It’s not weird for Bucky to disappear for hours on end. The guy’s restless after half a century being stuck in a freezer -- Sam gets that. So unless he receives an SOS or a call from Sharon, he doesn’t really worry about what Bucky gets up to.

He does, however, feel a smidgen of concern when Bucky waltzes in with a box and Sharon in tow carrying bags filled with oddly shaped things.

The box, Sam notes belatedly, has holes in it.

“What did you do?” He asks, watching Sharon set the bags on his coffee table, assorted pet toys tumbling out with a rattle.

Bucky sets the box on the ground and opens it carefully, the three watching as the white head of a cat pops out warily to take in the new scenery. 

“His name is Alpine,” Bucky declares, and there’s a ghost of a genuine smile on his face as the cat hops out of the box and begins exploring.

They settle for the rest of the evening, Sharon and Bucky trailing after Alpine whenever he wanders into the other rooms, setting up cat necessities that Sam is only vaguely aware of, but accepts as part of his life now, he supposes.

It’s only later, after a quick assignment, that he comes back home exhausted to see Bucky and Sharon on the couch, Alpine curled up contentedly on Bucky’s chest.

“You know? I didn’t picture you being a cat guy,” Sam says, peering over the back of the couch at Alpine as he drops his gear in the hall closet.

Alpine, in Bucky’s arms, stares back with an unimpressed air before turning back to face Sharon. 

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks, letting Alpine climb across his chest into Sharon’s lap; Sharon gives a delighted gasp and smooths a hand down the cat’s back, and it’s like the years have sloughed off her shoulders as she plays with the newest member of the family.

Sam shrugs, walking around to sit on his recliner with a heavy groan. “Just figured you’d like dogs more. Maybe a Golden or a Shepherd.”

“I like dogs just fine, but...” Bucky holds a hand out to Alpine’s face, letting the cat sniff before he shoves his face into Bucky’s palm.

“Alpine adopted you,” Sharon nods, watching Alpine climb back onto Bucky with only slight disappointment. “I always wanted a cat, but Dad was allergic to fur, so I only got to play with my cousin Danny’s dogs once in a while.”

“We couldn’t have pets growing up,” Bucky’s voice is tinged with nostalgia, far away in that way Sam knows he’s picking at memories that haven’t been dusted off in a while. “Stevie was allergic to fur and dander and who knew what else... but sometimes I’d catch him tryin’ to feed strays out in the back alley, wheezing up a storm.”

“Sounds like something he’d do.” Sam watches Alpine’s tail stick straight up as he leaps gracefully onto the arm of the couch, then chokes on a laugh when he startles at a piece of lint and leaps into the air.