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1.
The chair scraped in front of her.
When Wanda lifted her head, she tilted her chin upward so she could peer from under the brim of her cap and stare at the man in front of her. "You’re not Steve."
"What gave it away?" he drawled.
She furrowed her brows as she studied him watching her. Bright blue eyes, dark hair that fell against his ears. The stark white cap looked like it had been through better times, although she was surprised to see that beyond its beaten and frayed brim that it was blindingly clean. Bucky Barnes wasn’t exactly an unattractive man, but he wasn’t blonde, seated ramrod straight, or smiling at her as a golden retriever would.
He was strange. New. Wanda didn’t like either of those things.
"Don’t."
Wanda deepened her frown before she realised why he had placed his hand on the table in front of her. The movement had been quick and soundless. A simple, quiet gesture meant to keep her in place. He was made of sharper, louder stuff. Wanda wasn’t quite sure she understood where the gentleness came from.
"Why?" Crossing her arms against her chest, Wanda cocked her brow against her brown cap. "I was meant to meet Steve. You are going to get me in trouble."
The café bustled around them. Thoughts trickled around her like whispers. A couple across the road wondered if they should get Italian or Chinese for dinner. A girl two cafés away considered skipping her next class so she could devour the curled pages of her novel. The man in front of her was the loudest of them all, and Wanda refused to read him.
"Because," he said a little too earnestly. He licked his lips. She darted her gaze down, noting how pink they were. "I just needed to know…"
"Know what?"
She swallowed thickly and wondered if he had heard it. She was still getting used to being quiet.
"Is he okay?"
She exhaled loudly, the tension in her shoulders sliding off her. She remained seated with her arms crossed and brow cocked. Licking her lips, she noted how his gaze remained steady on hers. It was as though he wanted to read her mind, but she was nothing but a brick wall, even if he failed to get a foot in.
"I need to know," he insisted quietly. He moved then, leaning forward, his hand still pressed on the table’s cool marble surface as though that was enough to keep him grounded. She peered down at his fingers, his blunt nails. There was dirt beneath them. Had he been gardening? "I need to know if he’s okay."
Wanda considered answering truthfully. No, Steve wasn’t okay. After he broke them out of the Raft, he set them on a course that she wasn’t quite sure he even understood. He wasn’t made for a life on the run, just as he wasn’t made for the stage. Steve was a man for action. He was a man who needed family and stability.
Wanda wasn’t sure what she needed anymore. But she knew what she wanted.
The truth.
She nodded. "He’s okay," she answered.
Barnes blew out a breath and nodded, leaning back against his chair. He slid his hand noisily off the table. "Good."
"But he won’t be if he finds you here," she said. "You are meant to be in Wakanda, no?"
He smacked his lips then. "I’m out on good behaviour."
When she cocked her brow again, she felt her body loosen up. "Oh?"
He smiled. Something in her gut fluttered. "Yeah," he said, showing some of his teeth. The stubble around his jaw made his bright blue eyes stand out. "Gotta get back, though. Apparently, this level of exposure isn’t good for my… something." He shrugged.
"Makes perfect sense," she replied.
She flushed when he chuckled.
"Take care of him," Barnes said. "He saved my ass more times than I can count."
She nodded. Wanda wasn’t sure of many of the promises she had been asked to keep lately, but she knew she could follow through on that one. She’d do her best. Something told her that was all Barnes asked for.
Uncrossing her arms against her chest, she tented her hands and glanced down. When she peered up again, inhaling to speak, Barnes was gone. Wanda wasn’t sure what she’d have said, anyway.
*
2.
When she saw him next, it was in line at a coffee shop.
Her coffee shop. Wanda called dibs on it two months ago, and no one in the Avengers—a direct member or an associate—stepped inside it.
It was her best-kept secret. Something that was hers to keep, to call her own. She was rationally protective of it.
He was a couple of people ahead of her, his hair cropped tight to his head. He stood with his back straight, shoulders tense, and his hands still. He wore a blue long sleeve and black gloves, and fiddled with the sleek charcoal wallet in his hands.
Wanda peered around the bulky man in front of her to watch Barnes fiddle with the wallet, transfixed by his long fingers and blunt nails. Was he nervous?
"What are you getting?"
She startled. He chuckled, smiling toothily at her. The man she stood behind was now behind Barnes.
"Saw you," he said, pink tinging the tops of his cheeks. With a boyishly innocent shrug, he tilted his head to the side. "Figured I’d swap with the man in front."
"A very normal thing to do."
"Incredibly."
Wanda licked her lips and smiled a little tensely, glancing away from him. People passed by the coffee shop, some thinking about whether the supermarket sale was still on or if they’d find time to run around the park before dinner hours from now. The boy seated at a side table kept glancing at her, thinking she was cute. Her voice was high, perfectly American, even if her brown hair still reminded her of the soot of Sokovia.
When she looked back at Barnes, he was studying her.
"So?"
Wanda blinked. "So?"
He laughed, his teeth white, his lips pink. He had a nice smile. "What are you having?"
"Oh, I don’t know," she said with a shake of her head before glancing up at the menu board. The line moved by one. The bulky man was ordering, meaning her time was almost up in stalling.
Wanda knew what she wanted. Every morning, she came here and ordered the same thing: a hot chocolate. What accompanied it was often up for debate. Sometimes she’d have nothing; other times, a croissant, donut, even a small sandwich.
She forgot what she’d been craving since last night.
He was watching her expectantly, waiting.
"You always get the croissant on Wednesdays," he stated quietly, like it was a fact he had committed to memory. When she glanced up at him, his blue eyes were intense. He looked down. "Usually the one with chocolate if it’s in the cabinet. Which it is."
Wanda opened her mouth and found she had nothing to say. Not even a simple sound passed her lips.
When it was his turn to order, he watched her quietly. "So?" he prompted again. "What will it be?"
She parted her lips and stared up at him before looking past him. The croissants with the chocolate centres were in the cabinet, looking scrumptious. She’d been looking forward to sitting at her window and ripping one apart as she people-watched.
But she wasn’t so sure if she wanted to share that with him.
She smiled. "Chocolate croissant."
Barnes turned and ordered his black coffee and cinnamon donut, and a hot chocolate and chocolate croissant for her.
She moved awkwardly to the side, fiddling with her fingers as she watched the line grow longer, almost touching the café’s front doors. He stood behind her, warm and present, his mind a murmur of bubbles she wished to dip into.
"Thanks," she said, glancing up at him before looking away.
"Any time." He glanced down at her before looking away. Standing still, he watched the people in the line, the staff behind the counter, and glanced at her as though she wasn’t aware he was studying her. "You going to sit by the window?"
She furrowed her brows as she peered up at him. "What?"
"You always sit there," he said, tilting his head toward the line of booths she liked to rotate every week. The middle booth was empty, waiting for her. Sometimes Wanda wondered if she purposefully kept it empty with her wishing and manifesting or if it was pure luck.
"I…"
"James," the barista called.
Barnes lifted his hand, gesturing to himself. He gathered the takeaway coffee cup, cinnamon donut in a small brown bag, and the dine-in mug and plate with the croissant. Wanda ignored the way her gut clenched disappointingly.
"I better get going," he said, smiling at her with his lips pressed together. "Only out for a few minutes. Readjustment and all."
"Right."
Wanda didn’t watch him walk away, although she sat at the middle booth and gazed out the window, wondering if she’d see him pass along the street.
*
3.
"It’s pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?"
Wanda didn’t startle when he came to stand beside her. She stood at the window of Shuri's lab, gazing out at Wakanda's bright, lush grounds. 'Overwhelming' didn’t quite cover how she felt about this country.
It was freedom. It wasn’t a cage, despite its invisible magnetic bubble. It was a home for its people, a place where everyone was safe. It was what she and Pietro had wished so desperately for Sokovia.
She inhaled deeply with her arms crossed against her chest before facing him. She shrugged. "Perhaps to old men."
Bucky chuckled. His hair was short, although it looked fluffier than before. Softer. The brown reminded her of the earth of the small garden she used to tend to at the Avengers Compound.
"How are you?" she asked, furrowing her brows. "I haven’t seen you wandering the city."
"How could you?" he asked brightly, although his expression was unreadable. She wished to press against his mind, but Wanda kept her hands tucked against her elbows to stop herself from leaning into the temptation. "You haven’t been in New York." He scuffed his toe against the ground.
She smiled, tight-lipped, and glanced away.
"How is he?"
Wanda cocked her brow. "Who?"
Bucky chuckled again. "Vision. Steve told me about your… thing."
"Our thing," she repeated in amusement. She tried to stifle her laugh at the pink tinging his cheeks.
"Yeah," he said, grinning toothily. "Your secret rendezvous. Those are hot."
"Rendezvous?"
"Secrets."
She bit her lip and glanced out the window. The sun smiled brightly down on Wakanda, although she now regarded it pensively. Vision was back in New York with Stark. It wouldn’t be another few weeks until they could possibly meet again in Scotland, tucked away in a different hotel this time. She wanted to try the one near a café that sold fluffy pancakes. She knew Vision had already found the perfect place.
"It’s going okay," she answered honestly. Ignoring the uptick in her heartbeat, she peered out the window but noticed his reflection in the glass. He was watching her curiously. "I just wish we had more time."
"I get that," he said, swallowing thickly.
Of course, he would. Wasn’t he the man who lost time while Steve was the man out of time?
She licked her lips and considered what she could say. An apology felt useless and didn’t have a place in this peaceful bubble. A joke escaped her. She watched him for a long moment and wondered how he kept his head above water when she’d let the despair of everything she lost push her beneath the waves each and every time it became too much.
Glancing away, he sighed heavily. "All I can say is make the most of it. You never know when you’re going to lose it."
Wanda looked up at him, brows crinkled. She kept her arms tightly crossed against her chest as she noted his profile and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He was still as lost as he was outside the New York cafés, but she could see him returning to himself now. He stood taller. He didn’t hide behind a baseball cap. His hair was cut shorter, prompting his blue eyes to be even more pronounced than they were before.
She found it funny how he started stepping out of the shadows while she retreated into them.
"Make sure you say goodbye before you go," he said, brushing his right hand against her elbow. His fingers barely fluttered against her skin, but it was enough to elicit something hot to spark in her gut and prompt a flush. "I’d like to see a pretty face before they put me on ice again."
At his reassuring smile, Wanda mirrored it. With a nod, she unwrapped her arms and kept her hands by her sides. "I will." With a scrunch of her nose, she teased, "I need to see something old and ugly before I go to Scotland."
He laughed loudly. She liked that sound.
*
4.
"Boo."
Wanda smiled before she gasped, slapping her hand audibly against her chest. She twisted on the park bench, tugging her beanie slightly up from her brows as she peered up at Bucky standing behind her. He curled his hands—covered in black gloves—around the edge of the bench.
"Didn’t mean to startle you," he said.
She cocked her brow as she tilted her head to the side. "You did."
With a lift of his shoulders, he chuckled sheepishly. "Guess I did."
He cocked his head to the empty space beside her in a quiet question; she nodded her answer. After a flourish of her hand, he sat beside her, legs spread, back hunched, and with an audible sigh that felt like a gentle breeze whipping the ends of her hair. His knee was close enough to hers to touch.
"Didn’t expect to see you back here," he said, clasping his hands together as he gazed at the park. Wanda wanted to follow his eye line, but she didn’t wish to lose an opportunity to study his microexpressions.
His hair was still cut short. A blue shirt peeked out from beneath the jacket he wore. Bucky’s dog tags swung against his chest for everyone to see. She curled her fingers to stop herself from reaching out to touch them.
"Why’s that?" she asked, her voice throaty.
He lifted a shoulder. "Because."
And she wondered if he’d finish the thought, although he seemed to get lost in watching children play on the play set off to the right. They laughed loudly and screamed brightly as they chased around the course, almost running into the see-saw. Their parents didn’t seem to care about the fuss they made or the sand they collapsed into.
"I figured you’d disappear again."
"Me?" she asked, surprised.
He nodded, pressing his lips together. "Yeah." Glancing at her, he inhaled deeply through his nose before he leaned back against the park bench. Despite the space he took up, Bucky remained small. Wanda wanted to extend her arm behind him to take up some of his space. "It’s what I did."
"I know," she said, immediately blushing when he turned to face her in surprise. "I asked… about you. After Steve."
"Ah."
"I’m sorry," she said, taking her turn to lean forward and rest her elbows against her thighs. "He was my friend, too. But he was something more to you."
He shrugged. "That’s life. You win some; you lose some. I’m old enough to know."
She watched him momentarily before leaning back against the park bench. "At least with every loss, you gain something."
"That right?" he asked, gently curling the corner of his lips.
Wanda pressed her mouth into a line and nodded.
"What’s next for you, Maximoff?"
She sucked on her teeth as she watched the children climb up a rope ladder, racing one another as they clumsily took to the rungs. Wanda wasn’t sure what the right answer was to that. After losing five years of her life to nothing but darkness, she wasn’t quite sure what the next step should be.
It’d never be the same. There were pockets in her life now she’d never be able to fill. More graves to tend to. More people to remember in past tense.
"I’m thinking of going to New Jersey," she said.
"That right?" he asked, this time with interest. He watched her, his body relaxing against the park bench.
She hummed and nodded. "Vision…" She cleared her throat and looked down at her hands, tucking them together. "He bought a plot of land. He wanted me to see it."
Bucky was quiet for a long moment before he looked away from her. After a long moment, he inhaled deeply before extending his arm tentatively, opting to rest his elbow against the park bench and bending it to finger his hair.
"You want company?"
Wanda lifted her brows in surprise.
"You don’t have to say yes—"
She laughed. "Yes."
"Now it just sounds like you’re saying it so I look like an ass."
"You don’t need my help with that."
"Ouch."
She smiled, glancing out at the park. New York had once been her home, but with the Avengers Compound now a deep crater and her belongings gone, Wanda wasn’t entirely sure where she belonged. Perhaps on a park bench like this, where the quiet, mundane moments could capture her.
"Yes," she whispered after a long moment. She turned to look at him before she nodded decisively. "I’d like that."
He smiled, ducking his face as pink tinged his cheeks. Wanda liked it when he let his arm lower, albeit slowly, to rest along the edge of the bench. Eventually, he lightly tapped the fingers of his left arm against her shoulder.
*
5.
"Holy shit."
Wanda preened beneath his amazement. She stood tall, proud, with her hands tucked behind her back as they gazed at her two-storey house. It still glinted red as the last few roof tiles slid into place.
Bucky stared up at the house with his mouth wide enough to catch flies. He gently held the blueprint of the land’s plot between his metal fingertips. Wanda glanced at it, but not out of worry. She knew it was safe in Bucky’s hands.
"Do you like it?" she prompted.
He lifted his brows as he continued to stare at the house. Without seeming to think, he approached it, feet tentative on the lush grass as he took to the new stone path leading up to the porch. Bucky tested the steps beneath his weight, then seemed to take to each floorboard of the porch as though he expected it to be too delicate for him.
He rubbed his hand against the pillars and railing, against the door and frame. The house was perfect to her, but her stomach flipped strangely as she watched him take it all in.
Bucky looked good in front of her house. Westview looked good with him in it. When she glanced over her shoulder at the neighbouring houses, she smiled at how the unkept rose bushes seemed prettier now.
The world was brighter. She wondered if it was because his eyes were such a clear blue sky every time he looked at her.
He turned around and shook his head incredulously. "This is amazing," he said. He was slow to return to her, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly as though he expected the house to disappear. "You’re amazing."
She smiled, ducking her head. The house stood tall and proud in a street of tall and proud houses. She liked that her front garden wasn’t as immaculately kept as she had dreamed. She let the lawn grow unevenly, some roses wilted, and a few floorboards were chipped.
It was perfect.
Since spending a few weeks with Bucky in hotels, she’d learned to appreciate the cracks in the tiles, unmade bedsheets, and the way old, beloved things could tell riveting stories that couldn’t be found in sitcoms.
She smiled up at him as he approached her. "You’re going to have a great time living in that house."
"Where are you going to be?" she asked, tilting her head as she peered at him.
She laughed at the way he furrowed his brows.
"What?"
"Where are you going to be?" she asked again. Glancing beyond him, she gestured, "Out on the porch? I think a swing might be nice for you to sleep in."
"Wanda, I can’t—"
"You can," she said, peering up at him earnestly. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her skin felt hot. Boldly, she reached for his metal arm, brushing the fingers of his leather glove with hers. "If you want to stay."
Bucky glanced down at her, his blue eyes unreadable but still as clear and beautiful as the sky. Then he smiled lopsidedly, prompting butterflies to flutter deliciously in her belly. "I got nowhere else," he said sincerely.
"So?" she asked. "Neither do I."
He licked his lips, glancing away from her for a moment. Then he nodded. "Okay. But I’m sleeping out the back on a porch swing. I have this thing where I don’t like getting hit with the newspaper every morning by the paper boy."
She laughed, wrinkling her nose. She liked the sound of his laughter joining hers. "I’ll throw it at you instead."
"Now, that," he drawled with a smile so dazzling Wanda understood then and there just how dangerous he was, "I don’t mind."
*
+1.
"Honey! I’m home!"
"About damn time," James called out from the kitchen. "You bring home any bacon this time around?"
Wanda gasped as she toed off her flats, carrying the brown paper shopping bags into the kitchen. "That’s the one thing I forgot."
He shook his head. "Can’t let you go anywhere without me, huh?"
She smiled as he approached her, easily taking the bags out of her arms. Wanda followed him into the kitchen and began opening cupboards telekinetically for him, liking how he smiled at her before he placed the items carefully in their spots. It’d taken a couple of months for him to learn how she wanted her cupboards stacked, then a few years for her to realise he liked following her blueprint.
"Nope." Sitting on the kitchen island, she kicked her legs back and forth as she watched him put the milk in the fridge, stack the bread in the corner, grab the peanut butter and place it in the highest cupboard, out of reach for her—just how she liked it.
She pouted when he turned around to face her. "What?" he asked with a laugh. "We have mice, Wanda. Every time we buy peanut butter, it’s gone within a week."
She pressed her lips together as he approached her, resting his hands on her thighs to stop her from kicking her legs. It only encouraged her to kick them harder before she wrapped her legs around his middle, tugging him closer.
"I like peanut butter," she said.
He smiled at her, curling his fingers into her thighs. James leaned closer to her, his nose almost pressing against hers. "I like you."
She snorted. "That’s a good thing. I’d be very offended if you didn’t."
"Offended enough to turn me into a pickle?" he asked as he kissed her cheeks.
"Mhm." Tilting her chin upward, she fluttered her eyelashes before pressing her fingers to the pulse in her neck. "Here."
"You’re such a demanding wife," he laughed before he obeyed, pressing his lips to her neck. He lingered, darting his tongue out to brush against her skin. She laughed and plunged her hands between her thighs to stop herself from touching him. It was what he always wanted, her reaching out for him, tugging him closer. Wanda liked to make him work for what he wanted.
"Not a wife yet."
"Could be tomorrow," he said. "I like the idea of eloping."
"And earn Samuel’s ire?" she mock gasped. "I promised he would be my maid of honour."
Bucky groaned against her neck before he nipped at her skin. She laughed again. "I like that sound."
"What sound?"
"Your laugh."
"It’s a horrible sound."
"Gonna be my favourite sound for the rest of my life," he murmured against her neck.
Wanda wrapped her arms around him, tugging him closer. She threaded her fingers through his soft hair, scraping her nails against his scalp to elicit his delicious moan. "And that is my favourite sound," she murmured as he kissed her neck slowly.
"What?" he murmured.
"Home."