Chapter One
2014
They landed in Paris, a few miles from the base they were set to take down in a few days. Sam and Steve hauled their luggage off of the quinjet and into the cab waiting for them. "I still can't believe you gave us three extra days of nothing before we infiltrate the base," Sam grumbled.
"Look, I miscalculated how quickly we'd arrive. Besides, we're in Paris! We've got plenty of time to get to the safe house and set up camp with extra time to visit for a bit," Steve reasoned.
Sam cut his eyes at Steve. "And where do you have us staying?"
Steve blushed. "Rennes."
"How far is Rennes from Paris?"
"By train? Two hours. Three, if we drive," Steve mumbled. Sam glared at him. Steve laughed, "Brittany is still beautiful! It's not Paris, but it's still a great place. Trust me."
Sam crossed his arms. "Next time, I book the trip."
They made it to the train station and found their way to their hotel in Rennes. The two of them wandered around the city, doing their best to enjoy the time they could before they had to leave for work later on in the week.
"Tomorrow, I have to do something but I'll meet you in Paris," Steve said as they were getting ready for bed.
"Fuck that," Sam called from the bathroom. "We're partners, which means we work together. So you're stuck with me until we get back to the States." He turned the corner and pointed a toothbrush at Steve. "Understood?"
Steve laughed. "Got it."
The next day, Steve ordered Sam to get ready in light gear for a simple hiking trip. "Hiking? Aren't there other means of travel to get to your destination?"
"I don't know where it is," Steve admitted as they walked out the door.
"Oh great. So we're just going to walk around until we find it?"
"Yup."
They set off for Steve's destination, Sam teasing him about not asking for directions or how confident he seemed in his ability to find this secret destination. It wasn't until Steve started to move quicker, almost desperate.
"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"Where the hell are you taking me?"
Steve ducked his head, blushing. "It's nothing."
Sam paused, studying Steve's movements. He decided against questioning him, instead of letting the captain guide him to their destination.
Twenty minutes later, a small village appeared in the distance. Steve took a deep breath and sprinted onwards. He was so close, so fucking close. He heard Sam following after him, the man's footsteps heavy as he tried to keep up with Steve.
Steve didn't stop until he reached the abandoned village.
"Steve, what is this place?" Sam asked quietly.
The blond walked through the empty roads, looking at the vacant storefronts and the houses here and there that once held families. "This is one of the villages the Nazis ransacked. The Commandos and I passed through here about a month before," he cleared his throat but didn't continue.
Sam's eyes widened, regarding the abandoned town with awe. He didn't dare say a word in case Steve needed silence to process and relish in the memories.
They walked down the street, stopping only when they reached a demolished lot. Sam peered into the lot, picking out pews and crosses with his eyes. Steve stood, face stone clear of any emotion, before what was once a church. "The Nazis had control of the area and some of the homes were already destroyed. It didn't stop the village, though. They kept thriving, going about their days with a fearless drive to keep things as normal as possible for the children."
"Wow," Sam said breathlessly, eyes dashing from Steve's somber face and the ruined church.
"Yeah," Steve agreed. He cleared his throat and continued, "The few days we stayed here were some of the best ones we'd had during our missions."
"How so?"
Steve grinned. "There was a wedding. It was the most beautiful wedding I'd ever seen. It was right here, among the rubble and debris. There wasn't much of a crowd, but everyone there was filled with love and support." He turned around, facing the rest of the village. Steve pointed to a little shop, "They bought the most beautiful rings from that very shop where a lovely old woman made matching rings with her own hands. I never saw anything like it," he whispered.
"That's amazing," Sam told him as he rested a hand on his shoulder.
"It was."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the weeds sway in the wind. "C'mon, let's head back. We need to get a jumpstart on the mission." Steve turned to leave, ignoring Sam's quiet protests. Instead, he wandered out of the village, glancing back into the little jewelry shop once more.
Hopefully, Sam didn't see his fist tighten around the dog tags on his neck, more specifically the matching rings nestled against his chest.
~*~*~*~
They finished the mission with great success. Hydra was eradicated from their base, with all occupants detained and arrested by the French government. The French agents combed the labs and offices, taking any and every piece of information they could find. Steve made sure they would share the information with the United Nations before he and Sam move onto the next base.
"Where to now?" Sam asked as they climbed into the cab.
"We'll take a train down to Croatia. Got word there was another base, supposedly deserted. Should be a simple job," Steve explained.
Sam nodded. "Is this what our lives have become? Hopping from one base to another in search of some guy who barely remembers you?"
Steve winced. He didn't like the idea of dragging Sam around, nor was he fond of the idea that Sam was forced to risk his life simply because Captain America asked him. "I told you," he started, "Bucky's-"
"More than just some guy, he's your best friend and the only person to stick by your side despite your pathetic health and stubborn traits," Sam droned. "Man, you've been saying that since the Potomac, where - if you don't recall - he nearly killed you!"
With a clenched jaw, Steve took a deep breath. Yes, Sam's claims were justified. Yes, they made sense when you look at the situation from an objective point of view. Steve knew this, he acknowledged it, but there was no way in hell that he could just ignore it. "For the last time, Sam, he's more than that."
Sam groaned. "I get it, alright-"
Steve snapped, "No, Sam, you don't. You're never going to understand this situation. Ever. Nobody fucking understands just how important this is for me to find him."
"Hey, jackass, I lost someone too. Riley was my Bucky-"
"But he wasn't!" Steve bellowed, getting everyone's attention. He was too pissed off to even blush. Despite his rage building, Steve still sunk into his seat to avoid any more attention.
Sam looked at him with disgust. "Are you serious? And how so?"
Shit. Steve didn't think this far through. He could admit his relationship with Bucky, but it all of this 'acceptance' stuff was still really new and he didn't feel comfortable telling anyone. Not without Bucky, at least. He could be a complete ass and state the obvious, that Riley hasn't returned from the dead to be some assassin with a mission to kill Sam. He shook his head. He was an asshole, but that was too much. "Bucky was different," Steve finally said. "He's all I had."
"But not all you have now. You've got me and the Avengers, his sister Daisy, and thousands of fans who support you unconditionally," Sam whispered. "You don't just have Bucky anymore and you're not alone. But," he sighed, "I get it."
Steve did his best not to roll his eyes. He settled into his seat and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. It worked until Sam nudged him. "Look," he said and pointed across Steve at the window. The blond sat up and glanced out the window, only for his heart to stop.
The Alps.
And all Steve could see was that blasted train.
Steve was as close as he could get when he called, "Grab my hand!" He reached for his husband, desperate to pull the man close to him. But the rail Bucky was holding started to give, shaking in Bucky's grip. His eyes widened. "No!" He lunged forward, one hand gripping the rail tightly and the other reaching for Bucky as he started to slip.
The sergeant tried to grasp Steve's hand, but it was too late. The rail detached from the side, Bucky's hand inches away from Steve's. Bucky screamed as he fell, the horrified noise echoing in Steve's ears.
The blond curled in on himself, huddling closer to the wall. He watched in horror as the train sped on and Bucky's flailing body fell to the ground.
Steve jumped up and pushed his way away from the window, his breathing labored and tears in his eyes. He plopped down into an empty seat on the opposite side, his back to the mountains.
Sam cautiously sat beside him. "Steve?"
"I couldn't grab him. I tried. I really tried. I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it," Steve mumbled, holding his head in his hands.
Sam's eyes widened before his face steeled into counselor mode. "Steve, what's going on?" He asked gently.
Steve looked up, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. "I couldn't grab him. I tried, I really did. I couldn't do it. I couldn't-"
"Wait..." Sam gasped, glancing back at the Alps. "Fuck, Steve, I'm sorry man." He took Steve's head in his hands and hugged him to his chest, letting the man cry as he did his best to comfort him. "We're going to find him, Steve. Things will be okay and you two can go back to being best friends, yeah?"
Steve sobbed softly into Sam's shirt and suddenly Sam didn't see Steve Rogers, Captain America. He saw Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who didn't ask to become Captain America and the symbol of America, but the kid who was sent to a war with his best friend. Steve didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of this.
Sam held him tighter and vowed to himself that he'd do anything to bring Bucky home.
~*~*~*~
Steve was glad to be home. It was always nice to have a break from missions and Hydra. The first couple of days were normal, he and Sam would spend the days alone to recuperate. Steve would paint, catch up on the news, sleep, and work-out. By the third day, all he would do is work himself to death, trying to keep himself away from the negative thoughts.
It was the fourth day when Steve was out jogging that an idea occurred to him. He'd been running through DC like he always does first thing in the morning. The sun hadn't started to rise yet when Steve turned onto a road on the outskirts of the city. It was deserted, other than a car or pedestrian here and there, and the shops were all closed. Steve jogged down the street, barely glancing at either side of the street. Until his eye caught a sign.
He stopped, a smirk spreading across his face. It was a tattoo shop named the Patriot Eagle and had a tattooed eagle flying in front of the American flag. Steve couldn't help but appreciate the craftsmanship of the eagle's design, including the tattoos littered on his wings.
Steve shook his head and kept running, his feet pounding against the asphalt as the sun began to rise.
Later on, when he was checking his emails, Steve opened up a new tab and before he knew it, he was searching for the Patriot Eagle Tattoo and Piercings Shop. And then he was clicking the artist tab and searching through the four artists at the shop. And then he was calling them, all without ever really thinking about his actions.
"Patriot Eagle Tattoos and Piercings, you're speaking with Sal. How can I help you?"
Steve glanced at the artist tab on his screen and bit his lip. Sal Peddigon was Steve's second favorite of the few, behind Jill Montieth. He cleared his throat, "Hello, I'm, um-"
"Interested in a tattoo?" Sal suggested.
A blush spread across Steve's cheeks. "Yeah, I am."
"And what are you looking to get?"
"Um, actually before we get into that, there's a few questions I need to ask."
"Like?"
"I have an," he struggled for the word, "interesting medical condition. This condition makes me worried about the healing of the tattoo, but it's hard to explain."
There was silence for a moment before Sal said, "Okay. Have you spoken to your doctor? It's important that you speak with them before you decide to get out. Especially since tattoos are forever and they aren't cheap."
Steve nodded. "I understand this. What are your hours?"
"We're open Wednesday through Sunday for walk-ins, Monday and Tuesdays are appointments only."
"Are you busy now?"
"Now? No, we just opened. We normally don't have many customers before noon."
"I'll be there in five. It's easier to talk face-to-face." Steve jumped up, kicking the seat back.
"Okay, see you then...?"
"Steve." The captain hung up, already halfway out the door.
Adrenaline filled him as he walked down the streets, head tucked low and hunched to make himself feel smaller. He felt like his old self again, going to on some crazy adventure that would only get him in trouble later on. He did his best not to think about how this was completely different, about how there was no one at home to yell at him for being stupid and reckless. Steve did his best to keep his mind blank, trying to tune out any and all distractions that would suede him from his plan.
If the old Bucky was here, he'd kill him.
For the first time in a long time, Steve felt free. He didn't feel his grief anchoring him down and in fact, he took comfort in the fact that he was now his own singular person. Since he met Bucky, it was always "Bucky and Steve" or "Winnie and Sarah's boys," Steve wasn't just Steve until he became Captain America, even then he wasn't just Steve. It was nice to feel like he didn't need someone else, be it Bucky or Cap, to define himself, even if he was the only one to see the difference.
He made it to the shop. The Eagle was now lite with lights, the colors on the tattoos popping off the eagle's feathers. Steve could see people mingling inside, only a handful who Steve suspected were the employees.
Steve felt his stomach drop and his chest tighten. Did he really want to do this? Sure, there was a chance the serum may reject the ink altogether and it'd be gone in a week. On the other hand, it could be completely normal and he'd have a tattoo forever.
The blond grabbed the dog tags nestled against his chest and crossed the street.
The door chimed when he opened it, making the six heads in front of him turn in his direction. "Hey, welcome to the Patriot Eagle!" A young lady asked, her arms covered in roses, marigolds, and sugar skulls.
Steve kept the brim of his hat low and his sunglasses on. "Is Sal here?"
A bigger man stepped forward, with tattoos up to his neck and his lip pierced. "I'm guessing you're Steve?"
"I am," Steve said as he shook Sal's hand. "Can we talk in private?"
Sal glanced back at his coworkers and nodded. "Follow me." Sal guided Steve into the back of the shop, past the chairs and tables and into a cramped office. "How can I help you?"
Steve kept his body hunched inwards. "Can I trust you?"
"Um, yeah?"
Steve studied him for a moment. "Good." He took off his sunglasses and cap, stood to his full size, and crossed his arms.
Sal's eyes grew to twice their size. "Holy shit!"
"If you want my business, this stays between us. Understood?"
"Very," Sal shook Steve's hand again. "So when you meant you had a medical condition...?"
Steve sighed. "The super soldier serum didn't come with an instructional booklet. I'm not exactly sure how my body will react to a tattoo. Hell, it may not even last a month."
Sal nodded, still starstruck. "Yeah, that may be an issue."
"I'm willing to spend the money and time, if you and your team can keep this between us. I don't want anyone to know about this; no one in the media, no friends or family, not even the other Avengers. Okay?"
"Of course, sir."
"Should we get started?"
A half an hour later, Steve was surrounded by the employees of the Patriot Eagle, as Sal applied the stencil. "Did you ever think about tattoos before you..." Carver, one of the artists, asked as he leaned against Sal's desk.
Steve shook his head. "Before the serum, I was too sick and frail to really think about getting a tattoo. Knowing my luck, I would have got an infection or some other bullshit." The artists laughed as Sal continued to prepare for Steve's tattoo.
"What do you think about the placement?" Sal asked, looking at Steve's ankle as if it were glass.
The captain grinned. "It's perfect."
Sal started to tattoo. Steve gasped, shocked by how intense the needles dug into his skin. It didn't hurt as bad as he was expecting though, but it was a bit more irritating than he anticipated. "Tattoos weren't as socially accepted as they are today, hell a lot of things weren't," he continued. "I think my ma would have strangled me if I came home with this."
"Shit, my ma nearly throttled me when I came home with my first one!" Monroe laughed.
Steve chuckled lightly, focusing on not jerking his leg too much.
"I still can't believe you're here, Mr. Rogers," Jill whispered quietly.
"It's just Steve." He smiled at her. "Besides, I was jogging past here this morning and I couldn't help but think it was meant to be."
"Wait a second, don't you live on the other side of town?" Sal asked.
Steve blushed. "Uh, yeah, I do. Why?"
"Are you telling me you ran all the way across town?" Jill gasped.
"I do every morning. Otherwise, I get bored."
Laughter filled the shop. "If that's not the most Captain America thing I have ever heard!" Carver barked.
Steve grinned, watching as Sal calmed down and continued to work. The door chimed and Monroe went to answer it. The others soon drifted off, coming back every now and then to ask how Steve was doing or see if Sal needed anything.
"I think we're almost done," Sal mumbled as he moved Steve's leg.
"Thank god," Steve sighed.
Sal chuckled. "The good captain can't handle a little pain?"
"I've been shot in the gut by my best friend, twice. This is nothing."
"Show off."
Twenty minutes later and Sal finished up. "What do you think?"
Steve looked down and gasped. Tattooed on his ankle was Bucky's dog tags, wrapped around his foot and calf just like it had been when he crashed the Valkyrie. He was in awe at how real it looked, the silver and depth of the tags was beautiful. "I love it," he whispered, reaching down to touch it.
"I'd be careful with your workouts and just healing in general. Here's a pamphlet for aftercare and a list of things you need to watch for. Stop by as much as you want and we can help you monitor it. Here's my personal number," Sal handed him three pamphlets and a business card, "call or text as much as you need."
"I appreciate this," Steve said, pocketing the pamphlets. "I'll stop by tomorrow morning. Thank you so much." The two of them made their way up to the front, where Steve paid Sal with a hefty tip (he may have also tipped the other employees, mostly to keep them quiet, but also because he felt guilty not going to them. Plus he understands how rough being an artist can be financially.) before he left to take care of his new ink.
~*~*~*~
It was getting colder by the day, but that didn't stop Steve and Sam from their morning runs. Okay, it didn't stop Steve. After the first snow, Sam started to whine about going at a different time or using the indoor equipment.
"Steve, this is ridiculous!" Sam hissed as they jogged in place at a light. "I'm freezing my ass off out here."
Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tap out at any moment," the blond quipped before he dashed across the street.
Sam groaned, waiting for the light to change as he glared at Steve on the opposite side. "Anyone ever tell you, you're an ass?"
"Me?" Steve laughed. "Never."
When Sam finally crossed the street, the man glared at his captain. "Seriously, we need to cut back or something."
Steve scoffed and started to jog, going slow enough for Sam to catch up and set a rhythm again. "Listen, this is a great endurance builder. Plus, if you keep moving, you'll start to build up heat."
"Whatever, Captain Gymrat."
They kept going, creating a cadence with their footsteps. Sam grunted every few steps, Steve huffing along beside him. "Okay, I need something to keep me focused. I left my damn headphones."
"Okay," Steve mumbled. "When do you go home for the holidays?"
"Friday," Sam grunted.
Steve nodded.
Sam suddenly stopped. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you going to Daisy's or Tony's? Does Nat have something or are you going with Sharon to dinner? What's going on?"
Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sharon and Nat are both on a mission, Tony and Pepper are going to visit her family, and Daisy moved in with her daughter in Illinois. I was just going to... stay home."
"Steve," Sam sighed with a sympathetic smile on his face, "you can't stay here by yourself. Would you like to join me and my family for Thanksgiving?"
"I don't-"
"Don't you dare say 'I don't want to impose' because we both know that's bull," Sam stated in his best Steve impression.
Steve blushed harder (but if anyone asked it was because of the cold). "If you and your family would have me, I'd love to come with," he admitted quietly.
Sam grinned. "I'll call my mom and let her know while you get us coffee."
"Sure, if you can catch me," Steve said before he sprinted down the street.
"I'm best friends with a fucking child," Sam grumbled as he raced after Steve.
On Friday, the two of them left DC and headed to Sam's parents in Harlem. They were staying with Darlene, despite Steve's insistence that they could stay in his apartment in Manhattan, with Sam's siblings Gideon and Sarah and their families. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but honestly, Steve was excited. It brought him back to when the Barnes family moved in after the Great Depression hit when he had to share a room with Bucky and his siblings.
"Sorry about the tight squeeze, Steve," Darlene said on Thursday morning as she poured him a cup of coffee.
Steve laughed, taking the cup from her. "Thank you," he mumbled. He sipped at his mug and cleared his throat. "It's a nice change compared to the Tower."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"The Tower is just," he sighed, "very sterile. Not what I grew up with, at least."
Darlene shook her head. "I couldn't imagine what it's been like for you, Steven. Growing up in the 30's, the war, waking up in this century?" She huffed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"Don't be," Steve grinned. "It's been rough, but I don't regret anything."
"Well I'm glad that everything turned out alright," she said. "Although, I don't know whether I need to thank you or scold you for getting my baby involved in your lifestyle."
Steve blushed. "I know it's not ideal, Mrs. Wilson-"
She slapped her hand down on the counter. "Now what have I told you about calling me by that? You're older than me, for crying out loud! Please, call me Darlene."
He blushed harder. "I'm sorry, Darlene." Steve chuckled. "No, I really didn't want to drag Sam into all of this Cap stuff. It's not exactly what I had planned when I had first met him. Then again, I did try and stop him."
"Oh, I'm sure you did.
Sam slumped into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking nothing like the man he'd known for almost a year, but rather the child who grew up in this very kitchen. "Mornin' Mama," he mumbled as he kissed her cheek.
"Good morning, Sammy. Coffee's in the pot and there's scrambled eggs in the microwave that Stevie made. And then the both of you need to get out of my damn kitchen. I gotta lot of food to make," Darlene chided.
Steve saluted her, grinning. "Yes, ma'am."
Later on, when they were around the dinner table and feasting on Darlene's lovely meal, Steve was hit with a wrecking ball of emotions. They'd just started to dig in, Steve trying his best not to inhale the entire table (he was really glad Darlene made triple what she usually made...).
It had been so long since he had a real homemade meal, one made by someone who just wanted to feed the people she loved. There was something so special about a mother's cooking, especially someone as warm and kind as Darlene. Add that to all the love and compassion Steve felt radiating off of Sam's siblings and their families, directed at each other and him, it was overwhelming. He hadn't had a Thanksgiving meal, a true and traditional holiday meal, since '42, and even then the war had found a way to ruin it. It had been so long, he completely forgot what it felt like to be surrounded by people who truly care about you and genuinely want to spend the holiday with you.
Steve did his best to seal this memory in his mind.
"This is incredible, Darlene," Steve nearly groaned between bites.
Darlene laughed, a sound filled with so much joy and love Steve nearly burst. "I'm glad you like it, Steve. Eat as much as you want."
"Oh he will," Sam quipped.
Steve glared at him, but he couldn't keep a straight face.
Gideon, Sam's older brother, chuckled and sat up straighter. "So Steve, I know this is kind of a personal question," he started. The captain tensed in the slightest, always on guard with his emotions. Gideon continued with an earnest curiosity Steve couldn't fault him for, "When was your last Thanksgiving?"
"1942," he responded. "I've been on missions every year since I woke up," Steve explained as he sipped at his glass of water, "so I never get to celebrate. Tony usually holds... what are they called?" he asked Sam.
Sam bit his lip. "Friendsgiving," he supplied.
Steve blushed. "Right. So yeah, I guess it's been... a few years."
"Was it a good one?" his daughter, Cynthia, asked.
"I enjoyed it," Steve told her, trying to give his best smile. Cynthia beamed at him from across the table.
Darlene and Sam, however, were not giving him big, goofy grins, but they didn't say anything either.
Steve didn't think too much about it until they cornered him after dinner. Sam and Darlene settled up beside him as he washed the dishes. "Spill," Sam demanded.
"What happened that last Thanksgiving?" Darlene asked with just as much attitude.
"It was right before the war. Bucky, his little brother, and his brother-in-law, were all about to get shipped off. It was tense, but you know," Steve shrugged, focusing intensely on the dishes.
Darlene placed a hand on his shoulder. "Was it your last Thanksgiving with your mother?"
Steve shook his head. "No, she passed in '36."
"Then who did you spend the holidays with?" Darlene's voice was quiet, filled with concern and sympathy as Sam watched with understanding.
"Bucky's family mostly. Our families were always spending holidays together, it happens when you live together," he chuckled.
Darlene took the dishes out of his hands and wiped them off, forcing Steve to face her. She took both of his damp hands in hers and looked up at him. "Steven," she started, "I don't want you to ever spend another holiday by yourself. Do you understand?"
Steve shook his head, eyes threatening to water.
Sam clasped a hand on his shoulder. "You're family now, man. If you need anyone, I told you I'm always here if you need someone to turn to."
"And now you have us. We may be your biological family and we may not have a rich history together," Darlene added, "but we love you without conditions. You saved my son," she breathed out, already in tears, "you helped him find himself. You gave him a purpose after he lost it. I could never thank you enough for doing that for my baby. And I will stop at nothing to make sure you have the same support. If you need someone to depend on, I've got two strong, incredible boys who will gladly be your brothers." Darlene was crying now and Steve was starting to sniffle. "If you need someone to vent to and unwind with, I've got a kind and compassionate daughter who will be glad to be your sister. If you need to spoil someone, I've got three grandchildren you can help me spoil." They both chuckled, watery and soft. Sam squeezed his shoulder tighter, moving in closer. "And if you ever, ever, need someone to give you a warm hug, advice, to hear your problems and praises, to help you through a situation, either spiritual or physical, or even a home cooked meal, you turn to me, Steven. I may not be your momma, and I will never claim to be because that is a bond no one can impede on, but I sure will love you like your my son."
Steve didn't know what to say. He took in a deep, shaky breath as a stray tear fell from his eyes. Darlene squeezed his hands. "I know it's been hard, baby. I can't even begin to comprehend what you've been through. What my Sammy's told me, it's been hell. I just want you to be happy, to have a family, to know you aren't alone." She shook her head. "I hate that you've gone through so much and lost everything, but Steven, we are here to help you rebuild and survive.
"I will never force you to be apart of this family, but I sure as hell won't stop you. I told you from the get go to make yourself comfortable and I mean it. For as long as you wish, you're a Wilson. Is that okay?" She asked quietly, beaming at him.
"I think it's more than okay," he whispered.
Darlene pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, filled with a love only a mother could give. "Welcome home, baby." Steve held her tight, trying not to break in her arms.
Sam hugged them both, leaning his head on his mother's other shoulder. "Momma, you do realize you'll have to start buying more food regularly, right?" he mumbled after a moment.
The three of them laughed, separating and wiping their eyes. "It's not his fault he could out eat an army," Darlene chided, hugging Steve's side.
"That's right," Steve agreed, hugging her back.
Darlene slapped Steve's stomach. "Now finish the dishes, both of you."
Sam and Steve groaned, shuffling back to the sink with a groan of "Yes, Momma."