#pellucid constellations

“Will you come back, Bucky?” You wonder, not being able to fathom or imagine not having Bucky next to you, everything you both did you did together.

From filling the backpack of Brock Rumlow with whipped cream because he was bullying the younger kids on the block to stealing freshly baked cookies from the counter and confusing your mother on her number of cookies count.

Hiding in the small room you both discovered behind his wardrobe, eating snacks and possibly talking to a ghost lurking in the shadows.

Bucky and you were both skeptical about the ghost, so what if the chocolate was moved right when you said the ghost should move it?

Bucky’s eyes refocus onto your hunched over form, as you wrote something on a piece of paper. He’d miss this exchanging of notes between the two of you.

Folding the paper you hand it over, heart cracking as realisation dawns upon you when you watch Winnie Barnes and your mother put the last of the kitchen appliances into their boxes.

Winnie gestures for Bucky to come back inside. Bucky’s fingers tighten around your little note.

He takes one glance at you, trying to remember you so he doesn’t forget he’s so scared to forget.

He won’t but it scares him, so much.

You watch as he returns back inside, leaving you on the swing set. You look down at the indented grass.

Would the earth ever cover up the memories that your tiny pairs of feet created upon her?

Or would these indents serve as your only reminder?

Later that night when everyone else is asleep in the half empty home.

Bucky pulls out the note from his pocket, smoothening the paper against his duvet the white paper glows yellow in the lamp light.

‘dear bucky,

please don’t forget about me,

you’re going to make new friends, you’re going to have an amazing time there, you will have fun and the house will be nice, i could come visit maybe, or you could, we can write letters?

you’re my best friend, i love you.

i miss you already.

-sparkle’

His bright blue eyes settle on the small picture frame on his bedside that houses his favourite picture of the two of you, simultaneously having broken the same tooth and holding up the evidence with gleeful toothless smiles in anticipation for the tooth fairy.

Bucky wiped his cheek when he felt something warm, the salty tears finding him, why does that stupid fancy house have to be far away from all that he wants?

<><><><><>

“Why does he have to go mum? Bucky can stay with us, he can take my room!” You offer for the umpteenth time since your return.

“Baby, we spoke about this, his dad has a job offer and it will be good for them, Bucky will be happy and—,”

“NO! He isn’t happy none of you want to listen.” You scream at her.

Your mom’s gaze softens, she sits down on the couch, tucking your hair back,

“Are you sad that James has to leave?” She wonders, you nod, lip wobbling.

“I know it can be a lot to handle right now, you and James are both very brave and such good kids that you are listening to us, but baby this is something that will help their family. Do you understand? It will be good for them. It will be a lot to go through, but sweetheart they need this change.” You mom holds both your hands between her palms.

“But he will forget me, I, Mum he’s my best friend, my only friend.” You can’t stop the tears now, the fear of losing Bucky and him possibly forgetting who you are coursing rampant through you.

“Oh sweetheart, best-friends never forget each other, no matter the distance no matter if they speak regularly or not.” She gently wipes your tears away, kissing your cheek.

You retreat to your room, laying head down on the bed and letting more tears pour out.

Nineteen.

You stare at the calendar, hanging by your desk, if you could you would burn a hole through today’s date.

Barnes’ moving in day.

Those four words stare at you, mockingly. Four and a half years ago he moved away, ripping your duo apart.

Countless letters, left without reply, not a reply even to the funny birthday card you sent, so you stopped writing after nine months of radio silence.

Maybe he did forget you.

<><><><><><>

Month 1

‘Dear Bucky,

I hope you’ve moved in fully now, i miss you. Watching pixar movies without you does not feel right.

How is the weather there? Mom told me it is much more warmer and does not rain as often.

Have you gone to school yet? I hope you have fun there, write back soon.

-Sparkle.’

Month 4

‘Dear Bucky,

happy sixteenth birthday!

i know we had planned those star shaped candles like that one movie so i found them! I’ll ask mum to tell your mum to take a picture, i found two sets of candles so i’m keeping one for myself and i exchanged the blue and purple.

i miss you.

i hope school is easier, still sucks here, remember i told you Rumlow tried to steal lunch money last month? He tried it again, i threw my chocolate milk on his head.

You would have laughed so much.

Though I regret it because I didn’t have an extra chocolate milk. You would have kept an extra one for me. I miss laughing with you.

i love you bucky.

Hope you write back soon.

-sparkle.’

Month 5

‘Dear Bucky,

I sent in that story I wrote! I’ll tell you if I won or not, Rumlow is being a dickhead. Don’t tell Winnie I taught you the word dickhead or I’ll tell her the f word is what you taught me.

-Sparkle’

‘Dear Bucky,

I won second place!, I’m sending a snippet from the paper! Do you remember? This is about the chocolate moving ghost in your room.

Are there any ghosts in your new room?

Write soon, I miss you and your handwriting.

-Sparkle.’

<><><><><>

Winnie and your mom spoke every two weeks on the phone, you would catch tail ends of the conversations.

As did Bucky, he would stand behind the kitchen entryway, to eavesdrop;

“I know, I’ve tried talking to him about it, I know Y/N’s upset, I’m so sorry. I’ll try speaking to him again. Oh, I won’t. I’ll see if he will, oh and yes did you catch the episode,”

Bucky tuned out his mother’s words retreating to his room he had gone out to grab the mail, little did he know he was holding your last letter from the mailbox.

He sighed as his fingers traced over the envelope, the paper too familiar under his fingertips.

He glanced at the purple candle in his pen holder cup.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reply, he just couldn’t bring himself to do so, he met people at his school. Friends now who were in a similar situation as him.

They all said friends forget or they don’t write back, its easier rather than being hurt over losing a friend. A best friend.

Bucky looked at the stack of letters he attempted to write back to you.

‘Dear Sparkle,

I don’t like it here, they closest theatre is an hour away and Pixar without you just sucks.

It has been a week, i got your letter, people at school say long distance friendships don’t last and people forget each other.

We aren’t like that. We are best friends, we won’t forget each other. I am scared that it might happen, but it won’t right?

- Bucky’

Bucky sighs, turning the letter around in his hands, as his gaze falls onto the birthday envelope he made for you.

‘Dear Sparkle,

I’m sending a blue candle, you won’t believe it they just had one purple and blue candle remaining! You know just like the movie? when you make a wish can you wish for me to come back?

i’m going to ask if i can visit.

i miss you so much, sparkle.

-Bucky’

Bucky puts on a brave face, your letter feeling heavy in his hands, he opens the envelope and unfolds your twelfth letter to him, it has been nine months, he hasn’t sent out the letters nor did he come on the phone when his mom would urge him.

Month 9

‘Dear Bucky, Barnes,’

Bucky’s stomach took a tumble, you only called him Barnes when you were mad at him.

‘It has been hard, I don’t know how much mum told your mum. Dad well, just things fuck.

Things haven’t been that great since you left, mum says that things have gotten better for your family, i’m glad to hear that but i still miss you, you haven’t returned any of my letters and it probably is annoying you or maybe you forgot about me, i hope your new friends are great and school goes well for you. I’m not trying to imply that you should feel bad or guilty or that you should feel guilty, its just, it was nice to have a friend? Now I don’t.

It has gotten hard here for several reasons, i don’t want to bore you, if you are even reading the letters.

on my birthday i used the blue candle on a cupcake, i wished you would come back. I don’t think that will come true. Remember the cupcakes we baked with your mum? I used that recipe.

I don’t think I will be writing anymore, I don’t want to bother you or remind you of things that you may have forgotten. or wanted to forget.

still love you bucky, you’re my best friend.

- Sparkle Y/N.’

Bucky couldn’t read the paper anymore, the colours blended together before he blinked his tears away. Your handwriting just a muddled blur of ink. You’re saying goodbye to him, you’re hurting and he just added to it.

“Bucky?” Winnie Barnes enters her child’s room, brows furrowed in worry as his shoulders shake.

“She won’t write anymore.” Is all he says, turning around to hug his mother.

“Oh sweetheart, she is hurt, you haven’t written back, I know you have unsent letters,” She pulls away from him, running a hand through his hair and wiping his tears.

“Why don’t you send one? She is having a hard time at home. It will cheer her up.” Winnie offers, Bucky shakes his head.

“James…”

“Mum they don’t last these friendships all my friends here are just,” Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh.

“James Barnes.” His mom uses her warning tone.

“Y/N has been your best friend since you both were in diapers. You write her a letter and send it over, I know it is hard, I know it hurts you too, but I can’t watch you let this friendship fade away. Understood? It will be her choice if she wants to write back and you have to respect that.”

Bucky nods going to his desk and bringing out a pen and paper. Winnie pats his head, smiling at him as he begins writing what he wants to say to you.

Nineteen.

Bucky looks sullen, they’re moving back, couldn’t get the old house house three down from yours but they got the one right next to your home.

He wanted to be mad at you for not responding to his letter but he never held it against you, maybe he was too late.

“Bucky?” Winnie looks at him through the rearview mirror, she had taken over driving the remaining leg of the journey. They were going to stay at your house and that had him on edge.

“Yeah Ma?” He meets her gaze, knowing she probably caught onto his nerves. He had taken the semester off from university his dad’s untimely demise had left an aching hole between his family. They were healing but Bucky felt lost.

“It will be okay, between you both.” She assures him, then gazes at Rebecca who is fast asleep in the passenger seat.

“I hope so.” He says, fiddling with his jacket.

<><><><><>

You made cupcakes, the very ones you had learned to make from Winnie, you had spoken to her after you decided to stop the letters, she wasn’t angry as you had expected. She knew Bucky had messed up and had told you about his letter. You never read it. Just looking at it made your burst into tears.

So you tucked it away in the box labelled Sparkle and Bucky, where you stored away the trinkets collected till age fifteen and his unopened letter.

You pulled your thoughts away and onto the upcoming months you were visiting a publication expo due to the deferral year you took from university. Independently writing for a magazine, running your own blog of micro poetry and pieces was doing okayish.

However an internship with an independent publication house made you realise working in this industry is where you would thrive.

The car coming to a halt outside had your mother squeal and run out, then two squeals could be heard followed by laughter. You went up to the door, eyes on Winnie and your mother, a clicking sound made you look at the source.

Bucky brought the camera down from covering his face, as he grinned admiring the two best friends, his hair longer and he seemed much more taller and you notice how much more bigger his biceps have gotten.

“Oh, Y/N!” Winnie calls you with glee, “Look at you! All grown up the pictures you mother sent do no justice to how beautiful you are,” She bounds up at steps arms outstretched you smile with a blush warming your cheeks.

“You’re too kind.” You mumble, you know your features are sweet but the weight you’ve gained along the way would at times make you think otherwise.

“Oh nonsense.” She dismisses your attempt to take the compliment, “Beautiful.” She tucks your hair back, placing a kiss to your cheek.

Rebecca follows her mom giving you a kiss on the cheek and a warm sleepy hug.

“Okay you can go crash in my room.” You laugh as she yawns out a thank you, swiftly making her way upstairs.

Bucky is unloading the bags, you put your hands in the back pocket of your jeans contemplating.

The mothers share a look, “Y/N why don’t you go help James?” Your mom says, you shoot her a look, Winnie pulls her inside before you can catch onto their little planning.

Bucky hits his head on the trunk door when he sees you stand next to him.

“Shit,” He rubs his head, looking at you, pausing as he takes in your appearance. You feel small under his towering form, you both don’t say anything for a while just standing there, awkwardly.

What do you even say to your long lost best friend?

“I’m sorry.” Bucky verbal vomits the apology without thinking, you raise an eyebrow, “For um, for putting your mum and you through all this trouble.” He gestures around with his hand.

“Oh, um not really a problem.” You shrug and move to grab a bag from the trunk.

“Um, that is my camera equipment…” Bucky looks the bag with such admiration, you’re almost scared to put it back down.

“I can be careful… If you want to switch no problem…” You offer the bag and he switches. The trip back to the house is silent.

Some how both of you still manage to walk in sync.

Winnie tells you the major chunk of things are coming with the movers tomorrow as you and Bucky settle around the dining table with mugs of coffee.

“Bucky, mum tells me you’re into photography now?” Your mom smiles fondly at the boy in front of her, she did pinch his cheeks moments ago and Bucky knew she would do it again. He grinned.

“I am, yes, I run my own blog, did a few indie band shoots for their Instagram pages, also covered a friend’s wedding.”

Bucky talks animately and you find yourself smiling as he speaks fondly about his passion, blue eyes filled with pride and joy.

“Oh and this is the best thing that happened in a while.” Bucky pulls out his phone, “I have a friend, they have huge writing blog posted one of my photographs and held a competition and god the entries are all so great especially this one.” Bucky loads the comment.

“Wait a second, Y/N what is your blog’s name?” Your mom looks at you, your eyes widen in panic as realisation hits, Bucky reads the blog’s name and you nod.

“Holy shit, Sparkle! You’ve written such great stuff, I practically broke my phone reading and scrolling! I even showed Rebecca and Ma, god you’re talented and you even won that competition, Sparkle, damn—,” Bucky’s excited chatter stops when he realises he used your nickname and revealed the fact he read your letters.

“Excuse me.” Is all you say before running up to your room, voice on the verge of tears, Bucky stays in his seat, head in his palms.

“Just give her sometime.” Your mum assures him giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t think she will give me more…” He takes a deep breath, “Should I?” He asks the two insightful women, they shake their heads.

“After dinner, I’ll send you both to pick up groceries then you can speak.” Winnie high fives her best friend.

Bucky looks between the pair questioningly and decides he wont wait, he grabs a notepad from his bag as he makes his way to the guest room.

‘dear sparkle y/n,

i’m sorry, i’m an idiot.

though i stand by it, your pieces are beautiful.

-bucky.’

He slips the note under your door and retreats to his designated room opposite to yours before you decide to slide it out.

Dinner passes by wordlessly on your part, only answering yes and no when spoken to directly. Bucky hopes to coax laughter out of you, so he tries making jokes but when you don’t respond to them he keeps quiet.

“Sweetheart, would you run to the store? We want to start the move earlier so a few groceries should be better bought earlier.” Your mom requests as you finish drying the dishes with Rebecca.

“Okay.” You take a once over of your appearance, deciding to keep wearing the superhero shirt and shorts.

“Do you have a list?” You ask Winnie who nods, Bucky is helping put away the dishes, so you think at least he may not tag along.

Winnie hands it to you, sheepishly smiling at the length of the list, “I know it is a lot but,”

“No, No, don’t worry about it. I-if I can’t find something I’ll let you know.” You look up at her, biting your bottom lip, Bucky looks at you as you shift from one foot to the other. You never did enjoy the task he recalls.

You smile at her, the prospect of the night drive is appealing.

“Oh Bucky has my card so he can tag along with you.” Winnie adds just as you grab your cardigan and purse, so much for enjoying the drive.

Bucky wonders if your shoulders stiffen because you’re uncomfortable. He almost backs out; trusting you with the pin of the card.

“Oh sure.” you say heading out the door to your car.

Bucky looks at the three women, they give him a thumbs up each. He wonders how much luck would he need to repair his friendship with you.

You’re waiting in the car, head on the wheel, “Just groceries, you don’t have to talk.” you mutter trying to soothe yourself.

Bucky opens the door and you straighten up too quickly, hitting your head on the lowered visor which snaps it back up with a thunk, “Ow.”

“You okay?” Bucky looks worried as you rub your head, the light in the car showing him your tinted cheeks, he chuckles.

“Are you laughing at me?” You ask, he pales.

“No-no I just, I hit my head in the afternoon and now you did… It reminded me of,” Bucky’s smile returns,

“The museum?” You laugh at the memory, both of you took a tumble down the steps to the museum getting scrapes on your knees, the injuries placed same but received at different hours.

Your smile doesn’t fade as you pull onto the road driving to the 24 hour store fifteen minutes away a comfortable silence takes over which is only broken by the light songs on the radio.

Bucky finds himself taking in your appearance, you have changed so little yet so much he thinks, the way you hold yourself with more confidence, when you aren’t worrying about how things are between the two of you.

Your laughter still the same that shines through him, the sound making him laugh even more than what the joke would be, god he missed you.

You could feel his eyes on you, you tug the shorts down, skin bunching as the hem tightens when you sit. A little self consciousness flooding through you.

Bucky notices the movement, his eyes trail over your thighs and he wonders briefly how they would feel wrapped around him if he lifted you up in a hug like before.

You are in the milk aisle when you hear the familiar snickers, Bucky was on the other end finding the flavoured yogurts Rebecca requested on text.

“I never knew cows came to inspect the milk.” Sharon Carter laughs, you roll your eyes a fake pleasantry smile on your face.

“Sharon, always a pleasure.” You turn back to grabbing the milk you need putting it into the cart.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow when a taller man joins the blonde you were speaking to, he feels something off. He quickly grabs the selected boxes of yogurt and walks over.

You try moving forward when Brock Rumlow stops your cart. Great.

“Oh come on a deferral, just say the university has no space to accommodate your size.” Rumlow gives a hearty chuckle as Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“I thought I recognised the scared little bully.” Bucky says placing the items in the cart then standing next to you, “Was is shaving cream in your bag or was it whipped cream?” He reminds Brock who clenches his hand into a fist.

“Barnes?” Rumlow asks, Bucky nods.

“Oh this is rich,” Rumlow looks at you, you pale.

“Was it not his letter you roamed around with?” He asks, then Sharon smirks.

“Oh I remember! Oh Bucky they called me a fat pig, Oh Bucky I miss you.” She makes mocking smooching noises and you wince recalling their harsh words.

Bucky’s hand clenches on the cart’s handle.

“How did your universities accept bullies? Or did you get rejected since your bigheadedness take up more space than they could accommodate?” Bucky asks, pushing the cart harshly into Rumlow who moves giving way to move to the next aisle.

As you pass by them, “Fatty got left all alone and weak, if you hear her it sounds like a pig’s squeak.” Sharon belts out the old rhyme they came up with in school, you pause, Bucky is about to go punch Brock and you stop him, turning around with a bottle of chocolate milk in hand.

The two bullies don’t see it coming when you empty the entire one litre bottle on their heads as they are turned away. Both turn very slowly. Bucky pulls you back, both abandoning the cart and running through the aisles with Brock hot on your heels.

Bucky looks at you unable to help his laughter at what you did, you laugh with him and you both feel like you are twelve running away from Brock once again. Bucky leads you behind the frozen food aisle, pressing you against the wall and him facing you. The dry ice smell cascades around your senses.

Both of you breathing hard, Bucky feels the steady rise of your chest against his own, he looks down at you, you look up at him and his breath catches god your eyes hold that same sparkle that gave you your nickname when you both were seven.

His heartaches at how long it has been since he saw you happy with him there as witness.

When you look up at Bucky you didn’t understand the expression on his face it, it seemed as though longing muddled with happiness?

Your eyes flicker to his lips, parted to catch his breath. You dismiss the thought but not before it makes you blush. You look away to his hand still intertwined with yours, making you smile.

Bucky’s free hand twitches, wanting you to look back into his blue eyes.

“Where are you two?” Brock’s voice is close, Bucky and you slip back backing away quietly.

“Brock let it go, my dress is stained. Ugh.” Sharon complains much to your relief.

You both peek out from the aisle, sighing as the coast is clear.

You look at Bucky during the walk back to the abandoned cart his gaze is upon you, when your eyes meet, his lip twitches and you both break into a fit of giggles. Bucky wipes the tears from his eyes and you try to even out your breathing as the laughter calms down.

You take inventory of the cart frowning that you used the last bottle of chocolate milk for your plan, till an outstretched arm holds a smaller chocolate milk bottle in your vision.

Bucky has a small smile gracing his lips, azure eyes full of hope, “Saved you a bottle.”

Adoration courses through you and so does the love you hold for Bucky which had been tucked away.

You raise your arms and engulf him in a hug, Bucky is taken aback but quickly wraps his arms around you. Sighing as the ache on his heart is slowly fading into nothingness.

“I’m sorry I never wrote back, sparkle.” Bucky whispers, stroking your hair, the scent of vanilla grounding him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t read your letter. I was so mad at you.” You whisper back, tightening the hug.

“Rightfully so.” Bucky pulls away to look at you, you’re crying too, “God, I wish I could have been there, written back, you went through all this shit. I’m so sorry, sparkle.”

“It, its not okay but I think we can try again? Our friendship?” You look at him hopeful, he smiles, nodding and pulling you into a bear hug.

Bucky sniffles, “I did, I did write replies, when we unpack tomorrow, I’ll show you the letters.”

When you check into the hotel three months later, you furrow your eyebrows when the receptionist hands a letter addressed to you.

Smiling as you recognise Bucky’s handwriting you open it in the elevator too excited,

‘Dear Sparkle,

good luck on your first publishing exhibition/expo/experience you’re going to learn so much and beat all the people outta their seats, i kind of buttered up your mom to give me the address of your hotel.

i wanted us to start writing letters again, it has been something we did and shared and only if you’re comfortable then you can write back if it is difficult then we can stick to texts and sending memes.

i miss you, college is going okay, been about two weeks since i left home, god i still can’t believe the chocolate piece moved. do you think the ghost it latched to one of us?

love you sparkle, send me pictures from the trip.

-bucky’

You grin holding the letter to your chest as you walk into the room you share with the other intern at your work place.

Immediately you start writing a reply on the hotel stationary.

<><><><><><><>

Bucky sighs entering his apartment, who told him to major in journalism and history? Though being a photo journalist is something he wants to do dearly just the path of education is seemingly harder today.

He received your texts, smiling as he read how excited you were for everything going on at the publication expo, endless goofy pictures you sent him made his heart swell with adoration. It had been 4 days since he knows you received his letter.

He’s laughing while replying to the picture you sent him of an apple just lying underneath a traffic light, no idea why you both find it funny.

“Whose got Broody Barnes all happy?” Sam Wilson his room-mate says walking into the hall, dropping a stack of envelopes onto the table.

“Sparkle.” Bucky says, looking at a surprised Sam.

“The Sparkle?” Sam enquires, leaning over the couch and trying to peek at the texts.

“Yes.” Bucky locks the phone and Sam pouts, “Oh come on.”

“By the way there is some mail for you.” Sam informs, Bucky eagerly grabs the stack, sifting through and landing on the envelope bearing his name in your writing.

He quickly opens it, excitement flooding through his being.

‘Dear Bucky,

i can’t believe how you pulled off having the letter here before me, i read it in the elevator. I miss you too. i think the ghost moves around our neighbourhood.

i’m glad to hear college is going well, though i think doing a double major may be hard, i believe in you and your capability to get through it.

i think i might go ahead with the double major as well, I took a year’s deferral so, I don’t really know how will it go.

i’m proud of you.

love you too buck i’m sending you a picture as i write.

-sparkle.

ps. waiting for your next letter.’

Bucky can’t wipe the grin off of his face.

twenty three.

‘dear sparkle,

my recruitment week starts next week, i’m so nervous.

i really wish you were here. i know i can call you but it just won’t be the same.

all these questions are swirling in my mind, what if i do not get the placement i want? what if the internships i did were the wrong choice? what if my grades aren’t impressive?

you would know what to say, could you just give my interviews for me?

fuck, sparkle i don’t even know what pictures to put in my portfolio.

what kind of photographer does not know his strongest pictures?

i hope your exam week is going well, also you’re going to win that creative writing competiton that you’re worried about, send your piece to me so i can read it over, if you need an objective opinion? but i’m biased towards you. you will win it.

sorry to dump this on you, i know you’ve had a busy and hard week.

will you be visiting home for break? i might be depending on how the recruitment goes. maybe we could co-ordinate flights?

i miss you.

-bucky.’

You read Bucky’s letter on the night of exam week being over, most of the classes are done for the semester, an idea pops up in your head and you call your mom then Rebecca to get Bucky’s roommate’s number.

When Sam receives you at the train station and you can finally understand why Bucky trusts him immensely, Sam has this comforting aura that radiates warmth and safety, for a minute you wonder if Rutgers makes everyone go hard at the gym and wear more form sitting outfits because like damn, Sam.

“So whats with the nickname Sparkle?” Sam ponders never getting an answer out of his friend.

“No idea, Bucky gave it to me.” You shrug, realising you never really asked the question yourself.

“Oh come on, he won’t tell me either.” Sam whines, as he helps you with your bag into the elevator, you can only offer a sympathetic smile, “I’m as clueless as you buddy.” You pat his back.

“So you’re at Yale?” He asks as the two of you walk down the hallway.

“Yes, Psychology and English major. What do you study?”

“Aerospace Engineering.” Sam says with a grin.

“Wait you’re like smart, smart.” You comment.

Sam’s booming laughter infects you as you join in.

“Please say that in front of Bucky.” He requests and you grin nodding.

Sam opens the door carefully, when he knows for sure Bucky is in his room he lets you in and guides you to Bucky’s door.

“Good Luck.” He whispers backing away to take the video as you requested.

You raise your hand and knock, you can hear shuffling on the other side and a shirtless toned chest is what you are at eye level with, you gulp.

“What is it Sam—Sparkle?” Bucky blinks multiple times rapidly, “You, you’re here? I must be dreaming.” He says, and you hesitantly reach out to poke his arm.

“Hi.” You grin at him, Bucky’s jaw drops and he picks you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he twirls you around, you squeal holding onto him tightly.

“Bucky! Don’t you will—,” You try not to put too much weight on him, but he’s twirling you up like nothing.

“Doll, don’t say a word, I can do several push-ups with you sitting on me.” Bucky’s blue eyes find yours and they are shining bright, his cheeks are flushed with how much he is grinning.

“I know Mr. I can bench press triple digits.” Bucky’s helped you immensely to let go of the comments, he always only brought you resources to help you, checked in on your progress with your mental health. Never pushed you to do something you were uncomfortable with, he made sure you would have mental health check ins regularly. He caught on to your traits for being in an overload before you did.

The way the months went after you both cleared the air were a blur, as though the four years of the move never formed a deep ravine of hurt and despair. The entire moving in process was cathartic for the two of you, finally communicating and rebuilding the bridge over the gap that formed.

Bucky lets you down gently, pulling you back in for a hug. His woodsy pine scent mingling with the vanilla of your lotion, makes you feel right at home.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s surprise returns.

“Well somebody wanted to surprise somebody and I coordinated it.” Sam hands your phone back while he points from you to Bucky.

“Thanks Sam,” You grin at him.

“Anytime sweetheart.” Sam winks at you and you giggle.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, are you two flirting?

“I have an early day catch you both tomorrow.” Sam gives you another wink and departs to his room.

“You’re really here.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, hugging you tightly again, your warmth grounding him, the way you just fit into his arms like you belong there.

You bask in the warmth he provides, feeling his steady heartbeat, you could just stay this way.

Both Bucky and you stiffen slightly at the thoughts, pulling away.

“I am, now I believe you were having trouble with your portfolio.” You try to say teasingly, keeping your eyes on his face, bags under his eyes indicate his lack of sleep.

You hesitantly raise your hand to trace over his cheek, Bucky leans into your touch, shoulders relaxing in the relief he finds by your gesture.

<><><><><>

Bucky feels your fingertips lingering on his cheek even as you both are sprawled across his room’s floor, the photographs in transparent folders as you think over how to make up this segregation for the portfolio.

“Have you made a digital folder?” You wonder as your hands inch towards the picture of Winnie and your mom from the day they met again after years.

You could feel the warmth and love in the picture.

“All the pictures are coded so the ones in the physical one can go in a digital one which are watermarked.” Bucky runs his palm across his face, scratching over his scruff.

“Okay how about, I pick up a stack of pictures, show you each and then you say yes or no without a second thought.” The idea sparks inside you and you think it can work.

“We can try that yeah,” Bucky straightens up, ready to do this, he watches you pick up the stack of local events he covered.

You hold up one where the marathon winner crosses the finish line, half leapt up in the air, they just realise and have tears in their eyes mid air.

Bucky nods, “Yes.” He grins at you this would work.

And it did, an hour later you had ten pictures each in various categories that gave a good sense of Bucky and his body of work.

As you zip up the file with a yawn, Bucky’s gaze softens you came in right after your exams without break for him.

“Hey sleepyhead, take the bed I’ll take the couch.” Bucky chuckles as your half asleep gaze meets him.

“What? No, you need sleep, I’ll take the couch.” You protest, Bucky places both his hands on his hips, looking too much like Winnie Barnes before she would scold their duo.

“Sparkle.” He warns, you quickly take a picture on your phone.

“Bucky, you look exactly like your mom before she would scold us.” You break out into giggles at his mortified expression.

“Sparkle.” He whines, trying to grab your phone away from you to delete it.

Currently you’re pinned under him arms extended up to stop him from getting your phone.

“Sparkle I just want to check the time.” He feigns innocence.

“Bucky you have a clock right there.” You point out, huffing.

“In London!” He defends.

“Use your own phone.”

“Yours is nicer.” Bucky huffs, he nods as he decides to tickle you.

You pale as you realise what is he planning.

“No.” You warn trying to scramble away before he begins.

“Oh no, no, no,” Bucky pins down your hands in one of his and his free hand begins tickling your sides as you squeal and try to break away.

Bucky has a million dollar smile as your phone drops out of your grip but he just enjoys having you laugh and squeal, your skin is so soft and warm and god he just wants to kiss you, he pauses the thought taking him by surprise.

Your face is inches away from his, you’re breathing hard but still laughing up at him, arching away from him and you are flush against his now shirt clad chest.

Bucky’s face moves closer, you look at him, then down to his lips, your mind flashes back to the grocery store aisle. His lips are so close his breath fans across your face, you close your eyes.

The doorbell rings and you open your eyes, Bucky looks into yours searching for something, he wonders if he should continue before answering the door. You bite your lip, wondering if he regrets it, the next ring of the doorbell has you both scramble up to grab the late night chinese take out.

<><><><><><><>

‘dear Bucky,

god i feel stupid writing this after six months of that moment in your room.

i can’t outright ask you, it just feels, it feels different between us? not in a bad way, fuck, did we fuck up? why didn’t we just kiss? it feels so right being in your arms and having you in mine. as though, as though we were made for each other?

why can’t i just tell you that i am in love with you, i am in love with my best friend, probably have been for the longest time and i wished we would have kissed in the grocery aisle.

you would think i would know what the right fucking words are? being a writer and all but i don’t have them. at all. i just know four that only make sense—

Bucky, I love you.

I’ve written countless letters to you and yet writing this one seems to be the biggest task even though what i want to say to you is so very simple.

I want to tell you in person, I want to say the words, to you in front of everyone.

I just I worry what if what if i lose you?

I’ve written countless lines about love and yet I don’t know if this is enough, if these scattered words, that i’m scrambling to put together to make some coherence out of are even making sense?

I wishfully think that maybe, maybe you love me too, in the same way, its so selfish of me, hoping praying that my best friend is in love with me as well.

If you do not feel the same wat then just forget about this, I, I don’t know just, don’t stop being my best friend please. it is selfish of me to put this on you and still want you in my life but, i lost you once i can’t i can’t lose you again.

-Sparkle.’

You groan, this letter sounds and looks so stupid. Zero readability. Zero continuity, clarity, ugh.

You turn the page over placing it on the papers in front of you as your room-mate Natasha walks in,

“Are you going to tell him you are in love with him or is that love letter not happening? Of all the important things to write in a letter neither of you do that.” She sits down on the table, shuffling the papers to make space.

“He doesn’t love me, love me.” You object and Nat smacks your arm.

“He took the midnight train to here because you were having an anxiety attack. He stayed on call while he took a two hour train ride and then held you till you finally slept after a four day non sleep fest. He stayed till he knew you were absolutely fine and only then did he leave. I don’t know any best friend that would do that.” She lists the points on her fingers.

“Nat,” You start, she holds up a hand.

“Will you lose him if you tell him?” Her expression unreadable.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly.

“Will telling him how you feel make you feel better?”

“Nat, I don’t know I want to yell that I love him but, I’m scared I’ll lose him as my best friend, that can’t happen again.”

Natasha pulls you close, as you sniffle.

“You should tell him, I know from the way he looks at you.” She reassures you.

“If this backfires I will stop talking to you.” You warn her, as she smiles.

“Send the letter.” She prompts.

“No, I’m, I’m going to give it to him the next day of his graduation.” You decide, the entire family would be there so if anything went sideways you would not be missed.

Graduation.

Bucky spots you sitting on the bleachers between your mom and his, they made a whole trip out of it deciding to stay for a few days, he waves at you all before settling into his designated chair, his phone chimes.

Sam: man you have to tell her.

Bucky: Sam will you just drop it.

Sam: no i will not, if you don’t tell her i will ask her out.

Bucky glares at the phone turning to locate Sam’s smug grin.

Sam looks down typing as Bucky’s phone chimes again.

Sam: she will still be your best friend, even if she doesn’t love you the same way, which is impossible because that entire weekend she wouldn’t take her eyes off of you.

Sam attaches a picture he sneaked of Bucky being on the phone in the kitchen and you looking fondly at Bucky, he could clearly see the red tinge on your cheeks.

Bucky: fine i’ll tell her today, but if this backfires…

Sam: I will be on the receiving end of James Barnes’ Trademark Glare for eternity.

Bucky: Worse.

Sam: just tell her you love her then you will hug me because she loves you too

Bucky turns his phone silent as the Dean begins the opening statements, the entire event is a blur and Bucky finds your smiling gaze when he takes his degree in his hands. All of you are cheering so hard for him he feels elated and accomplished.

As Sam and he wait for the crowd to disperse so they can introduce each other’s families, you run upto Bucky and hug him.

“Congratulations.” You kiss his cheek, Bucky feels his skin warm at the gesture.

“Thank you, Sparkle.” He keeps his arm around you as the Barnes and Wilson’s approach the cleared area as well.

Winnie Barnes instantly pulls Sam into a warm hug and pinches his cheek, where as Sam’s nephews AJ and Cass run up to Bucky, he bends down to pull them into a hug.

They ring choruses of congratulations all around and Sam and Bucky both can’t let go of their elated mood. During dinner you notice Sam gesturing with his head to Bucky, and Bucky shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. When you catch Sam’s eye he quickly looks away.

“Is everything okay?” You whisper to Bucky.

“Ye-yeah, Sparkle.” Bucky is caught off guard and he wishes Sam would be discreet.

You nod, not really satisfied and worrying if something is amiss.

Bucky takes note of your worried expression and leans in,

“Sparkle, I promise its nothing to worry about, Sam’s just stressing over his internship.” He assures, taking your hand in his and rubbing soothing circles.

“You sure you aren’t covering up something thats bothering you?” You raise an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head.

“No, I would tell you if it was, promise.” He smiles.

“Oh um I have my next letter with me I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” You say no idea why are you putting yourself in this position.

“Why not today?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows.

“Well because if I sent it by post it would reach tomorrow.” You shrug hoping your voice does not waiver.

“Well I want to read it today.” He presses on,

“Bucky, no today is about you.” You defend.

“Yes and that letter is addressed to me. Come on it’ll be my graduation gift.” He juts out his bottom lip making a puppy eyed face.

You sigh, handing it to him, his smile looking at the envelope is worth bringing forth your humiliation a day ahead.

Bucky opens the envelope, eager to know your thoughts, when his smile falters you feel your heart sink down into the pits of the marina trench.

There is a silence that slowly takes over the table, as they notice you looking at Bucky with tears in your eyes and Bucky reading the letter.

Bucky can’t say anything emotions caught in his throat, he really wished he would have kissed you in the grocery store too.

He can’t believe it you love him too.

Bucky, I love you.

The words burn into his memory, etched upon his heart and he looks up at you tears in his eyes as well.

“I’m sorry, I should not have—,” You begin your apology,

“Sparkle, Sparkle, I love you too.” He cuts you off, watching as you take his words in and your sadden expression turns into elation.

“About damn time.” Sam mutters.

As Bucky grins cupping your cheek and finally having your lips on his own.

There is a chorus of awes around the dinner table that just makes both of you grin in the kiss, both of you blushing as you pull away.

Bucky wraps his arm around you as your head rests on his shoulder, he kisses your forehead, with an unspoken promise of forever.

Bucky, age sixteen.

‘Dear Sparkle,

I got the letter where you said you won’t write anymore, it broke me, i cannot get through a day without my mind making me search for you in the crowd.

i know i’ve been an idiot, dickhead if you will. I cannot lose you. I cannot lose my best friend, do you know why i call you sparkle? it is not because of those sparkle pens you had, its because, when you looked at me when i was seven there was this sparkle in your eye and I just had to know you.

Because someone with that much radiance around her had to be the biggest source of happiness right? and you were and still are.

i won’t mind if you throw this letter without reading.actually i will feel horrible, that

i was so stupid to get into what the people at school said that friendships fade so there is no point in trying to keep them.

i hope you can forgive me, should i send the other unsent letters too? maybe i should, but if you want to then only i will, i, i’m so sorry for what is going on at home, mom won’t tell me, do you want me to call? I’ll ask mom to let me talk to you next time she speaks to your mom.

sparkle please forgive me, i know this is my own doing, i’m an idiot but i’m your idiot best friend.

nine months of no responses and i’m asking for you to not be mad at me, i’m asking for a miracle, but that won’t happen will it? hope it does.

i love you

i miss you so much it hurts, i know it hurts you too.

-bucky.’

Now.

A knock on the door brings you out of your stupor.  You’d been staring at your reflection in the mirror for the past 30 minutes.

You should probably take your ADHD meds on a day like this.

Another knock and Nat steps into the room, with Wanda in tow.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Like I need my meds.”  Nat laughs and rolls her eyes, while Wanda waves her hand and your pill case floats out of your bag on the couch and over to you.

“Thanks, Wan.”  You down your first pill and the pill case floats away.

“I’ll hold onto these for now and hand them over later.”

“Perfect.”  You take another sip of water and look back at your friends.  “So, what’s up?”

“Bucky gave me this for you.”  Nat handed over a small(ish) black box and an envelope.  Your eyes widened when you saw the gold embossed -HW- on the top.

“Oh my God, he didn’t.”

“He did.”  Wanda gave you a big smile.

“Oh wow.  Um…”  You placed the items on the vanity and went over to where your robe lay discarded, pulling an envelope from the pocket.  “I wrote something for Bucky too.  Can you give it to him Wanda?  And please tell him that the other envelope inside this one is his gift, but he can’t open it until right before dinner?  Make sure you give him a Look, so he knows I mean business.”

“Of course.”  Wanda took the letter and left.

“Do you want me to stay?” asked Nat, “Or would you rather I let you read that in private?”

“I’d like a moment alone, if it’s cool.”

“Of course.”  Nat gives you a hug and goes to leave.  “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”  She leaves you with a smile, and you turn to the envelope, where Bucky’s ‘chicken scratch’-

“Chicken scratch?!  Sweetheart, my handwritin’ is impeccable.”

You stare him down with a bored look on your face, arms crossed, and raise an eyebrow.

“It is, too!”

You keep staring.

“Stevie!”  Bucky calls over to his best friend who’d just walked into the common room of the Tower.

“What’s up, Buck?”

“I need ya to settle an argument ‘tween me and my girl:  she says my handwritin’ is the worst and-”

“Buck, your handwriting is shit.”

“Damnit!”

-spells My Doll on the front.  You open the envelope and laugh when you recognize the Avengers stationary one of your coworkers gave you as a funny gift.  You kept it in your desk in the apartment you two shared.

Taking a deep breath, you unfolded the letter and began to read.

My Doll, my sweetheart, my love…

I’m not the best with words.  You know this.  Everyone does, if we’re being honest.  But I’m going to try my best.

I love you so much.  I think (as cheesy as this sounds) I’ve loved you since the day we met when you came to see Nat at the Tower that first time.  You were so nervous, despite having met so much of the team already.  I wanted so badly to talk to you that day, but I was scared you wouldn’t want to talk to me at all.  Sure, I’d been pardoned, but why would someone made of sunshine and happiness want to know me?  But then, I went to the library one day, just to see you and maybe say Hi.  I heard you talking to some lady who told you to make sure you stayed away from me.  I’ll never forget what you said to her: ‘But who prays for Satan?  Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?’  You hit that lady with a Mark Twain quote (I looked it up later) and she was speechless.  That’s when I knew you were the one for me.

You didn’t even blink or look at me like I’m a murder when I told you everything the Soldier did.  You’ve stood by me through nightmares and sleepless nights and the mood swings and everything else.  There were times when I was sure that when I came back to the apartment, you and your stuff would be gone or you’d be sitting in our living room, waiting to tell me all the reasons you were leaving me.  I was so sure that one day, I’d come home and Alpine would be meowing at the door because her ma was gone and hadn’t come back.  Every day I came home to find you there (even if you weren’t speaking to me because I was an asshole), I was happier than the last. You helped me to stop retreating into my brain on the bad days.

I gotta end here, ‘cause Nat is staring at me and she’s scary.  I hope you like the gift I sent along.  I know how much your abuela meant to you, and I wanted you to have this today.  I had it cleaned up and restored; it’s all the same jewels, just the parts holding them in place were fixed or added since some were missing.

I’ll see you later, okay doll?

Love,

Your Bucky

PS: I love you.

Below Bucky’s letter is part of a quote from one of your favorite movies, The Young Victoria:

“You are my whole existence.  And I will love you until my last breath.”

You laugh, tears had started flowing at the letter’s greeting, because you remember watching that movie with Bucky, and he complained several times-

“Where’s the action, doll?” “It’s a romance, Buck, and a period piece.  You should know all about period pieces.” “She died 16 years before I was born.  And wasn’t that guy her cousin?” “Yes, but…the movie’s so good, it helps you forget that.  Just…ugh!  Just let me enjoy the love story, old man!” Five minutes later, he fell asleep.  You would never begrudge him his sleep time, since he often had trouble doing so.  You let him sleep, and finished the movie.

-and you were 1000% positive that he’d been out cold when Albert said that very line to Victoria.  Apparently, he wasn’t.

You put the letter down on the vanity, and pick up the package.  You open the box, and nestled in black velvet is a cluster bangle bracelet made of diamonds and emeralds.  When your beloved abuela died years ago, it was one of the things left to you in her Will.  You remember telling Bucky about it and how you dreamed of getting it fixed one day.

Once again, you’re brought out of your thoughts by a knock on the door and Nat comes back in.

“I’m glad we waited to do your makeup.”  She smiles and lifts you from your seat, into a hug.  “Want me to help you put it on?”

“Please.”  Nat takes the bracelet carefully and clips it on.

“This probably qualifies as ‘something old’, don’t you think?”

Meanwhile.

“You know, James, you have nothing to worry about.”

Bucky’s head snapped over to the doorway to see Wanda.

“We’ve talked about goin’ into my head, Wanda.  You know how much I hate that.”  Bucky turns away from her and goes back to watching a video of you he has on his phone, one of his favorites:  you’re sitting on a table, legs dangling, watching some of the team talking to a group of kids at the library.  One of the kids in the group raises his hand for a question…

A couple years ago…

“Mr. Thor!”

“Yes, small child?”

“How strong are you Mr. Thor?!”

“I am very strong!  I’ve fought the Hulk-”

Several little gasps are heard.

“-and survived.”

“You did, Mr. Thor?”

“‘Course I did.”

“Can you show us how strong you are, Mr. Thor?  Please?”

“I’d love nothing more!  Come on over.”  The kid runs up and Thor picks him up with one hand, balancing him on his palm.  Then, he slowly starts to lift his arm above his head and the kid looks like he just won a lifetime supply of his favorite candy.

Thor puts the kid down and he runs back to sit with his friends.

“Show us some more!”

“You all want to see more displays of my feats of strength?”

“YES!!!!!”

Thor appeared to be thinking real hard, when he suddenly smiled and looked over at you.

“No.”

“My Lady…”

“Thor-”

“I’m sure Sergeant Barnes has no objections.”  Thor looked right at the camera, “Do you, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Thor, we’ve known each other for years and I’ve told you to call me Bucky”, says the voice behind the phone, but Thor just shrugs.  The camera pans to you.  “Come on doll, do it for the kids.”

“YAY MISS!!  DO IT!!!”

“Fine.”  The kids cheered loudly once more, and you went to stand next to your friend.  “How do you want to do this?”

“Get up here.”  Thor takes your hand and assists you in sitting on the table (a different one) behind him.  You shifted onto your side, and propped your head up on your hand. “Are you ready my lady?”

“Let’s do it.”

Thor went over to the end of the table and grabbed it.  The kids cheered as he slowly lifted the table with two hands.  Thor then maneuvered himself so he was standing under the table, holding it (and you) right above his head.

“Can you give a cheer for Thor everyone?” you called out to the crowd.  It was almost deafening with the yells and screams and claps, and you mentally thanked Tony for having soundproof walls installed at the library for you after several complaints about noise anytime any of the Avengers came to visit.

“Can you do it with one hand Mr. Thor?”

“Small child…I am Asgardian and the God of Thunder!”  Thor moved a hand to his waist, shifting the table to a single hand and then up onto his finger tips.

Bucky zoomed the video in then, focusing on your face when you looked over at him and smiled.  You smiled big and held up your hand with the sign for ‘I love you’.

That’s when the video stops.

“You know I’d never do that without your permission”, replied Wanda.  “You’re projecting nerves.”

“Oh…sorry.”  Bucky closes the photo gallery on his phone and looks at his background, another picture of you, this time it’s a picture from the NYE party Tony threw a few months ago: you’re wearing a party hat, oversized sunglasses, and a fake mustache (you spent so much time in the photo booth he got for the occasion).

“It’s not your fault.”  Wanda walks over to Bucky and takes a seat next to him.  “Like, I said, you’ve got nothing to worry about.  Everything is going to be okay.”

“I thought seein’ the future was Strange’s thing.”

“It is.  But while you are projecting nerves, she projects nothing but love…for you.”

Bucky can’t help but sniffle at Wanda’s observance.

“Here.”  She hands him a thick envelope with My Sergeant in your looping scrawl on the front.  “She says to not open the other envelope in there, it’s your gift but it’s not to be opened until before dinner.”

Bucky slips a finger under the flap of the envelope and pulls out the gift.

“I’m sure it’s o-”  Bucky looks at Wanda, his words dying in his mouth.  “Of course.  I promise I won’t open it.”  He tucks the smaller envelope in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

A knock at the door has them both looking up to see Steve stick his head into the room.

“How’s it going in here, Buck?”

“I’m fine, punk.  Wanda was deliverin’ my girl’s letter.”

“Ah.  Well, I’ll let you be so you can read in private.  You’ve got about 45 minutes, by the way.”

“I need to be going as well.”  Wanda stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in the skirt of her steel blue tea length dress.  She placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “Relax…and breathe.”

“Will do.  See you in a bit.”

Bucky waits until Wanda shuts the door to unfold the letter from you, and laughs.  The way you both wrote your letters says tons about each of you: while he used Avengers stationary with some random pen he found in the apartment, you used your fountain pen and fancy paper.

Settling back into the couch, he began to read.

My Darling…

I remember the first time I saw you.  From that first second, I wanted to get to know you, the real you, and not what the history books or the news programs and documentaries taught us.  It took some time, but eventually, well…look where we’re at.

I fought against the dark cloud in my brain for so long (still do sometimes).  I fought against sharing it all with you, because how could I?  My problems were nothing compared to yours.  How dare I complain that grandma didn’t love me when those people (if they even deserve being called that) did what they did to you for so many years.  But one day, after dad died, I broke down and told you everything.  Not once did you stop me and tell me to stop complaining and crying because others have it worse.  You made my feelings valid.  I fell in love with you because you loved me when I couldn’t love myself.  You became my family when I had none.

You would think someone with an English Literature degree would have so much more to say.  I just don’t know how else to tell you I love you.  How do I express that my heart feels so full every day and it’s all because of you?  Even on the days you’re being an asshole or I’m being a bitch (don’t shake your head because I know there are days).  

You even put up with me when that cloud comes back and plants nasty thoughts in my brain.  Do you know how many times I sat in our bedroom, waiting for you to come home and tell me you found someone prettier, thinner, smarter, more worthy of your time?  I thought I learned how to hide it, but you always knew.  You were patient and reassuring and reminded me why you loved me.

You are my everything.  My always.  I promise there will never be a time that I don’t love you.  You are my best friend, my rock, and the reason home is home.

Love,

Your Girl

                      “You find somebody you like and roll the dice.  

                                      That’s all anybody can do.”

                                                      -Ron

A few hours later.

“So.  How do you feel…Mrs. Barnes?”

“Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

“That movie came out almost 20 years ago.”

“Your point?”

You and Bucky were just outside the reception, waiting to be introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes for the first time.  The ceremony had been beautiful; Thor walked you down the aisle and Sam got ordained especially for the occasion.  You cried, Bucky cried, Steve cried, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when you read your vows to each other.  Tony wept like he was Albert in The Birdcage.  It was perfect.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look, Mrs. Barnes?”

You pretended to think, tapping your chin.

“Don’t think so.  Not enough anyways.”

“Well, beautiful isn’t enough to describe ya.  Neither is gorgeous.”  Bucky steps back to give you a once over.  “I think I’ll go with ethereal.  Yeah. Ethereal.”

You pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you so much.”  Leaning forward, you smile into the kiss, thinking how you don’t have to be on the tips of your toes when you kiss him today because of your heels.  They’re gorgeous, bright red, and you picked them out to honor one of your favorite singers.  However, you couldn’t wait to switch to comfy shoes after your first dance: Wanda and Nat had gifted you custom wedding Converse to change into.

You pull away from the kiss, and Bucky chases after you with his lips.

“Where you goin’ doll?”  You swipe your thumb over his lips to try and get rid of the bright red lipstick.

“Your gift!  It’s time to open it!”

In all honesty, Bucky had forgotten about the envelope in his jacket.  Once he’d seen you walking down the aisle, his brain had gone completely blank.

“Oh right.”  You step away from him and he reaches into his jacket.  Opening the envelope, he pulls out a picture.  He notices something written on the back:

Baby Barnes

Due: October 2023

Happy Halloween Daddy!

Saying nothing, Bucky slowly flips the picture over to see the sonogram of his child.  He still hasn’t said anything after a few minutes.  You’re worried, and about to say something when Nat appears.

“Are you two ready?  Scott’s about to announce you.”  She looks over at you and you’re trying to chew a nail off.  “Are you okay?”

“Um…I’m fine.”  You both look over at Bucky, who’s still staring at the sonogram.

“OH.  You told him.”  Bucky’s head shoots up in your direction.

“You knew?”

“I went with her to see the doc.”  Bucky tears his eyes from Nat and looks over at you.  “I’ll tell Scott to give you five.”  She disappeared into the ballroom, leaving you and your new husband alone.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.  I didn’t know how you felt about all this.”  You back away from him, wringing your hands.  “The last few hours have been perfect, beyond so.  I’ll uh…I’ll call Andy after dinner and get everything taken care of.  It shouldn’t take too long to fix and we’ll be out of your hair.  I’ll be sure to tell Nat not to say anything.”

You move away and go to stand in front of the doors, praying that you can hold it together a few more hours.  You close your eyes and take a deep breath, as Bucky hurries over to you.

“Wait.  What are you talking about?  Why would you call Barber?  He’s just…a lawyer.”  Bucky looks at the picture and then back at you.  “Doll?”

“I love you but, you don’t want this.”  You put a hand over your middle.  “And that’s fine.  We never talked about it and we should’ve, so I’m sorry about that.  But I’m keeping th-”

Bucky sweeps you off your feet and spins you around, peppering your face with kisses.

“You can’t marry me and then tell me I’m going to be a father all in one day.  I think my brain broke for a second.  You know everything isn’t alright up there!”  He kisses you again.  “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be.”

“You mean that?”

“‘Course I do.”

“Good.  I didn’t want to have to divorce you that quickly.”

You’re both laughing when the doors to the ballroom open.

“And now, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes everyone!”

Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you in, hurrying to the middle of the dance floor where Scott stands with a mic.  Bucky takes it from him practically shoves him off the dance floor.

“Everyone quiet down!  I need to say something!”  He looks over at you for approval (which he realizes he should’ve gotten before saying anything).

“Go ahead”, you reply with a huge smile.

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY!”

A/N: Dividers made by @silkholland​

“Something important, Agent?” Your superior halted his presentation with a frustrated sigh, and you silenced the buzz of your phone and re-pocketed it.

“Not at all, sorry, sir.” You grinned.

You loved sending Him to voicemail. Him being Captain Steve Rogers, known hero-turned-fugitive, secret lover to yours truly. He hated being sent to voicemail, always rambled awkwardly until someone, usually Natasha, told him to hang up already, her voice a cackle from the background. But his ramblings were honest, more honest than his phone calls, even at the latest hours of the night when he had you to himself. He was softer then, almost more shy. He could be honest when he knew you’d react and respond at a later time.

So you often intentionally silenced his call, opting instead to play phone tag from across timezones. He was never in the same place twice, and neither were you anymore. Maybe if you’d bother to answer, the two of you could meet up, tag-team a Hydra mission and spend the night wrapped up in his arms like he’d always promised. But maybe that scared you more than you’d admit, so for now, phone tag was the name of the game.

You exited the conference room a half hour later with a stack of manila folders, a recon mission in the Balkans, and a lower level agent chattering your ear off. It seemed fairly self explanatory, in-and-out. Your agency was making a bigger deal of it than it probably was, and you were waltzing down winding corridors with a smug look on your face knowing what was waiting in your back pocket.

—

Your bags were already packed, and you were on a flight Eastward before you could stop for a breather, however, and it was a good few hours before you got time alone again. Throughout the flight, beyond the chatter of your teammates, you looked at the voicemail notification. And, as the you chased the sun to rise again, you unlocked a hotel door room with a keycard and collapsed onto zillion thread count sheets, finally a moment’s peace to sit and listen.

You tapped the notification with your thumb and pressed the phone to your ear, allowing your eyes to slip closed with exhaustion and jet lag as you listened to the dulcet tones of that man’s sweet voice.

“Hey, it’s me… Steve. Think I’ll ever actually talk to you on the damn phone?” He chuckled. “Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know I’m alive, and I’m thinking about you. I miss you like crazy. How long has it been? Three months? Four? Jesus. War didn’t even feel this long.”

He let out a deep sigh, and you imagined him falling back onto the comfort of his own soft bed, somewhere safe, somewhere warm.

“Okay that’s dramatic. War sucked. But this sucks too. I just want to see you.”

Your stomach ached for him. It had been a while, five months actually, since you last lay your fingers upon that chest cut from marble, since you’d last snuck a kiss between headstones in a Cleveland cemetery. You’d found a few Russian operatives, and Natasha had made the set up. Only a handful of moments, lost like the fireflies between dancing tree limbs, but it had been worth it to feel his arms around you again, his fingertips through your hair and yours clenching the rigid kevlar of his suit.

“I’m in Greece, I think. Somewhere in the Balkans. Hydra mission. Sam said it’s worth looking into, so it’s worth looking into. Don’t worry, we’re being careful.”

You sat upright in your bed, nearly dropping your phone to the pillow below, and you scrambled. There were several seconds left of the call, several before someone eventually cut him off, but you’d listen later. Frantic, you grappled the buttons, punching in his contact to return the call.

Ring. Ring. Ring. You glanced at the bedside table. It was nearing 4AM. If he was there, now, he’d be asleep, or out on the mission.

“Hey, you’ve reached Steve. Leave a message.”

You sighed out a laugh, pushing off from the covers to pace, barbered carpet scratching your aching feet. “Hey, it’s me. I’m in the Balkans. I’m on that mission. I’m annoyed that your phone doesn’t have the option for texting, and I’m even more annoyed that you didn’t wake up to answer my call. It’s 4AM, you’re a hundred. Shouldn’t you be on your morning run? Anyway, call me back immediately. I want to see you. I’m at the…” You read off the stationery on the side table. “Room 704. I’ll be here until noon. Call me back.”

You clutched your phone into your hand and peered through the peep hole of the room, as if he’d listened and appeared like a magician outside your door. No such luck. You pushed off from the door and found the window. The curtain opened to a stunning cliffside view, the sea miles beyond, a vast stretch of nothingness. Just the heavy lids of your eyes, and the panic in your chest that this may just be another missed opportunity.

You rolled out of your travel clothes and brushed your teeth, staring at your phone on the countertop. And then you made your way back to the too-soft bedding for an expertly timed nap.

—

The hot sun fanned your cheeks, undeterred by the cabana umbrella and the ice melting in its glass atop your bistro table. You covered your eyes with a flattened hand, which provided some added shade, but your upper lip continued to bead with brine. Your targets talked a handful of feet away, at their own table, ritzy in linens and rings that clanked when they shook hands.

You’d poured over your book for hours, never reading a word, half-focused on the cell phone beside you, half on the tabletop beneath the Hydra-elite, under which you’d planted a listening device at the beginning of your dip into the pool. You maintained to face away from them, the clear in-ear bugged into your right hand side. They spoke in thick accents, in a language you’d wished you’d bothered to learn more of. You caught the occasion phrase, but knew the recording headed back to your own base in the States would be translated as necessary. You were only there to retrieve the information.

Kids played in the pool nearby, encouraged by their au pair while Mummy got a tan, and you found your focus zero in on them as the third child, a bit older, walked back outside from the restroom. He was lanky, in that awkward phase, and wet hair was beginning to dry in curls around his ears. He wore a white towel, emblazoned with the resorts’ logo, and he brought his hands to his chest to begin to sign.

You recognized it immediately as ASL, one of the few language that had stuck in your training. Your heart trilled with delight as the boy teased his siblings, and then sunk with panic as he turned to face you. He pointed to the device in your ear and you realized the men near you silenced.

“You speak ASL?” The boy signed, and you smiled and nodded, setting your book face-down on the table beside you. You could feel eyes on you from the nearby table.

The boy grinned and pointed at the doors. Then, he signed, roughly, “A big man inside paid me to tell you he’s here.”

Your heart rattled in your chest, and you tried to chuckle away the chill. “A big man?” You signed back, and the boy nodded. With a deep breath, you thanked him. The boy turned and went back to his family, and you made about gathering your things, though the adrenaline of an incoming encounter coursed through you.

Seemingly satisfied by the interaction, the men nearby started their conversation back up, softer than before, a low rumble in your ear, and you glanced their direction through your sunglasses as you stood from your table, flashing a polite smile as one of them caught your gaze and quickly looked away. You left your book, where the pages had already begun to soak in condensation from your glass, and the towel you’d been laying on.

The air conditioner instantly rocked your skin in gooseflesh, nearly freezing the bits of you pooling with sweat, and you let out an exhale the moment you rounded the corner and out of sight of the pool. The secondary lobby area was vast, high ceilings and guests moseying between pillars, and you ducked behind one and removed the throwing star that attached the bits of your sarong to each other. You tucked your knuckles around the two points and prepared for a punch.

At least, you were prepared until a dark hand came out of nowhere and wrapped itself around your wrist. You maneuvered around them, tried to headbutt, but your assailant ducked out of the way with a startled, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, tiger!”

Sam Wilson grinned back at you, all white teeth and perfect warmth. He ducked his head, waiting for another attack, but instead you put your finger to your lips to silence him.

Then, you put your hand to your in-ear and mumbled, “For the record, I’m using the restroom.” And heard the soft beep of the system shutting off.

Sam waited expectantly, eyebrows raised, and arms outstretched, and you sunk into his embrace. He smelled of coconut and sweat and Sam, and you could have sobbed at the rumble of his chuckle against your cheek. ”How you been?”

You pulled away with a nod, and you couldn’t help but scan the crowd over his shoulder. With every strange face came the twinge of heartache, the twinge of almost-was, of hope. “Good,” you relaxed your shoulders. “You?”

Sam gave you a knowing smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, you don’t care about me.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “Of course I do.”

He nodded to his right, and you glanced to see the cracked door to a laundry room. The black plaque restricted access to anyone who wasn’t an employee, and your stomach flipped three or four times, imagining what could be just beyond.

“I’ve got eyes on the Hydra guys,” Sam smiled. “I’ll give you guys, what? 7 minutes?”

You shot Sam a look, but couldn’t help the smile that ached at the corners of your mouth. The wingman winked, and stepped aside to grant you access. The linoleum felt cold under your trembling fingers, and you raked them against the surface before pushing. The heavy door swung open just enough for you to slip inside, and you heard it latch behind you.

The room was white, sterile, full of the tumble of several washers and dryers doing their daily turn down services. Washing machines to the left, dryers to the right, and directly dead center, five machines down, leaning against a cart full of white sheets, was Captain America himself. Him.

He pushed off from the cart to stand, awkward, sheepish, hardly recognizable under a growing mop of hair and a full, dark beard.

“Have you always been that tall?” You cocked an eyebrow, the tone of your voice much braver than you felt.

He sucked in his cheeks and shook his head.

The two of you took slow steps toward one another, a scrape of rubber against tiled floors. You fought back the grin threatening to form, and he swung his arm until you were almost at arm’s length, and then he waited for you to take his grasp, and he pulled you in.

He was bigger than you’d remembered, a bear of a man that lumbered his frame around yours, all biceps and pectorals and hair. You raked at the length at his neck and the sides of his face, and he groaned into your neck, and you melted into him as though he were a sponge and you the popsicle in the hot Balkan sunlight.

“Did you get my voicemail?” He asked, knees bent to prop both of you against the only washing machine out of service.

You laughed at that, pressing your lips to his cheek, wherever you could find purchase without a mouthful of hair. The wrinkles at his eyes crinkled, and you kissed them before pulling away to look at him, really look at him, without all the pixels messing up the perfection of it all.

There were greens in his blue eyes, and you saw your admiration mirrored in his own gaze. Both of you laughed, realizing you were doing the same thing, observing one another, being present in the moment, soaking it in. His cheekbones remained high, unaging, and the fur around his lips sheltered the strength of his jaw and softened his fingers. You ran your fingers through it like the coat of a Labrador, and he pursed his lips into the affectionate gesture.

“You like it?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you pursed your own.

He chuckled, but you watched his eyes darken as his gaze found your lips. He licked his own, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose. You smiled and let you eyes flutter closed, and you sighed as he closed the distance with a kiss.

God, you’d missed that, the way he just gave in. Like every kiss might be his last. It was the gentle intensity of it all, the way he held you around the middle, a large hand reaching to cup your neck and face, thumb circling your cheekbone. It was the rise and fall of his shoulders as he leaned into it, deepened it. It was the press of the small of your back until your abdomens found one another, his carved from marble against your own soft edges.

His beard was the only thing you hadn’t remembered, bristly and soft all at once. It tickled beneath your nose and in the crevice of your lip and chin, but you didn’t mind. It smelled of him, and you couldn’t get enough. When he pulled away to breathe, you dove back in for more, hitting beard when he ducked for a laugh.

“I missed you.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, and his large fingers tucked themselves under your sarong, a graze of skin against your own that sent your back arching.

“I missed you,” you spoke through gritted teeth, clawing at the collar of his civilian shirt. You hadn’t noticed the silky fabric until now, his best attempt at a disguise.

“I don’t have any time,” he said, and you looked up from the navy fabric to see his features fall.

You released his collar and flattened the creases against his collar bone. “If I got injured on this mission, they’d give me a vacation.” You offered it as a ridiculous solution, something both of you knew wouldn’t happen. They’d be suspicious if you got hurt. They’d go looking for him.

“Soon,” he bonked his forehead to yours. “Okay? I promise we can be together soon. I’ll have Nat plan something longer than happenstance.”

You nodded against him, feeling the emotion well. Voicemails were easier. Voicemails didn’t disappoint. The pain of feeling him under your fingertips, of breathing him in, was too much. It wasn’t fair. A soft knock from the doorway beat into your skull, your clenched jaw, your tightened fists. You pushed off from Steve, and his hold on you faltered.

His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwined, and you led him past the dryers to the door.

“Hey,” he whispered with a gentle tug. You turned to face him, and he leant in for another Earth shattering, knee-weakening kiss. This man, this fugitive, the bane of your existence and the reason you breathe, a sponge to mop you heart that had spilled all over the tile floor.

—

He left you with several mumbled promises and a sad smile. Sam offered the same look of regret, a wave goodbye from across the lobby. You went one way as they went the other. Your mission wrapped up, bad guys on their merry way, information obtained. But the rest of the day, packing your things, the long flight home, it all took a backseat to the veil of heartbreak that lay overhead, the fear sinking into your bones that you’d never be able to be with him, never be able to touch him or kiss him for longer than a moment in time.

You deplaned to more chatter, congratulations on good work. You slipped between coworkers, ordered a ride share home. You unlocked your apartment, did a routine check for intruders, heated up a bag of rice on the stove top, pretended to eat it. Too aching to care.

You showered the sunscreen from exhausted limbs, scrubbed the makeup from your face, rinsing yourself of any essence of him, anything that could have seeped into your skin, and you tiptoed into pajamas and curled yourself under your covers. Relief didn’t find you until you heard the familiar ding of a notification. You scrambled for your phone, discarded on your nightstand the moment you’d gotten home.

1 Voicemail from Him.

You clicked play and laid back against your pillow to hear the low tenor of his voice.

“Hey, it’s me. We just landed in Wakanda. Snuck off to find Buck so I thought I’d call. I’d love to show you this place some day. It reminds me of you. Warm. Beautiful.” He took a pause, his voice low, like he’d been afraid of getting caught. “It was good seeing you today. You looked amazing. Did I mention that? You did. You looked incredible.”

You smiled at his rambling. You missed his rambling.

“I love you.”

You stopped breathing. Three words. You hadn’t said them, not to each other, not yet. You felt them, of course you felt them, but saying them aloud made them real, gave them weight, made the distance hurt more.

“I do. I love you. And I was too chicken shit to say it earlier, but I’ve been thinking it for ages. Probably since the day I met you. I love you.”

You sat upright in your bed. There were several seconds left of the call, several before someone eventually cut him off, but you’d listen later. Frantic, you grappled the buttons, punching in his contact to return the call.

Ring. Ring. Ring. You glanced at the bedside table. It was nearing 4AM.

“Hey,” he answered. There was a smile in his voice.

“I caught you,” you breathed a sigh of relief.