As the sun shined hot over the bayou, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes stood by the dock, ready to tackle the restoration of Sam’s family shrimping boat, the Sarah. “Alright, let’s get to work,” Sam said, rolling up his sleeves, flexing slightly. Bucky picked up a wrench, eyeing the boat with raised brows. “You sure this thing can float? It looks like it’s been through some shit.” “Hey, it’s seen worse than you,” Sam shot back with a smirk, uncoiling a frayed rope. “Doubt that..” Bucky mutters under his breath.

They started their tasks, sweat glistening on their brows. Sam bent down to check the engine, lifting the rusty cover with a grunt. “Looks like we’ve got some serious repairs to do here.” “Yeah, and I’m no mechanic,” Bucky replied, crouching beside him. He handed Sam a screwdriver. “Just don't blow us up.” “Yeah, yeah-“ Sam starts to twist the screwdriver. “We don’t want the engine falling apart again, do we?” Sam teased. Bucky leaned closer, their shoulders brushing. “You’re going to kill us, Sam.” “Please,” Sam grinned. “You never die.”

Soon, they focused on the hull, Bucky scraped off layers of old paint with a putty knife, muscles flexing with each stroke. “What kind of paint is this? It’s older than me” “Old school. Keeps the boat tough.” Sam winked, joining him with a paintbrush. “But, we need a fresh coat.”

The sun finally set, casting a warm glow over the water, Sam and Bucky took a break, settling on the edge of the boat with cold beers in hand. “Not bad for a day’s work,” Sam said, taking a sip and looking out at the shimmering bayou. “Yeah, I guess you’re not completely useless,” Bucky replied, smirking. “Just mostly.” Sam nudged him playfully. “Keep it up, and I might just let you blow yourself up.” They shared a laugh. The tension of the day easing, before something or someone caught their eyes from across the water. “Who’s that?” Bucky tips his head towards the person across the bank. “Don’t know-“ Sam finishes his beer. “They keep to themselves.”