Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 66 - Anchored by Hope

The sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore was soothing, a welcome contrast to the tension Bucky had been carrying for days. We'd come to Sam's family home for some peace, though Bucky looked skeptical at first. I knew this trip would help him unwind, even if he didn't realize it yet.

I followed him down to the dock where Sam was already busy working on the old family boat. The sight of Sam's familiar grin as he waved us over was enough to make me smile. Bucky, however, still looked unsure, his hands tucked into his pockets as he studied the boat with a frown.

"Come on, Buck," Sam called, handing him a paintbrush with a raised eyebrow. "It's just a boat. You've faced tougher battles."

Bucky grumbled something under his breath, hesitating for a moment before taking the brush. "Not exactly my specialty," he muttered.

I walked up beside him, giving him a nudge. "What's the worst that could happen?" I teased. "Maybe you'll discover a new talent."

He shot me a look, but I could see the tension starting to ease from his shoulders. "I highly doubt that."

As we got to work, the rhythm of sanding and painting became oddly therapeutic. I watched Bucky, sneaking glances whenever I could. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration, and for a while, it seemed like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. This was good for him—being around people, doing something simple, something normal. I saw the way his hands moved over the wood, steady and sure, as if for once, he wasn't haunted by the memories of his past.

Sam's voice broke through my thoughts. "You doing okay over there, Barnes? Or are you planning to paint yourself into a corner?"

Bucky paused, raising an eyebrow at Sam before muttering, "You're lucky this isn't vibranium paint."

I chuckled, watching the exchange between the two men. There was a bond there now, built over time. They didn't always have to speak for it to show; it was in the small moments, the teasing, the quiet understanding.

"Be careful," I said with a grin. "Sam's been known to turn on his teammates when he doesn't like the job they're doing."

Bucky shook his head, rolling his eyes as he continued working. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

---

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the mood lightened even more. Bucky and Sam were swapping stories now, the conversation punctuated by Sam's laughter and Bucky's occasional dry comments. There was something beautiful about it, seeing them both like this—relaxed, comfortable in each other's presence.

Sam was perched on a ladder, hammer in hand, trying to fix part of the boat's exterior. He glanced down at Bucky, who was carefully painting the side, and smirked. "You're not as bad at this as I thought you'd be," Sam said.

Bucky glanced up, his expression deadpan. "Thanks for the high praise, Wilson."

I smiled as I leaned back against a nearby post, watching the two of them. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that they'd been through so much together—fighting side by side, risking their lives for each other. But here, working on a boat, they were just two men trying to make sense of the world they lived in.

Suddenly, Sam lost his balance and dropped the hammer he'd been holding. It hit the deck with a loud clang before bouncing into the water. Sam stared at it for a second, then groaned.

"Smooth," Bucky commented dryly, not even looking up from his painting.

I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with my hand. "Are you sure you're the one in charge of this project, Sam?" I asked, teasing him.

Sam shook his head, chuckling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I don't see either of you climbing up here."

Bucky glanced up at the ladder, then back down at the paintbrush in his hand. "I think I'll stick to what I know."

Sam rolled his eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're missing out, Barnes. Maybe you should try something new for once."

Bucky looked at me, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I think I'm good with paint."

It was in moments like these, watching Bucky relax, that I felt a pang of guilt. I still hadn't told him about the baby. Every time I thought I'd found the right moment, something would come up, or I'd lose my nerve. He was just beginning to feel like himself again, starting to open up more, and I didn't want to overwhelm him.

But I knew I couldn't keep it a secret much longer.

---

As the day went on, Bucky seemed to settle into the work. I could see him gradually letting go of some of the tension he'd been carrying. It was like this place, with its salty air and gentle waves, was starting to feel like a safe space for him—a place where he didn't have to be the Winter Soldier or even Bucky Barnes, the man with a thousand regrets. He could just be here, doing something simple, surrounded by people who didn't expect anything from him other than his company.

Later in the afternoon, we all took a break. Bucky and I sat on the dock, our feet dangling over the edge as we watched the water shimmer in the fading sunlight. I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his arm around me.

"I never thought I'd find this," he admitted quietly after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. "A place where I feel like I belong."

I smiled softly, resting my hand on his. "You've earned it, Bucky. You've fought so hard to be here, and you deserve every bit of peace you find."

He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more vulnerable. "It's been a long time since I felt like I could have this. A normal life... a future."

I turned to face him, reaching up to touch his cheek. "And you do. You have me, you have Sam, and you have this chance to build something good."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the man he was before all the pain and loss—the man he was becoming again. "You think we can make it work?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with both hope and uncertainty.

I smiled, nodding. "I know we can."

He looked out at the water, his hand tightening around mine. "It's hard to imagine sometimes," he admitted. "But for the first time... I think I can see it."

As we sat there, the sun dipping lower in the sky, I felt a deep sense of peace wash over me. This was our life now—one filled with challenges, yes, but also with hope. We were building something together, something that would last.

And soon, there would be more to this family. A new chapter, one I would share with him when the time was right.

For now, I would savor this moment—this simple, quiet happiness we had found.