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“Mr. Barnes, I understand how much you were relying on these funds, but I do not think there is any chance of recovering more than what you already have. We could continue to fight, but frankly, my fees will eat up most of what we could reasonably expect to gain.”
George sighs, recognizing defeat. “I understand, Mr. Murdoch. I do appreciate what you’ve managed to do for me.”
Matthew Murdoch smiles sadly from across his desk. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. Fisk was a risky business partner to begin with, and the delay between your ship’s recovery and your arrival…well. I do hope your children are well, you’ve been here for months already.”
George stands and wraps his coat tighter. “They’ll be alright. Disappointed, but they’re used to it by now. Thank you again, Mr. Murdoch.”
He steps out of the building into the November chill. There’s nothing left to do, but collect his horse and head home. And the sooner, the better; George doesn’t want to risk being caught in a blizzard.
~
The road heading north from the city is emptier than George expected. He’s traveled for two days, and has two more days of riding before he reaches home. Worried that he missed the signs of an impending storm, he urges his horse faster. If they ride through the night, he may be home before the snow falls.
Two hours later, and George has to admit that there is no beating the snow. Still, he pushes forward, determined to at least reach the next village, even as the first flakes begin to fall.
Another hour, and George fears he may never see home again. The blizzard rages around him, icy wind cutting at his face and neck. The snow drifts pile up faster than he thought possible, and he knows that if he doesn’t find shelter soon, he will freeze to death.
He pushes forward, on foot now, leading the horse. From the gray nothingness before him, a wall materializes; George shouts in surprise when he realizes this means a building of some sort. He puts one hand to the wall and starts walking with renewed hope. All he has to find is a door.
~
George finds the gate not five minutes later, and sobs in relief when it opens. Relief turns to wonder as he leads his horse into what he is certain must be an enchanted realm; there is no snow on the ground, and the only wind is what follows him through the gate. There are trees still heavy with fruit, as though it’s summer on this side of the wall.
The path he’s on leads to a small stable, empty of animals but dry and warm. George takes care of his horse, not questioning his good luck in finding both a working water pump and a barrel of feed. He closes the stall and leaves the stable, following the path as it widens into a drive that leads to a large manor house.
No one answers when he knocks, but the door opens without resistance. A flickering lamp leads him to a sitting room, where hot tea and a bowl of thick soup sit on a small table. George takes a cautious sip of the tea, feeling warmth run through him. When he tries the soup, he relaxes into the chair. He quickly finishes both, carefully setting the dishes back on the table.
Warmed to the core, George finds himself exhausted from his ordeal. He could easily fall asleep in the armchair, but a house as grand as this must have bedrooms, and he decides to push his luck in finding a real bed to rest in.
The house appears empty as he climbs the stairs, following the glow of another lamp to a bedroom where a fire burns cheerily in the fireplace. A robe lies on the bed, the blankets turned down invitingly. George carefully hangs his clothes by the fire to dry, and climbs beneath the covers.
He is asleep before his head hits the pillow.
~
In the morning, George dresses in his clothes - dried, thankfully, during the night by the fire. He makes his way back downstairs, looking for his mysterious host. There must be people here, after all; the tea and soup surely didn’t appear by magic, did they?
The sitting room again has tea waiting for him, this time accompanied by a small bowl of berries and a larger bowl of oatmeal. George cautiously samples a strawberry, surprised at the taste. He begins to think, perhaps magic is involved, after all. How else could there be fresh berries for breakfast, in late November?
He finishes his breakfast quickly, determined to leave for home immediately. If this house is magic, he shouldn’t chance staying, however good the food is.
George quickly heads back outside to the stable, saddling his horse and leading him back along the path they followed the night before.
When he reaches the orchard, though, he hesitates. He’s standing beneath a plum tree, one whose branches are loaded with fruit.
George laughs in delight, reaching up to touch one, to see if it is indeed ripe. The plum comes away in his hand. George places the fruit carefully in his pocket, then pulls several more down. When his pockets are full, he turns around with the intent to mount his horse and head home.
The way is blocked by a demon.
It has to be a demon, although he looks almost like a man; dark hair, a hideously scarred face, his eyes radiating anger.
George thinks he should try to run, but the beastly creature speaks first.
“This is how you repay my hospitality? By stealing from me?” The voice comes roughly.
“I- I didn’t know- I was only trying to-” George stutters and stumbles as the beast’s eyes narrow further. “I’m sorry, my lord, I am very grateful for the food and the bed.” He drops his head forward, squeezing his eyes tight against the tears that threaten. “My children are at home, I was trying to get back to them when I was caught in the storm. I was in the city for months longer than I was supposed to be, my ships were lost and the one that made it back…well. I was resigned to returning empty-handed, and truly I was leaving this morning, but one of my children had only asked for some plums when I left them. Some plums. They don’t grow on our farm, you see. I am truly sorry, I meant no harm to you.”
He doesn’t look up. If he’s to be executed, George would rather not see it coming.
“How many children do you have?”
George does look up at this. “Five, my lord.”
The beast nods. “That is many mouths to feed,” he comments. “And you say your fleet was lost?”
“Yes, my lord.” George shifts his weight, uneasy with the questioning.
“Very hard to feed five children with no income.”
George remains silent.
The beast looks George over, his anger seeming cooled for the moment. Finally he gives a sharp nod and speaks.
“I’ll ease your burden, then. You may leave. Go home. Take the plums, even.”
George nearly falls over in relief. “Thank you, my lord.”
“And in one month, you’ll return with one of your children,” the beast finishes.
George blanches. “What?”
“I said I’d ease your burden; it’s one less mouth for you to feed. One month. You return with one of your children. Or I will find you, and the charges of trespassing and thievery that I am graciously suspending will not be forgiven.”
He spins on his heel and stalks off without a backward glance.
George is still shaking from the encounter when he arrives home.
He briefly considers not telling his children about the deal he made; this lasts as long as it takes for Natasha to take his coat and discover the plums.
“Where did you get fresh plums in November, Papa?”
“Those are for your brother,” George dodges the question.
Bucky’s eyes light up in surprise and joy, but quickly narrow in suspicion. “It’s November, Papa. How did you find fresh plums?”
There’s no possible lie to tell them, even though the truth is nearly unbelievable. George sighs and insists on sitting down before telling them everything: the failure to recover the ship’s profits; the snowstorm; the manor home with its seemingly enchanted garden; and the Beast who let him go, if only to say good-bye to his children. He can’t ask one of them to go there, after all.
When he finishes his story, his children are unsurprisingly opposed to the idea.
“You shouldn’t go back at all, Papa!” Yelena insists.
“We’ll kill him,” Natasha says coldly. “We’ll go to his house, pretend we’re there as part of your bargain, and kill him.”
George shakes his head slowly. “You won’t be able to, I’m not sure he isn’t some sort of demon.”
“All the more reason to try!” Steve argues.
“I am not going to send any of my children to that creature!” George states firmly. “I have one month to stay with you, and I wish to enjoy every moment of it, so enough of this. Tell me what’s happened since I’ve been gone.”
While Natasha and Steve start telling their father about the harvest - small, but enough to sustain them through the winter - Rebecca levels a glare at Bucky. Bucky returns the look, not shying from her challenge. He lets his siblings dominate the conversation, resolving to speak to his father later.
~
“Later” turns to “tomorrow,” which turns into days, then weeks. It’s the day before George is due to return to the Beast’s home when Bucky finally works up the courage to approach him.
“Papa, I’ll go,” Bucky tells him softly.
George blinks at his son, and Bucky realizes he’s been weeping. “No, you won’t.”
Bucky clenches his hand into a fist. “Yes, I will. It’s my fault that you angered this Beast, because I asked for plums in the middle of summer. I should have asked for new paints, like Steve, or silk and leather, like my sisters, and I would have been disappointed like them, too. Instead, I asked for something you could give, and it led to this.
“So. Tomorrow, I’m going with you. And don’t try to leave in the night, because you know I’ll just follow you.”
George pulls his son into a hug. Bucky clings to his father, neither commenting on the tears they shed.
~
They leave early in the morning, before Bucky’s siblings wake. Bucky doesn’t want to hear their objections, or worse, their agreement. He feels a bit of guilt, knowing that his father will have to explain everything when he returns. But that pales in comparison to the guilt he feels for putting them in this situation in the first place.
The ride is cold, and long; they arrive at the manor just after sunset, with dusk quickly approaching. Despite his father’s tale, Bucky can’t quite comprehend walking through an orchard with fruit-laden trees in the middle of winter. Glancing up, he realizes this isn’t an enchantment, but a massive greenhouse.
He points this out to George who laughs at the realization. “That is an impressive feat of engineering,” he says. “And an awful lot of glass.”
At the stable, they’re met by a groom who wordlessly takes their horses and gestures toward the house. Bucky follows his father through the front doors, where they’re greeted by a tall man - the butler, Bucky guesses, from his clothing - and led upstairs to a suite of rooms, where they are immediately left alone.
The small table is set with a meal of warm bread, thick soup, and tea. George sighs and takes a seat, gesturing for his son to do the same.
“So what happens now?” Bucky asks.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I expect we’ll find out soon enough.”
No sooner have they finished their meal, a sharp knock sounds on the door. A moment later, the door opens to reveal the lord of the manor.
George leaps to his feet and gives a short bow. “My lord,” he greets.
Bucky stands as well, watching the lord carefully. George hadn’t exaggerated the man’s looks; the burns covering his face, climbing down his neck, and presumably continuing under his clothing are indeed horrific. He realizes with a start that the lord is watching him, too, and Bucky quickly ducks his head.
“What’s your name?”
“This is my youngest son, sir, named-”
“I asked him,” the lord snarls at George, then turns back to Bucky.
“I’m James, sir, but everyone calls me Bucky.”
The lord nods. “Alright, Bucky. Do you know why you’re here?”
Bucky nods.
“Are you here because you want to be? He explained it to you, he didn’t make up some story or threaten you to come here?”
Bucky swallows hard. The man’s scars are frightening, the candlelight casting fearsome shadows across his face. “I’m willing to stay here, when my father returns home,” he says. It sounds braver than he feels right now.
The lord holds his gaze for a moment, then nods again. He turns to George. “Tomorrow morning, you go home. You can stay for breakfast, but then you’re gone.”
He turns on his heel and leaves before George can answer.
~
Bucky hadn’t expected to sleep much, so waking up in the morning feeling well-rested surprises him. He dresses quickly and exits the bedroom to find the table is set with a full breakfast, sausage and eggs and oatmeal with cream and - is that coffee?
Before he even pours himself a cup, he knocks on the door to the bedroom his father took the night before. His Lordship warned them George would leave after breakfast, and Bucky wants to spend every minute possible with him.
“Papa? There’s breakfast,” he calls softly.
The door opens a moment later, and George steps out.
“Well, then, I suppose we’d better eat.”
Despite smelling delicious, the food tastes like sawdust to Bucky; he’s spending his last hour with his father, and after that…well, he’ll find out what his fate entails. Neither his father nor the lord were very clear about it.
“What will you tell them?” Bucky asks, meaning his siblings.
George sighs and takes a long drink of coffee before answering. “I’ll tell them the truth. Anything less would have your brother launching a clandestine campaign to rescue you.”
Bucky nods as he pokes at his plate. Steve would try such a thing. So would Natasha and Yelena, for that matter. But Rebecca…
“Tell Becca first,” he says. “She’ll convince the rest of them to let it be.”
“You are probably right,” George tells him. “Now, will you see me off?”
Bucky slumps back into his chair. There’s no avoiding it; the food has gone cold, and the sun is well into the sky. It’s time to say goodbye.
~
When they emerge from the house, a carriage is waiting, the Barnes’ horses harnessed to it. Bucky swallows around the lump in his throat as he hugs his father tightly.
“Stay safe, James. And stay strong,” George murmurs before stepping back.
Bucky can only nod in response. He watches his father climb onto the carriage, and manages a wave as it starts down the drive. He watches the wheels turn and wonders how it will handle snow, once they leave the cover of the gardens here. He watches the carriage grow smaller, and then it is out of sight, and Bucky isn’t sure if it took a turn or if it’s the tears blurring his vision.
He watches until he admits that his father is gone, and Bucky finally turns back to the house.
Once inside the doors, Bucky isn’t quite sure where to go. Back to the room he stayed in last night? Is that still his room, or will he need to move to a staff dormitory? Is he supposed to report to someone? What exactly is he here for?
From the story his father had told, a month ago now, it certainly sounded like he was entering into the lord’s staff. But something about the questions he was asked last night didn't sound quite right. Why would the lord care if he is here because he wants to be, if his father would have been held against his will? Or maybe he just wanted to make sure Bucky wasn’t lied to. As though his father could be that cruel, to sentence his own child to a lifetime of servitude.
Bucky shakes his head to clear it, and decides to find the kitchen. There should be people there, after all.
Or maybe, Bucky considers a few minutes later, he should have waited until someone showed up looking for him. He is thoroughly lost; the house is big, maybe closer to a castle than a house. And he’s not sure if it’s possible to walk in circles in a castle, but he’s pretty sure that’s the same tapestry he passed two turns ago, and that can’t be right unless he turned completely around without noticing.
Unfortunately, Bucky isn’t sure he can even retrace his steps back to the door again. He considers his options while examining the tapestry; the scene depicts a battle between a knight and a nine-headed monster.
“It’s a hydra.”
Bucky manages not to jump, but still whirls in surprise at the voice. A boy, barely old enough to be a teenager, grins at him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy tells him. “I’m Peter.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter. Call me Bucky.”
Peter smiles even wider. “Hi, Bucky. Aunt May told me you were here. Well, not here, here, but in the manor, here. We’re all pretty excited, we haven’t had anyone new in ages, and everyone’s been talking about it, although we didn’t know it would be you, of course, Lord Brock didn’t say, but Rollins-”
He cuts himself off, eyes wide as though he’s just realized he shouldn’t be speaking about this. Instead of finishing, he asks, “Are you hungry?”
Bucky can’t help smiling at Peter’s energy and excitement. He makes note of his apparent new employer’s name - Lord Brock - and answers honestly. “I am a little hungry, yes.”
“Great! Follow me, Aunt May has so much food made, she even made a pie, and she’ll be excited to meet you anyway.”
Peter turns and gestures to Bucky to follow him. They make their way through a hall, down a staircase, and into a brightly lit, very warm kitchen. A woman about his father’s age is setting a tray of bread rolls on the counter to cool.
“Aunt May! This is Bucky! He’s hungry!” Peter announces.
May looks up and gives Peter a fond, if exasperated, smile. “Well, then, find him a chair and grab some plates.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she turns to Bucky and greets him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mister Bucky. I’m May Parker, I’m the cook here. And you’ve met my nephew, of course.
“Please, sit down. We’re not quite as much for ceremony and rules here as we should be, I’m afraid. Rollins doesn’t much like it but his lordship doesn’t pay it any mind.” She steps aside as Peter reaches the table with three plates. “How hungry are you? I’ve got soup, the rolls, there’s always fresh butter for them too. I could make you some eggs or-”
“Really, the soup is enough, thank you Mrs. Parker,” Bucky tells her.
“Call me May, please. And you’ll have a roll to go with it, too.”
The soup is delicious. While they eat, May asks questions about whether he has any favorite foods, or any that he particularly dislikes. Peter tells him about the barn cat that just had a litter of kittens.
At the end of the meal, Bucky tries to clear his plate, but May stops him. “That’s not your job,” she tells him gently. “Peter, can you show Bucky back to his room? I have a feeling he’ll get lost along the way.”
Bucky exhales in relief, because he has a feeling he’ll get lost on his way, too.
“Thank you, May, this was really good,” he tells her sincerely.
“Come back anytime you like,” she says with a wave.
~
This time, Bucky pays careful attention to the route they take, noting all the important landmarks: the tapestry of the hydra fight, the table with the blue and white vase, the painting of a ship being attacked by a kraken. Bucky shivers a bit at that one; he isn’t convinced a kraken is real, anymore than a hydra, but no one quite knows what happened to his father’s ships. The thought of all those sailors fighting off a giant sea monster, and drowning in the end, is not a pleasant one.
Eventually, they arrive at a different door than Bucky remembers leaving this morning. “Are you sure this is my room?”
“Yes, definitely,” Peter answers with a nod. “Aunt May had it aired out a few days ago, and when you arrived yesterday she had it made up for you.”
“I thought she’s the cook?”
Peter laughs. “She is. But she’s also the housekeeper. It’s not a huge staff, really. Aunt May and Rollins run the house, Wanda and Pietro take care of outside. Oh, and MJ, well Michelle, but she likes MJ better. But she helps May when she needs it.”
Bucky commits the names to memory. It shouldn’t be too difficult to figure out who is who, now that he’s met May and Peter, and he knows the man he thought was the butler, is Rollins.
“What do you do, then?” Bucky asks.
“Me?” Peter asks, surprised. “Oh, I’m not…I mean, I help out where it’s needed, but really, I’m sort of, studying? Like, mathematics, and mechanics. When I’m old enough, I’m taking the entrance exams for university.”
He says it simply, as though it isn’t something to be proud of.
“That’s very impressive,” Bucky tells him.
“Yeah? I just like learning. The library here is really great, you should see it!” Peter’s enthusiasm bubbles up again. “I’m in there right after breakfast, until noon most days. I can show you tomorrow.”
Bucky agrees, and Peter practically bounces down the hall, leaving Bucky to explore his new room.
The bed is larger than he expected, about the same size as the one he had back home, but much softer. There’s a writing desk and chair near the window, which looks out over a garden. There are no flowers visible, but Bucky doesn’t expect any in the middle of winter.
There’s a wardrobe, also, which Bucky opens to find several sets of clothing. Curious, he holds them up to gauge the size; two of the shirts and a waistcoat are close enough to fit him. He lays them on the bed and considers whether to change into them, then decides with a nod to go ahead. They’re nicer than what he’s wearing, by any measure.
With the waistcoat fastened, he feels…nervous. The stitching on it rivals his sister’s finest work, and he’s suddenly worried that maybe he isn’t supposed to be wearing this.
A knock at the door pulls Bucky from his thoughts. He crosses the room and pulls open the door to reveal Rollins, who says nothing about the clothes but nods slowly at him in greeting.
“Lord Brock asks if you’ll join him for dinner.”
Bucky blinks in surprise. “But I thought…” He doesn’t actually know what he thought, but being invited to have dinner with the lord of the manor, instead of in the kitchen with May and Peter, is not it. Still, this isn’t an invitation he can politely decline, so he clears his throat and answers, “Yes, I will.”
Rollins nods again, and steps back, waiting for Bucky to follow. He leads Bucky to the dining room, which is far too large to be practical for just two people dining. There are two place settings at one end of the massive table, with Lord Brock standing next to it.
“Thank you for joining me, Bucky.”
Bucky manages a smile and sits when Lord Brock does. Rollins serves the first course - some of the same soup May had served at lunchtime - and retreats to stand near the door. Bucky waits for Lord Brock to begin eating before he picks up his spoon.
Dinner is awkwardly silent. Bucky wonders if he’s meant to start a conversation, or if he should wait until his lordship speaks. The soup is finished, and the bowls replaced with the main course, some kind of game bird. Bucky doesn’t recognize it, but sees it as an opportunity to speak.
“I don’t recognize this bird, sir. What is it?”
“Grouse,” Lord Brock answers. “Have you ever had it?”
Bucky shakes his head. “We don’t have much to hunt at home. My sister raises pigeons, and chickens, of course. Mostly we keep them for eggs.”
Lord Brock nods, but doesn’t reply. They eat the rest of the meal in silence, save for Bucky’s murmured “thank you” when dessert is served.
The plum cake is delicious, and Bucky savors every bite. He wonders how often May makes it, and how she might be convinced to make another, when Lord Brock interrupts his thoughts.
“How do you like it here?”
Bucky nearly drops his fork. He’s been here only a day, and he still isn’t sure just what his role here is supposed to be, if he’s a prisoner or an employee. Unthinking, he says as much, then nearly claps his hand over his mouth in shock.
Lord Brock exhales sharply, and Bucky keeps his eyes firmly locked on his plate. The damage is done, he knows; he’s angered Lord Brock, and he’ll have to deal with the consequences.
Instead of anger, though, Lord Brock sounds apologetic when he answers. “You’re right, I haven’t explained things very well. You’re not a prisoner, and you’re not under my employ. You’re a…resident here, Bucky.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Bucky asks. When Lord Brock doesn’t answer right away, he pushes a bit more. “What am I supposed to do here?”
Lord Brock sighs and stands from the table. “You don’t have to do anything, Bucky. Just, be happy.”
He leaves the room after that. Rollins follows, leaving Bucky alone at the table with the remains of his plum cake.
Bucky wakes with the sun pouring through the window. He stretches and climbs out of bed, unsure whether he’s missed breakfast, or even where he should eat it. He dresses quickly, in his own clothes; neither Rollins nor Lord Brock had said anything about the waistcoat last night, but Bucky doesn’t want to push his luck.
After a moment’s hesitation, he makes his way down to the kitchen. If he’s missed breakfast, perhaps May will at least have some coffee.
When he reaches the kitchen, May immediately sits him at the table and brings him fresh coffee, a plate of eggs and toast, and a bowl of oatmeal.
“I can’t let you go hungry, just because you slept in a bit,” she assures him. “And I’ll always make coffee, just ask.”
“Thank you,” Bucky tells her sincerely. “Is Peter already in the library?”
Before May can answer, Peter bursts through the kitchen door.
“Bucky! You’re here! Do you still want to see the library today?”
Bucky nods and quickly finishes his food. With a hurried “thank you” to May, he stands and follows Peter up the stairs.
The library is much larger, and much brighter, than Bucky expected. The library at home was barely two shelves of books in the room that doubled as his father’s office, and only had one small window. This room, however, is as large as the dining room, and three walls are lined with bookshelves. There are two large desks positioned in the middle of the room, where the light from the windows is brightest, and in the far corner sit a couch and two armchairs.
Peter walks over to the nearest of the two desks and sits down. “This is where I’ve been studying,” he says, opening the tome in front of him. “The couch over there is really comfortable, too, if you just want to sit and read.”
“This is incredible,” Bucky says, moving closer to the shelves. “How long did it take to build this?”
“The library, or the collection?”
Bucky startles at the new voice. He turns and feels his face flush when he recognizes the man standing just inside the door.
“Good morning, sir, and I meant the collection,” he answers.
“My grandparents were the ones who started collecting, but the bulk of it has been the last fifteen years or so,” Lord Brock answers. “There’s a bookseller in the city, I visit him when I travel there.”
“You must mean Wong,” Bucky replies. “I remember his shop.”
“I thought you were from the country,” Lord Brock inquires.
Bucky huffs softly, tracing his fingers over the spine of a book. “That’s only been the last few years, since my father’s fleet was lost. We used to live in the city.”
Lord Brock hums in response, then gently says, “That must have been difficult to get used to.”
“Only a little,” Bucky admits. “It was harder for my sisters, I think. Especially…” He trails off, belatedly realizing that criticizing his sisters is hardly an appropriate topic of conversation.
“Well, you’re welcome to read anything you find here. And if there’s a topic you’re particularly fond of, let Rollins know and he can add it to our list, for the next visit.” Lord Brock looks over to where Peter is scribbling notes, seemingly oblivious to their conversation. “Have you finished that one yet, Peter?”
Peter’s head snaps up and around. “Almost, sir.”
Lord Brock smiles, and while it’s still a frightening sight, the skin twisting around his mouth, Bucky finds it not so terrifying as when they first met. “Keep it up, I’ve already started writing my recommendation.”
Peter grins and turns back to his book.
“You’re welcome to read anything you find here, Bucky,” Lord Brock continues, returning his gaze to Bucky. “Have a pleasant morning.”
Bucky barely manages a “thank you” before the older man leaves.
~
“I still can’t believe you manage to grow fruit trees in winter,” Bucky comments to May over breakfast the next morning. “I know that greenhouses make growing some vegetables possible, but I never imagined you could get plum trees to blossom outside of spring.”
“Oh, that’s all Wanda’s doing,” May answers with a laugh. “Have you met her yet?”
Bucky shakes his head.
“She’s brilliant with the orchards. The gardens, too, she works some kind of magic on them.” May drapes a cloth over the bowl of bread dough and sets it near the oven to rise, then removes her apron. “Come along, I’ll introduce you.”
Bucky pushes back from the table and stands to follow her. They exit through the kitchen door, May leading him down a walking path to the garden shed. She knocks on the door to the shed, and when no one answers she turns back to Bucky with a shrug.
“She’s probably in one of the greenhouses,” May offers.
Remembering the impossibly high glass roof from his arrival, Bucky asks, “I thought the entire orchard was a greenhouse?”
“Not quite,” a new voice answers. Bucky wonders briefly if sneaking up on people is a rule, or just a habit, as he turns to see a smiling, red-haired woman holding a basket filled with plums. She smiles and lifts the basket closer to him. “Please, take one. I’m told you’re fond of them.”
Bucky nods, taking one of the plums gratefully. “They’re my favorite,” he tells her.
“Wanda, Bucky had some questions about the trees here,” May says by way of introduction.
Wanda raises an eyebrow.
“Not really questions, more like curiosity,” Bucky explains. “It’s just, when I arrived we rode through an orchard that’s under glass? It saved my father’s life, when he first came here, and then you manage to grow fruit year round? It’s amazing.”
“It was his lordship’s idea, I’m just the caretaker here,” Wanda demures. “He spared no expense with the glassmakers.”
“How long did it take to build?” Bucky asks.
“The construction took only a few months, the real challenge was getting the trees to believe it was a different season.” Wanda hands the basket to May and gestures for Bucky to join her. She takes him on a tour of the groves as she explains, stopping to point out the supports where they hide in between trees. By the time they return to the main house, Bucky has learned more about both greenhouses and gardening than he imagined.
“I wish I could tell my sister about this, she’d love it,” Bucky tells her.
Wanda laughs. “Write her a letter, then!”
Bucky freezes. He didn’t think…but then, no one ever said he couldn’t write to his family. He might have to stay here, but maybe he isn’t completely cut off from home.
“I should do that,” he says finally. “Thank you, Wanda.”
“It was my pleasure, Bucky.”
~
Upon returning to the house, Bucky tries to visit the library again. He makes it as far as the hallway when Peter finds him.
“Bucky! Rollins was looking for you,” he greets him, nearly bouncing with energy.
“He was?”
“Yes! He wanted to know about your clothes, come on.” Peter grabs his hand and starts tugging him towards the stairs.
Bucky follows, worry starting to gnaw at him. “What about my clothes?” He hasn’t touched the wardrobe since the first night, when he wore the waistcoat to dinner. Should he not have? But then, why would Rollins wait to say anything?
“Rollins! I found him!” Peter announces as he pulls Bucky through a doorway and into a room Bucky hasn’t seen before. Rollins is standing by a table, on which sits paper, a pencil, and a measuring tape.
Rollins offers a small smile to Peter, then turns to Bucky. “I just needed to send your measurements to the tailor,” he explains.
“Oh,” Bucky replies, confused. “I’m not sure…”
“We didn’t have any way to guess at what you’d need before you arrived. But you’re here now, and we can order them to measure.”
Lost for words, Bucky simply nods and lets Rollins take his measurements. Peter writes them down as Rollins calls out the numbers. When he’s finished, Rollins dismisses them both with a wave.
Back in the hall, Bucky turns to Peter. “Does everyone get new clothes when they arrive?”
Peter shrugs. “I guess. I don’t really know, you’re the first new person since I’ve been here. I should get going, MJ’s visiting her grandmother and Aunt May asked for help with dinner tonight. You’re eating with Lord Brock, right?”
“What?” Bucky had eaten in the kitchen the night before.
“That’s why she asked for help, anyway. He didn’t ask you?”
“Not yet,” Bucky answers cautiously.
Peter frowns, then nods quickly. “Well, stay where someone can find you, then. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?”
At Bucky’s agreement, Peter grins and takes off down the hall. Bucky makes his way back to his room, tugging absently at his shirt sleeve. Maybe it’s normal to order new clothes for everyone when they come here, he thinks. Bucky isn’t going to complain about new shirts, certainly; the ones he brought from home are pretty old, even if they’re in good repair.
When he reaches his room he goes straight to the wardrobe, pulling out the waistcoat from the other night. If he’s going to be invited to dine with Lord Brock again, he might as well try to look nice.
~
Despite Peter’s suggestion to stay in his room, no one knocks at Bucky’s door to invite him to dinner. He waits past the time he knows the rest of the house will start eating, just in case. But when his stomach starts growling, Bucky tamps down his disappointment and heads down to the kitchen.
May greets him by pushing him into a chair, then setting a plate with a slice of plum cake in front of him.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got dinner for you as well,” she tells him. “But since someone thought to tell you not to join us, you get dessert first.” May looks pointedly at her nephew, who shrinks in his seat a bit.
“I didn’t know he’d have to leave like that,” Peter defends.
Bucky glances between the two. “Who had to leave?”
“His lordship and Rollins, they’ll be back in a few days. You still get the dinner you should have had, though.” May sets another plate in front of him.
“Thank you,” Bucky says. He eats quietly, then asks, “Do they do that often?”
May shakes her head. “Not usually, no. And seldom unplanned.”
Bucky finishes his food and thanks May again, before excusing himself back to his room. He carefully unbuttons the waistcoat before hanging it up, then changes completely into pajamas. He climbs into bed, finally allowing himself to ponder why he felt disappointed at not having dinner with Lord Brock tonight.
The next few days pass uneventfully. Bucky spends his mornings in the library with Peter, and in the afternoons he explores the gardens. Most of them are not under the greenhouse roof, and he enjoys the brisk winter air as he makes his way along the walkways, imagining what they will look like in spring and summer.
Bucky’s new clothes arrive; he finally meets MJ when she shows up to help him sort the shirts and suits into the wardrobe.
“Peter says you read a lot,” she comments, carefully folding a shirt into a drawer. “Do you like history or fiction more?”
That sets off a conversation about a romance novel they’ve both read, which lasts longer than it takes them to put away the clothes. Bucky notices that it’s close to dinner, and mentions this to MJ.
“Well, it’s been nice to chat with you, Bucky,” she tells him, “but I’ve got to get home. I’ll see you around.”
After the door shuts, Bucky turns back to his wardrobe. He decides to change into one of his new shirts, a deep red one that feels nicer than anything he’s worn, even when his family still lived in the city. Once it’s buttoned, he heads down to the kitchen for dinner.
He’s just reached the stair landing when Lord Brock turns the corner. They both stop, watching each other; Lord Brock has clearly just returned from his journey, his clothes rumpled and his hair disheveled.
“Bucky, you’re looking well,” he greets.
Bucky finds himself smiling as he replies, “Thank you, sir. It’s nice to see you back.”
The lord returns the smile, then asks, “Would you join me for dinner tonight?”
“I…um, yes, thank you,” Bucky answers, descending the rest of the stairs. “I imagine you need to get changed?”
Lord Brock barks a laugh and turns down the hall toward the dining room. “I probably should, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Mrs. Parker can scold me for the mess later. Please, come along.”
Bucky hurries to follow, wondering whether May would actually scold the lord like she might her nephew. They reach the dining room to find the table set, and Peter setting a covered dish in the middle. He glances up and gives Bucky a grin before ducking out of the room.
Lord Brock holds Bucky’s chair for him, and Bucky sinks into it with a murmured “thank you.” The lord takes his own seat and reaches over to pull the cover from the dish, revealing a simple meal of roasted vegetables. Bucky knows it’s the same thing he’d have eaten downstairs in the kitchen, but it’s hardly a disappointment to be sharing this with Lord Brock.
~
A few weeks after Lord Brock’s return, Bucky makes his way to the library, finally putting to action something he’s intended to do almost since he arrived. He finds paper, pen, and ink easily enough, and begins writing a letter to Rebecca.
Once he’s filled a page describing the orchards and the greenhouses, he pauses. The light has changed; it’s much closer to the evening than he realized. Glancing back down at the paper, Bucky considers whether to continue on with describing the castle’s inhabitants, or if he should save it for another letter.
He’s just decided to set the letter aside until tomorrow, when Rollins enters the library.
“Bucky,” Rollins greets him with a nod, “his lordship asks if you’ll have dinner with him tonight.”
Bucky smiles and stands up from the desk. “I would be delighted to.” They’ve shared their evening meal every night this week, and most of the week before.
Rollins nods, then gestures at the desk. “Whenever you’re ready to post your letter, leave it in that basket. It’ll go out the next morning.”
“Oh. Thank you, Rollins.” Bucky hadn’t thought about how he would actually post the letter. He’s not even sure how to address it, honestly; the only correspondence they’d received at the country house was the letter from Mr. Murdoch, informing George that one of his ships had returned. He supposes he’ll have to ask someone.
For now, though, Bucky is more concerned about making sure he’s dressed in time for dinner. He still eats breakfast and lunch in the kitchen with May and Peter, but sharing a meal with Lord Brock is becoming a highlight of Bucky’s days.
Bucky makes his way to his room and quickly changes into another of the shirts he received, this one a deep blue. He shrugs into a waistcoat and fastens it, and is about to head downstairs when he hears a tiny mewling sound coming from under his bed. Crouching down, he finds himself eye-to-eye with a small white kitten.
“Hello there,” Bucky tells the kitten. “How did you get in here?”
The kitten meows at him.
“How about we get you back to your mama?” Bucky stretches out his hand slowly, relieved when the kitten lets him pick it up instead of moving away. He stands back up, holding the kitten carefully in both hands. She’s very small, likely too small to be fully weaned, and Bucky suspects she’s part of the litter Peter told him about when he first arrived.
Bucky sets off downstairs again, this time for the kitchen where he hopes to find Peter, but he runs into Lord Brock at the landing again.
“Good evening, Bucky,” Lord Brock greets him, smiling his no-longer-frightening smile.
“Good evening, sir,” Bucky replies, suddenly nervous. He doesn’t want to appear rude, but he can’t go into dinner holding a kitten. “I was going to-”
“Please, Bucky, you can call me Brock.”
Bucky nearly chokes on his own breath. That’s very…familiar, and despite the house being relaxed on so many things, everyone on staff definitely uses his title. Even Rollins, who Bucky now knows was Lord Brock’s batman in the army.
“Um. Okay, sir- Brock, sir, I was, um-”
Perhaps taking pity on Bucky for his stuttering, Brock nods at Bucky’s hands. “Who is this?”
Bucky exhales, taking the opportunity to explain. “I found her in my room today. I was going to see if Peter could reunite her with her mother, she’s too small to be away from her yet.”
“Then we should definitely pay him a visit,” Brock tells him, gesturing for Bucky to follow.
When they reach the kitchen, it takes some coaxing to detach the kitten from Bucky’s waistcoat, as she had fastened her tiny claws into the fabric. Peter takes the kitten with a promise that she will be returned to her mama, and promises to introduce Bucky to the rest of the litter if he wants.
For a moment, Bucky thinks they might eat down here, but May gestures for them to leave. He’s relieved, since he stumbles over using Brock’s name twice more while they eat, although after dinner he is able to say, “Good night, Brock,” without hesitation.
“Bucky, there’s a letter for you.”
Bucky looks up from his book as Rollins strides across the library, holding an envelope. He takes it with a murmured “thank you,” but makes no move to open it. He recognizes the writing as Natasha’s, which surprises him. He’s sent several letters to Rebecca, even though he hasn’t heard back from her, or any of his siblings. But if anyone was going to write him back, he would have guessed it would be Rebecca, or maybe Steve; he just assumed they were too busy trying to keep the farm running, to bother with correspondence.
He sets aside the book, and takes the letter up to his room to read. If it’s bad news, he wants to be alone when he reads it; if it’s good news, he’ll be able to share it anyway.
With the door latched, he sits at the desk and opens the envelope carefully, holding his breath.
Bucky nearly laughs when he reads the card inside.
George Barnes requests the honor of your presence
at the marriage of his daughter,
Natasha Barnes,
to
Captain Samuel Wilson.
Then he reads it again, confused; the wedding is in the city, in two months. That is a very long way for them to travel, and how did Natasha even meet this captain?
Bucky isn’t sure how long he’s been frowning at the invitation when he hears a meow at his feet. The little kitten that he found in his bedroom, has grown into a much larger kitten who somehow manages to get into his room, even with the door closed and latched. And she only ever finds her way into his room.
“Hey, Alpine,” he says, reaching down to pet her. Alpine purrs and pushes her head into his hand, then jumps into his lap. “I wonder if I can even go to this wedding. Do you think it’s worth asking?”
~
“That’s wonderful news,” Brock tells him over dinner. “Of course you can attend.”
Bucky inhales sharply in surprise. “Thank you,” he breathes out.
Brock looks at him carefully. “Did you think I would say no?”
“Well…honestly, I don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard from my family at all since I arrived here, and my sister is marrying some captain I’ve never heard of, let alone met, and it’s all just a little overwhelming. And now I’m going to see them.” Bucky huffs. “I don’t really know how to react to any of it.”
Brock nods in understanding. “That is a lot to take in. You have over a month before you need to travel, though.”
“I guess so.” Bucky smiles. “Thank you, really. I’m very happy for Tasha, and even happier that I’ll get to attend.”
~
Bucky steps outside nervously. Rollins has already taken his small trunk (Bucky had tried to insist he didn’t need that many clothes, but everyone had insisted he take more than just his travel clothes and the new suit for the wedding) and loaded it in the carriage. Bucky isn’t sure that he needs the carriage, either, but Brock insists that he take it.
Now, the carriage is ready to go, and Brock is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Peter and May are waiting to wish him a safe journey.
“I’ve packed enough food for the journey,” May tells him. “Enough for both you and Rollins, and then some, so don’t worry about making it last. And we’ll see you soon.”
Peter gives him a hug and asks him, “you’ll come back, won’t you?”
Bucky freezes. “Why would you ask me that?” Of course, he’ll come back.
“Nevermind,” Peter whispers. “Have fun, Bucky.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Bucky promises as he climbs into the carriage.
Rollins checks to make sure Bucky is ready, and climbs into the driver’s seat. Bucky waves to Peter and May as the carriage starts moving. A flicker of movement in a window catches his attention, but he can’t tell which window it is, and then the carriage is past the house and moving down the road.
The carriage pulls to a stop in front of a house that is almost as grand as the one Bucky was raised in. He can’t help asking Rollins, “Is this the right address?”
Rollins nods and unloads Bucky’s trunk. “When you’re ready to come back, you can make arrangements through Sitwell and Roberts.”
The front door opens and Becca and Steve burst through. Bucky turns to Rollins and thanks him.
“Enjoy your visit, Bucky.” Rollins pulls himself back to the driver’s seat.
Before Bucky can respond, the carriage is moving and Becca and Steve have him wrapped in a giant hug.
“We’re so glad you’re home!” Becca tells him when she finally lets go.
Bucky smiles at his siblings, then asks, “What do you mean, ‘home?’ When did you move?”
Steve gives him an odd look, but before he can speak Becca is pulling Bucky into the house, calling for the rest of their family. The next hour is consumed with hugs and reassurances, and it isn’t until Bucky is alone in the bedroom Becca called “his” that he thinks to ask again. But then, it’s time for dinner, and all anyone talks about is Captain Wilson and the wedding.
After dinner, despite his exhaustion, Bucky seeks out his father. He finds him in what must be George’s office, from the desk and the collection of books, ledgers, and stacks of paper.
“What happened?” Bucky asks. “Did you find the rest of the fleet after all?”
George sighs, gesturing for Bucky to sit. “I was given a loan,” he explains carefully. “And things have been going well, and we’re quite lucky, James. We were able to move back here, and then Natasha met Captain Wilson, and Rebecca’s being courted as well, and it’s…we’ve been very blessed, son. You shouldn’t worry about it.”
Bucky bites at his lips, not sure how much of George’s story he believes. “I’m happy for everyone, of course,” he says. “It would be nice if someone had written to tell me.”
“That’s my fault,” George tells him. “I told them not to write to you. I wasn’t sure if it would be allowed, even when your letters started showing up, and I didn’t want them to be disappointed if you couldn’t or didn’t answer their questions.”
“You sent the wedding invitation,” Bucky points out.
“And I didn’t expect that you would actually attend,” George defends. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if you weren’t here.”
Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not a prisoner, Papa. And if you think I was, why did you even take me there?”
He leaves before his father can answer.
~
Captain Wilson turns out to be handsome, charming, and completely besotted with Natasha. Natasha appears genuinely happy, as well, which makes the journey for their wedding worth the discomfort and awkwardness, Bucky decides. Seeing the rest of his siblings so carefree again is a relief, too.
It isn’t until the last of the guests depart the next morning, that he remembers Rollins’ instructions to arrange his own travel. Of course, Rollins wouldn’t stay in the city just for Bucky; and of course, Bucky would be expected to stay a bit longer, since he’s not just an invited guest but family. He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s expected to stay, but he hopes Sitwell and Roberts will be able to give him an idea of the best schedule.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sitwell treats him with more suspicion than any kind of helpfulness.
“Very few people even know about Lord Rumlow’s estate, let alone want to visit,” the man tells Bucky, eyes narrowed. “We will have to verify who you are, of course, and confirm with Lord Rumlow that you are indeed allowed to book travel on his account.”
The bundle of nerves in Bucky’s stomach is starting to make its way up his throat. “How long will that take?”
Mr. Sitwell leans back in his chair. “As long as it takes. We can’t send you along on your say-so.”
“Mr. Rollins said to-”
“What did you say your name was, again?”
Bucky’s confidence gives out. “Sorry to bother you,” he says, then flees the office.
~
A week passes, then another, and Bucky distracts himself by spending time with his remaining siblings. He spends time in Steve’s studio, glad that his brother is able to pursue painting again. He accompanies Becca on her daily walks, managing a smile when she introduces him to their neighbors. He escorts Yelena to the bookshop. (And if he’s secretly hoping to see someone from Brock’s household there, he keeps his disappointment to himself.)
When Becca tells him they’ve been invited to dinner at the Carter residence, Bucky sighs and pulls out some of his nicer clothes. Steve is courting Miss Sharon Carter, so the invitation isn’t surprising, although Becca’s enthusiasm is. It isn’t until he’s seated next to Captain Danvers, with Becca asking pointed questions clearly meant to encourage conversation between them, that Bucky realizes his sister’s plan.
The rest of the dinner, from Bucky’s perspective, is stilted. Captain Danvers seems to catch on, though, and when the meal ends she leans over to confide, “I’m actually engaged to a colonel, it just hasn't been announced yet.”
Bucky relaxes slightly at this. Whether she’s telling the truth, or simply releasing him from any obligation to appear interested, he appreciates it.
“Congratulations to you both, Captain,” he tells her sincerely.
~
The following week, it’s Steve who is overly enthusiastic about their dinner with the Carters. Bucky tries not to roll his eyes when he is introduced to Miss Jessica Jones, who appears equally excited to be one half of the Barnes siblings’ amateur matchmaking.
“I apologize for my siblings, this was not my idea at all,” Bucky tells his dinner companion.
Miss Jones gives him a small smile, then tells him conspiratorially, “I’m eloping tomorrow night, with Mr. Cage. This dinner is just to throw my family off guard.”
Bucky nearly laughs at this confession. “Aren’t you taking a bit of a risk, telling me?”
“Maybe, but I get the feeling you won’t say anything to anyone, even after the scandal breaks.” She takes a sip of wine. “I don’t think there will be much of a scandal anyway, there will be something bigger and juicier along soon enough, there always is.”
Bucky shakes his head and smiles. “You’re probably right about that, Miss Jones. And I won’t tell a soul, I wish you two the best of luck.”
~
“Bucky, I know you and Miss Jones seemed to get along well the other night, but I’m afraid she’s, well, she’s run off to marry someone else.” Becca appears almost contrite as she delivers this news.
“I’m very happy for her,” Bucky replies, then returns to reading his book.
Becca stares at him, only breaking her gaze when Yelena pipes up from her chair, “Bucky doesn’t want to court anybody, he’s in love with that beastly man Papa sold him to.”
Bucky slams his book shut.
“What, you think it was a coincidence Papa got a loan and new contracts the same month you went to live with that monster?” Yelena scoffs.
“He isn’t a monster,” Bucky hisses before storming out of the room. Once he reaches his bedroom, he locks the door, falls onto his bed, and screams into his pillow. When he stops shaking, he rolls onto his back and considers that he hadn’t denied the other two things Yelena stated.
~
A few days later, Bucky is staring at a blank sheet of paper, unsure of how to start. Is Dear Brock too personal? Lord Rumlow is far too formal. Bucky goes to set the pen to paper and hesitates, again. Will his father even let him post this letter? George already admitted he wouldn’t let any of Bucky’s siblings write to him. True, Bucky could take the letter to the post himself, but aside from that ill-fated visit to Sitwell & Roberts he hasn’t left the house on his own since his arrival. Doing so now will definitely invite questions, at the very least.
“I might as well be a prisoner here,” Bucky mutters to himself. He huffs at the irony, his family is so convinced he’s Brock’s prisoner even when his presence here proves otherwise.
A knock at the door startles him enough to blot the ink onto the paper. Annoyed, Bucky calls out a short, “What?”
The door cracks open and Steve pokes his head in. “We’re having guests over for dinner,” he tells Bucky. “And, Becca will probably be angry that I’m telling you, but she’s going to sit you next to Sir T’Challa.”
Bucky’s grip on the pen tightens. “Thanks for the warning, Steve.”
“Yelena shouldn’t have said that about you, the other day.”
“Which part?” Bucky asks, his voice sharp with irritation. “The part about being in love with Lord Brock? Or the part about Papa selling me to him? They’re both true, she wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”
Steve’s shoulders slump. “Papa didn’t ‘sell’ you, or he wouldn’t be paying back the loan. And I don’t know how you feel about Lord Rumlow, since you haven’t told me. Becca thought if we could find you a match here, you’d stay. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone along with it. I’m sorry for that, Bucky, I really am.”
Bucky takes a breath and lets it out slowly before answering. “Thank you, Steve.”
“Do you want me to make an excuse for you tonight?” Steve asks.
“No, I’ll be there,” Bucky answers. “I’m going to run an errand first, but I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”
Steve watches him a moment, then nods. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.”
~
Bucky dresses in his favorite suit and is next to his sisters when Sir T’Challa and his entourage arrive. He smiles as they are introduced, and has to give his sister credit, because Sir T’Challa is a very impressive man. If Bucky had any doubts about where his heart actually lay, he might be tempted to let the knight court him after all.
Instead, Bucky smiles through dinner, engaging in the conversation, wondering if this is what Captain Danvers and the new Mrs. Cage felt like, holding their secrets. At the end of the meal, when T’Challa asks if he can call on Bucky tomorrow, Bucky waits until the rest of the guests have left before answering.
“I’m very flattered, but I won’t be here,” Bucky confesses. “I’m leaving for the country tomorrow, and I don’t think I’ll be returning to the city.”
T’Challa smiles sadly. “That is disappointing, but I do wish you a safe journey. I take it that your family does not yet know of your plans?”
“They don’t,” Bucky admits. “Is it too much of me to ask that you keep that to yourself, tonight at least?”
“That is not too much to ask, James. And thank you for your honesty.”
The following morning, Bucky wakes early. He packs his clothes and carries his trunk down to the front hall before joining his siblings for breakfast. Steve watches him closely, but Bucky brushes off any questions about last night’s dinner and whether T’Challa will be calling this afternoon.
He’s just managed to tell Yelena that he can’t accompany her to the bookshop when their butler appears in the doorway.
“The carriage you arranged is here, sir.”
George looks up, bemused. “I don’t recall arranging the carriage for today.”
“It’s for me,” Bucky says firmly.
Four heads snap to him.
“I love you all, and I’m very glad I could be here for Tasha’s wedding, and I’m happy you’re all doing so well now, I really am. But I need to go home. I’ve been here much longer than I wanted to be, and I’m not happy here, so I’m going home. Just, this time, I’d appreciate it if you’d write back to me.” Bucky stands and moves to his father’s side, leaning down to hug him. “I love you, Papa, but this isn’t my home.”
George sighs and returns the hug. “You promise you’re happy there?”
“I am.”
“Then I suppose we’d better let you get back.”
~
When the carriage pulls up to the manor, Bucky can’t climb down quickly enough, nearly falling when he skips the bottom step. He doesn’t expect anyone to meet him, since he’d arranged the carriage so quickly, and through Nelson and Murdock instead of Sitwell. Still, the silence inside the house is…eerie.
Bucky makes his way to the kitchen, hoping to find May. Instead, the room is empty. There’s a loaf of bread sitting on the counter, and the surfaces are definitely clean, but there’s no other sign of the people who usually spend their days here.
Confused, Bucky makes his way back upstairs, heading for the library. It isn’t the busiest room in the house, but Peter might be in there, or Rollins. He stops in the alcove where the hydra tapestry hangs, because the tapestry is…gone. The wall is bare, save for a few threads caught on a splinter of wood that might have once been the frame.
“What happened to it?” Bucky wonders out loud.
“His lordship shredded it.”
Bucky whirls at Wanda’s voice. She stands in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, as though she considers Bucky an adversary now.
“Why would he do that?”
Wanda shrugs. “Anger. Grief. Who knows. What are you doing here, Bucky?”
Bucky swallows. “I came home. Where is he?”
Again, Wanda shrugs. “Out in the orchard, probably. No one’s seen him in days except Rollins, and Rollins isn’t one for talking.”
“What happened?” Bucky asks, trying to understand what Wanda is telling him.
“It seemed pretty clear you weren’t coming back, two weeks after your sister’s wedding was over. Then it was three weeks, and four, and…” Wanda waves her hand at the blank wall.
Bucky takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m back now. You think he’s in the orchard?”
Without waiting for an answer, he starts for the door to the gardens, breaking into a run when he steps outside. He races down a row of fruit trees, only stopping when he trips over an exposed root, crashing to the ground.
“Ow,” he mutters as he picks himself up. He’s about to start down the next row of trees when he notices that the “root” he tripped over isn’t actually a root at all. It’s a leather boot. A leather boot currently worn on a leg that is moving. Bucky looks up to see who he tripped over, his breath catching when he sees the familiar, scarred face.
“Brock!” Bucky exhales in relief.
“Bucky?” Brock blinks at him in confusion. “Are you really here?”
Bucky reaches down to help Brock stand. “Yes, I’m really here.”
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” Brock confesses as he climbs to his feet. He doesn’t let go of Bucky.
“I’m sorry. I should have come home sooner.”
Brock’s hand tightens around Bucky’s, then immediately loosen. “You came…home.”
Bucky takes a step back. Something about the way Brock says that, has Bucky questioning if his feelings are entirely one-sided. If he’s just made it up in his head.
As if sensing his worry, Brock pulls him closer. “I mean, when you came home, you came here.”
“I did.” Bucky looks up, meeting Brock’s eyes. “My home is with you.”
“You mean that, don’t you,” Brock murmurs, watching him softly.
Bucky nods, not looking away. “I do. I love you, Brock, I should have told you before-”
His words are cut off by Brock’s lips on his. Bucky makes a soft sound of surprise, then finds himself melting into Brock’s arms.
When they finally pull away, Brock smiles at him. “That’s good,” he says, kissing him again. “Because I’ve been in love with you since the day you arrived. If I ask you to marry me-”
“The answer is yes,” Bucky tells him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”
~