Chapter Text
“I can’t believe you did that yourself, ” Sam groans, putting his head in his hands. “Seriously, Sarah, it would have taken you five minutes to call me, and-”
She finds herself raising her eyebrows, grinning ironically. “Right,” she says, a scoff in her voice, “Five minutes to call, and then ten minutes for you to get your lazy ass over to the dock, and then another two hours or so of you complicating the whole process and making a mess of things. Sound about right?”
“Mhm,” Tammy agrees, eyes laughing. “I remember that group project I had with you in eleventh grade, Sam - you remember it? The one where we had to build the bridge?”
“Sure,” Sam says. “I remember getting an A on it-”
“It took three days for you to agree on all of our building materials!” Tammy exclaims, laughing.
Sam groans. “Oh, come on! I’m good at things! Come on, Buck, back me up here.”
Bucky blinks, his head jerking up into an alert position from where it had been drooping down toward his chest. “What?”
Sarah lets her lips curve into an amused smile, laughter, and fondness bubbling up in her chest. Sam and Bucky had just arrived home late last night from some hush-hush mission God knows where, both exhausted and dead on their feet. Sam had gone straight to bed like a sensible person for once, bless him, but Bucky had insisted on staying up to do some paperwork. It seems he’s feeling the repercussions of pulling an all-nighter.
“I’m good at things,” Sam reiterates.
“Oh,” Bucky says, blinking several times in quick succession in a supposed attempt to vanquish the fatigue from his eyes. “Uh, no.”
His hair is sticking up all over the place like the fur on the scruff of a disgruntled cat, and his blue eyes are wide and owlish. He blinks sleepily. The image it makes, along with his words, make the hysterics in her chest boil over.
She can’t help it. Sarah laughs.
Tammy joins in after seeing the offense and betrayal painted across poor Sam’s face.
“Shut up,” Sam mutters.
It’s really nice outside this evening - humid, but not unbearable; warm, but not sweltering. A soothing breeze whistles through the trees every so often, stirring the wind chimes just enough to get a couple of clear notes from the metal tubes. The four of them are sitting on the porch - Sarah and Tammy in the wicker chairs, and Bucky and Sam on the bench across from them. A small table sits between them, holding the pitcher of lemonade and their cups.
“Well, you can,” Bucky backtracks, “do the, uh,” he waves a hand, searching for his words. He blinks, and blinks again. Seemingly pulls a blank. Grimaces sheepishly. “Uh. I forgot.”
Sarah stifles her giggles.
Sam sighs. “Thanks for trying, buddy,” he mutters. “So, Tammy, how’re things going at work?”
Tammy talks about her job and her annoying coworkers, telling them about her overbearing boss and her desperate need for a change of pace. Sarah grimaces in sympathy, grateful that she doesn’t have to deal with a lot of that particular brand of tomfoolery being self-employed.
She and Tammy get to talking about organizational tools, and she doesn’t realize how long they’ve been rambling until Sam lets out a soft “oof.”
She and Tammy both turn to him at once. As soon as she sees what’s happened, her hand flies to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Tammy is shaking in silent hysterics beside her.
“He must’ve been really tired,” Sarah whispers with a stifled grin.
Sam scowls.
Bucky, it seems, had fallen asleep where he’d been sitting. In doing so, he’d sort of fallen over sideways right onto Sam.
“This is so cute,” Tammy says.
“Hand me my phone,” Sarah orders quietly.
Sam’s scowl deepens. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Bucky,” he shakes Bucky’s shoulder gently. “Bucky, wake up.”
Bucky snores and nuzzles into Sam’s shoulder.
It sets Sarah and Tammy off again.
Sarah’s hand is shaking as she holds her phone up to get a picture, but she thinks she manages to get at least one decent one.
Sam’s scowling like a grumpy old man in all of them, but she’ll make do with what she has.
Neither of them will ever hear the end of this.