You’d looked him dead in the eye and said, “Statistically? They deserve it.”

Bucky had laughed so hard he nearly choked on his coffee.

That was the first annoying thing about him.

He never got defensive.

Most men did. Most men heard your sharp tone, your sarcasm, your distrust, and immediately treated it like a challenge. They wanted to prove they were “different.” Wanted your approval like a dog begging for scraps. It exhausted you.

Bucky never cared whether you liked him or not.

At least, not in the pathetic way.

He’d simply existed beside you. Calm. Unbothered. Quietly respectful.

And somehow that made it worse.

Because now, months later, you’re sitting on the quinjet at two in the morning trying not to stare at the way his henley stretches across his shoulders while he carefully wraps gauze around your palm.

“This is gonna sting,” he murmurs.

“I’ve been shot before.”

“Congratulations.”

You scowl at him. “You always this chatty?”

“Only when someone’s bleedin’ on my seats.”

“They’re not your seats.”

“They are tonight.”

God. See?

Annoying.

You should hate him.

Instead, your stomach flips every time he smirks.

He ties off the bandage gently, metal fingers impossibly careful despite their size. There’s dried blood smeared along his jaw from the mission, and exhaustion pulling beneath his eyes, but he’s still focused entirely on your hand like it’s something precious.

That feeling in your chest gets worse.

You yank your hand back too quickly. “I can do it myself.”

“I know.”

The simple answer catches you off guard.

There's no offended macho bullshit behind it.

Just: I know.

Bucky leans back against the opposite bench with a soft grunt, long legs spread comfortably in front of him. “You always this suspicious when someone’s nice to you?”

“I’m suspicious when men are nice to me.”

“Fair.”

You blink.

“Fair?” you repeat.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Lot of us suck.”

A startled laugh escapes before you can stop it.

Bucky grins immediately, eyes crinkling at the corners like he’s won something.

Your traitorous stomach somersaults.

Disgusting.

---

The worst part is realizing how safe he makes you feel.

You don’t notice it at first.

It happens slowly.

He walks on the outside of sidewalks without making a thing about it. Makes you coffee exactly how you like it after missions because he memorized your order without telling you. Steps between you and angry civilians automatically—not because he thinks you can’t handle yourself, but because he knows you’re tired.

There’s a difference.

Bucky never treats your strength like a novelty.

Never acts intimidated by it either.

One night after a mission briefing, a new recruit laughs when you shut down his terrible plan.

“Jesus,” the guy mutters. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

Before you can answer, Bucky speaks from the corner.

“She’s right,” he says flatly.

The recruit scoffs. “I was joking.”

“Wasn’t funny.”

The room goes silent.

Bucky doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t posture. Doesn’t do the alpha male chest-puffing thing you hate.

He just looks at the guy until he wilts.

Then Bucky goes back to cleaning his gun like nothing happened.

Your chest feels weird for the rest of the night.

---

“You’re staring again.”

You nearly drop your beer.

Bucky sits beside you on the compound roof, looking unbearably smug beneath the glow of the string lights someone hung up last summer.

“I do not stare at you.”

“Sweetheart, you practically burn holes through me.”

“I’m assessing threats.”

“Mhm.”

You hate how warm his voice sounds.

You hate how broad he is beside you, all solid muscle and heat and quiet confidence. Hate how easy it’s become to sit near him. Hate how your body relaxes automatically when he’s around.

You hate him.

Probably.

Bucky tips his head back against the railing. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Depends.”

“Why do you look terrified every time you realize you like me?”

Your heart stops.

You scoff too quickly. “I don’t like you.”

“Liar.”

“Conceited asshole.”

“There she is.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Fragile.

Because he’s looking at you too softly.

And that’s so much scarier.

“I just…” You exhale sharply, looking down at your beer bottle. “Men usually disappoint me.”

Bucky goes quiet.

He isn't offended in the way you figured he would be.

You swallow hard. “Most of them only respect women they wanna sleep with. Or they pretend to be decent until they get what they want. Or they make you feel crazy for expecting basic human decency.”

Your voice turns bitter before you can stop it.

“I got tired of it.”

Bucky nods slowly. “Makes sense.”

“That’s it?”

“What d’you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You laugh humorlessly. “Usually men start trying to convince me they’re one of the good ones.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

You look at him then.

Really look at him.

At the scar cutting through his brow. The tired blue eyes. The massive hands resting loosely against his thighs.

Bucky meets your stare evenly.

“You know what your problem is?” you mutter quietly.

“What’s that?”

“You’re annoyingly easy to trust.”

His mouth twitches.

“Sorry about that.”

Something in you cracks.

Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the years of carrying sharp edges like armor. Maybe it’s the simple fact that Bucky has never once asked you to make yourself smaller around him.

Whatever it is, your eyes sting suddenly.

“Oh,” Bucky says softly.

Mortifying.

You immediately turn your face away. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I wasn’t gonna.”

“Good.”

A beat passes.

Then warm fingers hook gently beneath your chin.

Your breath catches.

Bucky’s expression is careful. Like he’s approaching a wounded animal.

“You don’t gotta hate every man forever,” he says quietly. “Just the ones who deserve it.”

You stare at him.

At this impossible man who never pushes, never mocks, never demands.

The realization hits you all at once.

You don’t dislike men.

You dislike being unsafe.

And Bucky Barnes has never made you feel anything but protected.

Your voice comes out embarrassingly small.

“I think that might actually be worse.”

His brows furrow. “What is?”

“How much I like you.”

For one second he just looks stunned.

Then the slowest, warmest smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You groan immediately, covering your face with both hands. “Oh my God, I’m never admitting feelings again.”

Bucky laughs—a deep, beautiful sound—and gently pulls your hands away.

You’re fumbling with the machine when Enjin walks in. He stops, looks you up and down, and a slow, shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

Without a word, he walks right up to you, reaches out, and just... plunges his whole hand into the side of your hair, ruffling it aggressively.

"Whoa. What is this?" he laughs, his fingers getting lost in the curls.

You immediately swat his arm away, your face heating up. "Get your damn grease-stained hands out of my hair!"

He pulls his hand back, still grinning. "Feels like a cleaning brush. A really angry one."

"You're an ass," you snap, turning back to the coffee. "Don't touch me."

He just leans against the counter, watching you. "Relax. It's kind of funny. You look like a pissed-off hedgehog."

That's the last straw. In a flash, you lunge for him, your hands aiming straight for his perfectly messy blonde spikes. "Oh yeah? How do you like it?!"

He yelps, dodging backward with a surprised laugh. "Hey! Watch the goods!"

What follows is a chaotic chase around the kitchen island. You're both laughing and breathless as you finally corner him, your fingers successfully diving into his hair and thoroughly demolishing his style. He lets you, his hands on your waist to steady you both, a wide, unreserved grin on his face as he looks down at you, your cheeks flushed, your wild hair even wilder now.

"Okay, okay! Truce!" he finally gasps, still chuckling. When you pull your hands back, he doesn't let go of your waist. His gaze softens, just a bit.

"Y'know," he says, his voice a little lower. "It's actually kinda cute. All... big and crazy like that. Suits you."

Before you can process it, he lets go, snatches the first mug of coffee, and takes a sip.

You tapped your pen furiously against your thigh, hoping the sound or feeling might distract you from the ache in your lower half.

Mondays in the office were always the worst…too bright, too loud, too many people pretending free pastries could make up for the misery of fluorescent lights and chit chat.

Then you saw him. Clark Kent, striding toward you with a steaming cup in one hand, a croissant and donut nearly spilling out of the other and that damned easy smile on his face.

“What’s got you down, sunshine?” he asked, setting the coffee on your desk like it was a peace offering.

You snatched it up, scowling into the steam without meeting his eyes.

“You know I hate office days, Clark. That’s not news.”

His chuckle was warm, unfazed by your sharp tone. He took a giant, unapologetic bite of his croissant, flakes of pastry sticking to his lip.

“Why? Don’t you love the free pastry?”

Your glare sharpened. “Does it look like I need any more free carbs, Kent?” You gestured sharply at your curves, rolling your eyes. Sighing dramatically.

And then he blushed. Clark Kent, unflappable farmboy reporter, actually blushed. His gaze dropped, flickered, then dragged over the very curves you’d just pointed out. Heat flashed in his blue eyes before he averted them quickly, chewing too fast.

You blinked, the flush climbing up your own neck now What?” you demanded, softer this time, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

He leaned down just a little, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

“You look pretty damn perfect to me, sunshine. Just take the darn donut.

Your breath caught. The air between you tightened, the scent of his coffee mingling with the buttery pastry and something else, something warmer.

Maybe you were just hangry this morning. Or maybe Clark Kent was going to ruin office days for you in a whole new way...

⸻

When it Comes to Love

“It's a price you pay when it comes to love, And we'll take what comes, take what comes”

NYPD, Wednesday 

You sat behind your desk at the NYPD and tapped a pen against the hardwood, wondering when the next big case would find you and if it would take as long as the last. The one before was a doozy, a list of different scams all combined into one that gave you a massive headache and you missed the comforts of the apartment you shared with nothing but plenty of books and forgotten memories. A line of work like yours didn’t allow for much in the terms of a personal life and it had been the same grin since you got the badge a handful of years ago, signing off to a life of secrets and telling dating app partners, “Oh I work in security” as an excuse for missing moments. Dates missed, events bypassed and coffee outings cut short were all part of the routine but the thought of keeping the city safe was front and centre, it always had been.

New York had its fair share of bad guys, crime families that had been in business long before the Godfather made it cool and had enough blood on their hands to fill the lake in Central Park two times over. You’d been looking into it for years but there was never a lead that was good enough to take action, to really get your hands dirty and make a difference, take some people off the street before they took any more lives. But New York had also been a bit quiet for a while now, the streets having calmed and the NYPD could take a deep breath in that no one was in mortal peril just walking their dog past 9pm in the Bronx. But you had a feeling that peace wasn’t about to last and sighed, loud enough for him to hear as the chief of your precinct, a man named Steven Hart, wandered over with a manila file in hand. A case file, a new assignment and a new reason to cancel the coffee date you had planned for tomorrow morning with another guy off an app that smiled too much in his shitty profile photos. 

“That looks means a new case,” you said and Steven nodded. 

“It also means a lead on Barnes.” 

“Really?” you asked and grinned since there was one so-called mafia boss that always eluded the department. 

James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky to those who knew him had been in the business since he was old enough to drink and had inherited an entire syndicate from his father after he was killed in a shootout. You remembered that story since Bucky and you were similar, born into your respective careers and told for years that one day you’d be the inheritor of a longtime family business, the next step in a long ass chain. It's just one of you was catching criminals and the other was shooting them in the face. Your father was obsessed with the Barnes family before he retired and got close to getting him right before he left the business but the man was always one step ahead, avoiding the police like it was his full time job. There have been rumours of an increase in activity for the past year, break-ins and robberies all tied to his little band of delinquents and Steven had been obsessed with finding him for years. 

“He’s connected to a string of robberies with little evidence," Steven said and you looked over the dossier they had gathered, glaring at his smug face from the singular time they ever brought him in. 

“What’s the play?” 

“Undercover work.” 

“I see why you need me,” you said and Steven shoved his hands in the air. 

“I’m not gonna say anything but it definitely wasn’t hard to pick someone,” he muttered and you glanced at a few of the other detectives, all older, all men and all not Barnes’ type. 

“You just want me to charm him.” 

“It’s worked before,” he said and you sighed, remembering when it worked perfectly with a drug kingpin back in Boston a couple months ago. 

Steven had forever called it the hook, link and sinker play and had been attempting to convince you to do it since you got promoted but you had forever refused, claiming he was insane and also a bit sexist. But this time it was different and wasn’t just some drug lord on a too high horse, it was a man you had been chasing long before you were even born when your father was certain George Barnes was the mastermind the city needed to have stopped. So many years of wishing it would be easy to get them where you needed them, to expose their little family and make a name of the most notorious criminals since a couple dozen Italians were running the place. 

Parading yourself around for a man to fall in love with felt like the wrong play for a decorated detective with a half dozen successful stings under her belt but again…this was Barnes and for once you were close. Just a quick little hook, line and sinker and the guy would be charming his way through the ranks of a federal prison gang and you’d be heralded as a hero, in both the NYPD and your own family. Sure your dad was a bit old and senile but he still brought up the bust that never was at every Christmas and Easter, claiming he was one more case away from all his dreams coming true. But maybe what he was missing was you and a black dress and heels. 

“Hook, line and sinker,” you muttered and Steven grinned. “When?” 

“He’ll be at a club in Manhattan called Bernie's on Friday night.” 

“Which you got from…” 

“A dude named Willis we picked up on Monday, he apparently crossed him and ended up beat to shit in an alley with a couple dozen packs of cocaine stapled to him.” 

“He mentioned the club?”

“He was eager to shit on Barnes and that included his plans to relax after a long week of crime.” 

“Okay…I can be there,” you said and Steven smiled wider.

“I’ll be outside as backup in case you need it.” 

“Great, perfect,” you muttered and he raised a brow but didn’t comment. “I’ll walk in with a gun in case things get weird.” 

“Good idea,” he said and was about to walk off but turned, saying your name and you turned. “Don’t let him charm you.” 

“Isn’t that the whole point?” 

“You’re charming him, it’s not the other way around,” he said and you nodded, keeping it in mind as Steven walked off and you made a hair appointment for Thursday to really go all out. 

You spent the rest of the workday going through every file the precinct had ever gotten on Barnes and all the crimes and moments he had gotten connected to in the nearly 14 years he’d been the leader. It was an impressive collection, mainly robberies and the odd homicide but nothing all that too impressive, not like he blew up any schools or spit on orphans. He just seemed like the run of the mill bad guy and you wondered if there was anything else below the surface, the stuff that leagues of cops had missed over the years. 

You thought back to the day your father retired after nearly dying in a shootout involving Barnes’ father, the same one that killed him and saw the look on his face when he muttered that he’d failed, that they were still out there, still running free. The look had lit a fire under you and you skipped the classic college experience in favour of the police academy since you were an eighteen year old with a brand new dream, to make him proud. It worked and the detective promotion six years ago had gotten you one step closer to making that difference that you craved, in freeing the streets of your beloved city from one more bored punk looking to cause some trouble.

But you also knew that Bucky was so much more than just a punk, he was clever and knew how to not be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was good at framing people and getting himself out of tricky situations with a practiced ease that only came with years upon years of prior experience. Trying to outwit would be an interesting test and a challenge you were more than excited for and as Steven always said, it would be as easy as….

Hook. Line. And sinker. 

Bernie’s, Friday

It was 8pm on Friday and you were entering a snazzy looking nightclub in Manhattan in your classic little black dress and matching heels with lips painted red, blood red which felt appropriate and a gun strapped to your thigh. You felt intimidating to say the least and wandered over to the bar, ordering a vodka and nothing else to add to the air of who gives a shit Steven seemed to think would work. In reality you hated vodka, hated most liquor and took a sip that was more like a tongue dip as you turned to survey and see if you could spot Bucky somewhere among the sea of people. You didn’t catch him on the way in so he had to be somewhere in a back room, likely making deals with people or sharpening a knife he was going to stab into your back. You shook your head to keep knife thoughts out of it and took an actual sip, ignoring the burn and setting it back down as a chuckle hit your ear. 

“Problem?” you whispered since Steven was listening in via a comm in your left ear. 

“None, you just can’t hold liquor.” 

“I hate drinking,” you muttered and debated asking for water as he laughed. 

“Lets hope Barnes doesn’t order you a shot.” 

“I’ll deny it,” you muttered and moved to take a second sip just to fit in when a pretty large silhouette filled your field of view. 

“You do know vodka straight is terrible right?” he asked as you grabbed the glass and looked up, coming face to face with a set of sky blue eyes that were a bit crinkled since he was half smiling. 

You stepped back to put a bit of distance between yourself and a literal mafia boss as you looked him up and down, eyes raking over his black suit. It looked good to say the least, nicely tailored and it probably cost more than the car you drove there and then some. The shoes were an odd choice and you eyed his black converse as he crossed his feet and leaned against the car, calling over two vodka cranberries, one having more cranberry than vodka. You eyed the gesture before moving to his face which was handsome, you didn’t deny and he had a hard set jawline that still looked a bit boyish since he hadn’t stopped smiling and causing those eyes to pop. They were such a brilliant blue, accentuated by the burgundy tie capping off the outfit and you found yourself to be a bit lost until he turned to hold out the small glass of red liquid and your eyes narrowed. 

“Uh.” 

“Try it,” he said and took a long sip of his own as you grabbed the glass and took a small sip, eyes widening as he smiled even brighter. “See…don’t drink it straight, it’s no fun.” 

“Well…sorry, I don’t drink that often,” you said and hoped it made you sound a bit naive or even vulnerable but he still just looked amused. 

“I can tell,” he shot back and turned a bit to jump onto the barstool before he patted the one next to him. “Sit.” 

“Why?”

“Just do it,” he said and you nodded, taking a seat and spinning around to eye the crowd like he was. “James Buchanan Barnes but people call me Bucky.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you said and rattled off a fake name as he chuckled. 

“That’s not your name,” he said and your heart dropped before he whispered your real one and it basically stopped. “I know you, your name is in the news a lot.” 

“But…”

“Sure the dress and the blowout is new but I always remember a face,” he said and you eyed him. “I’m not gonna tell anyone or mention the gun but I will do this.” He reached up and grabbed the comm in your left ear before placing it on the bartop and crushing it with  a glass as your eyes widened. “I can’t have Steven spreading bullshit like he always does.” 

“You know Steven?” 

“That bastard has been breathing down my neck since he was a beat cop trying to prove himself,” he said and swallowed his entire drink before calling for a second one. “All my love to you for dealing with him.” 

“He’s not that bad,” you muttered and cringed when he barked out a laugh, all loud and sarcastic. 

“Lemme guess,” Bucky began and thanked the bartender for his second glass. “He told you a few days back that Willis was caught and mentioned me and Bernie’s on Friday so he gets this idea of playing his little hook, line and sinker idea and he uses you. You wear a tight dress and annoying shoes and make your hair large and arrive here to drink straight vodka like an idiot and attempt to seduce me. Am I close?” You blinked at him, mouth opening and closing like a dead fish. “Good, I am. Well I’ve seen this play done by the FBI, the CIA and even an actual callgirl who wanted money. I gave her some without the added complications since she needed to pay off some student loans and is now a nurse, good girl.” He smiled as you eyed him, not fully believing the man was even real. “The point is…They all sat here and tried to look like somebody while drinking alcohol that makes them act like nobody, like you.” 

“What’s your point?” 

“You’re smart,” he said and you chuckled. “I’m serious and I’ve followed your exploits since I was a young criminal and didn’t have my wits about me.”

“And…”

“I am here to offer you an opportunity.” 

“An opportunity?” 

“You came all this way to get dirt on me but I have dirt on Steven and the entire NYPD, dirt you won’t believe unless I show you why this exterior is very different from the interior.”

“So…how are you going to do that?” 

“Meet me at my place tomorrow and I’ll spend a few days showing you the real me,” he said and sipped his drink, a smirk still present. 

“Why would I ever say yes to that?” 

“Because you’re already considering it,” he shot back and your eyes widened. “If you weren’t there would’ve been a gun pointed at me a while back, as soon as I called your dress too tight and your shoes too annoying.”

“Why would that do it?” 

“Because you cop types hate the truth more than you hate criminals,” he pointed out and you hated to admit that he was right. “So…” 

“What if I hate you even more than I do right now?” 

“Well then my task has failed and you can arrest me.”

“Really?” 

“No,” he shot back. “But you can try.” 

“You’re different from your file,” you pointed out and he chuckled.

“No, I’m serious, even the photo was wrong.”

“The sheet designed to prosecute me, lied, I’m shocked,” he said and laughed as you rolled your eyes. "And where are you getting your mafia information, movies? Did you watch the Godfather before you came here?" He got himself into character and did possibly the worst Vito impression you had ever seen. "You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do murder for money. That kinda thing."

“It’s the eyes, they’re too blue for this line of work,” he muttered and eyed his reflection in the face of a Rolex that cost more than your yearly salary. “People always get so scared until I stare at them with these and suddenly it’s all gone.”

“It’s not the failed resting bitch face?” 

“Hey, it’s just because I smile more than I don’t,” he shot back and you knew that was true. “Give me your phone.” 

“Why?” you asked and got a bit defensive as he chuckled.

“So I can type in my number,” he shot back and you nodded, unlocking it and handing it over as he quickly made a new contact, typed the number in and handed it back. “I’ll text the address tomorrow morning, wear something normal.”

“What if I don’t show?” you asked as he slipped off the barstool.

“You will,” he said and gave you one last smile before taking a very obnoxious bow. “I have that effect on people, it’s a blessing and a curse, sweetheart.” 

He walked off, deeper into the club and eventually disappeared amongst a vast sea of people as you tried and failed to get his blue eyes and dumb grin out of your head. He was nothing like the sheets suggested and was a hell of a lot nicer, making even the simplest conversation feel like a million bucks and you shook off the feeling as your phone buzzed. 

Forgot to say, tab is paid, enjoy. 

You smiled, thanking the bartender and ordering a second of the vodka cranberry with more cranberry as you laughed aloud at the contact name. 

Blue Eyes, Big Smile.

“Yeah right,” you muttered and shut off your phone even though that statement was damn true. 

Bucky’s, Saturday

You took Bucky’s advice and dressed like a normal person in some jeans and a sweater and knocked on the door of what looked like a warehouse on the far side of the city as your pulse raced. Steven was pissed you two got cut off but he was happy his little plan had worked and more than eager to divert any work that came your way so you could spend time apparently seducing him. You weren’t looking to, he didn’t need it and was actually looking forward to seeing what soft interior he was so eager to show you. But the first impression wasn’t perfect and you gulped when a man holding a rifle was the one to answer the door, staring you down since he was very, very tall. 

“I’m here for Bucky,” you said and told him your name. “He told me to come and I wore normal clothes so…” 

The man shifted and moved his rifle around as you gulped, damn grateful for the gun you had, covered by the sweater and were about to pull it out and ran when a shout sounded from inside. There was some commotion and the rifle guy moved back in before Bucky appeared and ran a hand through his hair, looking a bit exhausted. 

“Sorry, some of these guys don’t READ THE CALENDAR!!” he shouted and you blink at him, in mild shock as he pulled open the door and ushered you inside. “I told them, I have a guest and they still pull the bodyguard shit like a bunch of bodyguards.”

“And they are?” 

“Oh they’re my bodyguards,” he said and you blinked at him as he pulled out his phone and tapped on the voice recorder. “Note, fire bodyguards.” 

You eyed him as he sighed and shoved his phone in the pocket before leading you deeper into what really was a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, outfitted like some kind of secret hideout. The so-called horrid bodyguards were all standing by the doors with various guns or weapons but a good collection of others were scattered around the room, testing weapons or yelling over the score on an old Atari. He led you over to a kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee, holding out the pot to you but you shook your head and took a seat, cringing a bit when the gun poked into your side. 

“You can take the gun off.”

“I figured you knew.” 

“I tend to carry myself but in here I feel safe,” he said and swept an arm out as you took off the holster and shoved it on the table. 

“So…what’s your plan?” you asked and he took a long sip of coffee before turning the paper around so you could read it, frowning at the headline. “This?”

“The neighbourhood is a load of shit and I know the guys that are doing it, these fuck ass Italians,” he muttered and sighed. “God…most Italians I love but not these guys. We hit one of their spots a couple days back, got some cash and I plan to spread it around.” 

“You stole it,” you accused and he shrugged.

“I stole it from Marco who stole it from someone worse,” he muttered and you frowned. “No one died, they just got what they deserved and should be rotting in jail. My buddy Willis was one of theirs and had snuck his way into my crew before I could blink. Pissed me off.” 

“So you stapled cocaine to his jacket,” you said and he chuckled. 

“I couldn’t leave them a note that said: Hey guys, this man was a dick to my crew of criminals, I got him while robbing a fellow sect of criminals, send him away. With love, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“No you could not,” you agreed. “How much money did you get?”

“Enough,” he said. “They had a lot in off shore accounts which is horrible stupid but they were so it makes sense. Most of my assets are close to home or spread among some trusted allies but I got out some for this afternoon.”

“Why do this, why be a Robin Hood?” you asked and it felt less like you were a cop and more an interviewer, getting the latest scoop on him. 

“Because I wish someone did it for me,” he said and stood, downing the rest of his coffee and dropping the mug in the sink before pulling on a very long, black duster. “Come on, come be enlightened, sweetheart.” 

“Are you bringing the bodyguards?” 

“No, I trust these people,” he assured but didn’t say anything when you stuffed the gun back in the holster and followed him out the door. 

***

The neighbourhood in the paper was a rundown block of apartments with kids running around everywhere and while it didn’t look intimidating, you kept close to Bucky as he walked like he was alone in the world, head held high. He had that aura about him a lot, the kind that made him feel like he thought he was the only man alive and all others were just in the way. You also figured it was an act and thought he didn’t look as handsome without that grin on his face and he frowned, trying out that resting bitch face before pulling you behind him. Ahead of you was a woman, a very pregnant one, arguing with a man twice her size on the front stoop of a broken down apartment building and it didn’t look to be going that wall. Bucky glared, jaw tight and his entire demeanor shifted, getting harder with each step as he barked at you to stay back and wandered right over to the man, shedding the duster and dropping it on a fence. 

The poor guy didn’t even have a chance before he was punched square in the jaw by Bucky and your eyes widened at how intimidating he could look with just a simple shift. The woman looked pretty freaked and you ignored his wishes before running over, walking up the stoop and placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. She nodded in thanks as Bucky barked for your gun and you hesitated for a second before tossing it over and he lowered the barrel with the guys head. 

“Bucky,” you muttered but he just shot you a look and you crumpled, not liking how dark he got. 

“Look man.” 

“What did I say?” Bucky said, low and slow as the guy crumpled a bit and he knelt down, pressing the barrel further into his forehead. “What…did I say?” 

“Leave her alone,” he muttered and glanced at the woman.

“Bingo.”

“But she’s carrying Luke’s baby.” 

“I’m aware and I told Luke that if he touched her, he’d be carrying a bullet in his stomach, do you want to join him?” 

“No…”

“Good, then head back to Luke and tell him that.” 

“Look…he doesn’t like me man,” the guy muttered and Bucky sighed, shoving the gun in his back pocket before placing a hand on the guy's knee. “He’ll kill me.” 

“Not my problem,” he muttered and placed a second hand just above the knee before gripping his leg and beginning to twist as the guy cried out. 

“Come on man, you’re better than Luke.” 

“Did he tell you that?” Bucky asked and twisted it further. 

“Of course,” the guy pleaded but it was too late and Bucky twisted it, snapping the knee as the guy began to cry and the woman shoved her head into your shoulder. 

“Go tell Luke I did that,” he said and tossed the guy a couple twenties. “Pay for a cab.” 

“Luke’s not gonna like this and he’ll eventually come for that bitch and her baby.” 

Like a poised snake, Bucky snapped and was standing above the guy, boot pressed into his dislocated knee as he pressed the gun deep into the guy's forehead. “Big mistake.” 

He went to pull the trigger and the guy cried out, wetting himself as you braced for the impact of the gunshot but it never came and you watched Bucky stand and drop some bullets on the ground in front of him, having emptied the gun without anyone seeing. 

“Get your fucking act together,” he said and rolled his eyes before grabbing his coat from the fence and walking past the woman and into the apartment as you sat there in mild shock. 

That was the man you expected, the intimidating mastermind who would do anything to get his way and it was easy to admit it scared you and you led the woman into the building on shaky legs. You knew he’d never do that to you but wondered how many others had gotten their knees snapped or the pee scared out of him just because they mentioned the wrong or strung together the wrong set of words. But like a switch was flicked, he was back and smiling as the woman opened her apartment door and stepped inside, taking a seat at the dining table as he handed back your now empty pistol. 

“Sugar, I told you to leave,” he said and the woman nodded. 

“You know I can’t, my boys love their school,” she muttered and you eyed her. 

“I know but he’ll come back and I won’t be here,” he said and she sighed, deeper. 

“Buck.” 

“No…don’t Buck me, we need to get you someplace safe like Maine with your sister.” 

“She hates me,” Sugar said and Bucky shook his head.

“No, she hated Darren,” he said and you had to assume it was the father of the other two kids and not this Luke person he seemed obsessed with. 

“Only you liked him,” Sugar said and he nodded, before standing before grabbing a coke from her fridge and taking a long sip. 

“I loved Darren,” he admitted and chuckled before turning to you. “Darren was a friend, he ran with me and got in hot water with Luke Costas, the man who owns that twat outside. Luke loved Sugar and one day he tried to take her back and Darren got mad, threatened him and we found him dead in his car at the bottom of a lake not far from the city. That baby isn’t Luke’s, it’s Darren’s.” 

“Why does he think it’s his?” 

“Because he’s an idiot,” Bucky deadpanned. “And because no woman in the city of half the country will touch him so he steals things, girlfriends, wives and sisters…newborns. The Costas want an heir as they say and since Luke is the only son, it has to be his so he convinced half the city that her baby is his even though he was with her one night, against her will when she was already pregnant.” Sugar nodded as Bucky sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell your stupid sister that, Sugar.” 

“She won’t help me.” 

“Then I will,” Bucky said and pulled out his wallet before placing a check in front of her and her eyes widened.

“Bucky…this…”

“I’ll give you 2000 a month more if you leave by Tuesday,” he said and she stared at him, tears welling in her eyes. 

“Why?” 

“Because unlike me, you’re not forced to be here,” he muttered and she nodded, standing and wrapping him in a tight hug as he grinned. “Good, I’ll send Joey and Raymond over tomorrow to help you pack and when the boys get home, they have to stay inside.”

“I can do that,” she assured and he smiled, crushing the can underfoot and heading to the door as you followed. “Bucky?” 

“Sugar?” 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime,” he assured and blew her a kiss before heading out as you followed, feeling like you had whiplash from the influx of different emotions running through your head. 

“What was that?” 

“What?” 

“You break a guy's knee but give a lady a check for how much?” 

“300,000,” he said and your jaw dropped. 

“You almost killed that kid,” you said and he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve only killed one man in my entire life, I’m not about to add to that total.” 

“But…why…why the whiplash,” you said and he stopped, turning and backing you against the wall with his very large frame. 

“Why go from the classic mafia boss to a man with all the charms?” he asked and you nodded. “Because I have to and haven’t lived in this life for 34 years without doing that. I need the grins and the jokes and the snide comments to keep me sane.” 

“But why? What happened to you?” 

“Come for dinner at my place tomorrow, Sunday roast and I’ll tell you everything.” 

“Even the dirt you have.” 

“Especially that,” he said and walked off, not offering for you to join him as you pulled out your empty gun and stared at it, knowing you needed to look into him, to see who he killed and why before he told you. 

For there was more to this man than meets the eye and you were scared that the Bucky you were coming to appreciate, the smiling and happy go lucky not so mafia, mafia boss was a lie and a much darker one was waiting to strike. 

Your Place, Sunday 

You were sitting on your couch with a forgotten tea getting cold on the coffee table and your laptop open to a collection of obituaries from New York’s history with some weird hope that you’d find the guy he killed. So far the search had been pretty pointless and knew it was nearing the time he said to come by for dinner so you sighed and stood, stretching. There was a knock at the door and you eyed it before walking over, pulling it open and nearly at the man standing outside, a grin and some flowers in his hand. 

“Uh…”

“Hello,” he greeted and pushed past you, dropping a bag of what you assumed was food on the dining table.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and Bucky began to search your cabinets for a vase. 

“I brought dinner.” 

“I thought I was gonna meet you,” you said and eyed the hallway before closing the door and locking it as he grabbed a vase and a bottle of dusty wine. 

“Eh, Jerry’s being a dick so I brought some of what the guys made.”

“How’d you find me?” you asked which was definitely the more pressing question. 

“Oh…I tracked your phone, I put software on it at the same time as my number,” he said and you pulled out your phone, looking it over as he chuckled. “I track everyone. Sugar right now is at home like I told her to stay.” 

“That’s insane,” you deadpanned and he shrugged. 

“When you have a lot of money in various spots, you need to keep track of them,” he said and used a corkscrew he brought to open the wine before pouring some of it in some mugs. “Come. Be mad after I've told you my life story.”

You sighed and took a seat as Bucky unwrapped the meal he brought and set out some lasagna and garlic bread that smelt incredible. He dished out a plate of it since the man also brought plates to your surprise and you sniffed it, trying not to melt since you'd never been the best cook. You liked easy meals that involved the microwave or an Italian restaurant down the road that delivered in record time, every time. This whole dinner thing was a nice change of pace and Bucky nodded as you cut off a piece and tried it, nearly melting again at the taste as he chuckled.

“I employ good cooks,” he said and you nodded in agreement. 

“So…life's story.”

“Right, over dinner,” he said and you nodded, not wanting him to forget and leave without telling you. “Well…you know the first part about my dad and how this business was his and I took over when he died. I didn't want to but I loved the guy and he needed someone to be there for him and I was an only child.”

“Your mom?”

“She died when I was born so it was just me and dad and his family of workers,” Bucky said and his eyes lit up at the memory. “They became my family as well and I even employ some of their kids, it’s always been a family business, even when people aren’t family.” 

“And then you killed someone,” you said and he got a bit quiet, moving around a noodle on his sheet but not touching it. 

“No, that was before,” he muttered and you raised a brow. “I told Sugar to keep her kids indoors because I never had someone to do that for me, to look out for me and one night when I was ten I was sitting alone and waiting for dad to get home. He said he’d be back early but it was late and I was worried and on edge, unable to focus on whatever show had caught my attention. So when there was a knock at the door I ran for it and opened it with bright eyes but it wasn't dad, it was a man he had crossed.” Bucky gripped the fork in his hand like a lifeline and you reached out, wrapping a hand in his and he nodded in thanks. “I didn't know what to do but he looked like he wanted to kill me and I grabbed a shotgun he kept by the door and shot it before I could blink. The guy was down, dead as the door itself and all I remember is falling back and fainting and waking up in his arms. I was scared, I thought I'd be killed but he assured me that I was going to be okay. He'd deal with it and I never questioned it or killed someone ever again. Once is enough.” 

You let his confession hang in the air and knew that his sheet definitely didn't mention anything about it. It called him a ruthless killer and a guy that would do everything to make the world pay. But he had seen firsthand what revenge could do and you had to assume that wasn't the first time that someone came knocking. Knowing that Bucky wasn't some contract killer made you feel a hell of a lot lighter and you sighed, downing half the wine even though it tasted bad as he did the same. 

“You really hold yourself back,” you said and he shook his head.

“No, I don't, I just ignore it.”

“I'm assuming it gets hard.”

“Only once,” he said and you looked up, meeting his eyes. “When I heard what Luke did to Sugar.”

“You wanted to kill him?” You asked, more out of curiosity than as a way to use it against him. 

“I wanted to break every bone in his body, every day for the rest of time,” he said and you breathed in deep, knowing that was fair. 

“What if Luke comes after you?” 

“He won’t, he’s not that stupid,” he muttered and ate his last bite before wiping his mouth and letting out a loud sigh. “I would be ready for him though and would be more than willing to break that rule one more time to get rid of a man like him.” 

“You’d throw it all away to kill Luke?”

“Sugar’s not the first and she won’t be the last,” he said and you swallowed hard, drinking more wine. “Besides, he’s in too deep with your job and there has to be a reason why a guy like that has never been arrested, I just don’t know why.” 

“I’ll talk to Steven when I go back tomorrow to discuss you, see what he says.” 

“What are you going to say?” Bucky asked and you tried to ignore the mischievous look in his eyes. 

“I’m going to tell him you’re not involved and we have no reason to arrest you,” you said and he sighed. 

“Thank you,” he said and held up his mug of wine as you did the same with yours and clinked it against his. “To a budding friendship.” 

“Sure,” you said and he sucked back the rest of the wine before smiling at the one bag left. 

“Dessert?”  Bucky asked  and pulled out a cheesecake with raspberries on top of it with a bright smile on his face as he cut you off a piece.

“How'd you know,”  you said, “ did you track that somehow?”

“Everyone likes cheesecake,” he shot back and you couldn't help but agree, taking a bite with a big smile on your face. 

The dessert was good of course it was but the one thing making it better was the man sitting across from you at your dining room table, a wide smile on his face and a dollop of raspberry on the side of his mouth. He had destroyed all your previous expectations of what it would be like to dine with a mafia man and you were very grateful that you gave him a chance and saw the man behind the grin. For he was about to become very important to you, you just didn't know how or why it would come to be. 

Your Place, Tuesday

The day after you talked to Steven about Bucky was the first day you hadn't seen him in almost three and it was weird not getting the chance to hang out with him. But you also needed a break since Steven seemed reluctant to believe that the guy was not involved in anything that he was being accused of. You needed time to find a way to convince him and keep Bucky as the freeman that he deserved to be, helping people in the city of New York. You had had a late dinner of the leftover lasagna and spent the rest of the evening researching his family on the NYPD database, going to bed at an hour you knew was too late. 

But there was a lot on the Barnes family, a lot of stuff that didn't make sense and you began to see a pattern of the NYPD putting blatant lies on files that apparently told the truth. They called them devious and reckless and people that were more than willing to kill anyone that got in their way. You knew that was false and the few days that you had spent with Bucky were enough to tell you that something had to be wrong and he was right, the NYPD had a mole. 

Your mind was reeling with thoughts of who it could be and who would be dumb enough to falsify records that you knew would eventually be necessary for something. They had to be an amateur or someone not that smart, someone unwilling to cover their tracks and to make sure that their story had no holes. There were a few names that were coming to mind and you reminded yourself to check them out tomorrow since you were still on holiday. Still caught up in this Whirlwind of a case. Your mind was so distraught over this new information that it didn't hear your door slam open late into the night and before you could even blink there was a hand on your mouth. A very large man was hovering over you in bed, a black ski mask covering most of his face but he felt muscled and intimidating and your sleep deprived brain was sure a gun was being pressed into your stomach.

 “Be quiet,” he ordered and you nodded even though he couldn't really see you. “Be real quiet and you might get out of this alive or else we'll have to tell your friend Barnes that he needs a new detective to mess with.”

You’re fully awake now and fully aware of who had their hand on your mouth, he knew Bucky and had to be someone that had a lot to gain in hurting someone close to him,  someone that might have been told about you from a man that was almost killed by him. The man holding you hostage at the moment in your own apartment was none other than Luke Costas and you had no idea what he wanted. You didn't even get time to ask before he shifted and a cloth was placed on your mouth in probably the most basic way to kidnap someone. 

But chloroform had always been effective and in seconds you were out like a light and wishing that you had managed to replace the bullets in the gun that Bucky emptied. But it was still sitting on your nightstand and waiting. You were being taken who knows where and were worried that the last time you saw him was over a plate of cheesecake and a damn good lasagna. 

***

You woke to the sound of someone getting beat up in another room and cringed when they got hit again not making any noise beyond a few grunts. It was obviously someone that had been hit before and you really only needed one guess to figure out who it was. In some miracle he found you or Luke went after Bucky right after he tied you up in some random basement with one lightbulb swinging from the ceiling like some kind of horror movie. You sighed since the man was so predictable and was grateful that Bucky was very different from him, he had style and substance and didn't use chloroform on his victims. But Luke was also a very dangerous man and from what you learned about him off the NYPD database you weren't looking forward to dealing with whatever he had in mind.

 You also didn't need to wait that much longer since the guy appeared in the room that you were being kept in, dragging a beat up Bucky Barnes behind him by his hair. Your heart lurched and you tried your hardest to get off the chair that he had tied you to but the knots were strong and he had doubled down with some cuffs since he was dealing with an NYPD detective after all. You knew that Luke was smart, he didn't underestimate you but he also wasn't alone and there was someone else that was feeding him some information that he couldn't have. Information like your apartment and where it was located, where you'd be on a Tuesday evening and even where you kept a spare key under a fake rock by the front door.

Your jaw dropped when a man that you thought you trusted walked out from behind Luke and gave him a pat on the back with a bright smile on his face as you glared at the two of them knowing it had to be him. He was the only detective that was dumb enough to leave something behind after getting this far and leave some holes in the files that he doctored. He was also your mentor and should have known that you'd be smart enough to realize what he had done but again you'd already established that he was a very stupid man. 

“I know this is out of work hours but it is good to see you again,”  Steven Hart said and you wished that he would die a very, very painful death. “I'm assuming that you want some kind of an explanation and I am of course here to give it you, so sit back and relax.  I don't know if you ever knew this but I have a very big family and one of the people in that family is Morgan Costas, my aunt. She married into this giant crime family and at first I was quite mad but then they showed me how good it can be to be well connected. Luke here was always going to be the heir but he needed someone to work by his side and I knew that we needed an in for the NYPD. So I lied and went to school but never intended to do any good and have been a dirty cop since you’ve known me. Surprise.”

“Why Bucky?” you asked and eyed the man since he seemed to be unconscious. 

“The Barnes family has always been a disgrace to the people in our business. They don't act like us, they don't work like us and they definitely are too nice. So I framed your little friend for some crimes that he did not commit and made sure those files painted him in the worst possible light so every detective assigned to him was scared and more than willing to bring him in. But you were the only one that was willing to see him for who he really is, to see the man behind the files and that's when Luke came to me with a plan. Why not get rid of you and I can arrest him or kill him after you’re gone. Genius, right?” 

“He's going to kill you,” you said and nodded towards Bucky who was stirring just a little bit.

“He just got the shit kicked out of him,” Steven said and you knew he was being stupid once again. 

“Sure,” you said and Bucky began to stir even more and didn’t look pleased about being beat up.

Just like that moment outside of Sugar's apartment when he snapped he did it again and pulled out a gun that he had been hiding somewhere that you did not want to think about. Both Luke and Steven stepped back in shock and went for their own guns but they were missing and you smiled at the fact that Bucky always seemed to be a few steps ahead of everyone, even you. 

Bucky was quick, almost too quick and he moved like an action hero not a mafia boss and you smiled at the fact that he seemed to be enjoying being a hero and also getting a shot at beating up Luke. The man attempted to call for some backup using a phone in his pocket but like something straight out of a movie, Bucky roundhouse kicked the device right out of his hand and then spun around getting him in the chest. He went down hard and he turned to Steven kicking him back but the man was a bit faster and actually had some training under his belt. You felt powerless still stuck to that chair as Bucky and Steven fought and wished that you could do something to help him. 

But sometimes wishes do come true and you noticed the fact that Luke was back up and he also had hidden in a gun somewhere you didn't want to think about.  Bucky was distracted with Steven, his head turned the other way and his arms occupied with trying to fight off a man that seemed to be a lot bigger than him if that was even possible. You eyed Luke as he pulled out the gun, loaded it and aimed it and knew that you had to wait for the very last second or else he would just pull the trigger. But when the man hesitated for just a moment you took your opportunity and knew that he wouldn't see it coming. 

“Bucky behind you,” you called and the man turned, managing to kick the gun out of Luke's hand before he could shoot him. 

He nodded in thanks but the gesture was enough to distract him and Steven seemed to be quickly gaining the upper hand and knocked the two of them to the ground. He called for Luke to toss him the gun but Bucky was faster and got his hand on it before Steven could even hope to grab it. Bucky used the gun and his own momentum to slam the barrel against the top of Steven's forehead and the man fell to the ground unconscious. Bucky sighed but it was short-lived when Luke got back up, seemingly immune to the many punches that had been thrown at him. 

“Bucky!” you called and he once again turned just as Luke pushed him to the ground.

 The momentum knocked the gun out of Bucky's hand and allowed Luke to get the upper hand as he began to squeeze, locking his hands around his throat and cutting off Bucky's air supply. You knew that he had to act fast and were close to having a heart attack as you watched, desperate to see what he would do to get himself out of the situation. You also saw the look he gave the gun that was discarded and close enough that he could reach it. 

But he turned to you only for a second to try and get your approval for what he wanted to do but you also knew that at this point it was either him or Luke and there didn't seem to be another option. You knew that he had to feel like being a kid again, faced with a man that was bigger than him and trying to kill him and could see the conflict on his face. He never wanted to repeat that moment but you also knew that Luke was worse he wasn't doing this for him.

“For Sugar,” you said and Bucky nodded, grabbing the gun and shooting Luke in the chest.

 The man stopped dead and fell on top of him as Bucky sighed and pushed him off going to your side almost immediately and undoing the ropes, using Luke's keys to get the cuffs off your wrists. He picked you up bridal style and carried you out of that basement and up into a house that looked a lot nicer than you were expecting. You watched Bucky as he walked silently through the rest of the house and placed you gingerly on your feet on the stoop outside, looking you over to make sure that he hadn’t done anything besides kidnap you and you know, tie you to a chair.

“I'm fine,” you assured and placed a hand on his cheek as he nodded. “Are you fine?” 

 Bucky he shook his head and you didn't blame him, his cardinal rule had been broken and there was a part of you that felt like he did it for you. He asked for your approval to be a man that he didn't want to be anymore, a man that he tried to hide behind smiles and jokes and charm, a man that was darker, that had nothing to live for. 

“I didn't want to,” Bucky muttered but you shook her head to cut them off.

“You're still you,” you assured but you could tell that he didn't look that convinced. “What now?”

“Go home and rest,” he said and you shook your head.

“Not without you,” you said and the man sighed before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I'll be okay”,  he assured and at that moment you believed it.

“You're still you,”  you reiterated and he gave you a nod even though it didn't feel like it meant anything.

“Maybe one day,”  he muttered and pulled his phone to call you a cab.

 You waited in silence on the curb for the cab and when you got in he didn't say anything, he didn't even say goodbye. There was a part of Bucky that died that day, a part that he had lost and knew that he wouldn't get back. But knowing that you were safe and could be without him made him feel even better. One more man that made New York worse was gone and maybe that made it worth it. For the city needed to be safe for not just the people that lived in it but for the woman that made living worth it.

 For you.

 He just didn't know how to tell you that, at least not yet and not before it was too late.

Your Place, 2 Weeks Later, Monday

Recovering from the reign of terror that Steven and Luke caused was a process that involved a lot of pain meds and soup delivered to your door from Doordash with Bucky’s name attached to the receipt. You thought it was sweet of him to check up on you in his own little way but you wanted to see him, to thank him for saving you and for ruining his singular rule just for you. But Bucky had cut off all contact aside from the receipts and even his contact just led to a pleasant voice saying the line was disconnected and the name that made you laugh, just made you cry. You were pretty emotional for those first few days, not wanting to look in the mirror and see the bruises you were now being forced to hide from prying eyes, reminders of a life you were sad to see him stuck in. Maybe now that his number one enemy was gone, that he was dead and buried and Steven was in jail he could be free. 

But another part of you didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want him to run off and hide somewhere and leave you wondering for the rest of time. You knew it sounded insane but you had really begun to fall for the man and his jokes and too blue eyes and the way he smiled too bright all the time, despite the horrors he had seen. You liked his approach to company dinners and the free healthcare he gave his workers because he just went ahead and paid for it all the time. You also really liked that he was so damn different than everyone suggested and subverted every single expectation and then some, proving that not every mafia movie was 100% accurate.

Damn you Godfather. 

You laughed at that but it didn’t feel that joyful and sighed when there was a knock at the door and the next soup delivery was ready for you, another reminder and you didn’t feel like grabbing it right away. But the Doordash driver was insistent and on the third knock you sighed and wandered over, pulling open the door as your eyes widened. 

“Doordash wasn’t working,” he muttered and disregarded the bag before surging forward and wrapping him in a tight hug. “Hey, I’m happy to see you too.” 

“Why…why stay away?” you asked and stepped inside so he could head inside. 

“I wanted to give you time, you needed it,” he said and dropped the dinner which looked like more than soup on the dining table as you took a seat. “I’ve been through that before but the first time is always the worst.” 

“It feels like the worst,” you muttered and patted your brow bone that was still bruised. “You still could’ve called.” 

“I know and I wanted to but Luke’s buds weren’t the happiest and I knew I needed to clean that up before you got wrapped up in all of this. Again.” 

“And?” 

“All of them have been found and arrested, I was quite impressed with the speed,” he said and you nodded in agreement. “But now…I have to leave.” 

“Leave?” 

“The city,” he said and you stared at him. “I’m leaving New York and even America and I’m gonna make a new life for myself where all of this is behind me and I have however many years left to be a normal guy, with a bit of blood on his hands.” 

“But you were born here, you were raised here.” 

“Yeah and it’s gone back on that a few times,” he said and you knew it was true.

“Where?” 

“France, I’ve always wanted to open a cafe so I might do that in some small town where they all speak French and won’t know who I am or who my dad was. They’ll just see me, the weird guy with the too blue eyes and wide smile,” he said and cocked one as you laughed, but it broke and Bucky reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“What about your guys, your family?” 

“They’ll be fine and I have more than enough on the street for them, they’ll never have to work another day and I’m taking half a million with me, I should be fine to start again.” 

“So you’re going to go all the way across the world to get a whole new life while I stay here, in this horrible and go back to a job where my boss tried to kill me.”

“Hey, Steven is in jail,” he said but you knew it wasn’t enough. “Come on…I need this, I need this new start and I’m not a good man, this is best for both of us.” 

He tried to reach out again, grab your arm and attempt to make it better but you pulled it back and refused to let him get any closer, standing and pacing the kitchen as Bucky watched you. His eyes were darker in that moment, laced with concern and you knew it wasn’t fair to make him stay, to make him live in a city that had been trying to kill him for close to 34 years. But you also didn’t want to lose him, you didn’t want to stay if he wasn’t here and had no idea how to tell him that, but you could at least ask a question you knew he would answer. 

“Way back when we had dinner, you said there was one last thing you needed to say, something that could wait for an important moment and if you’re leaving, I’d say this moment is pretty damn important.” 

“Fair,” he said and moved over to the couch as you followed, leaving the dinner behind since neither of you were that hungry. “It’s about your dad.” 

“My dad?” 

“He was there when mine died eighteen years ago but I’m assuming he never told you the whole story.” 

“He didn’t.” 

“Your father was working an undercover sting to get dirt on mine and they became buddies when he realised my dad was like me, never the violent type and instead a Robin Hood. My dad also had this gripe with a family near us, ones who were the violent type that got pissed for no reason and one day they found him at a bar where the two of them were playing pool,” he said and you had never knew that his father and yours were friends, that they found a common ground like the two of you had. “My dad knew what they wanted, they wanted him and were going to hurt yours if he didn’t give himself over. The two of them were talking about you and your dreams, how he knew what you wanted out of life and the fire you needed to achieve it, you needed him. So my dad chose to give himself up and they killed him but spared yours.” 

“He never told me this,” you said and really wished that he had.

“He didn’t want to,” Bucky said and you eyed him. “He came to see me a few months after and we talked about vengeance and he was shocked I didn’t want any. But he also said that maybe one day there’d be another cop who’d go undercover and try to get close to me and that it might even be you.” 

“That’s how you knew,” you said and he nodded. 

“Yeah, I knew you looked vaguely familiar and I had seen your face on the news and knew your last name. Like father, like daughter.” 

“We both know that some people are different than everyone claims,” you said and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.” 

“Oh so you mean me?” 

“You claim that you sit and smile too much because you want to forget what happened, you want to enjoy life, but that’s only a very small part,” you began and he raised a brow. “I talked to your weird coworker, Rodney, and he mentioned how you save puppies and hold charity events and once paid for a woman to get a hip replacement because she fell in front of you and you felt bad. You paid for Sugar to leave this god awful town and were worried about her kids being out late because no one was there to ever worry about you.”

“Sweetheart…”

“It’s not the jokes and the smiles that make you different or happy, Bucky, it’s everything about you and all those expectations that you subvert every single day. You keep this city safe and I know so many people, myself included, are damn grateful for it since you and that so-called gang have put away more criminals than the NYPD in the last ten years.” 

“Sweetheart…”

“No, give me a second,” you said and he shut his mouth. “I don’t want to live in a New York that doesn’t have James Bucky Barnes protecting it because that sounds like a shit city to live in. I also don’t want a life without you in it and I’m more than willing to go with you, to leave for a whole other life and make a name for myself with you.”

For once in the time that you had known him, he was speechless and watched you let out a loud breath since your throat hurt from rambling and took a seat back on the couch.

“Wow…I guess mafia types also hate the truth more than they don’t,” he said and you chuckled at the call back. “You really clocked me.” 

“I’m a very observant person,” you said and he nodded in agreement. “So…”

“You’d move all the way to France for me.”

“I’m beginning to think I’d move anywhere,” you said and he grinned. “I don’t need my job, I got it to hunt you and that was the biggest mistake of my life.”  

“We haven’t known each other very long.”

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” you said and he smiled, ears turning pink much to your amusement. “You once said you’d give me all your love because I have to deal with Steven, how about now?”

“I’d give you it all just because,” he said and you grinned. “I’m not a nice guy.” 

“Yes you are,” you assured and shifted to wrap your arms around his neck and look at those gorgeous eyes. “You’re a better man than most. Full of hope.” 

“For the future,” he added and you nodded. 

“For the future,” you echoed and waited to see if he’d make a move and he did, leaning forward and kissing you, deep as you smiled against him. 

Bucky moved so he was holding you tight, lips never leaving yours as you spent the better part of the rest of the night glued to each other and not wanting to ever leave, to ever break the bond you had created. Sure you were giving it all up, your career and your apartment full of memories but it was for the chance to make even more and be as close as possible to arguably the nicest guy in New York city.

“When it comes to love,” he began and kissed your nose late that evening as you curled against him. “I’ll do it all for you.” 

You nodded and moved to squish your head against his shoulder and felt his arms curl around your back as he pulled you closer and wished that he’d never, ever, let you go. 

South of France, Monday, 3 Years Later

The first Monday of June meant one thing for a small Cafe in the south of France, it meant that it was officially tourist season and you sighed when you woke up and realized what day it was. You stretched, loud and obnoxious and knew that you were likely waking up your husband but you also knew that he wouldn't care. You kissed his cheek before you made the trek downstairs and put on the coffee machine while also starting on a big breakfast considering today was going to be a very long day. Tourist season always meant a lot more people coming by and more things needed to be ordered and things needed to be baked but you liked the work and your singular coworker. 

It didn't take long for the man himself to wander downstairs, dressed in some light linen pants and a nice looking shirt, looking the happiest he had ever looked. Besides maybe the moment he first met you.

 “Good morning,” you said and blushed when Bucky walked over and wrapped his arms around your stomach, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“A very good morning,” he assured and gave your cheek a kiss as you chuckled,  never really able to get over that.

“It's also the first Monday of June,” you said and let out a laugh when he sighed. “I can't believe this is all we have to worry about.”

 “Just Mondays,” Bucky quipped and you chuckled, turning around so you could kiss him on the nose.

“Mondays, coffee orders, stuff to bake. It's all so trivial.”

“Too trivial for a former Mafia boss and an NYPD Detective?”

“No, just simplistic,” you added and he nodded in agreement.

“I like the simple life,” Bucky informed and poured himself a very large mug of coffee since even in the south of France he was obsessed with caffeine. “This is a far cry from New York City.” 

“A far cry from all of it,”  you added and smiled at a small postcard sitting on your fridge that was sent to you from Sugar.

 She had ended up making it to Maine and was grateful when she learned that Luke was dead and the kid that wasn't his would be safe from him. Sure Bucky had broken his cardinal rule and killed someone else for the very first time since he was a child, but he also knew that it had been a lot more than a man trying to kill him in his own house. He had managed to protect Sugar and her children and allowed them a life of peace. You two were also very grateful when she sent you an email late one afternoon with the name of her new baby, a daughter. 

A name that was a combination of the two people that meant the most to her with yours as a first name and his as a middle name.

 Bucky was shocked to say the least and questioned her choice but she admitted to only wanting to name her kids after good people and you two were some of the best. For he was always willing to keep people safe, no matter if it put himself in danger and you were always willing to see the best in everyone. Even mafia bosses with eyes that are way too blue and a grin that was too wide and a smile that was too much and jokes that weren't even funny. 

 But you took a chance on him and had suddenly found yourself in the south of France worrying about nothing but coffee orders and baking and nothing more.

“When it comes to love,” you said and were referring to a statement that had been a part of your vows when you got married two years ago.

You hated it. Their laughter, their friendships, their easygoing nature, you just hated it or much to say, you despised it—it all felt like a mockery. Was it their fault, or was it yours?

Were you just incapable of finding happiness?

Had life became too cruel too you?

Or were you just that much of a hater?

You don’t know — and honestly, it seems like you never even tried to care. Is it because of what they said? That ignorance suits you, that apathy defines you? That’s what they said, not you.

It’s not your fault you’re grumpy and short-tempered. It’s their fault — for surrounding you with nothing but annoyance.

It’s not your fault you glare at people for no reason — they were the ones looking at you strangely, smiling like they knew something you didn’t. Honestly, why are they even smiling? What is there to smile about? It’s not like there’s a camera pointed at them, waiting to capture the moment.

And honestly, it’s not your fault for shooing those “human beings” away with a few snarky comments. It’s their fault — for existing, for breathing, for making your life just a little bit worse by being in it.

So no, it’s not your fault. You just learned to survive in a world that never asked what you needed — only why you weren’t smiling.

Happiness is just a performance. Laugh, talk, post your perfect moments — but what’s the point? It doesn’t really mean anything.

It’s exhausting, really — their pity, their concern. As if you’re missing out on something amazing. Happiness? Where?

You’re tired of their pity — tired of hearing that you “just need to find happiness.” As if that’s something lying around waiting to be picked up. All you ever find is more reasons to be annoyed, all you ever see is nonsense and people who won’t shut up.

Maybe you don’t want to be fixed. Maybe you don’t want to be understood. Maybe it’s easier to push everyone away than to admit you’re just lonely.

They post quotes about gratitude, share pictures of sunsets, pretend coffee can cure emptiness. As if putting a filter on sadness makes it beautiful.

Maybe you're just tired of trying.

And of course, there’s that one obnoxiously loud guy who keeps showing up — Silas. his grinning and smiling blinding your eyes. Seriously, who the hell does he think he is?

He waves at you every single time, like it’s some ritual. A cheerful “hi” like he hasn’t noticed the permanent scowl on your face. He holds the door open for you, too, like it’s his life’s mission to sprinkle happiness wherever he goes. And then, as if that weren’t enough, he actually talks to you. Not just once. Not by accident. Consistently. Casually. Like it’s normal.

And what’s worse — he keeps doing it even after you give him snark, eye-rolls, and silence. You’ve thrown every cold remarks in the book, laced your tone with enough sarcasm to make a child cry, and yet… he just smiles. Like it doesn’t hurt. Like maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t care that you’re trying to push him away.

Does he think that makes him your friend? That waving and holding doors and surviving a few insults earns him some kind of award? is this his idea of bonding? Is he that immune to rejection, or just too oblivious to see it?

He finds excuses to be near you — sitting one seat too close, showing up wherever you are with some silly reason, like he just happened to be passing by.

Silas remembers the smallest things you say, brings them up later like it means something. He offers you gum, shares his snacks, lends you pens you never asked for. He laughs too easily at your dry remarks, like he’s trying to prove he gets you.

Sometimes, he walks beside you without saying anything at all, like silence is enough. Like just being near you is a victory in itself. And the worst part? He acts like it’s all natural — like he’s not trying at all, like the closeness just happens.

Most people get the hint. They back off, shrink away, disappear like they were never really there. But not him. He stays. Not in some dramatic, clingy way — just... consistently.

Is it bad that you’ve started to enjoy his presence? you catch yourself smiling when Silas' around? That his little compliments  the ones you used to brush off now get appreciated and linger longer than they should? You don’t know when it started, really.

Maybe it was the way he kept showing up, or the way he never expected anything from you. Maybe it’s just been so long since someone looked at you without judgment.

Whatever it is, it’s messing with the carefully built distance you swore you’d keep. And you’re not sure whether that’s comforting… or terrifying.

You start to notice things you shouldn’t. How his smile always comes a second too late when no one's watching. How his laugh sometimes sounds like he's trying too hard.

You hate that you’re noticing. You hate that you care. Because if you care, then you’re vulnerable.  You don't want to owe him anything. Not your time, not your attention, definitely not your feelings. But here you are, thinking about him more than you'd ever admit and also caring about him.

Somehow, you’ve started giving him compliments — not full nice ones, obviously. More like “not bad, for someone who talks too much,” or “you almost look like you have taste today.” Snark first, sincerity buried somewhere beneath it. It’s pathetic, maybe. Or maybe it’s the only way you know how to be kind without feeling exposed.

You let him hug you now. Let Silas rest his head on your shoulder when he’s tired. Things you used to swat away or glare off — somehow, they’ve become allowed. You’ve started to see it: he’s not all smiles and sunshine all the time. Even he gets tired. Even he needs somewhere to lean.

It’s not like he asks for much — never has. He doesn’t demand your attention or beg for affection. He just… shows up. Quietly. And lately, you’ve started to meet him. Maybe with a sigh, maybe with a sarcastic comment, but you're there. You stay.

Sometimes, you catch him watching you — not with that loud grin he throws around for the world, but something softer. Quieter. Like he sees something in you that you’re not ready to see in yourself. It’s kind of comforting.

He doesn’t say thank you when you let him lean on you, and you’re glad. If he did, you’d probably push him off out of reflex. But the way his shoulders relax, the way he exhales like he can finally breathe — that says enough.

And maybe you still roll your eyes. Maybe you still complain and scoff and pretend it’s all just mildly tolerable.

And though the words stay trapped behind your teeth, you think them anyway

Please don’t leave.

Not now. Not when you’ve finally let someone in.

But when he reaches for you a hug, a hand, a silent closeness — you don’t pull away anymore.

You let him stay.

And that says everything.

He'll be there for you, and you'll be there for him.

And maybe thats enough..

He doesn’t try to fix you. He just sees you. And maybe that’s what you’ve needed all along. Not someone to pull you into the light just someone willing to sit with you in the dark.

So when Silas shows up tomorrow all loud, smiling, and annoyingly happy — you won’t roll your eyes. Instead, you'll say something sarcastic and walk beside him like it’s normal.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be glad he didn’t give up on you — even when you already had.