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Liza’s already short of breath -- making out on the couch while your friends are out walking or… something… will do that to you, she supposes. Whatever it is Amity and Steve are doing isn’t her concern. What is, though, is the way Bucky just called her beautiful like that -- like she is quite literally the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Even though her hair is mussed from his hands and her cheeks are flushed and she’s basically panting -- there’s something in his eyes making her heart flip-flop, a sincerity there that softens her desperation just the smallest bit. “Really?” She asks quietly, her fingers sliding into his hair as she holds his gaze, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

Liza had forgotten to set the coffee pot last night, and was now regretting everything. Yeah, it had been worth it to be able to just fall into bed last night after staying up too late with the other three, sitting outside and talking over burnt marshmallows and the naturally messy state of s’mores. 

Now, though? She just wants coffee, and is the only one in this house that actually needs the caffeine. Can’t believe I’m the only regularly-metabolizing person in this house, she thinks as the struggle continues. Bleary-eyed, hair in a messy bun, little flyaways framing her face as she battles with the filter. She huffs when she hears Bucky’s voice, the sentiment sending her heart into a tizzy, but she looks over at him with a small pout.

She's not expecting anyone -- Liza purposefully marked herself on her calendar as 'busy' for a block of twenty minutes today just so she could squeeze in at least fifteen minutes of okay-ish nap time so she doesn't snap at someone. This week has been hellish -- literal explosions resulting in mountains of paperwork and reports, press releases, memos, emails...

Fifteen minutes of quiet isn't too much to ask, right?

The universe must hate her, because six minutes into her allotted twenty, her office door swings open then snaps shut in quick succession, and she startles -- gasping and then groaning in pain as her head hits her desk. Because her brilliant nap spot was under her desk -- just in case someone walked past and peeked inside.

Liza smiled to herself as she propped her phone between her ear and shoulder so she could talk to Logan while she scooped cookie dough from the mixing bowl. “Way to make a girl blush over the phone, Finnegan.” She teased lightly, the smile obvious in her voice while she worked. It was late -- past dinner time, at least, and Logan's call came as a bit of a surprise, but she hadn't even hesitated in answering.

“I didn't have anything to do, either, until I remembered I had everything I needed to bake cookies. And now I'm also remembering that the bag of chocolate chips I always get makes four dozen cookies, but I'm committed now.” Liza said, rambling but knowing that Logan wouldn't be bothered. Especially considering he just said he called because he wanted to hear her voice. Her heart stuttered at the thought, that he was calling because he missed her. “Better believe you're getting some of these, by the way.” 

Liza was overthinking this, she knew she was -- it was a retirement ceremony, for crying out loud. Logan had looked so pleased when she said she’d be glad to go with him, the invitation having taken her a bit by surprise. But, frankly, she wasn't about to pretend like she wasn't anxiously excited -- ever since he’d basically swooped in to rescue her the day she’d moved here, calling friends to help get her moving van un-packed when her movers flaked, she’d been enjoying the time they’d gotten to spend together. But this? Being invited to his retirement? It felt like kind of a big deal.

So she was staring down the two options she had left as far as dresses went -- the black one hadn’t even been considered, still trying to keep the memories of the last military ceremony she’d been to tucked safely into a box in the back of her mind. Her brother’s funeral had felt like a lifetime ago.

Gaze darted between the two dresses -- finally settling on the green one she’d snagged from a vintage shop in the city, a deep emerald she knew would set off her eyes but not call too much attention to herself. At least she’d already done her hair and makeup, zipping up the back of the dress just as she heard tires crunching the gravel drive. Slipping on a pair of comfortable black heels, she hurried to the door, shouldering her small purse just as the knocking sent her heart racing. 

The sound was loud. It popped really. Bursting into the kitchen like a triggered explosive, for all that it wasn't. Luckily, it wasn't enough to set off any of Bucky's PTSD. His hand must have just malfunctioned, squeezed the bag too hard, applying pressure against the seams and then... well, pop with a dash of pfft to go with it.  Which meant that he was covered from head to almost toe, absolutely awash in the stuff, sprinkled in white, looking both startled and a little bit like Alpine. Flour. Was. Everywhere. He gaped at Liza, brows furrowed and eyes wide, still holding the now-broken bag in the grip of his left hand.  All because, all because he'd been trying to wheedle some chocolate chip cookies out of his not-not-girlfriend. All because she oh so sweetly had said, 'Here, let me show you how.' Which meant that him and her kitchen were splattered with the white dust with that single moment hanging frozen in place. Until he laughed, the ice of time cracking along with the breadth of his smile as he laughed. As he actually fucking laughed, which he'd almost never done before her, not in years, but that he did now, maybe a chuckle here and there, huffed a puff of the stuff, but nothing like this. This was deep from his belly, resonating from his chest, and so hard it made his eyes water. Covered in flour and filled with joy. Especially as he stepped forward. As he moved quick, as he closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her - flour bag still in hand - just so that she too was covered. Covered in it as he kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth and her neck, nuzzling right below her ear.  "Love you," he sighed, "I love you so, so fucking much, Liza." He didn't know if he'd ever said that before. Not like this, not to someone in his life. He may have, back then, when he was younger, when he'd been different. But never him, never now, and never ever meaning it as much as he did then.  Not like he did with her.  It wasn't planned. It wasn't thought of. Just perfect and honest and true.

The sound was unexpected and loud enough to startle, making her jump just the smallest bit while she was trying to cube the stick of butter for these cookies that Bucky had started giving her puppy-eyes for. Worried that something had happened, that the sound had triggered something, she set the knife on the counter and spun around, concern etched in the crease between her eyebrows.

Then she realized what had happened -- she’d asked Bucky if he’d open the extra bag of flour she had, and he’d opened it, alright. Opened it so well that now it was all over him, the floor, her kitchen counter… his eyes were wide as saucers, and he looked absolutely ridiculous.

Still, she stood frozen for that half second, a hint of a smile threatening to tug at her lips.

Then he laughed. Not like she’d heard from him before -- not a chuckle, not a playful huff, but a laugh that seemed to come from deep within. A belly laugh if ever she’d heard one, and it made her own smile widen to hear him sound so happy. So carefree in that moment that something as silly as a busted bag of flour could make him laugh so hard. She couldn’t help her own laughter, her own joy bubbling over to see Bucky like this.

When he started closing the space between them, she yelped, but it dissolved into giggles as he decided it was only fair to make sure she was equally as covered in flour. “Bucky!” She whined,  one hand rested on his chest, curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, her other hand moving to the back of his head. Her sides were starting to ache from laughing, but she wasn’t going to stop him, not when he was kissing and nuzzling at her.

Even if she wound up covered in flour, it was totally worth it.

And then he said I love you, and she swore her heart could have exploded. She felt it in her soul, pulled away just enough that she could let her forehead rest against his. Her hand slipped from his hair to rest on his cheek, thumb brushing some of the flour away as she practically beamed up at Bucky, her heart jumping against her chest like it was trying to reach for his own.

While he didn’t have to say it -- she felt it in everything he did, right down to the way he’d hold the door open for her, insist on carrying her bag, how he looked at her. The way he kissed her, the way he held her -- of course she knew he loved her. But hearing it? Seeing the way his eyes shone with it?

“I love you, too.” She murmured back. “And I love seeing you so happy… I love hearing you laugh like that. I love you.” Liza had never meant it like that before, had never felt it. Not this deeply, with a certainty that surprised her. Bucky made her feel this way -- certain. 

Liza pressed her lips to his, warmth blooming through her like ink in a glass of water, swimming through her veins as she felt settled. Content. But also still very much covered in flour. She pulled away, breaking the kiss too quickly, but not before nipping shamelessly at his bottom lip. “I’m afraid that the cookies are going to have to wait until we’re cleaned up… lucky for you that was my extra flour, I can still scrounge together enough to make you some if you still want them?” She asked, brows lifting slightly as she offered a teasing smirk.

The afternoon was beautiful -- far too nice to waste spending inside, so she’d grabbed a blanket and her book before heading for her back yard. She spread out the blanket under the shade of a tree, dappled sunlight warming the little spots it created on the skin that wasn’t covered by her shorts and tank top.

Didn’t take long for the sounds of summer to lull her into dozing. Someone was mowing their lawn, kids somewhere playing and hollering, the breeze was gentle and her book very quickly forgotten next to her as her forearm draped over her eyes and she let herself drift off. Vaguely, she was aware of gravel crunching in her drive but didn’t think much of it, enjoying this halfway-asleep state.