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tllgrrl · 9 months

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The Six-Triple-Eight by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

@sarahbuckybingo Summer Prompts Fest 2023

Week 6 Prompt - “Alternate Universe”

Sergeant!Sarah Wilson / Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes | Rating: SFW

Summary: December 1944 - Sgt. Sarah Wilson arrives in the UK—Birmingham, England to be specific—to assist in setting up the facilities and living quarters for a new squadron, the 6888th aka “the Six-Triple-8th”, scheduled to begin arriving in 2 months.

(See Notes at end.)

* * * * * * * * * *

“Need some help with that, ma’am?”

“No thanks, soldier. I got it.”

“Okay, but the street’s wet and slippery, your footing isn’t too steady, plus that handle looks like it’s about to—“

“No, really. I…appreciate your…Oh!! OH!!!”

And before she finds herself flat on her back with her duffle and knapsack on top of her, in the large puddle of water her driver purposefully parked in (she saw the smirk when he jumped out, leaving her to unload her own bags), Sgt. Sarah Wilson is pulled away and into the arms of a soldier.

A White soldier, with dark hair, blue-grey eyes, a good-natured grin, and very strong arms.

“Oh, no. No…I’m…pardon me…" She quickly searches for the insignia denoting rank, but there are none on this uniform which looks nothing like what other soldiers she’s seen wear.

“You can let me go now,” she says evenly. “I appreciate your help.” And not knowing his rank, she quickly added “Sir.”

She tried to extract herself from the man’s arms before anyone could see the two of them, but judging by the slight quirk of his lips and that amused look in his eyes, he wasn’t in a hurry to let go.

She’d seen that look before, but in addition to that look, something was a little bit familiar about him. She felt sure she’d met him before. And maybe he was just another one of the hundreds of soldiers she’s seen since she enlisted. Maybe. But that look in his eyes. For some reason, she sensed more mischief than threat. Still—

“I don’t need this kinda trouble here,” she whispers under her breath while trying to avoid being pulled any closer. “I just want to do my job and get back to—“

He makes sure her feet are under her before releasing her, and he takes a small step back as she straightens her uniform, adjusting her jacket collar and making sure her cap wasn’t askew.

“Thank you. I just got here and would’ve ended up looking like a…a wet hen in front of my C.O.”

“No problem. I was just tryin’ ta give you a hand there. Sorry ya just got here and already ya wanna leave…Sergeant.”

(This place may be named Birmingham, but he’s definitely a Yankee. Wait—)

“You…you heard that? I didn’t mean to—“

“You were saying that you wanted to leave.”

“I’m so sorry! I tend to talk to myself. Didn’t realize I was that loud.”

“No, it’s not that. It wasn’t loud. It was nice. Your voice is really nice. It’s just my hearing is…my senses are…I’m a sniper. Let’s just say I got good eyes and ears.”

“Well, really…thank you for your help…um…”

“Barnes,” he says, offering his hand. “Sergeant James Barnes, Special Operations. You can call me Bu—“

“Sergeant Barnes,” she addresses him and shakes his hand.

He holds onto her hand for a few seconds longer before letting go, and to her surprise, for a few seconds longer she lets him.

“Its a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sergeant Sarah Wilson, Six-Triple 8 Postal Delivery Battalion.”

“Say, you’re with that new all-women unit coming in to deal with the mail? The troops have been dying to get mail. It’s rough being over here as it is, especially with Christmas coming soon. Not hearing from home, a fella can feel pretty low.“

“No mail, low morale.”

“You got that right, sister. I mean, yes ma’am.”

“No mail, low morale is our motto.

I was told that at least a million pieces of Mail are backlogged ‘cause it’s coming in so fast, and a lot of it is just addressed to a name. Sometimes it’s a last name or even just a first name. On top of that, troops are just moved around so quickly that the mail can’t catch up with them. We’re going to be working 24/7 trying to figure out who these letters and packages are meant for and where the recipients are presently stationed.

And we have to make sure letters get back to families whose sons aren’t coming back home.”

“So…where’re they setting you all up?”

“I’m here to do some preliminary work at the site of an abandoned school where we’ll be living and working. They had to make sure there were quarters for Colored women. Had it been a few of us, they’ve put up a tent just outside of the warehouse.

Anyway. We’ve got our work cut out for us and we’ll be ready to go when we all get here.”

“If you need help finding anybody, if you need anything, just ask. Now…” he lifts her bags and steps aside. “lead the way.”

“As I said, Sergeant, I can take my own bags. It’s just down the road a piece. The driver said he had to get the jeep back to London or he’d’ve taken me out to the…look, It’s really not that far. Hey! Wait!” She runs after him, trying to avoid the puddles in the street. “Come back!”

“No ma’am. I insist. My Ma didn’t raise a bum that’d let a lovely lady like you—“

“Sergeant, please! People can hear and see you—“

“You and your squad are going to be doing us all a big favor,” he says, emphatically, slowing and finally stopping. “I mean, everybody here’s got people back home who care about them. I got a Ma and little sister in Brooklyn and they started writing me letters almost the day I shipped out. I been moved around a lot lately, and I know their letters and packages haven’t all gotten to me. Especially anything from Ma. She thinks all she has to do is write Jamie on the envelope, and the Army just knows who or where I am!”

“Jamie?”

He looks down, smiles to himself, shaking his head, and Sarah knows exactly why her job is important for the war effort.

“That’s what she…it’s James.” He looks back up and into her eyes. “You can say I’m selfish, Sargent Wilson, but I’d owe ya the Moon if you found something in that warehouse that my family sent to me.

Tell ya what, to show my appreciation in advance, there's a nice little pub here. Two world wars and they’re still in business. I hope I’m not being too forward, but, I’d like to take you out to dinner. Or, at least let a guy buy you a drink…or a cuppa coffee maybe sometime…if you’d like, that is.”

There’s an interesting mixture of confidence and charm with a little touch of bashfulness that almost catches her off guard.

“Sergeant Barnes, your dinner offer is kind, but…I’m sure you know that it might not be such a good idea you and I, socializing. After all, we’re—“

“We’re the same rank, on the same team, fighting the same enemy, Sergeant. If you’re worried about anybody having a problem ‘cause we’re…look, I’ve ve had drinks at that pub with all kinds o’ soldiers from all kinds of units, and nobody’s said a thing.

Well…except a Corporal one time.”

He glared off into the distance, and Sarah saw his eyes slightly narrow as if he was remembering something. He started walking again. Then he stopped and looked at her.

“The guy was a louse. A bigot, and a bully,” he continued. “It’s a shame what happened to his nose. And his teeth. My hand healed up pretty quick, though.

Nobody starts trouble when I show up at the pub with my friends.

Whaddaya say? By the way, I’m not expecting anything from you except your company, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want you to think I’m some kinda creep or something. I’d really like to take you out to dinner.”

Sarah looked at the sniper with the sharp, blue eyes standing in front of her, holding her dufflebag and knapsack like he was holding someone’s precious possesions. And looking at her like he wanted her to believe what he was saying.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t eaten in a Mess Hall with a fellow soldier, but it was the Colored Mess Hall, with a Negro officer, not a public establishment with a White Sergeant.

There was something about this Sergeant, though, that made her feel like he was kind and could definitely handle any trouble that could possibly arise.

“Friends, huh? Okay, Sergeant.” She started walking. “I’ll think about it.”

He fought the urge to comment about her legs, but he did enjoy watching her walk away for a few steps before he began to follow her.

“Swell! Say, do you like music? Some o’ the guys are having a Christmas show…”

Out of the corner of her eye, the smile she saw that lit up his face was a little bit like he’d hit a jackpot, and a little bit like he was relieved she’d agree.

She almost laughed out loud at his exuberance, but still kept her demeanor professional in case eyes were on them.

Honking horns and shouting drew her attention to where she saw a small convoy of jeeps arrive.

The man driving the first jeep was dressed like Santa Claus and he had a bushy dark mustache over the phony white beard on his chin. He was smoking a cigar, and on top of his Santa hat was a bowler.

“Ho-ho-ho!!” He shouts as the other men laugh and join in.

The rest of the men were quite an interesting group: including one colored, one Asian, one man was wearing a cravat and a beret. They were all armed to the teeth, but they had a tree and packages, along with some baskets and bags of what looked like food and what seemed to be a small keg, and they looked vaguely familiar except one man, who was absolutely familiar.

Even from where she was she could see he was a little taller than Sergeant Barnes (who is a bit taller than her) and though he was muscular, he wasn’t burly. Physically, he was almost perfect in his blue uniform with red and white stripes and a star on the chest.

The man looks over at her and the Sergeant, smiles, and gives a wave. She’d seen him—all of them—in the newsreels back home.

(And he’s carrying a…)

“Excuse me, Sergeant, but…is—?”

“That’s my friend Steve,” he says waving back, “and that’s his squadron. We’re called The Howling Commandos.”

She looks back at the man holding her duffle and knapsack, and it dawns on her that she has seen him before. He’s Sargent Bucky Barnes.

“Come on,” he laughs, heading over to the group of boisterous soldiers, and carrying her bags with him. “I’ll introduce you to the fellas.”

She rushes to keep up and makes sure she doesn’t whisper aloud, thinking:

(Oh, Lord…what am I getting myself into over here? And wait ‘til Mama and Daddy hear that I met Gabe Jones!)

* * * * * * * * * *

SarahBucky Summer Prompt Fest 2023

Week 1: “Cookout” - Wilson Cookout Playlist

Week 3: “Cass & AJ Wilson” - Formal Introduction

Week 5: “Beat the Heat” - 7th Inning Stretch

Week 6: “Alternate Universe” - The Six Triple-8

* * * * * * * * * *

NOTES:

This quick little ficlet was inspired by the real-life 6888th Central Postal Delivery Squadron, an all woman, predominantly Black (with at least one Puerto Rican and a Mexican woman) squadron assembled to handle the enormous backlog of mail sent to the American troops in the European Theater during World War 2.

Images in my little moodboard are from their website and I’m not using them for profit, just inspiration and, yes, educational purposes because these women were real and heroes.

Please know that I used the words “Colored” and “Negro” on purpose as this story is set in the 1940s.

They are NOT pejoratives. They fell out of favor and were replaced by “Black” (at one time an insult, later embraced and owned by us and capitalized) and then “African/Afro-American”.

Sidenote, Kerry Washington will be starring in and Executive Producing a movie telling the Six Triple Eights’s story, and they’ll be back in production as soon as the AMPTP comes to their senses and comes correct by negotiating with the Writers Guild and the Screen Actors Guild. (#union strong.)

Thanks for reading!!

Also posted on the AO3. <—A bit more fleshed out!

#sarah wilson #bucky barnes #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #sarahbucky au #sarahbucky fanfic #wwii au #sarahbucky bingo #sarahbucky summer prompts fest #fleur de louve #fleurdelouve #summer prompts #sarahbucky summer 2023 #fanfiction #black women heroes

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sarahbuckybingo · 8 months

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Hello all! Thank you so much for your submissions to the SarahBucky Summer prompt fest!

If you haven’t already, please create a master post of all your fills and mention this blog in said post. I will be creating a masterlist of all submissions over the weekend.

The ao3 collection will be closed tonight, so please make sure all fills are submitted there if you haven’t already.

#sarahbucky summer 2023

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tllgrrl · 10 months

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The Cookout Playlist by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

For the @sarahbuckybingo 2023 SarahBucky Summer Prompts Fest: Week 1 - “Cookout”

* * * * * * * * * *

Part 1.

The food and drink at the Cookout was, of course, outstanding.

Not only did Sarah make some favorites, Sam was the Pitmaster, and various dishes were also brought by guests.

This time Bucky made a cake instead of buying one at the market like he had the first time he attended a Wilson cookout.

And, of course, there was music.

The Wilson family record collection is filled with music from the 1930s to the present. Records bought and gifted, added to the collection, then passed to the next generation.

Both Sam and Sarah’s parents loved jazz. Louie, Billie, Ella, Duke, Bird, Miles, and also New Orleans artists like Professor Longhair, Fats Domino, The Meters.

And there’s Motown that spanned decades, Supremes, Temps, Jacksons, Marvin.

Sam and Sarah’s favourites joined the collection as well, in the form of cassettes, then CDs: Missy, Beyonce, Blackstreet, Queen Latifa, Justin, Will Smith, Maxwell.

Sam starts putting his Cookout playlists together weeks in advance. Sarah, and even Cass & AJ put in requests.

Bucky even put in a song request when they were pinned down by gunfire in Madripoor…once again.

“Hey, Sam,” he asks, hoping Sam didn’t see him start to blush, “do you think you could add that song by that singer Sarah likes?”

“Add? What song? Oh. Look, we’ll discuss it later. Cover me, I’m heading over to the side of that building over to the right.”

“Got it. Ready? Go!”

Sam makes a break for it, and Bucky keeps the shooters occupied while softly singing to himself:

“If it’s cool…we can do a little…somethin’…“

To be continued…

* * * * *

The actual #sarahbucky summer playlist is longer, there are reactions to some of the songs, and Sarah & Bucky get away for a little time to themselves later in the evening. But for now, here are the tunes. Fix yourself a plate, grab a glass (or bottle) of your favourite cookout libation, and enjoy. If you need to get up and dance, no problem. Your plate will still be there when you get back.

#sam wilson & bucky barnes #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sarah wilson #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarahbucky summer #sarahbucky summer prompts fest #sarahbucky summer 2023 #Spotify #playlist #sarahbucky bingo #fleurdelouve #sarahbuckybingo

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tllgrrl · 9 months

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Formal Introduction by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

@sarahbuckybingo 2023 Summer Prompt Fest - Week 3: Bucky Barnes & Cass and AJ Wilson

(Note: Originally posted 19 July 2023. Accidentally deleted and reposted 30 July due to Pilot Error. Apologies and Thanks to everyone who Liked/Reblogged the original post.)

* * * * * * * * * *

Cassius Casper Wilson’s vault isn’t old and fragile like many in the old cemetary, but on his birthday, when Sarah and their two sons visit, they still lovingly tend to it to make sure it looks nice. They bring the old red Radio Flyer—formerly Sam’s and Sarah’s now belonging to Cass and AJ—loaded with brooms, brushes, cleaning rags, and a couple of spray bottles of water, along with flowers, sun hats and a small ice chest of cold soft drinks.

On the way there, Cass and AJ tell Bucky about how graves are above ground in New Orleans, that there are famous people buried in the city—including “a real pirate”—and they tell him about some of the special customs people do at graves. Sarah elaborates on those.

Initially, the man formerly known as the “Winter Soldier” had some trepidations about being in the midst of so much death, after decades of he himself being the cause of so many deaths, but before they all left for the cemetery, he placed a brown paper bag containing a few special items into the red wagon that the boys took turns pulling to the gravesite.

He was at a cemetery in New Orleans with Sarah and her sons, because the boys asked him to come with them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two weeks earlier, sitting at his desk, going over some maps and blueprints for Team Cap’s upcoming mission, he could hear them coming up the stairs talking.

He couldn’t help the smile that started in his chest.

He knew they were heading up to the attic because they didn’t slow down at the landing to go to their room. After a few seconds of excited whispering, two small fists knocked on his door, so he closed his laptop and turned his chair to face the door.

“Yes?”

“Can we come in?” Cass spoke first. “We have something important to ask you.”

“But we can ask you later if you’re doing a Uncle Cap computer meeting!” AJ offered.

“Hey! Come on in, fellas!”

They tumbled into his room, and rushing over to his desk, immediately began their pitch:

“Daddy’s birthday—“

“It’s next Saturday, and—“

“Nuh-uh! Next Saturday is Free Comic Book Day!”

“Oh yeah! Daddy’s birthday is Saturday after next!”

“And we go visit him. Mama and us.”

“And we tell him about stuff like school—“

“—and Little League, and books I been reading and—“

“Mathletes and Star Wars!”

“And we want you to come too this time.”

“Because you and Mama are all going steadily!” AJ says to Bucky like it’s still kind of a secret.

“Ah…going steadily, huh?” Bucky leaned back in his chair, nodded thoughtfully, and through the window, he heard the squeak of the screen door below, Sarah softly singing to herself as she walked down the porch steps, turned on the spigot and pulled the water hose over to the vegetable garden.

“AJ!” Cass dramatically ran one hand down his face, then leaned over and whispered into his little brother's ear.

“I mean going steady,” the young boy said, crossing his arms and mirroring Bucky’s thoughtful nod.

“So…do you want to come? Mama says you might not want to, and we understand if you don’t, but…”

Bucky sat up, rested a hand on each knee and gathered his thoughts before he spoke because the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint them.

“Listen. I know visiting your father on his birthday is a special thing you do. You and Mom. Are you sure you guys want—”

“Heck yeah we do!” Cass insists.

“We have to introduce you to him. You’re family now. You’re our Bucky!”

Looking at their faces, he sees their mom, and their father, who he’s seen photos of. He even sees a hint of Sam, along with his and Sarah’s parents Paul and Darlene Wilson.

He sees the family that he’s somehow now a part of, and he thinks about his own family: his Pa, Ma, and his sister Rebecca, all now long gone.

(You’re family now. You’re our Bucky.)

The boys saw him look down at his now clasped hands. One flesh and blood, warm. The other one metal and wires and…

They’ve seen him think like this before, and for a few seconds they’re sure he might not want to come with them just yet. Then he looked up at them, placed one hand on Cass’s shoulder, and the other hand on AJ’s.

“Cass, AJ, I would be honored to be introduced to your father. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yesss!!!” The boys high-fived each other, and fist pounded the youngish old man sitting in front of them.

“We gotta go tell mama!! Thanks Uncle Bucky!!”

“Any time, fellas!”

He sat and listened as the small tornado of boys rushed down the stairs.

“Goin’ steadily…” he mused, not trying to keep the grin from turning into a full-out smile.

A few minutes later, in the middle of writing about extraction logistics and post-mission debriefing, he looked up from his notes, stood, walked over to the window, and looked down at the boys and Sarah across the yard, in the garden.

Narrowing his focus, he could hear them.

“Mama! Guess what?”

“He said yes!!”

“Oh, really?” She smiled, adjusting Cass’ askew glasses. “He did?”

“YES!!” the boys say in unison.

She gathered her sons into her arms, kissing them on the tops of their heads. Then she looked up at the attic window. He knows she can’t really see him from there, but he could read her lips as she mouthed “Thank you.”

He went back to his desk, picked up his phone, pressed a button, spoke, and after a few rings…

“Hey, Sam. Yeah, fine. We’re all fine. You? Good to hear.

Well…yes. I am happy. What? I’m not grumpy all the time, Samuel.

Listen. You got a minute? I have a few questions about Cass’s and AJ’s father, and about traditions.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Also posted HERE on The AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

::ICYMI::

@sarahbuckybingo Summer Prompt Fest

Week 1 - July 1-7 Prompt: Cookout

#bucky barnes & cass wilson & aj wilson #bucky barnes #cass & aj wilson #sarah wilson #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #fleur de louve #sarahbucky bingo #sarahbuckybingo #sarahbucky summer 2023 #sarahbucky summer prompts fest #prompt: cookout #moodboard by tllgrrl

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tllgrrl · 9 months

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7th Inning Stretch by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

@sarahbuckybingo Summer Prompt Fest 2023 - Week 5: “Beat The Heat”

Pairing - Sarah Wilson x James “Bucky” Barnes

Rating- Part 1: T (Tumblr & AO3) / Part 2: M (A03)

Summary: Sarah + Bucky + Summer + Baseball + Waltzing + Ice(?) = Shenanigans

* * * * * * * * *

Part 1: “Take me out…”

Steamy.

It’s not just a hot and humid Day Off Monday. By now, the sun’s almost set, but it still feels like a sauna outside.

Rain is in the forecast. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s on its way.

Sam’s visiting for a few days, so to keep two bored tween boys from going stir crazy he offers to take his nephews to the movies and then a mini-shopping spree at Crescent City Comics in NOLA, so Sarah and Bucky are lazing on the sofa, both in lightweight cotton shorts and tank tops.

The way most of the old homes in the area are built, opening windows and/or doors and letting the air flow through was the way “air conditioning” worked in the generations-old Wilson house.

Because both Sam and Bucky had cutting edge tech connections via Stark Industries and WakandaTech, low-profile, high-efficiency and environmentally friendly A/C was also a way the house was kept comfortable via window units installed in the living room and the bedrooms, including Bucky’s bedroom/office in the attic.

But tonight, after sundown, open windows and good screens worked perfectly well.

Bucky got the small ice chest out of the storage closet, filled it with ice, a couple of bottles of beer and 2 bottles of water, and Sarah laid out some snacks, including a few of his favorite granola bars, on the coffee table..

He’s watching the L.A. Dodgers (the “Brooklyn” Dodgers, as he sometimes calls them) play the New York Mets while he rubs her feet with his warm right hand.

She’s enjoying the hell out of the pampering, while reading the novelization of the Bridgerton TV show spinoff, Queen Charlotte.

He knows what she’s reading and enjoys the way she tries to keep a cool demeanor at the juicy parts.

He can hear her when she says under her breath, “Well, alright now…” or “Mmm…” And he took particular note when she covered her mouth, whispered “Giiiirrrrl, yessss…” and her toes curled in his hand.

He planned to try and get her to read whatever that part was aloud to him later.

“It’s almost time,” he informs her, releasing her foot and rubbing his left hand, still cool from holding a cold beer, on her legs.

“Mmmm…that’s nice.” she sighs as she lightly kneads his thigh with her heels. “Time for what?”

“7th Inning Stretch. You know the song, right? Take me me out—“

“To the ball game? Everybody knows that song.”

“Yeah, the chorus part of it, but do you know the verses?”

She lays the book down on the coffee table next to the bowl of roasted peanuts, snags a little cube of ice and rubs it on her wrists, her neck and her collarbone.

He watches a drop of water from the ice make its way from the dimple at the base of her throat, down her chest and roll into her cleavage.

For a second he contemplates going after that drop with his mouth, his tongue.

Instead, he gives her another piece of ice and pops some into his own mouth, crunches it, then takes her hand and plants cool kisses on the inside of her arm from the pulse point on her wrist to the crook of her elbow, all the while taking note of her reaction.

“Is that right?” She she murmurs, getting a little lost because it feels like every time his cold mouth lands on her warm skin, all of her attention, her focus, is drawn to that spot on her body.

And he sees her thighs clench just a little when he reaches the inside of her elbow, kisses it and then rubs his bearded cheek on it, making her hiss and pull away but just a little because the cold followed by the warmth makes her want more.

“Verses? That song has verses? Lay it on me, Sinatra.”

“Okay, it goes something like,

🎶Katie Casey was baseball mad, had the fever and had it bad.

Just to root for the hometown crew,

Every sou—that’s a penny—Katie blew…🎶”

“Really! That’s how it starts?”

“Yeah. Learned it from my Pa. There’s even this other version about a girl named Nellie Kelly.”

“Anyway….” she ruffles his hair and lightly raking her nails on his scalp, she watches his eyelids start to flutter. “I’ve never heard the intro before. My baseball knowledge isn’t deep. Daddy’d sometimes watch depending on who was playing, and you know about Sam and his football. I’m into whatever the boys are into, but I don’t know a lot about baseball.”

“My Ma loved baseball. Prob’ly more’n Pa. She’d listen to games on the radio doing' housework, or makin’ dinner, and during the 7th Inning Stretch she’d grab me and Becca, turn the radio up, and we’d all three of us dance around in the living room. God, in the summertime it’d be so hot, but we didn’t care.

Sometimes if I had a little bit o’ money left from a job, when the ice wagon came around I’d run downstairs and get us snow cones.

Man, when that ice hit your mouth…it was like heaven. I’ll never forget…”

Sarah sees that soft smile and look of almost wonderment he sometimes gets when an old formerly lost memory resurfaces.

‘Well, anyway…” He stood up, taking her hand and leading her to the middle of the room, “I’ll be more than happy to be your private baseball tutor.”

“Private tutor, huh?”

“Mmm-hmmm. May I?”

She nods, he places her right hand on his shoulder, takes her left hand, and pulls her nearer.

“When you’re watching the boys’ team play, you want to be the parent who actually knows what they’re yelling at the ump for.”

“Well, I thank you in advance, Professor Barnes. So when do my lessons start?”

“Now. Do you waltz?”

“Waltz? A little. Not much occasion to, but I can waltz with a good partner.”

“You’re in good hands. Trust me. Okay…”

He raises the TV volume, tosses the remote onto the couch, takes her hand, and they begin as the announcer sings:

🎶Take me out to the ballgame,

Take me out to the crowd…🎶

“Say! Not bad, young whippersnapper!”

“Thank you!”

🎶Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…🎶

“Who taught you?”

“Daddy. And mama taught Sam.”

“Sam? Your brother Sam? Sam Wilson can waltz?”

🎶Root, root, root for the home team,

If they don’t win it’s a shame…🎶

“Oh, yeah! Social Dancing was definitely part of our Home Training. But not Soul Train dancing. I mean Fox Trot, Swing, and Waltz. Like your Mama taught you, our Mama and Daddy taught us…like you’re gonna teach Cass and AJ.”

“ You want me to teach them how to—“

“Mmm-hmm. You’re already teaching them baseball fundamentals. You can show them the basics steps, and they can practice leading with me.”

“I thought you wanted them to like me!”

“It’ll be fun! I promise.”

“Mind if I hold you to that?”

The song continues and the crowd on the TV sings as Sarah and Bucky find themselves slow dancing.

Whenever they dance past the AC unit, they linger, feeling the cool air as it hits the light veil of sweat that has settled on their skin.

It’s Southern Louisiana. In the Summer, it’s always there.

She grew up with it.

He’s gotten used to it and actually loves it because he’d had enough freezing in his life to never want to be cold again unless necessary.

She feels the back of Bucky’s left hand run down her shoulder, then his fingers slowly slide from just behind her ear, down the side of her throat.

The sensors in that hand know her skin intimately now.

He remembers the first time she took his hand, the first time he touched her arm, her cheek, her bottom lip…her…

He lightly kisses the side of her neck, her ear, while softly humming the song, pulling giggles from her. Her hands roam up and down his back, then gently kneading the muscles at the back of his neck, pulling a deep inhale and sigh from him.

🎶Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…🎶

His mouth travels from to her cheek, then to her mouth.

🎶I don’t care if I ever come back.🎶

They get lost in the kiss, and when they finally do come back…

“Well, now. Tell me, Professor Barnes, do they still call a kiss like that getting to First Base?”

“I believe they do, Ms. Wilson.”

“I wonder if you can make it to Home Plate.”

“Not if I can, sweetness, but how many times I can.”

“Oh, really now,” she huffs, pulling away before he can go in for another scorching kiss, and heading toward the stairs.

He watches her ascend and when she looks back at him over her shoulder, she sees that “got an idea grin” he gets when he gets the kind of “ideas” that end up with them someplace at least semi-private for some quick “necking” as he’d call it.

“The truck windows are still down,” he grins. “I’ll be right up.“

As if on cue, the wind kicks up a bit, and then there’s the sound of rain beginning to fall.

{*ping*}

They both glance over at his phone on the end table, then at each other, and she starts to prepare herself for the words that’ll mean he has to get dressed, grab that ever-ready Backpack and board a QuinJet that’s miraculously showed up in the front yard.

(Dammit. Here it comes: “HQ called—blah blah blah. The boys and I are headed back home. Wheels up in 2 hours—blah blah blah. Sorry Buck.”)

Bucky goes over to the phone, picks it up, reads the message, and breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s from Sam. He says: raining cats and dogs up here. Storm’s headed your way. Boys are knocked out and so am I. Crashing at safehouse. See you guys in the morning. Don’t get distracted and forget to roll up windows on that old truck, White Panther.”

“Distracted?!” Bucky says to his phone. “I don’t get distracted, Samuel!”

Sarah watches for a few seconds as he fusses at the phone, then she turns and continues heading up the stairs.

“Don’t take too long rolling up those windows, Lover,” she teases over her shoulder. “It’s the top of the 7th. Batter up.”

Part 2: Rounding the Bases will be posted on AO3.

* * * * * * * *

NOTES: Between WIPs and Work. I swear, Part 2 will drop before this week’s ending deadline. The version on AO3 will be tighter. And there might be a moodboard added here.

* * * * * * * * * *

SarahBucky Summer Prompt Fest 2023:

Week 1 - “Cookout” Wilson Cookout Playlist

Week 3 - “Cass & AJ Wilson” Formal Introduction

Week 5 - “Beat The Heat” 7th Inning Stretch

Thanks for reading!

#sarah wilson #bucky barnes #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarahbucky summer 2023 #sarahbucky summer prompt fest #sarahbucky summer #sarahbucky bingo #sarahbucky fanfic #by tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones #fleurdelouve #fanfiction

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