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Monday
March 5th
Natasha’s feet were starting to freeze inside of her boots the longer she stood in line at the taco truck. There were still three people ahead of her, the sight of which twisted her stomach tighter in hunger.
Usually she wouldn’t be in line with the breakfast burrito crowd, but a call from the hospital had pulled her out of bed just after three in the morning and she’d been regretting her decision not to grab a granola bar on her way out the door for hours.
Idly, she turned to scan her surroundings and caught sight of a familiar mop of dark hair a few heads back.
Bucky was looking down at his phone when she ducked out of line and found herself standing next to him. “I thought that was you,” she said, unable to help her smile when he jumped in surprise.
“Jesus,” he commented, putting his phone away with a mild blush on his cheeks. “How long were you standing there?”
And there it was again. That inconvenient and anomalous lurching in her stomach. The thing she’d been pushing back and trying to ignore since New Year’s Eve. She pushed it away again and grinned, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Long enough to wonder if that silk-screening kit is for Charlotte or if you’re picking up a new hobby in your spare time.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sneaking up on me, creeping on my online shopping…your super-spy habits are a little disconcerting, Nat.”
“She’ll love that,” she said with a nod toward his phone. “If you’re still debating on gift ideas.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s probably going to be the winner.”
“Not to mention, if you play your cards right, she’ll let you play with whatever you get her.”
It was his turn to grin. “Is that why you got her all that string and beads for Christmas? To add to your impressive collection of friendship bracelets?”
Nat held up her wrist where Charlotte had gifted her a dozen new woven bracelets in a rainbow of colors and smiled. “I think they look nice.”
“I didn’t say they didn’t,” he commented mildly before he frowned and looked down at his watch. “What are you doing here this early, anyway?” he asked and cleared his throat. “I mean—that sounded shitty—I didn’t really take you for a breakfast burrito fan.”
That nervous, fluttery energy tended to dissipate as quickly as it came and the longer she stood next to him, the more comfortable she felt. The easier it was to forget that she’d spent a very long time not standing next to him and that this tentative friendship they’d fallen into was so new and unfamiliar.
She waved his concern away and hid a yawn behind her hand. “I’m not, usually,” she admitted. “But it’s too early for hospital food.” They moved forward one space in line.
His mouth fell into a grim line as his eyes moved from her face to the hospital across the street where she worked as a sexual assault and domestic violence advocate. “You get called in?”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around her midsection, trying to keep her mind in the present, not letting it wander back to the woman she’d sat with in the middle of the night. A woman who—after her husband’s violent reaction to gin sent her to the ER for the third time—finally let her file the paperwork for a PFA and get the police involved. “What about you?” she asked with a hunch of her shoulders as an icy breeze blew down the sidewalk. “Just going in or just getting off?”
“Off,” he said, pushing his hair back. “They’re switching me back to days on Wednesday, so I’ve got today and tomorrow to reset before then.”
“Are you going to be free on Saturday?” They inched forward another two feet as she cleared her throat. “The birthday girl will be devastated if you’re not there,” she added with a smirk.
He smiled back. “Like I’d miss that; I put in the request a month ago. I’ll be there.”
“Good,” she said with a nod.
Because Charlotte really would have been devastated if they couldn’t blow out the candles together like they always did.
No other reason.
“What’re you havin’ honey?” The woman at the window of the truck asked, her breath clouding in front of her.
Natasha cleared her throat. “Just the #3,” she said, pointing to the menu painted on the side.
“Make it two,” Bucky said quickly and reached for his wallet. “Do you have coffee today?”
The woman shook her head. “Next cart,” she motioned to the left. “That’ll be fifteen.”
Natasha blinked as Bucky handed over a twenty. “Oh, you don’t have to--” he waved her words away with a shake of his head and accepted his change. “Uh, thanks.”
“No problem,” he shrugged and motioned for her to slide to the pick-up side ahead of him. “So, speaking of the birthday girl, did you figure out what you wanted to get her?”
She nodded happily. “Girls Night Out,” she said with another grin. “There's an Olympic figure skating tour coming to town at the end of the month. So, I think we'll get our nails done, get some Chinese and then go see some Champions on Ice.”
Bucky shook his head with a smile. “Not sure who's going to be looking forward to that more,” he said before he laughed. “I didn't even know they still did ice shows.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Bucky Barnes,” she said, and clapped a hand to her chest as Bucky accepted both of their burritos and handed her one. “I could probably still get another ticket,” she added thoughtfully. “If you wanted to see what you're missing.”
“Tempting,” he said. “But I don't want to encroach on Lottie’s Auntie Nat time.” He glanced behind her again and motioned with his chin. “Follow me.”
Intrigued, she did and let him lead her to the retaining wall of the hospital’s landscaping. She watched curiously as he peeled off one glove and patted the concrete for several feet before he seemed to find what he was looking for and hopped up to sit. “Care to share with the class?” she said, amused as he motioned for her to join him.
“There's like, three feet of this wall that catches the heat from the subway,” he said and pointed to the grate at their feet. “Keeps it warm and dry almost all the time.”
She regarded him with a raised eyebrow and patted the wall to see for herself. Pleasantly surprised to find it just as he had said, she hopped up next to him and unwrapped her burrito. “Damnit,” she muttered after a few bites. “This shouldn't be this good.”
Bucky chuckled. “Right?” he said after a thick swallow. “You'll be a regular in no time.”
“Don't give me any ideas,” she said around another mouthful of peppers, eggs and chorizo. “I'm already putting in the extra gym time trying to combat the damage of having Darcy and her treats in my life.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You don't have anything to worry about, Nat.”
She smothered her smile between her lips and took another bite. “So, what do you have planned for your days off?” she asked, changing the subject safely away from what she did and didn't have to worry about.
He shrugged. “I gotta do laundry at some point. Go grocery shopping. That stuff.”
“Order and wrap a little girl's birthday gift,” Nat added.
“Yup. That too. What about you?”
“I'm on call the rest of the day so I think I’ll probably just stay at the hospital and get some paperwork caught up; then I have classes Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Oh, and I might—” she stopped herself with a frown.
Bucky looked over, eyebrows raised. “You might what?”
She moved her shoulders and forced herself to continue. “There's this...this guy. I might. He...I mean. We might go out tomorrow.”
Bucky blinked. “So…a date,” he said plainly. “People call that a ‘date’. You have a date tomorrow night.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know if I’d put that label on it.”
“Just taking him for a test drive?” he asked with another smirk.
She groaned. “That’s...crude and accurate.”
Bucky laughed. “So, who is he?” he asked, taking another bite before talking with his mouth full. “Anyone I know?”
“Uh, no,” she shook her head. “He’s a pediatrician in the ER,” she motioned needlessly to the ambulance bay behind them.
“Ooh,” he looked impressed. “Nat’s dating a doctor…”
“Shut up,” she laughed. “My mother’ll hear you and start picking out china.”
They were quiet for a moment while they ate, bouncing their heels off the retaining wall before Bucky finished his burrito and crumpled the foil and paper. “Man,” he commented lightly. “I’ve been bumping into you a lot, lately.”
“Yeah,” she nodded slowly. “I guess you have.”
At the coffee shop by the fire house—which happened to be a block from the gym where she taught self-defense classes.
At the grocery store by her apartment—which, according to Bucky, was the only place in Brooklyn that had the right kind of spicy chips.
At Darcy’s bakery when they’d accidentally stopped in for croissants at the same time last week.
If they hadn’t spent the last decade avoiding each other, she might have thought that he was running into her on purpose. But the more her stomach lurched and flipped when he smiled at her, and the more she fixated on stupid things like the lines around his eyes and wondering what kind of detergent he used that made the t-shirt he’d lent her so soft, the less likely it seemed that he was doing any of this on purpose.
In fact, she was beginning to wonder if he was completely oblivious to the shift in their relationship, or if he had noticed, and her sudden and unexpected crush was just one-sided.
Still.
She cleared her throat. “Wanna run into me on Wednesday? Around…seven? Laundromat on 4th?”
He considered it with a thoughtful tilt of his head before he shrugged. “Sure.”
She nodded succinctly. “Cool.”
He mirrored her nod. “Cool. I gotta go home and crash.”
“Cool,” she repeated. “Thanks for the burrito.”
“Anytime.” He hopped off the ledge and gave her a quick wave. “Have fun on your date.”
Natasha folded the edge of her tin foil wrapper down around the rest of her breakfast and made her way back into the hospital. Looking down, wiping her snowy boots on one of the mats by the first nurse’s station, she almost didn’t see Dr. Linnea Harris before they crashed into one another.
“Hey,” she greeted with a laugh. “I was just coming to find you about Angela Miranda’s file—but was that Bucky Barnes I just saw you hanging with outside?”
Nat blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. We're friends...sort of,” she added with a frown.
Linnea didn't look convinced as she hooked her friend with a curious eye. “Just friends?”
Nat rolled her eyes. “As far as I know. Why do you care?” she asked, trying not to sound defensive as they made their way to the locker room together. “And what does this have to do with Angela Miranda?”
“Oh, nothing,” Linnea assured her. “I got distracted. And to answer your other question, I don't care,” she insisted with a smile. “It just would have surprised me. I kinda thought you were only going after nice guys these days.”
She scoffed and turned the corner, holding open the door for her to follow. “And is Bucky Barnes not a nice guy?” she asked, her curiosity officially piqued. She wasn't surprised that Linnea knew him. She knew they were both the type that dated a lot; and Linnea was a gorgeous, almost six-foot-tall, extroverted ER surgeon with rich ebony skin and a smile you could see from space. It was impossible not to be attracted to her, at least a little bit. Plus, members of the fire department found themselves in the ER more often than not for one reason or another. Their paths were bound to cross.
“Oh, he can be nice,” she said mysteriously and looked like she was biting back a memory that had Natasha teetering on the edge of jealousy. “He can be very nice. Just don't get attached,” she added quickly before she shook her head, sadly. “Somebody ruined that boy for the rest of us.”
Natasha had to roll her eyes again. “Well, thanks for the heads up,” she said pushing away that kernel of curious envy. “But like I said, we're just friends.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Linnea brightened. “Jake was looking for you earlier.”
Right.
Jake.
Doctor Jake.
Her Tuesday date.
The files in her brain reorganized themselves and shoved Bucky and his baggage to the bottom of the pile. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“Probably to talk to you,” Linnea said, watching while Nat put the rest of her burrito in the refrigerator. “You know someone's going to eat that unless you put your name on it,” she reminded.
Nat shrugged. “I'm feeling generous today. I'll go track Jake down, but tell him I'm here all day if you see him first.”
The phone in Linnea’s hip pocket buzzed with a text. She checked it quickly and immediately tapped out a response. “Will do; gotta go.”
She waved on her way out of the locker room and left Nat alone with a mind full of inconvenient thoughts.
***
Tuesday
March 6th
Steve checked his watch for the third time and resisted the urge to bounce nervously on the balls of his feet. The arrivals gate of JFK bustled with life; families embracing, children running to parents, excited squeals and laughter as friends reunited, couples kissing and throwing their arms around one another.
Normally, he’d find it all very sweet and everything just as Hugh Grant had described in Love, Actually.
But that day, Steve’s mind was more than a little cluttered as he waited for the passengers of flight 1579 from London to spill over from the main terminal and into the area where he’d been waiting, anxiously checking his watch, for the last twenty minutes.
He spotted Bess first, her glasses pushed atop her silver-streaked dark hair as she squinted at the screen of her cell phone. Beside her, Daniel caught sight of Steve’s raised hand and gave his wife a light swat as he pointed him out. Bess looked up with a smile and a wave and abandoned her phone as they approached him a moment later.
“Well this is a lovely surprise, isn’t it?” Bess said with a musical laugh as offered him a brief hug and a quick kiss to his cheek. “We were just about to order one of the Ubers.”
Steve laughed and shook hands with Daniel, taking the older man’s leather bag at the same time. “Don’t be silly,” he assured his in-laws. “It’s no trouble.”
It was a little bit of trouble, he had to admit to himself. Borrowing Sam’s car for the day, rearranging his schedule to have the day off, sitting in traffic to JFK and trying to do all of it with a knot of anxiety burning a hole in his stomach hadn’t been his idea of a picnic. But, he reminded himself for the millionth time, they were Peggy’s parents. And Charlotte’s grandparents. And they only visited once a year.
“Aren’t you a darling,” Bess commented, a smile still on her face as she gave him a quick once over. “And still looking so fit,” she said. “Must be doing something right.”
He laughed. “I’m trying,” he said with a noncommittal shrug before he pointed in the direction of baggage claim. “Let’s get your luggage. How was the flight?”
Bess loved little more in life than to complain about a long day of traveling; Steve safely bought himself twenty minutes while they waited for their shared suitcase to come around the conveyor belt.
Daniel barely got a word in edgewise until they were on their way to the car. “Surprised you didn’t bring Charlotte with you,” he said as Steve fished the keys from his pocket.
“She’s got a spelling test today,” he answered regretfully. “I thought we could get some lunch and then pick her up a little early as a surprise.”
She could have missed the spelling test if he was being honest with himself. But Charlotte tended to blurt things out in her excitement and Steve wanted to be the one to have this conversation before she could say anything.
They ended up at a deli only a few blocks from Charlotte’s school and Steve forced himself to wait until the server had taken their order before he cleared his throat and stopped his leg from jittering. They’d caught up about the sale of the Carters’ townhouse in London and about Charlotte’s grades and dance recital photos while they’d waited to be seated.
“And what about you, Steve?” Dan asked kindly as the first silence settled over them. “How have things been for you?”
“Uh, good,” he answered, and sipped his drink. “Really good, actually. There’s—uh—something that I wanted to talk to you both about.”
Bess looked up from where she’d been unrolling her silverware and clasped her hands in front of her, expectantly. She raised her eyebrows, interested. “Yes?”
He swallowed and took a quick breath. “Charlotte and I—” he paused and thought about how he wanted to choose his words. “We have someone new in our lives. I’ve been seeing someone. For the last few months.” He hadn’t wanted to sound so nervous, so halting, when he told them about Darcy. But he hadn’t taken into account how much Peggy had looked like her mother—how much it would feel like he was delivering this news to her in some way. “It’s…getting pretty serious,” he continued. “And I just…I just wanted to tell you before Charlotte did. I didn’t want it to be a surprise. I just…” he paused and shrugged. “I guess I just thought you should…know.”
Steve had been practicing this moment in the mirror since Bess had emailed him their travel three weeks prior. The rational side of mind told him they’d understand—that perhaps they wouldn’t be happy that he was moving on, but that they would at least sympathize. But there was still some small, illogical part him that worried they’d be hurt—disappointed in him somehow—that he’d put the memory of their daughter aside and found someone new.
“Well that’s wonderful,” Bess said, stirring him from his thoughts with a smile before she turned to her husband. “Isn’t it, Dan?”
Dan smiled too. “Of course it is. Wonderful,” he echoed.
Steve blinked. “You—think so?”
Bess laughed softly. “Of course! Honestly, I’m amazed this didn’t happen sooner. We were starting to worry about you.”
“You were?”
“Steve,” Dan cut in, “we know how much you loved Peggy—”
“No one could have loved her better, darling,” Bess added, reaching across the table to cover Steve’s hand with hers.
“But we never expected you to be alone forever after what happened.” His father-in-law shook his head. “And we certainly didn’t want that for Charlotte. No,” he was sure, “no, if whomever this person is…if she—” Dan paused and cleared his throat, “or he—”
“She,” Steve assured him with a smile. “Her name is Darcy.”
Dan nodded with a smile. “If she makes you both happy—and it sounds like she does—then of course we’re very happy to hear that.”
A wave of relief hit him hard, stinging unexpectedly at the back of his nose and throat. “I’m…really glad to hear that,” he admitted, squeezing Bess’s hand once before she let go.
“I hope we’ll have the chance to meet her while we’re in town, your Darcy,” his mother-in-law added with a smile. She blinked a little too quickly and allowed herself a swift sniffle before she took a sip of water.
Steve was struck again by the strange and fleeting nature of grief. How it could keep wounds open endlessly for years with no relief in sight, or lay dormant, only to spring back up in moments like this one, twisting hearts and forcing tears to rise and making everything fresh and raw all over again.
“Of course,” he said with a hard swallow of his own. “I know Charlotte wants to take you to her bakery at some point—and she’ll be at the party on Saturday.”
“Excellent,” Bess said genuinely and spoke on her husband’s behalf. “We’re both very much looking forward to it.”
By the time they drove to Charlotte’s school, Steve’s anxiety had passed, and he was able to just enjoy the excitement that lit up his daughter’s face when she realized her Nana and Grandad had come to pick her up.
She sat in the backseat of Sam’s car with Bess, talking a mile a minute while Dan sat up front beside him, turned around to not miss a moment as they made their way to the Carters’ hotel.
“Did Daddy tell you about Darcy?” she asked only a few minutes into the car ride, reminding Steve that he’d made the right choice in how he’d broken the news.
“He did,” Bess said, shooting him a smile in the rearview mirror. “She sounds quite lovely.”
“She is,” Charlotte insisted before she continued, “we love her so much. And I told her you guys were coming all the way from England and that we always have tea when you’re here and so she found a real English tea cake recipe and we made them last night. So, you have to come to our house and try them.” She glanced up toward the front seat. “Can we stop there first, Daddy? I don’t want them to go bad.”
“You just made them yesterday; they’re not going to go bad,” he assured her. “We’re going to get Nana and Grandad checked in to the hotel and then we can all go back to the house and you and Nana can have tea, okay?”
She brightened again. “Wait ‘til you see my room, Nana,” she said with an abrupt change in topic. “We painted it last summer so it’s all different from the last time you were here.”
Steve drove the rest of the way to the hotel with a smile on his face, while Charlotte’s excited chatter filled the car.
***
Wednesday
March 7th
“You started the laundry party without me?” Bucky’s voice startled her from where she was sorting her clothes on one of the laundromat’s large laminate folding tables.
She looked up with a smile as he swung his overflowing laundry basket from his hip to push the door shut behind him. “Not my fault you’re late,” she quipped with a glance at the time.
“By five minutes,” he protested. “Guess time and Tide really wait for no man, huh?” he asked, dragging the basket heavily across the floor with him.
She forced her lips to stay in a straight line. “Was that a detergent pun?”
Bucky smiled. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
“How long have you been sitting on that one?”
“It honestly just came to me.”
She snorted a quick laugh and shook her head before she motioned to the pizza box on the table beside her pile of clothes. “If you’re hungry.”
“And she brings pizza,” he said, abandoning his hamper to approach the box with interest. He grabbed a slice and had stuffed half of it in his mouth before he stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Are there strings attached to this pizza?”
Natasha grinned. “Doesn’t matter, you already ate it. I need to use your soap.”
He sighed. “Playin’ me, Romanov.”
“Like the cheap kazoo you are.”
Still chewing his folded slice, he crossed back and dug a bottle of detergent from his clothes and handed it to her. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” she smiled.
“Hey, speaking of,” he waited for her to start her first load before he began dropping his clothes—unsorted—into one of the top-loading machines to her right. “Do you have my clothes?”
“Shit,” she muttered and reached for her own slice of pizza. “Sorry, I keep forgetting.”
Half-lie, she told herself. She hadn’t returned the clothes she’d slept in on New Year’s Eve because until that evening, she hadn’t ever known when she was going to see him again. All their accidental meet-ups had been just that. Accidental.
It wasn’t like she was walking around with Bucky’s clothes in her purse just in case.
And it wasn’t like she was sleeping in them every night. She’d washed them as soon as she got home, folded and tossed them on the armchair in her room, figuring she’d return them at some point.
But if she was honest, she wasn’t going out of her way to get them back to him, either.
“I’ll bring them Saturday,” she promised before she eyed his laundry basket. “Are you hurting for comfy clothes, Barnes?”
He shrugged and focused on counting quarters before he loaded them into the machine. He appeared to be contemplating something before he looked up again. “Okay, here’s a question,” he said. “Since we’re friends now.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Shoot,” she insisted before she could overthink it.
“Do you steal men’s shirts?”
Natasha blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I mean—” he backtracked. “I mean, is that like a thing all women do? Because I keep ending up with a dwindling pile of t-shirts and I can’t figure out if I’m just an easy target for this kind of petty theft, or if it’s just something all women do.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Okay, first of all, all women don’t do anything. If we can’t lump you all together, then you can’t lump us all together. I, for one, don’t steal shirts.” He opened his mouth to argue but she held up a hand. “I mean, except yours. But that was different and I’m going to give it back.”
“Likely story,” he muttered. “Go on.”
“Second, they don’t steal your t-shirts, you ass. They borrow them and assume they’ll give them back when you call them the morning after. So, if you’re running out of t-shirts, it’s your own fault.”
“Isn’t that victim blaming?” Bucky’s pensive frown only stayed in place until she glanced in his direction. “I expected a little more compassion coming from you,” he added with another smirk. “And anyway, how would you know I’m not calling back these t-shirt thieves?”
“Well if you were, you could ask for your clothes back. And New York’s a small town, Barnes. Your reputation precedes you.”
She expected him to scoff or roll his eyes, but he didn’t. His mouth turned downward in another thoughtful frown. This one didn’t vanish like the first had. “Yeah,” he said after a pause. “It probably does.”
The dip in the mood only lasted another minute and Bucky was smiling again before Natasha could wonder if she should apologize for bringing up what she’d heard from Linnea. They traded small talk about work and swapped half-hearted barbs back and forth while their clothes washed and dried.
“Oh, hey,” Bucky said as they were folding. “How was your date?”
Her shoulders moved. “It was fine.”
“Yikes,” he let out a low whistle. “What a ringing endorsement.”
She scoffed. “What? I didn’t say anything mean.”
“You said the ‘f’ word,” he reminded with a laugh. “That’s mean enough.”
“Well it was fine,” she insisted. “It was…” she made a vague motion in the air. “Y’know. It was a nice date.”
“Did he talk with his mouth full?”
She laughed. “No.”
“Smell like antiseptic?”
“No.”
“Ask you to go down on him in the cab?”
“What?” she threw down the shirt she’d just folded. “No,” she repeated. “Jesus. He was a perfect gentleman.”
Bucky studied her closely as he reached out and moved her t-shirt from his pile back to hers. “And yet,” he said, still studying her. “Just fine?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again, mind whirling. Her pulse quickened without her permission and she tried swallowing back the dryness of her throat. Her date the night before had been the acid test. The final challenge she’d set for herself to see if these thoughts and feelings she’d been entertaining for the last two months were anything to pursue. Until last night, she’d been able to tell herself she was just bored with the dating scene in New York. Lonely and restless and fixating on the only man who was consistently paying her any attention.
And Jake really was a perfect gentleman. Sweet and thoughtful—if a little too earnest for her tastes—and she thought she should have felt something for him. Somewhere. But while she’d decided right away that he was good looking, and she appreciated his stories and the way he spoke with such compassion about his patients, she’d turned her head when he’d leaned in at the end of the night. His kiss landed softly on her cheek and she’d gone to bed alone, wincing against the sting of cold, hard reality.
She was thirty-four years old and had a goddamn crush like some doe-eyed freshman.
A crush on James-goddamn-Buchanan Barnes.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Bucky continued, oblivious to her turmoil. “I mean, if it was that bad—”
She shook her head, shooing those thoughts away once more. “It wasn’t bad,” she said with a tight smile. “We just weren’t a good fit.”
Bucky frowned. “He wasn’t a Republican, was he?”
Natasha snorted again and shook her head. “If he was, he was playing it pretty close to the chest.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…” she let go of another deep breath. “I don’t think he could make me laugh,” she admitted.
Bucky accepted this with a slow, thoughtful nod. “So, you’re…looking for someone funny, then,” he said, more of an observation than a question.
“Certain kind of funny,” she corrected before she could stop herself. “I don’t…it’s hard to explain.”
“But you’d know it if you found it?”
“Yeah, I think so,” she nodded, summoning her courage to get the next part out while Bucky returned his attention to his fastidious folding. “And…um…it turns out it might not be something I’m looking for so much as someone I’m looking—”
The dryer buzzed loudly from behind them, snapping his attention backward as he dropped the socks in his hand and raced over to it and yanked open the door. He seized the towels inside and buried his face in the fabric.
“At,” Nat finished softly before he returned to her side and held the armful of towels out to her.
“Go on,” he insisted with a half-smile. “You know you want to.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” she informed him, plainly.
“Come on,” he needled. “They’re cooling down; you don’t want to miss it.”
Nat let out a heavy sigh and let her face fall forward into the pile of soft, warm towels. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. They smelled good and clean and felt impossibly soft against her cheek and burying her face in them made her feel the same as she had when she was a kid. When she’d sneak down into her parents’ basement and open the dryer, disrupting the cycle just to be the first in the house to wrap herself in a warm, clean blanket.
When she straightened back up, Bucky was smiling at her. The kind of smile that almost made her forget that those towels had ruined her attempt at bravery.
“Seriously,” he said. “What’s better than that?”
“Not much,” she admitted.
“Sorry,” he said as he returned to folding. “You were saying something, and I completely interrupted.”
“Oh,” she paused and pursed her lips. “I can’t remember,” she lied and shook her head. “Must not have been important.”
***
Friday
March 9th
The bakery was usually busy on Fridays and the day before Charlotte’s birthday was no exception. Darcy had stationed herself in the back of the shop, told her staff to only disturb her in case of emergencies, and spent her morning perfecting the ratio of pink-to-glitter for the unicorn cupcakes she had to deliver at six o’clock.
“Boss Lady,” Alysha popped her head around the corner and gasped. “That. Is. Gorgeous!” she exclaimed, pointing at the bowl in her boss’ hands.
Darcy looked down with an apprehensive frown. “Yeah?” she second-guessed her mixing abilities and studied the edible glitter she’d been working on.
Alysha nodded. “Definitely. Perfect unicorn pink.”
She smiled and set the bowl down. “Did you need something? Other than to compliment my mad glittering skills?”
“Your favorites are out front,” Alysha said with a smile.
Darcy set her edible glitters aside and pushed her hair away from her face. She wiped her hands on her apron and followed her barista out front where Steve and Charlotte were waiting. Charlotte spotted her first and raced across the bakery to seize her hand. “Darcy! Guess who’s here?”
“You are!” Darcy exclaimed to make her laugh. When she glanced up, Steve was motioning with one free hand while the other held his phone to his ear. He pointed to the door and implied that he’d be right back.
“Not just us,” Charlotte insisted, pulling her attention back as she tugged her forward to an elderly couple near the cold case that Darcy recognized from photos at Steve’s house. “You have to meet my Nana and Grandad! They’re here for my birthday!”
Darcy felt a little twist of anxiety in her chest and suddenly wished she'd taken more than a minute to fix her appearance. She pushed her hair behind her ear again and glanced down, satisfied that she wasn't covered head-to-toe in ingredients like usual.
“Don't worry,” Charlotte said with an encouraging look back when she caught her fidgeting. “You look pretty.”
She squeezed Charlotte's fingers as they approached her grandparents. “Nana, Grandad,” she pointed them out with a flourish. “This is Darcy and this is her bakery and it's the best place in Brooklyn.”
Darcy laughed as she extended her hand to Peggy's parents. “Well, I don't know about that,” she said modestly. “But it's very nice to meet you both.”
Peggy's mother surprised her with a quick hug and a kiss to the air beside her cheek. “We've heard nothing but good things,” she said cheerfully before she looked around. “And what a lovely shop!”
Charlotte's grandfather shook her hand next and mirrored his wife's smile. “Seems quite the popular spot.”
“Oh,” she glanced behind her at the line and double-checked that she wasn't needed. “Friday rush,” she shrugged. “Everyone wants treats before the weekend.” Charlotte leaned her back against Darcy's legs, giving her hands a place to rest on her shoulders. “Speaking of, can I get you all anything? Coffee? Tea? Croissant?”
Steve returned before they could answer. He made his way over to the four of them with an apologetic look that Charlotte read instantly and frowned. “Do you have to go back to work, Daddy?”
“In a little bit,” he said, reaching out to push back her thick bangs.
“Are you still coming to the park with us?”
“Yeah,” he said assured her. “But then Nana and Grandad can have you all to themselves for the rest of the afternoon. Sound good?”
Charlotte smiled again as she reached up and took hold of Darcy’s hands again. Darcy squeezed and smiled down at her when she tilted her head to look up. “What all is on the agenda today?”
“We’re going to get some yellow daisies—because they’re my favorite—and take them to the park in Bath Beach and then I guess Daddy’s going back to work and Nana and Grandad are taking me to the museum and out for lunch,” she said in her usual unbroken pattern of excited speech. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Oh sweet girl, I would love to come, thank you so much for the invitation,” she said genuinely. “But I think your grandparents are probably looking forward to spending time with just you, don’t you think?”
Charlotte flipped herself around to be looking at Darcy straight on. “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “I just didn’t want you to feel left out.”
She laughed. “That’s very nice,” she said diplomatically. “But I also have so much work to finish up today if I’m not going to be here tomorrow.”
Charlotte looked coy. “Like...working on my cake?”
Darcy frowned and pursed her lips, pretending to think. “Did I say I was going to bake your cake?”
“Yes!” Charlotte said firmly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” she repeated, more insistently.
“Oh, right,” Darcy caught Steve’s grin from the corner of her eye and feigned a recollection. “That’s the one that’s…shaped like an avocado? With a brussels sprout filling?”
Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Ew, no! Darcy—”
“Really?” she bent down and tickled Charlotte’s sides. “That’s not it? Are you sure?”
When she recovered from her giggles, Charlotte took a deep breath and gave Darcy a very serious look. “You’re just joking…right?”
“Of course I am,” she assured her. “You kidding me? I’ve been working on this baby for weeks. I hope you’re gonna like it.”
“I’m going to love it!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Are you sure I can’t help you though?”
“Nope,” Darcy shook her head resolutely. “Nobody makes her own birthday cake.”
“Is that a Raina Rule?”
Darcy glanced up as another group of people inched into the shop, crowding the five of them even closer together. “You got it, sweet pea,” she said, letting her eyes touch the clock above the drink case before she tapped the tip of Charlotte’s nose. “But you’ve gotta get moving and I’ve gotta get back to work.” She looked up with a smile aimed at the grandparents. “It was so nice to meet you both.”
Bess reached out to briefly clasp her hand again. “Likewise, my dear,” she said, sounding genuine. “I hope we’ll see you again soon.”
Steve placed a hand on Charlotte’s head, pulling her attention upward. “Wait outside with Nana and Grandad please?” he said, making her nod obediently before she giggled and wriggled out of his reach. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He waited until they were alone before he leaned in and dropped a kiss to Darcy's lips. “Sorry to drop in on you like this. Charlotte couldn’t wait to show off the bakery.”
She shrugged with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Happy to have met them.”
“Do you want to join us for dinner tonight?”
“Possibly,” Darcy tilted her head to one side in thought. “I’ve got a batch of cupcakes to drop off—coincidentally also in Bath Beach—tonight at six. And a whole bunch of stuff to get done between now and then.” She grimaced. “I’ll call you either way and let you know.”
Steve reached up to brush his thumb across her cheekbone as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Did anyone tell you, you look beautiful today?”
She snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Uh, no; they did not. Because unlike you,” she poked him playfully in the chest. “They aren't liars.”
He shook his head with a grin. “I don’t know what your plans are tomorrow night, but Bess and Dan are taking Charlotte back to their hotel with them for a sleepover.”
Darcy raised her eyebrows with interest. “Mmm?”
“And Sam and Nat and I usually take that opportunity to take Bucky out for a drink—”
“Ooh, right,” she nodded. “I forgot he and Charlotte are birthday twins.”
Steve grinned and let his fingers trail up and down the back of her arms. “But I was thinking…if you wanted to join us…”
“Yeah?”
“Then maybe you could come home with me afterward…”
Darcy stretched up onto her toes and brushed her nose against his. “Are you inviting me over for a grown-up slumber party?”
She felt him smile. “Something like that,” he said before he kissed her again. “Interested?”
“Very,” she sank back down and checked her watch. “But you better go.” She gave him a gentle push toward the door. “If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll be over first thing in the morning to help with party prep.”
Steve squeezed her hand before he let her go. “Love you.”
She smiled. “Love you too.”
The order for six was for the beginning of a bachelorette party, dropped off at a day spa where a gaggle of bridesmaids was only too excited to devour two dozen unicorn-themed cupcakes while they got their pedicures.
Darcy had to assume the maid-of-honor was already a little tipsy, judging by the size of the tip she received. But she left the spa with a wallet full of unexpected cash, a smile on her face, and a rumble in her stomach.
She’d already told Steve she wouldn’t make it in time for dinner and she weighed her take out options as she made her way back to the metro station. Her eyes scanned the blocks between the spa and the station, checking for little holes-in-the-wall she’d never tried before.
If she hadn’t been looking, she would have missed it.
A green space between two brick buildings—a space that had been converted to a community garden after the demolition of its previous resident. Darcy only planned to stop for a moment—long enough to check her phone for the nearest Japanese restaurant—but the sight of a bright burst of color in the center of the lot caught her eye.
Intrigued, and with nowhere to be, Darcy made her way to the middle of the lot and the large bouquet of yellow daisies that were resting on an iron marker. As she got closer, she realized that the garden had been constructed around the marker; the whole space was set up to have it be the focal point. The early March weather had cast the lot in shades of gray and light brown, but Darcy had to imagine it was beautiful in bloom.
Curious, she stopped and bent down to let her hand drift over the soft yellow petals of the daisies. She smiled to herself, “Charlotte’s favorite,” she said mildly before her eyes fell to the inscription on the marker and her smile dropped away.
In loving memory and eternal gratitude for the men and women of the FDNY who made the supreme sacrifice for the safety of our children on November 3, 2009
Captain Margaret “Peggy” Rogers
John Krzeminski
Jack Thomspon
The breath left her in a swift rush and she swallowed hard. She reached out and ran her hand over Peggy’s name and the date.
She pursed her lips and did the math, realizing as a lump rose in the back of her throat, that Charlotte had only been eight months old when her mother had died.
It was only a few quick Google searches to find out what had happened on November 3, 2009. The details provided by the Times sank her heart lower with each word.
Where the community had dedicated a park, there had once stood a building that had housed an after school program for the local kids, K-8. There’d been an electrical fire in the afternoon and it had raged out of control by the time the department had arrived. Peggy and a team of four men had gone in to find three children who were unaccounted for.
They’d split up, according to one of the survivors, and the team of two had found the missing children and evacuated the building moments before it collapsed.
The article only briefly mentioned the families of the deceased. Jack Thompson was apparently single, Krzeminski had a wife and Peggy had left behind a husband—Lieutenant Steven Rogers, also of the FDNY, Darcy discovered with a surprise—and a baby girl, Charlotte.
She put her phone away and touched the marker one more time. She stood up and walked back to the flower vendor she’d passed a few minutes ago. A bouquet of purple gerberas caught her eye and she handed over some of her generous tip.
They looked nice next to Charlotte’s daisies.
***
Saturday
March 10th
It was a good day.
A day full of unexpected sunshine and pink balloons and confetti and rich, delicious birthday cake and the delighted laughter of her favorite little girl on the planet. If Natasha had to pick a favorite moment, it was a toss up between the squeal Charlotte let out when she opened her tickets to the ice show and the way Bucky had only pretended to blow out the candles on the cake Darcy had made for them both so that Charlotte could blow them all out herself.
A good day.
One that she would have been able to enjoy more if she could have stopped her pulse from jumping up every time she and Bucky were in the same room and her palms from turning clammy when he glanced her way.
“Are you okay?” Darcy asked as they were ushered past the doorman and into Tony’s club.
Natasha glanced up from her boots and forced a smile as she stuffed her hands back into her pockets. They were shown to a small room toward the back of the ground floor, away from the main dance hall. “I’m good,” she insisted with a shrug. “Just need to dance it out.”
Darcy tilted her head to one side and pressed her lips together. “Fair enough,” she said before her inquisitive stare lasted too long. “First round’s on me.”
“Is somebody blaspheming in my house?” The rich and familiar voice of Tony Stark came from behind them. They turned in a group as he approached with a wide smile and greeted Sam first, and then Steve and Bucky with handshakes and slaps on the back. “Gentlemen, teach your friends the rules. First round’s always on me.”
Tony was a weird guy. He used to work for Lockheed Martin, developing military technology and—according to him—that’s where he’d met Steve and Sam and Bucky. To hear him tell it, they were assigned his security detail on a trip to Iraq and saved his life from an IED.
According to Sam, they had drawn the short straw and were tasked with driving him from base to base for two weeks and had just ended up getting along. The IED in question was real and could have endangered Tony’s life—if it hadn’t been identified and neutralized before they’d driven past it. All in all, their time with Tony in Iraq had been fun, but uneventful and they had expected he would promptly forget about them when he returned to the US and sold an app he’d been working on to Google and upgraded himself from millionaire to billionaire.
But he hadn’t.
He’d bought a night club and told all three of them that they had a standing place on the VIP list any time they were in town.
Tony was weird, but he was kind and generous and had the kind of charisma it was impossible to ignore. He always remembered names and birthdays and, despite his piles of cash, seemed to be one of the more genuine people she’d met in New York.
He leaned in to scrape Natasha’s cheek with his stubble and kissed the air beside her ear. “Romanov,” he said warmly, “you look beautiful,” he pulled back and gave her a once over. “And also kind of terrifying—which, I don’t know how you do it, but it’s working for you.”
Natasha laughed and rolled her eyes as his gaze moved from her over to Darcy and his expression dropped.
“Jesus Christ.”
Darcy frowned and looked down at herself. “Sorry?” she let out a nervous laugh. “Um…”
Confused, Steve made his way back to Darcy and put an arm around her shoulders. “Tony, this is my girlfriend,” he said, interjecting himself into the moment between them. “Darcy—”
“Lewis,” Tony finished for him, extending a hand. “You’re Raina Lewis’ daughter, aren’t you?” He shook his head as Darcy clasped his hand, uncertainly. “You’ve gotta be—you look just like her. I mean, just like her.”
Darcy blinked. “Uh, yeah,” she said with another nervous smile. “Yeah, I’m Raina Lewis’ daughter. You…knew my mom?”
Natasha glanced over to see Sam quirk an eyebrow upward. He met her eyes with a curious frown. She shrugged and shook her head, not having anything to offer in explanation.
“Uh, briefly,” Tony said, recovering with a shake of his head. “She used to let me study at her bakery,” he admitted. “When I was in grad school. Sorry,” he shook his head again and blinked. “I just wasn’t…” he smiled. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said finally. “I know Steve’s brought you here once or twice—right? I’m sorry I haven’t been around before now.”
Still looking unnerved, Darcy smiled again. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Your club is great, by the way. I always have fun when I’m here.”
“Well, good,” Tony said and clapped his hands, breaking the spell. “Great. Actually,” he nodded. “Great. I’m not going to keep you,” he said, motioning toward the VIP room and the main dance floor. “I know you’ve got a birthday boy to celebrate.” He spared a grin in Bucky’s direction. “So like I said, first round’s on me; I’ll send Christina over and she’ll take care of anything you need.”
And with that, he was gone. And with Christina—his favorite cocktail waitress—taking care of their hydration needs, the strange moment between Darcy and Tony faded quickly from everyone’s memory.
Natasha had figured this part would be easy; with the drinks flowing and the music playing and a birthday to celebrate, there was no reason she couldn’t use it as an excuse to be a little extra affectionate with Bucky and see if he picked up on any of her hints.
Only he didn’t.
They drank, they talked, they teased, they all danced together—but he didn’t seem to be acting any differently than he had at the laundromat earlier in the week.
Not indifferent or borderline hostile like he’d been for most of the time they’d known each other. Just their new normal. Friendly. Sweet. Unassuming.
Annoying as shit.
The clock was nearing midnight by the time she’d made her decision. She threw back the last of her whiskey and stood up from the table. “Come on,” she said, and held out a hand to Bucky. “I wanna dance with the birthday boy.”
Bucky blinked in surprise. “Now?” he asked, setting down his drink.
She rolled her eyes. “No, I want to wait until your next birthday,” she assured him. “Yes, of course now. Come on,” she repeated. “I love this song.”
She didn’t love this song. She didn’t even know this song except that it was slow and swanky and the perfect tempo for the way she’d been feeling toward her intended dance partner for the last three months. He took her hand and let her lead him out onto the floor.
Bucky stood awkwardly beside her for a moment before she rolled her eyes and wrapped an arm around his shoulder and held his hand in hers. “I thought you knew how to dance,” she joked, coaxing a laugh that almost sounded nervous from him.
“I do,” he assured her, shaking his head like he was clearing something away. “I do.” He adjusted his stance to one less clumsy and pulled her a little closer, settling his hand on the base of her spine.
She was closer than she’d ever let herself get; completely in his personal space. Close enough to catalogue his freckles and the little lines around his mouth and eyes that deepened when he smiled. Close enough to catch the darker spots on his bottom lip where his teeth frequently bit down. She pulled back to focus on his eyes. “So are you—” she stopped and swallowed around the dryness in her throat. “Are you having a good birthday?”
Bucky cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah,” he said after a moment had passed. “Yeah it’s been—” his throat bobbed. “It’s been great.”
She smiled. “Good.”
His eyes left hers and he scanned the room. “So are we…” he paused again. “Are we making somebody jealous or—”
Her smile dropped into a look of confusion and she felt her brow furrow. “Huh?”
Bucky smiled. “I just figured…I mean…I’m not usually your partner of choice. It’s okay if you want to—”
Natasha exhaled a sigh and shook her head. “Oh my God, you’re an idiot,” she muttered to herself.
He laughed good-naturedly. “Okay then. Apparently, I misread the situation.”
“I just wanted to dance with you, Bucky,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “I just thought it would be nice.”
“It is nice,” he insisted. “It’s…” he trailed off. “Yeah. Nice.”
“Good,” she said, wondering vaguely if they’d ever progress beyond four-letter words around each other. Not wanting to risk ruining anything with further conversation, she leaned in and let her chin rest on his shoulder.
She was close enough to feel him clear his throat again and she held her breath, waiting for him to say something that would take them out of this holding pattern. But after a moment of waiting, all he managed was a soft, “Okay,” just barely loud enough for her to hear.
Darcy, as it turned out, was a fun, but clumsy drunk. She almost slipped twice on the stairs as they all made their way out of the club around one. After the second near-miss, Steve stopped her and scooped her up, tossing her easily over his shoulder. “I’m taking this mess home with me,” he announced with a grin to the three that remained. “I’ll talk to you guys later; happy birthday, Buck.”
Amused, Bucky raised a hand. “Thanks, man. Say goodnight to Darcy for us.”
“I can hear you,” she exclaimed and swatted playfully at Steve. “Turn me around.” With a sigh, Steve did as she asked, and she raised her head to smile at all of them through the hair that had fallen in her face. “Happy birthday, Bucky, I’m so glad you were born.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Sam commented as his phone buzzed with a notification. “And I’m gonna go grab my ride home before I think about agreeing with her. Have a good night, you guys.”
Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve poured Darcy into one car and Sam disappeared into another. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and a breath of cold air clouded in front of him. “So how are you getting home?”
“I called a car,” she assured him, her stomach twisting into a now familiar knot. “Should be here soon.”
She knew this shuffling. These awkward pauses between sentences. She’d been dancing around them for months now. She was so so sick of this shuffling.
“Do you want me to wait—”
“Bucky,” she cut him off before she could stop herself of the hundredth time. “Are you…have you been…” she paused and forced herself to gather her thoughts and present her question like a grown up. “Have you noticed anything different lately? About me?”
The lines in his brow deepened and his eyebrows ducked together. “Like…a haircut?”
She closed her eyes and exhaled. Now or never, Romanov. “Like…a shift, maybe? In how I…in how we’ve been…” Natasha stopped herself again and shook her head. “Screw it,” she said out loud.
She took his face in her hands and leaned in to cover his lips with hers. There was a second of hesitation—just long enough for her to consider panicking and running in the opposite direction—before his hand fell to the small of her back again and he slanted his mouth against hers.
Natasha had thought it might feel good to kiss him—to put an end to all of this tension and uncertainty. But she hadn’t expected her heart to pound and her knees to actually go weak when he pulled her against him and deepened the kiss. Suddenly the ten years she’d spent not kissing him felt like a waste. Like lost time she desperately wanted to make up for. Like lost time he wanted to make up for.
Reluctantly she pulled away as the ride she’d ordered pulled up. Bucky’s eyes stayed closed longer and he opened them slowly, mouth open a half an inch, looking dazed. He blinked the world back into focus and wet his lips. “Um.”
“That was a signal,” she informed him, catching her breath. “Of how I feel about you. Okay?”
He blinked again, looking disbelieving, before the corner of his lips curled into a slow half-smile. “Okay.”
“I’m going home and going to bed,” she said, more to remind herself than him. That she had a plan and it didn’t involve immediately giving into the wave of lust he’d just sent crashing over her. “But I just…” she bit back a smile. “I just figured I’d make it as clear as possible.”
Bucky was still smiling, still looking dazed. “Um…” he cleared his throat. “I…uh…”
She rolled her eyes again and patted his chest as she left to claim her ride. “Happy birthday, Bucky.”
Her door was almost closed when she heard him call out a response. “Thank you?”