#buckvember queue

Her tears came to an abrupt stop. “Are you fucking kidding me? You think I don’t have demons of my own? You think the things that I have done, the lives I have taken, don’t haunt me in my sleep? At every waking moment? I see their faces, every time I close my eyes. You are not the only one with blood on your hands, Bucky Barnes.” She stood and clenched her fists at her sides. “If you think that I’m one of those agents who was bred into this because my parents were in the first wave of S.H.I.E.L.D agents, who can handle all of this and then sleep at night like it’s nothing, you don’t know me at all.”

She stepped up to him and took his face in her hands before kissing him softly. She wiped her taste away with her thumb before taking a step back. 

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

For weeks after the split, they avoided each other at all costs. If she rounded a corner and saw Bucky coming her way, she backtracked and took the long way around. If Bucky was headed to the common room but heard her singing along to the radio before he made it there, he turned on his heel and got what he needed elsewhere. Every now and then, he could bribe someone into getting what he needed, but the whole crew was running thin on that arrangement. 

“You could talk to her, you know,” Sam suggested. 

Steve nodded his agreement. “At least work out a schedule of who can be where and when. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, but hey, at least then you two can have a more normal life and the rest of us can stop making money off of your awkward situation. Besides, it’s been … how long has it been? Surely long enough for you two to be adults about the situation.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “If she wanted to talk to me, she’d come to me and say what she needed to say.”

Nat came into the room and sighed. “Not necessarily, Barnes. I’ve talked to Y/N about it and she doesn’t want to be in your way anymore than you want to be in hers. To be honest, I’m not so sure that this break-up is really worth the trouble when the two of you could just talk it out and work through your problems.”

“We wanted different things,” Bucky mumbled, “and that hasn’t changed. What I want hasn’t changed.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Her. You want her, stupid. The rest of it is called compromise. You should look it up sometime. Y/N can stop moping around, you can come back from the dim place. Everyone can be back to their normal lives.”

“The dim place?” Sam repeated. 

“Yeah, you know. Not the dark place. He’s been in the dark place. This sucks but it’s not as bad as the dark place.”

“Makes sense,” Steve commented; Bucky looked to him for confirmation that his best friend agreed with Nat. “Hey, it’s not bad advice. I mean, she's also the one who told me to ask out the chick in accounting with a lip piercing.”

Nat punched Steve playfully in the shoulder. “Hey, she was nice!”

They all laughed about the idea of a freshly-thawed Steve dating a girl with a lip piercing; Bucky had to admit, it was nice to have the attention off of him and Y/N and on to a different subject. 

Attention rescue team; emergency extraction call received. Departure in three minutes and counting. Rescue team; extraction mission imminent. Three minutes and counting. 

FRIDAY’s voice pulled most of them from a steady — or not-so-steady — sleep and into action mode. A team raced for the quinjet, in uniform and ready for a debriefing as the jet took off.  

“Secretary of State was abducted by a Russian militia organization. Our job is to go in, extract, get him home. I’m waiting now for reports on what kind of arms they have on the ground,” Tony informed as he set their destination into the navigation system. 

Y/N buckled in and let out a deep breath. Flying was something she was getting more used to, but she did better when she knew the flight was coming. Several minutes into the flight, her tension was redirected from a few bumps of turbulence to the unexpected hand on her shoulder. 

“You doing okay?” Bucky asked. 

She pulled her shoulder from his touch. “Yeah, fine. I’m always fine.”

He smirked just a little. "I know you are, but the flying …”

“I’m great, Sergeant Barnes. Just peachy.”

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line and he sat back in his seat. Y/N kept her eyes forward, her expression stoic, even as Tony took the jet higher. Her jaw was clenched though, giving away her nerves. Bucky decided the best thing to do would be to keep an eye on her; be supportive from a distance. 

The mission started out well enough. They located the Secretary easily — too easily, really. Nat, Wanda, and Clint went ahead of the group to keep the path clear back to the quinjet; Tony and Rhodey were on either side of the Secretary; Y/N and Steve were right behind him; Bucky brought up the rear. 

No one was quite sure where the first shots came from. The Secretary groaned and grabbed for his left shoulder as more bullets whizzed past the group. Tony and Rhodes took one arm each and flew him back to the quinjet while the rest of them went on the defensive. 

Y/N was taking a mental head count of everyone running in front of her; Nat, Wanda, Clint, Steve — check all. Where was Bucky? Emotions took over and she spoke into the comm. 

“Barnes, send back.” When no answer came, she stopped in her tracks. “Barnes! Send back!”

Still no answer. Her eyes met Steve’s for a brief second before she was turning and running the other direction, away from the rest of them. Steve was yelling behind her but she wasn’t about to stop and wait for whatever it is he had to say. As she got back to where the shooting had started, she started calling Bucky’s name. Her heart raced with frantic emotion at the million possibilities that could be keeping Bucky behind. 

A Russian militiaman was positioned over Bucky, fists flying. Bright red blood pooled under Bucky’s thighs and spurting with each heartbeat made Y/N panic that his wounds were fatal as is, without a beating on top of it. A feral yell rumbled from deep in her chest as she rushed the other man, knocking him away from Bucky and tackling him to the ground. 

Her own fists were flying now, lashing out at the man who might dare to take Bucky away from her. Somewhere in her mind, Y/N knew that getting Bucky medical attention needed to be a priority, but she couldn’t stop her anger from taking control at that moment. 

“Y/N, hey, come on! Enough!” Steve yelled, finally catching up to her. He pulled her away from the Russian, who had gone unconscious at some point. His face was bloody and mangled, but his own people would have to take care of him. 

Steve assessed Bucky’s other injuries while Y/N used her belt as a tourniquet around his leg. Between the two of them, they managed to get him back to the quinjet without much more incident; the second the were on board, Tony raised the bridge and took off. 

“What happened?” Nat questioned, helping to get Bucky laying down. She grabbed for a first aid kid and found some gauze to place over the bullet wound while Y/N threw her gloves off and took his face in her hands. 

“Bucky! Can you hear me? Look at me, Buck! You stay with us, all right? We’re going to get you back, they’re going to take care of you. But you have to fight too, you have to stay with me,” she pleaded, tears filling her eyes when his eyes met hers. “Please, Bucky. You can’t leave me like this, okay? We’ve got too many days of awkward interactions ahead of us.”

Bucky’s mouth pulled into a weak smirk as his cold, shaky hand came up to her cheek. Y/N leaned into it, still pleading quietly with him not to leave her like this. 

“Everything’s okay,” Bucky whispered, only a couple of seconds before his eyes closed and his hand fell away from her face. 

Hours passed in agony as you waited outside the medical bay for any updates on Bucky’s health. She didn’t change out of her uniform, didn’t bother to get cleaned up, only followed his gurney as far as they would let her go. After that, she found a chair and fell into it, determined not to move until she had some concrete information. 

“Here,” Nat said, nudging her with an elbow. “Water and coffee. I’ll bring you food when you can stomach it.”

Y/N took the water bottle first, downed half of it, then set it aside and sipped at the coffee. She probably did need to eat, but the very idea of food make her stomach churn. Nat stayed but didn’t speak. Y/N waited a full minute before she broke the silence. 

“He was trying.”

Nat frowned. “Bucky?”

Y/N nodded. “On the quinjet. He knew I was going to be anxious about the flight and he asked if I was okay. I blew him off. I didn’t want his sympathy because I’m still so mad at him. How could he think that I was — that I couldn’t understand where he was coming from? Maybe not to the extent that it was happening, but I’m not innocent, Nat.”  She scoffed. “And how could I not be more understanding? How could I walk away from him and not show him how much I love him. How much I need him.”

“You need each other,” Nat offered. 

“Yeah. I think you’re right.”

She sat silently with Nat for the next several hours. There was still no word, and no one would let them into the medical bay. Nat had finally convinced Y/N that she needed to shower when Dr. Cho came out to update them. Y/N bumped into Nat, she turned around so fast after hearing her name being called. 

Helen drew in a deep breath. “Bullet nicked his femoral artery, but fortunately, I think his advanced healing process saved his life. We did the rest of the surgical repairs and I believe if he can pull through the next couple of days, he should be in the clear.”

Both Nat and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief. The women hugged briefly before Y/N asked if she could see him. 

Helen smiled. “Of course; he’s been asking for you. We wanted to give him time to pull it together after the surgery.”

But Y/N only the first of Helen’s sentence. She raced into the medical bay, stopping once to ask which room Bucky was in. When she got there, she was nearly breathless. 

“Wondered if you were gonna come see me,” Bucky mumbled, giving her as much of a smile as he could manage. 

She stood next to his bed and took his vibranium hand. “Bucky, I’m so sorry …”

“Hey, you’re not the one who shot me.”

“Don’t joke,” Y/N scolded. “You know what I mean. I shouldn’t have walked away, shouldn’t have brushed you off in the jet. What if you hadn’t made it?”

Bucky squeezed her hand. "Hey, c’mon, sweetheart. I’m all right. I’ve been through worse than this.”

“But not with me so mad at you,” she whispered. “I don't want to do this anymore, Buck. I don't care how much we fight or how much we push each other away. I don't want to have the horrendously gigantic cloud lingering over me that one of us could die and you wouldn't know how much I love you.”

Bucky reached up to caress her cheek; this time, his hand was warm, steady. “I can't promise to give you everything you want right away. I still am who I am, Y/N. But I sure as hell can try.”

She leaned over to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Who you are is exactly who I fell in love with. Trying is all I ask.”

He pulled her in for another kiss. There would be plenty more to be discussed, when Bucky was fully on the mend and ready for it. The fights would come, the darker days would come. As long as neither of them gave up on each other, though, there would always be a light in the darkness. 

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“Quite the prosthetic, coach.”

Bucky cleared his throat and nodded but gave no more acknowledgment to her comment. “All right. You ready?”

She took her stance — a little rusty but muscle memory had her mostly in position. Bucky helped her adjust, apologizing when the cool metal of his prosthetic arm sent her into a small shiver. He got back behind the bag and nodded. 

“We’ll throw combos first,” Bucky informed her. “Pretty basic today, I’ve got to catch up on what you can do, so I know how to coach you.”

Haven nodded her understanding and listened carefully to the combos he called out, executing them with the same intensity she would in a fight. Bucky was impressed. She was in the middleweight class, he knew, but he had no doubts she could hold her own in fights with girls twice her size. 

After combos, they got into the ring. Bucky gave her some footwork warm-ups to do while he wrapped his own hands and pulled on some gloves. Maybe he didn’t need it for his left hand, but with equipment like that, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. 

After a few hours of training, Bucky could see that she was waning. She didn’t seem the type to speak up when she needed to stop, so Bucky took them through a cool-down, then dismissed her for the day. 

“Good session, Coach. Thanks.”

Bucky nodded. “You did good today, I’m impressed. No reason why we can’t push off from where you are and make your first pro round a championship.”

“You think so?” Her eyes lit up like Bucky had yet to see. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” He hung up his gloves and worked the wraps off of his hands. “I’m going to go grab some lunch, do you wanna join?”

Haven stopped abruptly. “Oh, actually, I — I have plans. Thanks, though. I’m sure you’ve got your own place, but there’s showers back here, if you want to clean up before you head out.”

She rushed for the back to the locker room, leaving Bucky to finishing packing up the equipment that had used to practice that day. He wondered if he had done something wrong to make her … what? Intimidated of him? Dislike him a little? Could be that it had nothing to do with Bucky. 

Maybe it’s the arm, his mind offered. Bucky shook his head, forcing away the negativity. He’d had a prosthetic for a while now, and since getting this latest one, he had grown accustomed to people’s reactions to the strange technology. Hell, even he’d had to get used to the newest arm when the doctors first fitted him with it. Wasn’t a bad thing if Haven needed to get used to it, too, he supposed. She would come around.

Picking up his bag, Bucky fished his phone out and called Steve to see if his friend was available to meet for lunch. 

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Meet you at Wanda’s in an hour?”

“Perfect, see you there.”

Disconnecting the call, he pushed into the locker room and shoved the phone in his bag. About the time he looked up was about the time Haven looked up from drying her legs and shrieked. 

“What the hell?! Get out!” she exclaimed, scrambling to cover the good bits with her towel and retreating behind a tiled wall. “What are you doing in here?!”

Bucky had already slapped his hand over his eyes and was stumbling against the wall, fumbling for the door handle so he could leave. “I’m so sorry, I just — I was on the phone, I didn't think about knocking or anything.”

“There’s a men’s room!” 

“Yeah, wasn’t paying attention,” he called out, finally finding the door handle and liberating himself from an extremely embarrassing situation. 

His shower would just have to wait — not a chance he was staying on the property a second longer than he needed today. 

Bucky dropped into a booth at Wanda’s cafe and asked for a cup of black coffee. The redhead smirked. 

“Rough day in the gym, Buck?” 

“Rough day in the locker room,” he sighed. “Steve’s joining me, better bring a water for him.”

Wanda nodded and went to retrieve the drinks. Having skipped the shower, Bucky arrived early enough before Steve, he was on to a second cup of coffee before his friend arrived. 

“I’ve got exactly fifty-three minutes,” Steve informed when he dropped into the booth. He called out to the counter, “I’ll have the usual, Wan. And a cuppa.”

“Me too,” Bucky added. “Big case?”

Steve nodded, taking a long drink from his water. “Yeah, we’re on a hot lead. I’m waiting for SWAT to get back to me so I know if I can go question my guy.”

Bucky smirked. “Well, don’t let me take too much of your time, Detective.”

“Ha,” Steve snorted, “please take my time. Especially if it involves you out in public. How’d the first session go?”

Bucky licked his lips. “She pushed me during the run, which was good, though. Training today was mostly figuring out where she’s at after being out for a while from any serious training.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “And what else?”

Bucky looked around to see who was within hearing distance, then leaned forward on the table. “I was on the phone with you, I wasn’t paying attention. Walked in on her naked in the ladies’ locker room.”

Steve choked on the first sip of his coffee. He recovered after a moment, dabbing at the coffee now staining his navy blue tie. “I’m sorry — naked? Your first day coaching and you walked in on her naked?”

“I did,” Bucky confirmed, blowing out a deep breath. “After that, I rushed out. I’ll be lucky I don’t get a call tonight not to come back tomorrow.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve laughed, apologizing for his reaction, “I’m sorry, I just — naked. Wow. What a way to start out a new job. Was it worth the mistake?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Is that really important?”

“You tell me,” Steve smirked. 

“Yes, it was worth the mistake,” Bucky sighed, leaning back to give Wanda space to deliver their food. “She’s — I mean, she’s fit as it is, she’s a boxer. But yeah, she’s gorgeous.”

“Who’s gorgeous?” Wanda asked. 

Steve motioned to Bucky. “This new girl he’s coaching. Bucky accidentally walked in on her naked after their practice today.”

Wanda put a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t help much to stifle her giggles. “Try not to picture that every time you go back. Have you told Charlotte or Nat about this yet?”

“C’mon, let’s not spread the word,” Bucky groaned. “It was an honest mistake!”

But Wanda’s fingers were already tapping out a message on her phone. Steve was still smirking, even as he shoved bites of salad in his mouth. Bucky had a half-sandwich and a bowl of soup in front of him, but he suddenly felt not too hungry. 

After she dressed, Haven waited at the locker room door to see if she heard any sounds in the gym. 

“I’m coming out now. I have clothes on,” she called. 

As it turned out, Bucky wasn’t in the gym, and his car was gone from the driveway. Haven tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper in the laundry room, then went to start a load before putting together a lunch of leftovers from the night before. 

She ate alone at the kitchen table, contemplating what had happened and trying to figure a way to get around it when they saw each other again. She was still thinking it over when Wes came in from a training session with one of his clients. 

“You’re deep in thought,” her brother noted, drinking milk from the jug in the fridge. 

“You’re an animal,” she returned. “So … something happened with Coach Barnes today. It has the potential to make things real awkward, so I’m trying to decide if I’m going to face it head on or act like it never happened.”

Wes put the milk back but leaned on the open refrigerator door. “Well, tell me what happened, I’ll help you decide what to do about it.”

Haven thought about it. “No, I think this one might be better for me to handle on my own.”

“Just tell me, punk.”

She shook her head. “Nah, it’s too weird.”

Wes let the refrigerator door close before going to the table and pressing his cold hand to the back of his sister’s neck. Haven yelped and tried to wrestle away from him, but even once his hand warmed up, he was tickling her until she begged for mercy. 

“I was showering after practice, in the locker room, and he was — I don’t know how the mistake was made, but he walked into the wrong locker room.” She left it at that, hoping Wes could fill in the blanks. 

“Oh,” he frowned, still putting the pieces together. “Oh. He saw everything, didn’t he?”

Haven sat back down and put her head in her hands. “Yep, pretty sure. About a hundred percent sure it wasn’t on purpose, but … yeah. Awkward. So, so, so awkward.”

Wes did his best to hold back his laughter, but it was mostly to no avail. “Oh, sis. I don’t even — yeah, I don’t think that’s something you can just pass off like it didn’t happen. You’ve got to talk to him about it. After he saw all your goods, I don’t think your strictly-professional approach is going to go far.”

“Was afraid of that,” she sighed. “I’ll call him later on, see if he has time to meet. Might as well deal with it before practice tomorrow.”

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Her drink arrived. She thanked the waitress and took a few sips before continuing. “And I want to apologize for the way I declined your lunch invitation. We’re going to be working together closely and often, but I thought if I kept things more professional than I did with my last coach … it’s a self-preservation thing, I guess. I let things go too far with him, let it become personal. Too personal, and it almost cost me my career.”

Bucky assured her that he could understand. “Boxing was the most important thing to me, and it was taken away. Turns out, it takes two flesh arms to stay in the ring. I got lost for a while, hid away — I’m sure you heard about that. I’m pushing myself, taking this job and getting back into the business in any form. What I’m trying to say, Haven, is that we don’t have be best friends or anything, but, besides all the work together we’ll be doing, we’ve got some things in common. There’s going to be a personal note to our relationship, but even that doesn’t have to cross professional lines.”

“Thank you,” Haven told him quietly. The tension in her shoulders released and she continued to sip at her drink. She wanted to tell him more, but the words wouldn’t come. Something she was doing was giving her away because a few seconds later, Bucky’s warm fingers covered hers. 

“When you’re ready to talk about the rest of it, we can. There’s no rush.”

Haven pulled her hand out from under his. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They finished off those drinks, and Haven paid the tab for both of them. They bid each other goodbye with a wave in the lot and went their separate ways. 

For a couple of weeks, they kept things what Bucky called casually professional. They didn’t see each other outside of the gym again, he was extra careful about which locker room he went into at the end of each session, and he didn’t push her for any personal information. He didn't offer any, either. 

Haven was getting stronger and more ready for a fight by the day. They hadn’t been training together long, but Bucky could see she was chomping at the bit to compete. Her punches were coming harder and faster when he called out combos, their sparring sessions were becoming more intense. 

“There’s a fight in Los Angeles at the end of the month,” Bucky informed the siblings one afternoon after he and Haven had showered, and Wes was able to join them in the gym. “I think Haven can be ready by then. The other fighter on the card, Helen Cho, is also a newer pro and, from my research, I think she and Haven will be a good match.”

“You really think I’ll be ready?”

Bucky nodded with enthusiasm. “Without a doubt. Honestly, I’d put you in the ring against this girl today, if we had to. You’re a natural boxer and your lighter training while you recovered probably helped you to stay on track. What do you think?”

Haven looked at Wes, who nodded. “All right. I’m in.”

“Great,” Bucky smiled. “We’ll get you on the card and start training harder over the next couple of weeks. I want to be in Los Angeles a few days before the fight to do some training in their weather, get your body adapted to it.”

The next task was to contact the right people, find a flight and a hotel, and work out a temporary training schedule. They talked about nutrition, too; all of them wanted Haven in top fighting condition so her first pro fight could be a win. 

While Bucky put the finishing touches on the training schedule, Haven and Wes quietly argued about something by the door. Wes finally won out after a few minutes, it seemed, and left the gym. Haven huffed, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if she stomped her foot for effect. 

“Coach, do you have some time to talk before you leave,” Haven asked, blurting it out as a statement and not a question. 

Bucky nodded and motioned for her to join him in the ring. They both sat on the edge of the ring, their legs hanging over. Haven leaned forward on the ropes. Bucky kicked his legs with his hands in his lap, patiently waiting for whatever it was she had to say. When two minutes passed and she hadn’t said anything, Bucky decided maybe it would be easier for her to open up to him if he opened up to her first. 

“Right after I won my last title, I couldn’t shake the pain in my left arm,” Bucky began. “I did three more fights and it just got worse every time. Finally let my trainer convince me to get it checked out. Doc did x-rays and found a mass on my humerus.”

Haven frowned. “Cancer?”

“Cancer,” Bucky echoed. “It could have been removed and maybe beat with chemo, but I let it go on too long. I didn't want to hear that whatever was happening would end my career, but it did anyway. They had to take the arm, or it would have taken my life.”

“I’m so sorry, Buck.”

He smiled, both in gratitude for her empathy and because she hadn’t called him Coach. “The upside, I guess, is that being a prize fighter puts you in line for cutting-edge technology like this.” He flexed his prosthetic arm and a light whizzing came from inside the thing. “I can’t fight but I can function. And I’m alive.”

She sniffled, and Bucky could see that her eyes had glazed over. “Do you ever get angry that you can’t compete anymore?”

“Sometimes,” he confessed. 

She leaned back on both arms. “I was so angry when I thought my career would be over. Punched a hole in the wall in my bedroom one day because I got so angry.” She looked up to the ceiling, so Bucky kept his eyes on his hands in his lap. “Brock Rumlow was my coach from the very beginning. I was training at this gym in town, straight out of high school, not even sure if I wanted to do this for real, and he was new to coaching. He told me I had potential, so my dad and Wes went all in. They built this gym, and the three of them got me into the amateur league. Brock was a good coach, until he wasn’t. A few years ago, we started dating. It was always there, somewhat, I guess, despite the age difference, but we decided to make a real go of it.”

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line. He fought Brock Rumlow when they both were amateur fighters and knew about Brock’s reputation, but this wasn’t the time to comment on that — especially when he didn't know how much Haven was aware of. 

“Besides coaching me, Brock had a management agency that he owned. It went under, and Brock lost his mind. He was drinking all the time, sleeping around. I was so concentrated on getting my pro bid, I ignored all of it.

“We were coming home from a party one night though, and Brock had been drinking. We were arguing about the cheating — I’d had enough, I guess, and I wasn’t exactly sober. The argument really escalated and Brock lost control of the car.” She drew in a deep breath, staring ahead as though the images were playing in front of her. “The car rolled a few times, crashed against a light pole. How we managed to keep that out of the news, I’ll never know.”

Bucky scooted closer, covering one of her hands with his metal hand; she didn’t even wince or pull away. “How extensive were your injuries?”

“Ironically, I broke my left arm right about where you said your cancer was at. I’ve got a rod and a plate supporting it now. Bruised kidney, shattered spleen.”

“You’re lucky that’s all you made it out with.”

Haven paused, then nodded. “Yeah. I am. Anyway, after that, I told myself that I would keep boxing and my personal life separate. I wouldn’t ever again make the mistake that I made with Rum with anyone else.” She turned to look at him. “This fight, this championship you think I have a shot at — all of that means the world to me. I want to come back strong. I don’t want to be the girl who almost lost her shot because she dated her coach and it came back to bite her in the ass.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, shaking a finger at her, “as your coach, it’s my job not to let anyone bite you in the ass.”

She laughed, and Bucky found that he quite liked the sound. “Well, thanks, I appreciate it. I mean, I think I’ve got a pretty nice ass and bite marks would just ruin the image.”

“I’ve seen it,” Bucky reminded her, “and — not to overstep — but bite marks or not, Haven, you do, in fact, have a nice ass.”

That made her laugh even harder and painted her cheeks with a blush he hadn’t seen since the day of his interview. She swatted at him playfully, but Bucky dodged out of the way, slipping out of the ring with Haven not far behind him. 

He waited with her while she shut down the lights in the gym and locked up the building. She walked with him to the front of the house where he was parked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Starting to get chilly at night,” Bucky commented. 

“Yeah, it is.”

Bucky fished his keys from his pocket, wanting for some reason to linger in their goodbye. “Running tomorrow morning?”

Haven gave him a thumb’s up. “Bright and early.”

“I’ll see you then. G’night, Haven.”

“Night, Bucky.”

She had skipped the ‘Coach’ bit again; Bucky wondered if she even realized she had done that. He got into his car and pulled out of the driveway, waving goodbye one more time to Haven before turning his eyes to the road. 

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