“Yeah,” she says with a soft smile, a hint of a blush coloring her face. “She’s just…incredible. Dunno why she settled for me of all people, but I’m sure glad she did.” Then, with a small smirk and a pointed glance at his hand, she adds, “Looks like you got somebody special too, hm? And I’m guessin’ it’s not Natasha.”
She wonders if it’s Steve – no, Stella. Maybe it’s even Toni, as ridiculous as that sounds on the surface. One of her other alternates was with his universe’s Toni, after all. But if she had to lay money, she’d bet on Stella. Who else would this Bucky trust enough to marry?
She taps her fingers against her leg in a muffled staccato beat, and she can’t help blurting out, “They had hearings, y’know. A trial.” Her voice is bitter. “Said all sorts of things about me, how I was a woman who ‘reveled in violence’,
that I wouldn’t’ve thought twice before betraying my country… All this awful bullshit. We had a real good incentive to try to set the record straight.”
His own expression softens as she speaks of Nat, the blush tinting her cheeks speaking far louder than words ever could. He remembers feeling like that about the Widow; he understands, even if he doesn’t feel the same way - at least not for that particular woman. But even if the target of affection is different, the sentiment is the same - gratitude, if slightly bemusement as to their reasoning.
He blinks dumbly at her statement for a few seconds before his gaze follows her own to rest on the ring on his finger. A frown draws his eyebrows down, the crease deepening as he turns the band around where it sits; the small stone set deep catches the still flashing light off to one side and Bucky pulls in his bottom lip in thought for a moment. “Stella,” he says, simply and contemplatively. “Even took my name, wasn’t expectin’ that.” A light huff, somewhere teetering on the edge between humour and disbelief, it had been over a year and it was still sinking in - he doubted it ever would completely. “I don’t deserve her but...I’m not gonna question it.” People like them had to take whatever happiness they could, after all.
The smile on his face is faint when he looks back up, almost gentle, and it fades quickly at the mention of trails. He knows he can’t evade his own for much longer, the whispers of it grow louder and there’s only so much that Stella can deflect. His tongue runs along the outside of his teeth before he bites down on the inside of his cheek with a vague hum that could mean anything.
“Spoilers,” he comments, finally, tone dry. “I’m still waitin’ for that shoe to drop. An’ it’s loomin’ no matter how much Rogers can try to deny it.” He dreads it, truly, but it’s a sword of damocles and he’s just waiting for it to cut his head off. “But you got through it, that’s somethin’.”
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