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But now, he was different. He still had bad days and rough nights- he was nowhere near "fixed", but he was healing. He was doing better. He was handling things with you by his side.

Over the past year, he’d spent every night at your apartment when he wasn’t on a mission. Some of his clothes lived in your dresser, his boots always sat by your front door, and he had a permanent side of the bed. He said coming home to you was always the very best part of his day, rivaled only by falling asleep with you in his arms. He was surprised by how quickly you warmed his heart and helped him learn to trust again. He’d called you his saving grace on a number of occasions, and it always made you blush.

The same question you’d been pondering for a while reared its head again, and before you knew it, you were asking Bucky to move in with you. His eyes snapped from the tv to your face, staring at you in disbelief, “what?” For a few months now, you’d thought about asking him to move in. He was always at your place anyway, and you loved having him there- it only made sense to make the arrangement permanent. You wanted him around all the time, but you’d been nervous to ask. You knew he was skittish sometimes, easily scared off when things got too serious, but you couldn’t take it back.

“I um, I asked if you want to move in…here…with me”, you murmured. You fumbled anxiously with the hem of your t-shirt as Bucky fell quiet. For a moment, you thought he was going to run, but then his lips met yours. He poured every ounce of love and adoration into the kiss, deepening it as much as he possibly could. He pulled back, taking your face in his hands, “I’d love to, doll. Are you- are you sure?” Another kiss answered his question and he smiled against your lips. Never did he think he’d ever have someone as wonderful as you. You were so kind and patient with him, always providing him with the comfort and love he needed on his darkest days. “I’m sure, Buck. I want this to be your home”, you whispered, stroking his stubble with your thumbs.

He felt his heart swell, and he was sure it was growing too big for his chest. You’d felt like home to him ever since the two of you started dating, but he’d never let himself think too far into the future. He couldn’t allow himself to imagine the two of you years down the line with a home together. If he gave himself that luxury and things didn’t work out, he’d be utterly crushed. He opted to always live in the present, only looking ahead a few days at a time- it was safer that way. But you were offering him something concrete, something closer to permanent than he’d had in a while.

He pulled you tight against his body and wrapped you in his arms as the two of you talked about move-in plans. With the following Saturday marked as the big day, Bucky carried you to what would soon be your shared bedroom. He held you close, running his hands through your hair and stroking your skin as you told him all the ways you could accommodate him. It was kind of you, but Bucky didn’t want you to rearrange your closet or give up space in your bathroom just for him- he just wanted to be with you. He silenced you with long kiss that rendered you speechless, and held you even tighter as you melted against him. The two of you eventually fell asleep, tangled blissfully together with the knowledge that Bucky would soon be calling your small apartment home.

When the big day finally arrived, the two of you woke up early. Bucky threw on some clothes and kissed you goodbye before heading to the compound to gather his things. You caught him on his way out the door and blocked his escape route, pulling him close to you by the collar of his leather jacket. “I know you’re a super soldier and you can carry everything yourself,” you teased, “but I don’t mind helping! Really, just let me-” He pressed a kiss to your lips and shook his head before pulling away.

“I promise you, I can manage on my own- I’ll be back before you know it,” he let his lips ghost over yours once more before throwing you a wink and heading out the door. You busied yourself around the apartment as you waited, clearing closet space and organizing your bathroom cabinets. After only an hour, Bucky strode through the front door. “Honey,” he called, “I’m home”. He heard your laughter emanating from the bedroom and quickly found you on the floor of the closet, surrounded by clothes.

“Welcome home, Barnes,” you murmured as you rose to your feet and met his lips with yours, “let me help you with your stuff”. He rolled his eyes. Bucky knew you were incorrigible, but he'd hoped you would listen to him just this once.

He let his eyes rake over the piles of clothes on floor, and quirked an eyebrow at you. "I'm just clearing some space for you. I have a lot of stuff I need to get rid of anyway", you words made him sigh and he took his face in your hands. It didn't matter how many times he asked you not to accommodate him, you weren't going to listen.

His hand found yours and he pressed a kiss to your palm before leading you down the hall toward the kitchen. “I bet you haven’t eaten breakfast yet, have you?” he looked down at you with a dissatisfied smirk as you nodded your head. He knew you too well. He knew you’d been too caught up in the excitement of him moving in, so much so that you’d forgotten to eat.

“Babyyyy, come on- alright, I’m making your breakfast”. He took a few steps toward the fridge, but you snaked in front of him, cutting off his path. He folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at you, his head-strong girlfriend. “Counter offer, Barnes: we go get some of your stuff from the car and bring it up here first, then you make me breakfast”, you offered. He threw his head back in a laugh and made grabby hands for the ticklish spot near your ribcage, but you narrowly escaped. “Please, Buck! I’m just excited!” he finally caught you and pulled your back flush against his chest, weaving his arms around your waist. “I’m just happy you’re moving in and wanna bring all your stuff up now! Call me impatient.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and rested his chin on your shoulder, “Just um- just let me make you something first…we don’t have to get my stuff right this second”. With a swift turn, you met his eyes with yours. Something about Bucky’s voice seemed off, and you were determined to find the cause. “What’s wrong, Buck?” Your hands rested gently against his chest, your thumbs stroking lightly over his pecs. He shook his head and denied there was a problem but flicked his eyes away from yours.

“You’re being weird…”

“I’m not being weird-”

“Buck, you’re being weird. I know you too well…I can tell when something’s wrong. Just spill, babe”.

His eyes landed on your face and he shrugged, letting out a quiet sigh. “I brought my stuff up already…” he finally said. Your gaze bounced around the room, searching for moving boxes or even garbage bags, but found nothing. Your apartment was exactly as it had been this morning. “What do you- Buck, there isn’t anything here”, you groaned, delivering a playful punch to his shoulder. He let his gaze fall to the ground and your eyes followed, landing on a black backpack near the kitchen table. “That’s all my stuff”, he stated quietly.

You stared up at him, cocking your head to the side with confusion, “Buck, that’s not- that’s a backpack”. He nodded as a small, sad smile pulled at his lips. His hands balled into anxious fists against your spine and you watched as tension pulled the muscles in his shoulders taught. “I have the clothes that I leave here, but everything else that I own is in that backpack…” he murmured, “I’ve been gone for a long time, and I’ve been kinda busy ever since I got back. I was always on the run- had to travel light. I knew that if something happened, I could walk away with nothing but that bag. So…I don’t have a lot”. He looked dejected, embarrassed. Somehow, the looming super soldier actually looked small.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed-“ you took his face in your hands and made him look at you, “so what if that’s all your stuff? I’m just happy it’s here”. His hand snaked upward and took a strand of your hair gently between his fingers, twirling it around the vibranium over and over again.

He'd argued with himself about that stupid backpack the whole drive home, and even considered dumping it somewhere before he got back to you. He'd even pulled over at one point with every intention of leaving it in a dumpster, but he couldn't seem to let go. "It's mostly, uh, it's mostly just notebooks. I have to write things down- I piece everything together as best I can," his lip twitched ever so slightly, and his eyes fell dark, "that way, in case something happens and I um, I lose my memory again...I'll have everything."

He took a deep breath and pushed himself forward, laying all his cards on the table for you to see. "But the stuff in those notebooks, it's not- it's not pretty, doll. I didn't even want to bring them here- to have them in your home- knowing what's on those pages. But I can't leave them behind. I can't. I need them."

Bucky felt his chest tighten. Unbridled shame gripped his lungs as he scanned your features for a reaction. “Buck, this is your home now," you said gently, "and if you need those notebooks to feel some sense of security, then I want you to have them. Here." He let his forehead rest against yours as he relished in the word: “home”

Every so slightly, the sharp tension in his muscles began to recede. “That’s why I didn’t want you to move any of your stuff, doll, I don’t need much space…” You hushed him with a kiss. He was always trying to make sure he didn’t inconvenience you or take up too much room. He viewed himself as a burden or something you had to put up with- never wanting to cause even a bit of a stir.

"You're entitled to as much space here as I am, Buck. I mean that," you pressed your hand against his chest, punctuating your sentiment. "I mean, hey, if you wanna go out and buy a cardboard cut out of Sam in his new Cap suit, do it". He rolled his eyes and pulled you tight against his body, letting out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding.