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Bucky awakens to the gentle sensation of Sam’s breath against the back of his neck. He yawns and slowly eases his eyes open. Based on the light level in the room, it’s well after ten. A late morning by both of their standards, but they’ve been gone all week on a mission in Albania. They’ve earned a few extra hours of shuteye at the very least.
Sam shifts and throws his right arm over Bucky, resting his hand over Bucky’s heart. Bucky assumes he’s still asleep until he presses a kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t stop there. Sam’s left hand comes up and begins lazily running through Bucky’s hair. He’s let it grow out a bit since moving to Louisiana, and Sam has not shied away from letting Bucky know how much he loves it. Sam’s fingers find a spot behind his ear and Bucky shivers. Shuri was right; there remained no visible mark of her work, but Bucky swears the skin there is more sensitive than it was before.
Sam’s right hand reaches in front of him. He holds out his index finger and makes a stabbing motion towards the bed, then wiggles his finger toward Bucky’s face to indicate he’s asking a question. “No, it doesn’t hurt,” Bucky says. “Feels good, actually. Keep going.”
Sam’s fingers resume their ministrations. They lie there for another half an hour, basking in the quiet of each other’s company. At least, Bucky assumes it’s also quiet for Sam. There could be a construction crew right outside jackhammering the sidewalk and he’d be none the wiser. But if that were the case, Sam probably would’ve complained about it already.
“We should get up now,” Sam tells him, tapping Bucky’s chest on each side for “we” instead of his own. Bucky loves when they talk like this, when physical touch replaces the eye contact and facial expressions they usually rely on. It’s something he only does with Sam, and only when they’re in bed together. People talk all the time about “love languages” but Bucky’s willing to bet most of them don’t literally have a modified language reserved only for their lovers.
Bucky grabs Sam’s wrist and taps the back of it.
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Shit. We’re gonna be late for Sarah’s.”
Sam nestles his leg behind Bucky’s and pushes until Bucky’s foot hangs off the end of the bed. Bucky does as he’s told and gets the hell up. He stumbles into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. When he comes back into the bedroom, Sam is pulling on a pair of jeans.
“You left the water running,” he says.
“Did not.”
“I can hear it.”
Bucky grumbles and goes back to the bathroom. Sure enough, the faucet is steadily dripping water. He rolls his eyes and shuts it off all the way. Sam has threatened to make him start an “I left the water on” jar with a one dollar fee for every offense, but Bucky knows he’ll go broke within weeks if he ever follows through with it. He hasn’t flooded the house yet, so he doesn’t see why it’s such a big deal. Sam takes his turn in the bathroom while Bucky gets on a clean pair of jeans and a henley. He grabs his dog tags from atop the dresser and slips them on as he walks to the kitchen. The clock reads eleven twenty two. If they’re not out the door in three minutes or less, they will be late and Sarah will have a heyday making fun of them for it.
“Get a move on!” Bucky shouts. “Or else your sister’s going to think we were having morning sex or something!”
Sam emerges from the bathroom and heads for the front door. “Jesus, Bucky, maybe don’t let the whole neighborhood know next time.”
Bucky smirks and kicks Sam’s shoes towards him. He grabs the car keys off the hook and spins them around his index finger. Sam straightens up and holds his hand out to take them. Bucky closes his fist around them and holds them to his chest. “I’m driving,” he insists.
“No, I’m driving,” Sam counters. “You know I hate trying to talk to you while you’re driving. If I drive, you can voice.”
“The Deaf are better drivers.” Bucky uses that fact every single time they have this argument.
“Two speeding tickets say otherwise.”
Bucky sighs and hands over the keys. He doesn’t tell Sam that it would be three speeding tickets if that one cop hadn’t decided that letting Bucky go was easier than figuring out how to communicate with him.
Sam locks the front door behind him and heads for the driver’s side of the car. Bucky climbs into the passenger’s seat and buckles his seat belt. When Sam starts the car, he immediately yelps and dives for the volume knob. “Sorry!” Bucky says. He likes the vibrations of the car’s stereo system, but they’re not strong enough unless he cranks the volume way up.
“You realize that was just NPR, right?”
Bucky did not realize that. But it explains why he got funny looks from that woman when he pulled up in the Home Depot parking lot last week. He laughs, wondering what she must’ve thought about a guy in a leather jacket blasting talk radio loud enough to rattle the car windows.
“That’s hilarious,” Bucky says. “I’m gonna do that on purpose now, just to sow confusion.”
“Can you remember to turn it down next time? My ears hurt.”
“I’ll try my best,” he promises.
The drive to Sarah’s house only takes fifteen minutes. Bucky spends it proposing ideas for renovation projects. Sarah’s house used to belong to her and Sam’s parents, and it’s in dire need of some upgrades. Sam is reluctant to change anything about it because it all holds such sentimental value. He was willing to switch out the heirloom dining table for Bucky’s sake, but redoing the porch to prevent rotting wood from falling and crushing somebody is for some reason off the table. “What if it’s me who’s sitting out there when it inevitably falls down?” Bucky tries.
“You’d live.”
Bucky gives up after that. Besides, it’s not Sam he needs to convince; it’s Sarah, and she’s always far more receptive to his ideas.
He can smell food as soon as they start up the long driveway. It might be his imagination, but Bucky doesn’t care. He’s out of the car the instant Sam puts it in park and half jogs to the front door. Bucky walks in and the glorious smell hits him full force. So does AJ, bolting in from the kitchen to wrap him up in a hug. Sarah follows him out, saying something Bucky can’t quite pick up. As soon as she sees him, though, she switches to ASL.
“You’re late,” is the first thing she says to him.
“I was waiting on your brother,” Bucky tells her.
“Hey!” Sam whacks him in the shoulder. “You waited for maybe ninety seconds.”
He holds up the right side of his jacket to block his left hand from Sam’s view and signs “He’s lying,” to Sarah.
She laughs. “I could’ve told you that. Sam’s only on time if someone’s dying.”
“Not true!” Sam insists.
Sarah only shakes her head and returns to the kitchen. “Can I help?” Bucky asks.
“There’s some tomatoes that need slicing.”
Bucky gets right to work. At the counter beside him, Sarah whips up a Cajun remoulade. He checks to make sure Sam’s looking the other way and asks her, “What do you think about fixing up the porch?”
“Are you offering?”
“Maybe.”
“Please. I have nightmares about that thing falling on the boys.”
“After we eat I’ll go out there and take some measurements.”
“What would we do without you?”
Bucky shrugs. “Speak English, probably.”
Sarah busts out laughing. Then, she swats him with a dish towel. “You better not be suggesting that you’re a burden, Bucky Barnes. I won’t have that in this house.”
He smiles shyly. Nowadays, he only rarely thinks about how hard it must’ve been for Sam’s family to learn a whole new language for him. They’re so fluent now that it’s easy to forget they haven’t been signing their whole lives. Yes, it makes him feel a little guilty, but more than that it makes him feel loved. He spends most of his time making sure they feel his love in return.
Someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns to listen as Cass asks if he wants to check out his new video game while he’s here.
“Sure!” The boys had been thrilled to discover that their uncle’s husband is an excellent video game player, and Bucky is thrilled that the coordination and reflexes that made him an excellent sharpshooter can be put to use for less murderous pursuits.
Sam and AJ have wandered outside, so Sarah shouts, “Food’s ready!” almost directly in Bucky’s ear. Unfazed, he delicately lays his tomato slices on a plate and carries them to the table. Sarah and Cass bring the rest, and then they all gather around the table to eat. Sam gets to the bread first, then passes it around the table.
“Bucky, that is far too many pickles,” Sam tells him. “I feel like you’re probably breaking a Louisiana law right now.”
Bucky adds another layer of pickles just to spite him, then hands them over to AJ. “If they try to arrest me, I’ll just detach the arm and run.”
“Like a lizard,” Cass chimes in.
Bucky points at him and grins. “Exactly like a lizard.”
AJ is the first to actually take a bite of his food. With his mouth full and his sandwich still in one hand, he says, “This is champ!”
Bucky digs in next. “Agreed!” He barely leaves himself time to finish swallowing before he takes another bite.
“Ivy was telling me she ran into you at the library,” Sarah says.
Bucky stops chewing and feels the blood rush to his cheeks.
“She said you were neck deep in the travel section.”
“What’s this now?” Sam asks.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not what Ivy said.”
Bucky glares at Sarah. She’s smirking, so she knows exactly what she’s doing by bringing this up. He mouths, “I’m going to kill you.”
Sam pokes him in the side. “Spill.”
“I was going to plan a trip for our anniversary. To surprise you. But somebody, ” he glares at Sarah, “Can’t keep a secret.”
“Then why did you go to the hearing library?”
“The hearing library? Is there a separate one I’m supposed to be using?”
“No. P-U-B-L-I-C library. It’s the same sign.”
“Right.” Bucky’s so accustomed to seeing it used to mean “hearing” that he often forgets it can also mean something else.
“If it’s a secret, why did you tell Ivy what you were doing in the travel section?”
Bucky shrugs. “She asked. I can’t just not tell her. It’s like…Deaf code. I thought Sarah would be the discreet one.” He shoots her another glare.
Sarah sticks her tongue out at him.
“So, where are we going?” Sam asks.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“Do I get a say in this decision?”
“That would ruin the surprise.”
“I thought Sarah already ruined it.”
“Only half of it.”
“Okay, then.”
“So, any new men in your life?” Bucky asks Sarah. It’s the least she deserves after spilling his secrets to the table.
“Waylon from down the street asked me to get coffee.”
“Tru biz?”
Sarah nods.
“Are you gonna go?” Sam asks eagerly.
The tiniest of smiles appears on Sarah’s face. “Yes.”
“That’s great! I hope you have a great time.”
“Thanks.”
Sarah doesn’t talk about her late husband much, but Bucky knows she still misses him every day. For her to agree to go on a date with someone is a huge step.
“Proud of you,” Bucky says.
She rolls her eyes. “I figure if Sam can score himself a husband, I can score two no problem.”
Bucky laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his Po’Boy. Sam, meanwhile, looks like she’s just run over his dog. The boys clearly aren’t sure how to react, glancing wide-eyed at each of the adults around the table.
Sam shifts to glare at Bucky. He senses his husband is mad at him for laughing but he can’t bring himself to stop. “You know, I could use a second husband too,” he says.
“Careful,” Bucky warns. “I’m a very hard person to step out on.”
Sam’s expression turns earnest and he leans over to kiss Bucky on the cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He takes another bite of his sandwich and, still chewing, adds, “Unless this surprise vacation turns out to be to Atlanta, then we’re immediately getting divorced.”