that she had a handle on the many atrocities of America’s past, but then she’d find herself learning about yet another barbaric incident and go right back to square one; it’s no wonder Isaiah became embittered and pessimistic about what the shield represents, she thought as she buried her face in the crook of Sam’s neck, his life has been nothing short of a nightmare because of it.

“He said that he didn’t want his story to be told to the world because he’s afraid of how people will react but (Y/N), we’ve gotta tell his story. He and every one of those Black men who died so that the government could try to recreate that goddamn serum…they all deserve to have their stories told, and this country needs to be held responsible for what it did to them.” Sam pulled away to look at her, his brown eyes still tinged with red but filled with a newfound determination. “And I’ve got a few ideas about how to do it. How much goodwill do you think you have with the Smithsonian?”

A smile slowly started to spread across her face at her best friend’s implication. “Enough for me to convince them to add an entire room to their Captain America exhibit. Just give me a week so that I can write up everything you told me and make a phone call to Rhodey; if the Air Force was involved like Isaiah said they were, then he might be able to find some buried files we can use to corroborate Isaiah’s story. Once everything’s squared away with the directors of the Air and Space Museum, I can have Greg get me into contact with The New York Times; I’ve written op-eds for them before, and I have a feeling they’ll be interested in running a story like this.”

“Thank you, Booksmart. I really owe you one, don’t I?”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing, Birdbrain. Except…” (Y/N) trailed off and her eyes flicked over to Sam’s dresser tucked beneath his Louisiana University pennant, where nearly a dozen framed photographs were neatly organized across its surface. There were several photographs from Sam’s childhood – vacations with his parents and Sarah, cookouts, family gatherings and graduations – but many of them were more recent; Sam and (Y/N) working at the VA’s front desk together, a family portrait of Sarah and Henry with their infant sons AJ and Cass, a selfie that Natasha and Sam took with Steve and (Y/N) at their engagement party, and a group photograph of the Avengers they’d taken after Tony and Natasha’s funeral. Sam Wilson’s entire life was on display on that dresser, all the successes and failures he’d experienced and all the lifelong connections he’d made along the way, and as she looked at the framed photographs, she knew in her heart that there was no one on Earth better suited to carry the mantle of Captain America. “Knowing what you know now about Isaiah Bradley and the history of Black super-soldiers in America, promise me you’ll reconsider what to do about the shield? You don’t have to make a decision now or even ever, but just take the time to think it over on your own and without anyone telling you what they think you should do.”

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. “I will. We should probably get some sleep; you’ve got a long flight you’ve gotta catch tomorrow, and I’ve got a water pump to take apart and fix.”

“Sarah’s going to kick your ass if she finds you messing around with that water pump,” (Y/N) lightly scolded but smiled at the mischievous grin on her best friend’s face. “But I guess that’s why you’ll be getting up bright and early, huh?”

“You’re a very perceptive woman.” He pressed a chaste kiss onto her forehead and his smile softened. “G’night, (Y/N).”

“‘Night, Sam.” After giving Sam one last hug, (Y/N) left his room and returned to hers. She crawled into bed and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before reaching for her cell phone and FaceTiming Steve; when her husband’s tired face appeared on her screen, she felt a surge of guilt and sighed. “Damn, I forgot about the time zone difference. I’m sorry for waking you up-”

“Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” Steve interrupted, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes as he started to sit up in bed. “You look upset.”

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart, it’s just…Sam told me more about Isaiah Bradley and what happened to him, and I…” Her voice caught in her throat and she blinked away the fresh wave of tears. “I just really needed to see you and Carina.”

Steve’s expression softened with understanding. “Okay, sunshine. Cari’s sleeping right now, so why don’t I let you see her for a minute and then I’ll play the piano for you until you fall asleep?”

(Y/N) nodded and after he crept into Carina’s nursery to show her their sleeping daughter, he closed her door and sat himself at the small piano in their living room, cursing under his breath as he struggled to lean his cell phone against one of her writing awards on the piano’s lid. When he finally succeeded, he sat back and hovered his fingers over the black-and-white keys and she quietly spoke. “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too,” Her husband gave her a gentle smile; she longed for nothing more than to have his arms wrapped around her but until she returned home to Maine the next day, she’d have to make do with the comfort of his loving gaze. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

While Steve softly played, (Y/N) felt her eyelids grow heavy and the sweet melody soon faded away as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, (Y/N) tossed her duffel bag into the trunk of her rental car and leaned against the bumper as she watched Sam and Bucky throwing the shield across the front yard, smiling to herself when she realized that they were actually talking things out. She said her goodbyes to Sarah, AJ and Cass earlier that morning as the older woman left to see what her brother and handsome guest were up to at Paul & Darlene and the children left for school; Sarah thanked her for being there for Sam and (Y/N) thanked Sarah for inviting her, both women sharing a meaningful hug before she hurried off to chastise her brother at the dock.

And to think, only a week ago they were at each other’s throats, (Y/N) silently remarked, pushing herself off the bumper as both men shook hands and started making their way towards her. “Ready to head out, Bucky?”

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky replied as he placed his backpack into the car’s trunk and shut its lid. “Gotta have plenty of time to explain the metal arm to the TSA agents, after all.”

Sam chuckled. “Makes sense to me. Thanks for the help, man, it meant a lot.”

“’Course.” Bucky smiled and clapped his shoulder before climbing into the passenger seat of the rental car.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Sam’s waist and smiled when he gave her a one-armed hug. “Take care of yourself, Birdbrain. If you need anything, anything at all, I’m only a phone call away. Okay?”

“Copy that, Booksmart. Have a safe flight.” Sam pulled away and flashed her his trademark grin. “Give Steve and the little cutie-pie my best.”

Getting into the driver’s seat, (Y/N) gave her best friend one last wave before switching the engine on and driving away from the Wilson’s home. The drive from Delacroix to Louis Armstrong New Orleans Airport was a little over an hour long, so (Y/N) passed the time humming along to her Big Band playlist while Bucky silently stared out the passenger-side window; the super-soldier didn’t say anything until they passed through Chalmette and when he did, his words made her brows furrow in confusion.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry.” She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye but remained silent as he continued. “I realized a while ago that I never apologized to you for my actions that day at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, so I’d like to do that now.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reassure him that he hadn’t hurt her, that the Winter Soldier was the one who nearly killed her in Berlin and not him, but she found herself closing her mouth as she considered the super-soldier seated beside her. While he never intentionally did the things he did as the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes still did them; it was his hands that committed those heinous acts for over seventy years and whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw were the lives he took played over and over on a never-ending loop. The only way to heal from those decades of trauma was to accept that while he wasn’t guilty of anything, it was still he who did those things and once he acknowledged that, he could begin to move on from his past as the Winter Soldier. The Certified Kick-Ass Counselor strikes again, (Y/N) thought to herself with an inward smile, happy that Sam had put his counseling skills to good work and that Bucky had taken his wise words to heart.

“I accept your apology, Bucky, and I forgive you.” She gave him a smile and he shakily released the breath he’d been holding. “Do you feel better?”

“Actually, I do,” Bucky admitted as he straightened up in his seat. “Would it be okay if I came up to Rockport to visit you three? Not until all this business with Karli and the Flag Smashers is over and done, of course…”

(Y/N) nodded. “We’d love to have you! Steve’s been dying to show you all the art he’s been working on, and I just know that Cari will want to see her Uncle Bucky again.”

The two of them fell into easy conversation that lasted until after she returned her rental car and only ended when she received a text as they made their way into the airport. Assuming that it was only Steve checking in before her flight, (Y/N) pulled her cell phone out to answer but was taken by surprise to see that it was a brief text from Sam.

Birdbrain: Can you send me the link to your workout playlist? I’m gonna need some good music to listen to if I’m gonna master using this shield 😉

“Something wrong, doll?”

(Y/N) shook her head and as her lips curved into a grin, she looked up at Bucky and held up her phone so that he could read Sam’s subtle decision. “Actually, Bucky, everything’s looking pretty damn good to me.”

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A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

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Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist

Stumblin’ In Book I: “The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

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philtstone · 1 year

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Sam and AJ and Cass, 29

#29 -- a story that never gets told

a prequel of sorts to my belovedly unhinged magical realism au, the original of which can be read on ao3 by clicking here. i wrote this prompt in random snippets on the subway, so hopefully its coherent. it kind of got away from me, but im leaning into the multiple indulged elements. most importantly, to answer zainabs oft asked question, "is this the one where he can turn into a whole ass wolf?" yes. yes it is.

Sam, as he has told his sister many a time, could learn — hypothetically — to be a great parent if he wanted to. Instead, he nobly chooses to fight for what’s right. This involves on occasion saving innocent lives amidst the unexpected collapse of Kingdoms, and more often petty magical crime, like that idiot who started going around stealing peoples sheep by herding them into his backyard, which he’d doused in a layer of magically un-solvent superglue. Thank God for Clint’s solvent arrows, which is a sentiment Sam brings up smugly whenever his sister expresses disdain towards the usefulness of magical items in completing household chores.

All of that was before Steve vanished into thin air, leaving Sam with custody of an ancient shield and a perpetually moody shapeshifter.

Hypotheticals are abounding just now. Hypothetically, Steve could just be on one long spontaneous vacation that he even logged in the shared magical calendar, which Bucky inconveniently misplaced on that last trek from North country down here. Hypothetically, Steve could have been kidnapped by a unicorn — those things are known to fuck with you just cause they can — and is currently being held in a magically enforced glade and subjected to a game of 21 riddles. Hypothetically, Steve could just be dead. Smallpox, common cold, unanticipated ogre attack on side of road. If Sam might say so himself, even the best of ‘em can get jumped sometimes; ain’t no shame in it.

“If Steve was dead, why hasn’t his ghost shown up to tell us that?” Bucky asks. He has elaborate theories on the matter, half of which involve the unicorn. The other half involve deep and cutting betrayal. Or murder.

“Steve Rogers did not just up and decide to play double agent,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. Bucky is never truly serious about this. He brings up potential intrigue in every conversation purely out of habit. And, Sam supposes begrudgingly, experience.

“So, murder.”

“Maybe ghost Steve is havin’ too much of a good time,” Sam says. “Remember that fae chick he was sweet on, and they got separated decades ago? Got him all stoic and single tear-y when her name came up? Carried her picture in his dumb little locket? She could be dead. They could be partying it up in the afterlife.”

“Bastard,” Bucky says grumpily, about Steve. “I’d tell you guys, if I died without you knowing.”

“Accidentally died,” insists Sam.

Bucky scowls. “I maintain we haven’t ruled out the double agent angle.”

“Oh my God!” says Sam, and throws his hands up in the air.

They have this exchange multiple times.

Sam sees the merit in the murder angle, but doesn’t necessarily like acknowledging it out loud. First of all, admitting Bucky might be right is always annoying, so he avoids doing it. Second, that shit’s bad juju, especially down here; you never know when a shadow man is listening in.

Just in case Ghost Steve really was murdered and forgot to tell them, though, Sam decides to conduct some scientific experiments. He makes Steve’s favourite gumbo (Sam’s mom’s recipe, of course – no one else’s can hold a candle) and bangs the pot lid loudly over the stove in case there are any spirits around to notice. He flips through Steve’s private sketchbook, left behind in Sam’s napsack — another clear evidence that he hasn’t turned coat — and makes childish faces at all the nude figures to trigger Steve’s artistic sensibilities. Then he leaves it out where the kids could find it, to trigger Steve’s moral sensibilities.

Bucky takes more extreme measures. He goes out into the yard and yells, “Hey, jerk! You ever thought about what a basket case I’d be without you here? You don’t even got the decency to explain yourself?” after dark, into the droopy shapes of the mangrove trees.

“Is he gonna start howling at the moon?” Sarah asks Sam one evening, though not unkindly, while they do the dishes and watch Bucky go at it through the small kitchen window.

Sam doesn’t say anything. Privately, he kind of feels like doing the same.

Then, about three months later, after a near-coup and the revelation of multiple conspiracies and a big old honking blockade being put up all through South country, the Wakandans show up. With – holy shit, Sam thinks – a message from Steve.

“Uncle Sam, you’ve already told us that story.”

Okay, so speaking of parenting. Yeah, yeah, Sam would be a great parent in some alternate universe of events decidedly different from this one. In this universe, getting his nephews to bed at a reasonable hour when only this afternoon, a bunch of fancy people in red armour were holding a super secret outlaw meeting in the barn is proving harder than it looks. Sam almost wishes he was dealing with old Paste-Pot Pete and those sheep again.

“Uh, no I have not,” says Sam. “This version has added embellishments. The Wakandan King never challenged me to a duel, that was all Bucky’s bad luck.”

“We’re calling ritual vengeance duels now?” asks Bucky dryly.

“I’m just sayin’, I’m making a bunch of this up here. I am exercising creativity. Story version number one didn’t have any flying dwarves in it.”

Bucky is sitting in the doorway to the kids’ bedroom and attempting to de-encrust his favourite boots, which went through the ringer a bit on their way down through the bayou to Sarah’s three months ago. That was just after this all started. A lot’s changed since then.

Like the fact that Bucky is even in this house, cleaning boots. Or Sam’s newly discovered inability to lull little boys to sleep via adrenaline filled adventure stories while their mother takes a care package to the neighbours’ pregnant daughter in law. Sarah was very excited to see the newest in maternity fashion, which apparently Marlene had been sporting in the village all week, purchased from traveling dressmakers who might have had fae blood. Those guys always do know how to cut a cloak well.

Bucky sniffs loudly at Sam’s defense and pulls an exaggerated face, raising the poor boot up to eye level to inspect it. “Maybe you’re just bad at telling stories,” he says finally.

While AJ and Cass giggle like the traitors they are, Sam makes a loud offended noise.

“Alright,” he says. “Fine. Fine. You know what? Just for that, I’m telling the story of how all of Petruski’s sticky sheep started followin’ your fluffy white wolf ass around.”

AJ dissolves into even harder giggles. Cass says, “Not the sheep story Uncle Sam! All you do in that one is complain!” and Bucky says, more primly than he has any right to, “I was consciously being as non threatening as possible, Samuel.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “so non threatening they thought you were one of ‘em.”

AJ is really starting to wheeze now, so Sam hauls him into his arms to disrupt the hilarity before it gets medical. Cass brings his pillow up over his head like a crown to smother his own laughter. And Bucky winks, before – in a devastating play – letting out a quiet, plaintive pair of baas in quick succession.

Routines like this one are becoming more and more real. More and more comfortable, Sam thinks, amidst the boys’ shrieks of laughter. Being here, being in this home (their home – The home?) it fills his heart with something warm and solid and unmoving. Like he has put down a heavy load. Sometimes it is hard to imagine what is so important that makes it worth picking up sword and shield and leaving this behind. Without this, where would any of them even be?

It’s just, that thought doesn’t stop the rest of the world from banging on their door sometimes.

Just look at Steve’s cryptic as hell note. The me you know isn’t dead. Seriously. What the fuck. Sam almost wishes he really was dealing with a unicorn.

He settles on telling the story of how he and Steve once met that tiny shrinking guy and between Captain Rogers’ knightly loyalty to his friends, some of Redwing’s more heroic moments, and the addition of the brilliant mage-princess who gifted Bucky the enchantment for his arm, both boys are appeased.

“Uncle Sam,” Cass says, sleepily, towards the tail end of the story. “’S no fair that magic skips a generation. I wanna help save the kingdom like you do.”

Sam quiets, his hand stilling where it was in the middle of brushing over AJs forehead. AJ is already fast asleep. Knocked out cold, snoring and everything.

Thing is, Sam’s brand of magic is pretty limited — some gimmick, even, nowhere close to what his Titi had. All Sam’s good for, practically speaking, is translating messages from carrier pigeons. But it got him into this bigger world, tangled him up in it.

Sam can see, even though Bucky’s head is down, that his friend’s expression has taken on a slight grimness.

“Cass. Hey.” Sam knuckles the boy’s nose gently. “What do you mean, like me. You know how I keep this old kingdom safe? I help your mama do the dishes.”

“Uncle Sam,” Cass says, rolling his sleepy thick-lashed eyes.

Sam sighs. “Cass. Just because it doesn’t make for a good story doesn’t mean it isn’t important.”

More important, even. Running this old house, and its garden (with all those gnomes, little pains-in-the-ass) and its boat.

“Muh huh,” Cass manages. And then he has drifted off, the side of his face squished against the pillow.

Sam and Bucky quietly relocate to the kitchen, where Redwing is awaiting them with a new note and a dead mouse.

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters.

“You better not be about to get in a piss fight with a kestrel when there are sleeping children in the next room.”

As if on cue, Redwing flaps over lands happily on Bucky’s shoulder, startling him. The little bell on his foot jingles, and Bucky glares, which does nothing to deter the little bird’s impulse to start throwing up what appears to be more mouse.

Bucky stands perfectly still and looks awfully close to raptorcide.

Dude, can you like, be normal for once, Sam says, to the bird. Redwing fluffs out all of his feathers in Bucky’s face in response.

“I don’t get into piss fights with your kestrel, Sam,” Bucky says, gritting each word out with individuality.

Redwing twitters happily.

He’ll come around eventually, Sam replies. He scoops the bird up in both hands and re-situates him on his own arm, and begins untying the little package wired to Redwing’s foot. Out loud, he adds, “You know, he wants to be your friend so badly –”

“He’s the one who chews through my best leather breeches twice a month –” Bucky cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath and reaching over to fumble the parchment scroll out of Sam’s hand while its messenger hops in one place and nuzzles the crown of his feathery head into Sam’s armpit. Sam’s poorly concealed smile fades when Bucky openly frowns.

“Note’s from Nakia,” Bucky mutters, tapping the amulet bracelet on his right wrist against the similar shape of beaded stone etched into the scroll’s covering as Sam strokes Redwing’s head.

“It’s – what?”

“What what.”

“From another dimension,” Bucky reads aloud, looking increasingly incredulous.

“What?”

“You already said that.” Sam rolls his eyes. Bucky makes a face at the scroll. “Always gotta be another fuckin’ gimmick. Well. She’s got a guy to decode it.”

“Didn’t she cast the spell?” asks Sam, who is still processing the dimension thing. As in, like, different from their own?

Is that where Steve is?

“Yeah, but only to keep anyone else from decoding it. The bracelet itself already had a message stored in it.”

“Beyond Steve’s disembodied voice materializing outta nowhere the first time I touched that thing to prove he hasn’t kicked the bucket.”

“Which,” Bucky starts, “for the record –”

“Was not your theory.”

Bucky frowns harder. Refocuses. “Yes. The bracelet, which was clearly a magical object enchanted to respond to your touch –”

“Could’a been our touch, you never held it before I did –”

“Fine, sure, our touch – double enchantment. This thing is stolen, and someone – my guess is Steve – managed to layer another goddamn spell on it before sending it our way.”

Sam sighs, staring at the gleaming dishes in the drying rack. A box of Arm and Magical Hammer’s peroxide sits orange and to the side. Maybe this is why Sarah refuses to use any of the handy dandy domestic enchantments he brings home for her.

Because magic’s a pain in the ass.

“So?” says Sam.

“Uh, yeah. She’s got a guy to decode it …” Bucky grimaces, “on the other side of the river.”

Oh. Oh. Yeah, that’s gonna be rough.

“I can’t go through a GRC checkpoint,” Sam says. Redwing makes a mournful sound of agreement. Bucky is still turning the note over and over as if maybe reading it upside down will change its mystifying contents.

“They’d recognize your beautiful knightly face,” he agrees, reciting Sam’s proffered explanation. “And then search all your bags and spook your horse. You know, she’s way too sensitive.”

“Clara ain’t sensitive, she’s emotionally intelligent. There’s a difference,” Bucky mutters something about Sam busting out his inner kingdom social worker lingo on them and Sam adds, “and you can go through a GRC checkpoint even less, by the way.”

“To be fair,” Bucky says, “they have kinda fucked up my nose in all those wanted posters. Maybe they wouldn’t recognize me.”

They both sit down at the table, resigned. It’s a sticky problem. Sam supposes, as Bucky pulls his favourite dagger out and begins flipping it in a broody manner, that they could take Sharon’s smuggler’s detour behind the wall, but she’d ask too many questions. Sending Redwing on his own is too risky (Sam admits, begrudgingly and in the privacy of his own mind). Clint’s roped into a local problem with a gang of overall-wearing gnomes, Bruce has started teaching a yoga of ogres class, even Joaquin just set up shop marketside selling his scroll encryption services … Sam’s stomach growls, and the lingering smell of spiced rice hits his nose. Sarah’s left a potfull on the stove, for them, probably. She blusters plenty, has real right to be angry plenty, and has a mean right hook, but she loves him. And she’s a lot tougher than she looks, Sam’s come to realize. Kept this whole village alive over the years with her caring, and even after they set up the blockades she charmed the border officers better than Sam or Bucky ever could.

Sam clicks his tongue against his teeth and says, “Huh.”

“What,” says Bucky.

“Lemme run a hypothetical by you.”

“Oh no.” Bucky rubs a finger over the bridge of his nose. “You always do this to me. I started like that once –”

“And have had many terrible no good get Sam’s ass in trouble plans since, brother.” Sam crosses his arms; Rewind flaps over to his little perch by the bookshelf in deference. “Hypothetically, you don’t have to look like yourself. Right?”

Bucky looks at him warily. “Well … no.”

“And … hypothetically –”

“Sam …”

“If a familiar person, say … the nice lady who used to take her gumbo to the community house every week. Was to have that bracelet in her box the next time she went –”

“You wanna send your sister through the woods on her own in this economy?” Bucky interrupts, baffled.

Sam lifts his chin. Raises his eyebrows. Wags his head a little bit. Chirp, says Redwing from across the room, which Sam might roughly translate to it’s not rocket science, pal.

It takes Bucky a moment to get it, but when it clicks, it’s obvious.

“Oh, no,” he says, a slow horror growing in his face. “No. No, no, no, no way. I refuse, Sam.”

“I haven’t asked anything yet!” Sam says, very mildly put out.

Bucky levels the pointy end of the dagger at him. “No. You’re not entrusting me as the sole keeper of your sister’s safety in the wilderness!”

Sam leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “And who the hell else am I gonna entrust as the sole keeper of my sister’s safety in the wilderness?” Bucky makes a disbelieving little cawing noise, like a sad crow, to which Sam adds, deliberate: “Come on, Buck. Be serious.”

Bucky does not answer, as he seems to go through twelve different emotions at once, silently. Sam, who can acknowledge at sword-point that this is maybe a little mean of him, given Bucky’s profound loyalty to his friends and poorly-concealed devotion to said sister (hmph), gives him a minute. Finally, Bucky manages,

“Anyone! Someone who didn’t spend the last eighty years magically entrapped by a cabal of fascist wizards in the body of a murderous rabid animal!”

He waves his free hand, which was previously clutched in his hair for something to do. He’d look a bit wild if he didn’t look so thoroughly mundane sitting there in his shirts with his boots off.

Well, okay. The knife’s a little intense. But it’s not like Sarah’s kitchen isn’t stacked with em.

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, first of all. Rabid is just flat out inaccurate.”

“Sam,” Bucky grinds out.

“I’m just sayin’,” Sam says. “You’re not diseased. And like, present day wolf you can even be kinda cute. You seen how fluffy you are? Those sheep definitely did.”

Bucky actually growls at him.

“That doesn’t actually dispute my point,” says Sam, “which is that this, right here, is objectively our best plan.”

“I won’t do it.”

“I’m asking you, Bucky.”

“It’s a terrible plan!”

“Says the guy who only ever comes up with the most unhinged plans ever!”

They glare at each other, for a prolonged, stone-headed moment. Sam thinks that next time he tells the kids a bedtime story, he should include a Mexican standoff somewhere in there. Then Bucky raises the knife again, very very slowly.

“Only if Sarah says yes.”

“Which,” Sam agrees, “is extremely unlikely. If magic could be wrapped up in a tiny little football, she’d probably drop kick that thing into the Mississippi like a quarterback.”

Marginally, Bucky’s face relaxes.

“Yeah,” he says, and now Sam is starting to feel some relief too, because really, what the hell is he thinking? Sending his baby sister out into the wilderness so they can all uncover some great conspiracy … “Yeah. Yeah, okay. If she says yes, I’ll do it.”

And then, of course, she does.

#the logic of this au world is essentially what if the witcher got crossed with ella enchanted #thats all u rly need to know #im retconning endgame in my own au by having steves disappearance be for correct reasons #like he got trapped in another dimension where he could have a happy ending but it was an accident and not on purpose #my writing #the falcon and the winter soldier #captain america #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #steve rogers #sam x bucky #cass wilson #aj wilson #sarah x bucky is implied and def present in the og fic

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