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It was a short walk to her apartment, roughly nine blocks, and though it was drizzling, it wasn't a bother. They were headed to have dinner in this Italian little corner near the park, it was supposed to be romantic. She said the place had candles scattered around and vines hung on the ceiling. Bucky merely nodded, smiling, and promised to pick her by seven.
He was turning left, walking the last steps towards the stairs of her apartment, when a whine came from the small alley, the side of her building with firescapes and trash cans. It was annoying, high-pitched, and persistent. Bucky didn't know what it was at first. Slowly realizing it from an animal. He took temptive steps towards the back of the alley, roaming and looking around for the creature. His ball cap was damp and drops of water fell from his hair down his neck. So much for looking nice for her.
The mewls got louder as he stood next to a black trash can, and on top of it, in between crumpled newspapers and a sandwich wrapping, was a small, dirty cat. It was soaked, grimy, and had the widest blue eyes he had ever seen. Bucky wondered if it was normal to have such large eyes and hoped it was, or the little fella had an even bigger problem. Bucky looked over one shoulder, then the other, and scooped the kitten from the trash, tucking it inside his jacket.
The knocks on her door were sharp and anxious. He was right on time, and held a potential ticking bomb. And she looked beautiful, as always, and it took his breath away. The shine of her lips, the reddish hue she put on her cheeks, the perfume she chose carefully and made her smell of flowers. It would overwhelm him but the stank of the cat was tremendous. She scrunched her nose and frowned.
“Are you ok? Are you hurt?”
Bucky curled his lip in a wretched smile, awkward, and awful. He reached inside the leather jacket and pulled out the little cat, so dirty its pale fur was black. The pink nose and tongue were the brightest parts of its tiny body. He held it carefully in his gloved hands, it fit perfectly in both hands, standing on shaky, twig-like legs. She widened his eyes and slacked her mouth, surprised. She stepped aside and Bucky got inside, hoping he wasn't leaving too much mud on her entryway.
“I got you a cat.”
“I… see it,” She didn't react much and it made him worry. A feverish rush went down his spine, he caressed the bony head of the cat with two fingers, afraid he'd break it. “But are you ok?”
Bucky frowned in confusion. He glanced at her then at the cat then at her once more. She knew Steve had gotten Nat a cat. Wasn't it ok? An acceptable gift, though unprompted and unplanned? He hoped it was. He nodded, cradling the kitten next to his chest, trying to warm it up and dry it as much as he could.
“You don't want it?”
“I'm just surprised,” She said, softly. “The kitty has your eyes.”
“It's for you.”
She had a dark green sweater, jeans hugging her thighs, and boots much like his. Her purse was already slung on her shoulder and her scarf was in place. Ready to head out. Bucky wanted to kiss her but it would ruin her clothes with the stinky cat rubbing on her.
“Well, I guess we gotta stay in and clean him… her?” She furrowed her brows. Bucky raised the cat and it slouched, showing its skinny belly with wet dust. “Clean her up then.”
Bucky stared into her beady eyes, listening to her desperate wails and smiled. She was cute, fragile, and he would protect her at all costs.
“You want to name her?” She asked, now with a wider smile, settling her purse away and kicking off her boots.
Bucky hummed and glanced around, trying to get ideas, and his eyes reached a forgotten magazine by the TV stand. A landscape of white, snowed mountains in the horizon, clear blue eyes above it and the slight greyness of mist.
“Alpine,” He said with confidence. It suited the kitten.
She was filling the bathroom sink with warm water, enough for wet Alpine entirely, and chose a milk soap from the cabinet. Bucky was just glad Alpine had stopped clawing them. Bucky ditched his damp ball cap and ruffled his hair dry with a towel before fully joining the bathing of Alpine. As they rubbed off the dust and mud, gently caressing the slightly matted fur, the kitty stopped looking so ragged. The beans of her paws showed their bright pink and the needle-like nails cleared.
“She looks so cute.”
“She looks like a wet rat,” Bucky grimaced.
“But she's a cute wet rat.”
“If you say so,” He shrugged, indulging her. “I should go to the store and get her something to eat. I think. I don't know what cats like.”
And she listed him things to buy. Bucky headed out to the pet store two blocks aways and came back with two heavy bags. A needless amount of toys, a too large bag of kibble, two pots that could fit the whole cat inside, and the tiniest leash they had.
“Cats don't usually go on walks,” She giggled as Bucky took the red leash out of the plastic bag, then went back to carefully blow drying Alpine in the lowest setting, after tucking cotton in her ears to muffle the sound.
“Maybe when it's less rainy she'd like to see the streets,” He shrugged and felt pretty convinced it made total sense. Bucky was growing weary of holding her, she was miniscule, a cloud amidst the dark sky, bound to fade if a wind blew too harshly.
After drying her, Bucky poured kibble and water on the bowls. She laughed and gave him lukewarm water to mix with the kibble. “It makes it softer, easier to eat, she's still a baby.”
Alpine was now thoroughly fed, with her belly round and falling into a dreamy sleep. They missed dinner but she told him it was ok because she got a pet cat and it is all that mattered. Bucky had Alpine on his lap, tucked in the middle of his thighs, curled into a ball, while his girl laid on his side, giggling at the movie she put on the TV.
It was a meek little thing and Bucky had settled to hold her, caress her, only with his right arm. Afraid he'd been too rough or careless and hurt her. He traced the shape of the kitty with his eyes, rather fond of her already. Her tail was wispy and funny-looking. She no longer looked like a wet rat, it was just a kitten.
She pushed him to take a shower, convincing him that any dinner plans were over and they were ordering in something. He relaxed under the shower stream and felt much like a wet rat himself with his hair falling over his face in a velvet, dark curtain. Bucky rubbed the cotton towel and got dressed in sweats and a hoodie. He found the two cuddling in the brown couch, playing with a stick toy with a feather at the edge. The kitten jumped and wiggled and meowed as she tried to latch on the toy.
Soon he sat by their side, amused at the sight and grinning. They put on a movie to fill the silence, something romantic and heartfelt was fitting to the moment. The three nuzzled into each other.
“Do you really like her?” Bucky mumbled, apologetic, looking to his love by the corner of his eyes. “I can give her to Steve. He likes cats.”
She turned a little to stare at him. “I love her. She's a good kitty. And now you have a new skill.”
“What skill? He frowned, nudging his nose on her hair and smelling her lingering perfume. Her hair tickles his face, stuck in beard and he tends to it, gently soothing them away.
“Being a cat dad.”