Archive of Our Own ^beta

There truly was an app for everything. At least, that’s what Bucky had deduced after spending the better part of his day trying to figure out how to hire someone to keep his cat alive. 

When Sam Wilson had called with a new lead on the Flag Smashers, Bucky had said yes before he even really thought about it. Normally, he would have been on a jet to wherever he was needed to stop the anti-nationalist supervillains immediately. 

But now? Now he had Alpine. A small, white cat he had adopted when his therapist said he needed connection. Something warm that didn’t involve punching people in the face and a companionship that wasn’t born out of a battle. 

So why did it feel like such a battle to figure out how to save his sanity and furniture? Because he was not about to leave his cat alone with a bowl of food and a promise that he might be back in a week. Sam didn’t even know how long he would need to be gone.

And now here he sat, scrolling through an app called ‘Rover’ that Sam had deemed ”Tinder, but for animals”. Which already filled Bucky with dread considering his track record with the dating app. Nevermind that his cat was like him in the way she didn’t much care for strangers. So this almost felt like picking out a victim that was going to have to deal with her mood swings.

“What about this one?” Bucky asked Alpine, turning his phone so she could see a photo of a sitter. He figured that if whoever was going to be tasked with watching her, she may as well have some input. Maybe then she wouldn’t tear them to shreds. Not that she could really answer save for a slow blink, a flick of her tail, or an unimpressed yawn. She sniffed the phone, but the look of disgust was unmistakable in those bright blue eyes. 

Bucky sighed again, continuing his scrolling. “We’ll have to pick someone you know. I can’t leave you alone. Not because I don’t trust you, but someone has to make sure you don’t starve or dehydrate while I’m gone.”

Alpine stretched her paws out in front of her, tail in the air curled like a question mark before hopping up to snuggle onto Bucky’s lap. She watched his thumb flick across the screen, ears perked high like she was now just as invested. Until she let out a quick mmrp and tapped her paws on his thighs.

“Her?” Bucky asked, pausing on a picture of a woman, a giant smile on her face as she cradled a dark grey cat and a golden-colored puppy in her arms. She had hundreds of glowing reviews, something called ‘Star Sitter Status’, and over 10 years of experience. 

She was also – Bucky held the phone closer to his face – yeah, okay, she was kind of attractive. The kind that made something defrost in his chest.

“I really need to get out more,” he muttered. “Getting flustered by a woman holding an animal and talking to you like you can actually answer me.”

Alpine kneaded her paws again like she was confirming both his statement and choice of sitter. 

“Alright, you know best.” He murmured, scratching behind her ears and already typing out a message.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

There hadn’t been time for a meet-and-greet – whatever that meant – not with Sam basically breathing down Bucky’s neck that their window for this lead was rapidly shrinking. You, thankfully, hadn’t seemed fazed. Bucky initially apologized for the awful timing, sending over a picture of Alpine as a bargaining chip, asking if you had any last-minute openings. You had responded nearly immediately.

After a bit of back and forth that mostly consisted of payment methods and shot records, Bucky ended up standing outside a stranger’s apartment with Alpine in her carrier, and a duffel bag packed like he was expecting to be gone months instead of just a week. The guilt nagging at the back of his mind as he felt more like a deadbeat cat parent abandoning his fluffy child to someone he only knew through text message. 

The door swung open to reveal you in an oversized blue pastel sweater and leggings, and a smile warm enough to melt asphalt. “Hi there!” you said brightly. Confident and friendly, like you’d known Bucky and his cat forever instead of less than 24 hours. 

“You must be James, and this must be Alpine.” Your voice had a calming lilt, breezy and dangerously charming as you bent slightly to peer into the carrier.

You stepped aside so he could enter. The apartment was bright and cozy, pastels just like your sweater dotted every throw pillow, blanket, and fuzzy accent. Bucky hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this much color or comfort. His apartment barely had a rug and a couch. But here? Every spot had a soft place to curl up.

“I set up a space for her by the window, a lot of the cats I care for like to watch the birds in the garden.” You added casually, closing the door behind him. 

Bucky nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he took in the space. He loosened his iron grip on the carrier once he realized it was creaking under stress. The quiet warmth of this place was the complete opposite of the dreary New York City sidewalk. It smelled like vanilla and citrus, like someone had just baked and then did a deep clean. There was a faint hum of music, something soft and instrumental, that made it feel less like a stranger’s apartment and more like an upscale spa reception area.  

A cream colored cat tree was set up right where you pointed, bowls were laid out along with a host of pillows. A basket of toys proclaimed “A house isn’t a home without a pet” in calligraphy in the corner.

“If you want to set the carrier down, and open it, we can talk while she gets acquainted with her surroundings.” The suggestion was gentle, with a confidence that may have been misguided considering the fluffy menace in the carrier wasn’t reacting the way Bucky had expected. He was fully prepared for mewling and screeching, though this could be the calm before the storm. 

Still, Bucky did as instructed, maybe grimacing more than he meant to as the hinges to the carrier creaked open. “She…really doesn’t like strangers.”

And she really didn’t. He’d seen full-grown men flinch when Alpine got into one of her territorial moods. So Bucky was bracing himself for the worst.

You smiled, relaxed and completely nonchalant, “That’s okay, I get it. It’s weird being in a new place. I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends by the time you come pick her up. How long were you going to be gone again?”

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck, “I know I said a week, but my…work trip may get extended.” He hadn’t wanted to tell a stranger where he was going or what he was doing. He figured a small white lie was best instead of saying ‘I’m going to go do some illegal shit and get shot at.’

Nodding, “That’s fine, just let me know. I have another client coming in 10 days, so if you’re still out I’ll make sure to keep them separate. And I work from home so I’ll always be around. Any medications or special instructions?”

He cleared his throat, now sheepish as he produced a paper with everything he thought you would need to know. Alpine had been kept on a strict schedule ever since Bucky had adopted her, finding it grounded him. “Figured this was easier. I know it’s kind of a lot,” he muttered, suddenly self-conscious. “The schedule helps…both of us, I guess.”

To his surprise, you didn’t laugh or tease him. Instead, your eyes lit up, taking it, but Bucky had noticed Alpine creeping out of her carrier. She padded right to your feet, sniffing at the socks you were wearing. He held his breath, waiting for the flurry of scratches and yowling, the puffed tail, or for her to bolt back into the carrier.

But it never came. 

Alpine weaved around your legs like she had known you forever. And you? You stood unbothered as you read through the care instructions.

“Promise I’m not ignoring her,” you said without looking up, like you could sense his question before he even asked. “With cats I always try to have them investigate me on their own terms before I start showing affection. I’m just letting her warm up to me first.”

“Smart.” Even though Bucky didn’t know if it was or not. Too busy transfixed on the way your lips barely formed the words as you read silently. He shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over your face.

“Food and everything in the bag?” You asked, looking down as Alpine brushed her head against your calf, leaving a streak of white hair on your leggings. 

“Extra in case I am gone longer.”

You bent at the knees then, sitting on the ground. “I wish all my clients were as prepared as you.” Your smile could disarm a nuke with the softness behind it. Bucky grappled with the strange surge of feelings pushing behind his ribs. And then Alpine hopped into your lap, curling instantly against your thighs, and purring loud enough Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. 

“See?” You offered, two fingers lightly stroking down Alpine’s fur. “No longer strangers.”

Bucky was rendered speechless at the sight of his cat who had hissed and puffed up at anyone he brought into his apartment laying in your lap as the picture of contentment. A part of him felt relieved, that this wasn’t going to end up with you – a complete stranger – bloodied from sharp claws and teeth. But the other part? Softened completely at the sight of Alpine burrowing deeper into your arms like she’d known you her entire life.

Your arms shifted under Alpine’s body, scooping her up as you easily came back to standing. “We’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll send you updates, even hourly if you like. And if anything goes wrong, which it won’t, the first call will be to the vet, the second will be to you on the way to said vet.”

“Thanks.” Bucky fidgeted with the edge of his leather jacket, not sure if he should just…leave or stay to make sure Alpine wasn’t going to pull a complete bait and switch. You noticed the way he was lingering by the door awkwardly immediately. 

“You want a minute to say goodbye?” You offered, holding her out to him.

“What?”

“To Alpine.” You grinned, lifting one of her paws. “I can step into the kitchen, let you have a moment. There’s no shame in crying, I totally get it.”

Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Was not going to cry as he dropped off his cat. His eyes were just…a little scratchy from the scent of vanilla. That was it. 

Alpine let out a soft mmrp, completely unbothered as you handed her back to Bucky. “Just yell if you need a hug after.” You winked, disappearing into the kitchen like that was the most normal thing to offer a man with a vibranium arm and what Sam called ‘a resting murder’ face.

Bucky didn’t even dignify that with a response. Mostly because no one had offered him something like that in a long time, and the softness behind it had caught him completely off guard. It wasn’t with a trace of pity, more like…you actually cared about him too, not just his cat. Maybe you just weren’t aware of who he was. Instead of pondering too long on what an actual hug would feel like from someone who seemed to be sunshine personified, he scratched Alpine one last time behind the ears. “You be good, okay? I don’t want to hear how you became a terror after I’m gone.”

She yawned like she’d already forgotten who he was, and hopped down from his arms, trotting off to wherever you disappeared.

“She’s in good hands, I promise.” You reassured again, returning to the entry way, Alpine hot on your heels like a white magnet.

Bucky hesitated at the door still, fingers hovering just over the doorknob. He glanced back, not at Alpine this time, but at you. It had been a long time since he’d left something – or someone – he cared about in another person’s hands. Let alone a stranger. But something about the way you were looking back, casual and steady, made the guilt that had been in his chest loosen.

Then his gaze drifted, looking at how his normally standoffish cat sat obediently beside your feet, gazing up at you like she picked her new favorite human, Bucky couldn’t help but believe you when you said everything would be fine.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The first few updates Bucky got from you were standard. Or…at least he guessed they were. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this situation. But you sent things along as promised to show that Alpine was settling in nicely. A picture of her, lounging on the cat tree by the window with the caption: ‘The queen has claimed her throne.’

A short video of her cautiously sniffing a piece of salmon you were cooking. Typical cat things. Though now he was mildly concerned he’d have to start buying fish to keep her happy.

Now, he was halfway around the world, holed up in a warehouse that reeked of mildew and rust. Sam was at a makeshift table, covered in blueprints and dossiers muttering to himself. Bucky was meant to be keeping watch. And he was, leaning near a window, eyes on the quiet street, trying to catalog anything remotely out of place. Until his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he just had to check it immediately. 

A selfie. You and Alpine curled up on the couch, her paws mashed into your jawline and a smug expression on her face, while you looked a little helpless and amused. You’d captioned it: ‘She’s refusing to move. Guess I’m stuck until dinner at 5 pm sharp.’

Another ping.

‘Also, she loves instrumental jazz. Didn’t expect her to have such good taste in music. She may wear out some of my records by the end of this.’

Bucky exhaled through his nose. Not quite a laugh, and closer to it than he’d like to admit. 

He scrolls back to look at the photo longer than necessary. Not at Alpine who was really meant to be the focus of it. But at you. How you had a halo of soft light around your shoulders, hair a little messy, and an oversized hoodie. There was a record player in the background, a little blurry, but Bucky could make out a few of them. Chet Baker, Ella Fitzgerald, John Coltrane. He really didn’t expect that. You with your pastel colors and sunshine smile screamed bubblegum pop music, not old jazz. 

It didn’t match, and that somehow made whatever feeling Bucky was having about these updates worse. Or better, he wasn’t sure yet.

Another ping, another photo. This time, a close-up of Alpine who had buried her body halfway inside your hoodie, paws sticking, and her head pushed into your chin. The caption read: ‘Resistance was futile.’

And maybe it was the fact that Bucky knew once Alpine got comfortable she was an immovable object that got him. Or maybe it was finally having someone else know what that feels like that knocked something loose behind his ribs. But he smiled, full and unguarded.

Across the room, Sam’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

Bucky didn’t move, schooling his features back into his normal glower. “What was what?”

“That little…smirk.” Sam stood then, waving a pen in his general direction. “You’re smiling. We’re about to infiltrate a den of mercenaries and you’re smiling about it.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You are too, is this a cat thing?”

Bucky pocketed his phone, “Just focus on making the plan, Wilson.”

“Who could you possibly be texting? Last I checked you only had like three numbers. And none of them should put that big of a smile on your face.”

He clenched his jaw, “I’m getting updates about Alpine. That’s it.”

“Oh, since when did Alpine learn to text?”

“I’m not – ” Bucky sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Just…let it go.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, “You’re acting weird.”

“I am not.”

“She’s cute isn’t she? That’s the issue, you picked an attractive sitter.”

“Alpine picked her.”

Sam chuckled, “Whatever you gotta tell yourself man.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The mission in Madripoor took a toll, both physically and mentally, and somewhere deeper Bucky didn’t want to even name. Zemo’s plan to infiltrate Selby’s bar to get information had worked, sure, but it had meant slipping back into a version of himself he’d worked so hard to bury. 

That part didn’t necessarily scare him. What did was how easy it was without the trigger words. That even without the Winter Soldier programming, violent instincts still lingered.

Bucky found himself scrolling through the updates he had missed, the room dissolving around him while Zemo and Sam argued about their next steps.

The most recent one was a photo of Alpine, but just her little white ears sticking out of the duffel bag Bucky had brought her supplies in. The caption read: ‘She found the snacks. I had to move them, but…she can also open drawers.’

“See? He’s texting his cat again.” Sam’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Can you focus up, man?”

“Again, I’m getting updates about my cat. She’s just…giving the sitter a hard time.” Bucky tried to make it sound casual. Like he wasn’t using these little check-ins and updates to keep himself tethered to something that wasn’t sharp and riddled with blood. Something normal despite how his day had gone.

He thumbed back up to a previous picture. You had Alpine swaddled tightly in the blanket Bucky had brought, only her nose and barely one paw sticking out, eyes half open. Her head was tipped back, looking up at the camera with adoration. ‘One of the only ways I could keep her from gorging herself in the treat drawer. But she seems to like it when I hold her, more so when I sing her lullabies.’

And just when Bucky was about to put his phone away, a new photo came in. You, curled up on the floor beside the cat tree. A book was open on your lap, and Alpine was perched like she was reading along with you. The angle wasn’t great, like you’d balanced your phone on the coffee table, but Bucky could just make out the title. The Hobbit. Well-worn and curling along the edges from use. You captioned it with: ‘Story time is mandatory in this household. She picked this one out herself. We’re starting a new chapter tonight.’

Bucky stared at the photo longer than he meant to. Not at Alpine this time, though it was cute how she seemed so invested. But at the way your fingers held open the book. At the way the light from the window provided a soft, dreamy glow to your figure. At the fact that you even owned a copy of The Hobbit, let alone one that looked like it had been read so often. 

He was certain he had had you figured out, but the more accidental glimpses he caught into your life, the more he realized how wrong he was. The fact that you liked jazz. Enough to have vinyl records of albums. The fact that you were reading to his cat from one of his favorite books without even knowing. 

He opened the message field, poised to type something. But the words just wouldn’t flow from his brain to his thumbs. He clenched his jaw, rolling his shoulders out like he could work the words free somehow. Started with: “She likes fantasy stories. What do you think of it?”

He deleted it with a grimace. Obviously you liked it or you wouldn’t have such a well-worn copy. You were watching his cat. He shouldn't want to ask about the book like it was a normal conversation with a normal person in a normal life. But that’s what you somehow felt like. A snapshot of a life that had nothing to do with mercenaries or war criminals or super soldier serum.

'Good choice. That’s one of my favorites too.'

Deleted that too. Because why would you care? 

Eventually, he settled on 'Thanks for the updates. Looks like she’s having a great time.' Before locking his phone and letting it rest on his knee. 

Zemo looked up from where he was lounging with a drink. “You have the smile of a man caught between two worlds.”

Bucky groaned, “Stop talking, Zemo.” 

“I’m only observing, James. You have a particular softness in your eyes I never really thought possible from a man who just punched his way through a bar. It’s easier to smile for people who don’t know your sins, no?”

Bucky felt a muscle in his eye twitch. “You’re just really itching to get thrown back in prison, huh?”

Sam snorted from the corner. “Are you two done? We’ve got leads to chase. Sharon says she knows where Dr. Nagel is.”

Bucky said nothing in response, tucking his phone back into his pocket. But not before he stole one last glance at the photo. You and Alpine in the warm halo of afternoon light. A quiet reminder that maybe the world wasn’t as far gone as he’d been made to believe.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.” Sam muttered, staring at the open hole in the tiled bathroom.

“Yeah? I can.” Bucky sighed, still reeling from the fight with the Dora Milaje. He had tried to keep it civil, tried to act as a mediator, but when the Wakandan guards want something, there’s usually no sense in fighting back. 

He found himself rolling his vibranium arm at the shoulder, testing to make sure it was still attached. He shouldn’t have been that stupid to think this piece of weaponry didn’t also come with stipulations. But having a person he trusted show that they had a fail safe if anything went wrong messed with his head a little bit. That even though he wasn’t the person he used to be, people still treated him like he was.

“I’m gonna make a call,” Bucky called over his shoulder as Sam typed out a message to Joaquin, who he thought would have some new leads. 

He opened the messaging app, a new update from you had just come across. Alpine sitting on the cat tower, one paw pressed against the glass at a blurred spot of color in front of her. ‘She made a new friend today. Didn’t get a good picture, but it’s cardinal. Only hissed at it once.’

His thumbs hovered over the letters to type out some message. Anything to form a connection. Asking for another update, but that felt too demanding. You’d been amazing at sending photos and updates so far, he didn’t want you to think you weren’t doing enough. He did, however, see the little green icon next to ‘Online’. An option for ‘video chat’ was right next to it. 

Leaning against a brick wall and out of the sunlight, he hesitated. He just wanted that glimpse into that life. Something that wasn’t life or death to counteract the thoughts pingponging around his brain. He hits the button before he can continue second guessing it and the one thread he can pull to ground himself goes offline. He didn’t know what he was hoping to get from this. Just…something steady. Someone who didn’t look at him like a time bomb or a weapon.

“Oh, hey! I was just about to send you an update saying Alpine was about to get tucked in for bed, but this works too.” 

Your face filled the screen, only the glow of fairylights behind you. A soft shuffling followed by an unimpressed mmrp could be heard as you adjusted the screen. “Sorry, it’s dark in here, I was just about to head to bed.” Followed by the flicking of lights one by one until Alpine could be seen, cozied up in a makeshift box under a canopy of pastel sheets.

“I built her a little fort today,” you continue, likely trying to fill the silence as Bucky just…watches. Mostly in awe of how calm Alpine looked, her tail flicking lazily in the soft glow of the room. “But she hated having her cat bed in there, so…random box it was.”

You turned the camera slightly to show Alpine more, curled up in a perfect loaf inside the cardboard box you had lined with pillows. Again, Bucky could hear the soft jazz playing in the background. Something he couldn’t quite place, but gentle and melodic.

“She misses you,” you added gently, fingers scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “She keeps going to the door like she’s waiting for you to come back. Paces a little just before dinner. But the second I start preparing her food, she’s racing to the kitchen.”

A small throb pulsed behind Bucky’s ribs. He leaned further into the brick wall, tucking his chin down to try to hide the look on his face. He wasn’t even sure what the feeling he was having was. Fondness? Heartache?

You hesitated before speaking again. “So, how's the work trip?”

That did something that somehow caught him off guard. You asked like you cared. No agenda. No digging for leads. Just…asked unprovoked. He studied you for half a second, “It’s…fine. Just been a long day.”

“We’ve all been there. But Alpine will be here ready to bug you for salmon when you get back. I really shouldn’t have given it to her. That’s on me.”

Bucky tried to respond, but words seemed to fail him. Eventually he settled for a quiet: “Thanks.”

He stared at the video on the screen, Alpine, purring loud enough to be heard over the tinny speaker quality curled in her stupid little box fort, and you beside her. No expectations behind your expression – well, maybe just the promise to come pick up his cat – just…there. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing out a laugh. “Alpine’s really out here getting the royal treatment isn’t she?”

You chuckled in response, “Only the best for the princess. But don’t worry, I’m charging her ‘meowster’ card for the additional fees.”

That earned the closest thing to a laugh Bucky had managed in days. 

“Glad to hear it’s at least going through, they must have upped her limit.”

You devolved into laughter then, with Alpine turning away from you with an unamused expression. 

“Anyway, I should let you go.” Bucky said, seeing Sam waving at him from the door. “I just wanted to actually see if she was behaving or if she was holding you hostage and making you send those updates.” 

“She’s been a perfect angel.” You reassured. “I’ll send more pictures in the morning.”

“Thanks.” Bucky said before ending the call. 

Sam walked up, a quizzical look on his face. “Were you flirting with her? Is that what that was? If we weren’t having to chase leads, I’d be flabbergasted.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The sun was dipping low on the Louisiana horizon, casting golden streaks across the dock. Bucky sat on an overturned bucket, a wrench flipping loosely through his fingers as he looked out over the water. Sam was beside him, leaning back on his elbows, eyes closed in the sunshine. 

The day had been filled with boat repairs and dancing around the looming fact that the Flagsmashers were still out there, and that all of their leads had dried up. The least Bucky thought he could do while Alpine was safe in your care was make sure Sam, his sister, and his nephews stayed safe until something came up after the threats on their life.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out, already knowing who it was. Another update from you. This time, a video of Alpine batting at a feathered toy that twitched in response to something you had hooked onto her collar. A familiar mmrp and the scratching of claws on hardwood echoed from the speakers.

“Sorry, I had to keep her distracted somehow. I was in the middle of an email and she deleted the whole thing. She’s kind of an attention hog.” Your voice flowed out. 

Bucky bit back a smile before typing out a message in response. ‘Sorry, she gets like that. Hope it wasn’t anything too important.’

Your reply came quickly: ‘Nah, I’ll survive. Hope you’re doing okay.’

Bucky stared at the message longer than he meant to. The water lapped quietly at the dock while cicadas hummed somewhere in the trees behind them. A part of him wanted to say more, do something more for you after Alpine had disrupted your day.

He typed out a message ‘I really owe you dinner or something for putting up with her for this long.’ 

No, that seemed too forward. Delete.

‘I know a good salmon spot.’

What was he doing, asking out a grizzly bear? Delete.

He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back, squinting into the light like the sun was the main source of his problems. This wouldn't have been an issue in the 40s. That version of him would have already asked you out and he knew it. The issue was technology. 

Then, with as much forced casualness as he could muster – because he definitely hadn’t been rehearsing the question in his head for days – Bucky asked, “Hey…how do I ask out my cat sitter without it being weird?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. He turned toward Bucky slowly, eyebrows raised. “You’re asking me for dating advice?”

“No, I can get by on my own.”

Sam barked a laugh. “Clearly not if you can’t even figure out how to ask her on a date.”

“There’s too many rules nowadays.” Bucky muttered, running his hand over his hair. “I can’t figure out how to not sound creepy texting on this thing.”

“Okay, then call her.” Sam said it as if it were that simple and Bucky hadn’t already deleted tens of iterations of ‘let’s go get dinner’. He could only imagine how awkward a phone call would be.

“No, that’s not – look we’ve only talked through cat updates. Is that enough of a connection to ask someone to dinner?”

“Well, do you want to ask her?”

As if summoned by the mere notion of romantic idiocy, Sarah Wilson appeared. “You two are just getting nowhere fast.”

She stepped down onto the dock with a tray of lemonade, raising one brow as she caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s this about a cat sitter?”

Sam grinned, “Bucky’s got a little crush and he’s trying to act like it’s a hostage negotiation.”

Sarah nodded at the phone still in Bucky’s hand. “You like her?”

Bucky nodded, half-shrugging, the tips of his ears now turning pink. 

“Then stop overthinking it and just ask her to dinner.” She waved a hand at him. “You’re a grown man. And she’s clearly into cats, so there’s your icebreaker.”

“But do it when you pick up Alpine,” she added, pointing a finger at him as she set the tray down. “Women like a face to face thing. Plus that way, if she says no, she can’t just dump your cat somewhere.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Bucky defended immediately, turning the device over in his palm.

“Oh you’re so far gone, Barnes.” Sam chuckled, sipping on a drink. “You sure talk like you know her already.”

“I’m going to push you into the water,” Bucky grumbled, rewatching the short clip on mute.

Sarah huffed a laugh, “You’re both hopeless.” She turned then, and headed back towards the house. All the while muttering something about the “men” under her breath.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Flagsmashers had been dealt with, all either arrested or…otherwise indisposed. The world, for once, didn’t feel like it was actively ending. And Bucky finally had the space to breathe again. 

Which meant it was time to go get his cat. 

He didn’t send much when he let you know he was ready to pick Alpine up. 

‘Alpine’s going to be mad when I mess up her new schedule isn’t she?’

Your reply came almost instantly. ‘She’ll forgive you if you bring extra salmon.’

Now, standing in front of your door again, Bucky shifted from foot to foot, trying to give himself a pep talk. He had salmon – some fresh, some precooked – depending on what kind of night this turned into. He’d debated bringing a classic, like a bouquet of flowers, decided they were too forward, and instead settled on a thank-you gift bag Sarah helped him put together. Chocolate, a pastel pink pair of fuzzy socks, a lint roller because he remembered how Alpine’s fur had clung to your leggings, and a small hand cream in a scent Bucky thought might match the vanilla-citrus of your apartment.

He knocked once, and the door opened immediately. Like you had watched him fidget through your peephole in an effort to calm his racing heart.

You looked just as he remembered. Soft and bright, that sunshine smile still present, but a little more guarded. “She’s been clingy all morning,” you sighed, opening the door wider. “I think she knew you were coming.”

And as if on cue, Alpine strutted lazily into view, stopping two feet from Bucky, and sat down like a statue. No meow. No chirp. Just one very pointed glare and tail swish. 

He had expected Alpine to be a bit…disgruntled and standoffish. He had left her a little longer than he had said with a total stranger. But a stranger that she had picked. 

Bucky crouched down and reached a hand out, only for her to turn her head and dramatically sigh. But a moment later, she pushed forward, headbutting his knee and letting out a long mmrrrp like she’d absolutely suffered in his absence.

“She missed you,” you said softly.

“I can tell,” Bucky huffed, scratching behind her ears. “She’s laying on the guilt pretty thick.”

He straightened, handing you the gift bag awkwardly. “For you, just a thank you. I know she can be a little demanding.”

You peeked inside, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Is…are these pink fuzzy socks?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up into his cheeks, “They matched a blanket I saw. In one of the photos. I figured…y’know, you like that color.”

“That’s dangerously observant,” you said, smiling. “Thank you, this wasn’t necessary. She really was great, once she warmed up to me. She just kinda started following me everywhere.”

Bucky glanced down at Alpine, now doing figure-eights around his boots, occasionally sniffing at the other bag in his hand. “She chose you. I was scrolling for ages trying to figure it out until she just…tapped on your picture.”

“Well, she’s welcome anytime.” You hesitated, like you wanted to say more. “Though…hopefully next time it’s just a vacation, not an international incident.”

Bucky must have looked shocked, because for all intents and purposes, you thought he was just on a work trip. He had mentioned nothing of what he was up to. He didn’t even think you knew who he was.

“Saw you on the news with Captain America,” you said sheepishly, shrugging like it was no big deal. 

He tilted his head in surprise, “You mean Sam?”

“Yeah,” you said matter-of-factly. “He looked real good in that flying suit. People should stop giving him so much shit about it.”

That landed harder than it should have. Most people were unsure when John Walker was labelled Captain America, and even more people were hesitant and skeptical when they saw Sam holding that shield. You’d just said it like it was obvious, without a shadow of doubt. 

Bucky cleared his throat, “I won’t tell him you said that. It’ll go right to his already inflated ego.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Noted. If I meet him, no more compliments.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled in return. “So…have you eaten yet?”

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. “No, not yet.”

Bucky lifted the second bag slightly. “There’s some food in here. I did bring extra salmon for Alpine, but also potatoes, broccoli, I think some kind of salad. Sam’s sister sent me off with enough to feed a family of six. I was just gonna reheat it at home, but…if you’re hungry, I thought maybe…”

“Yes,” you said, before he could finish. “I mean, sure. Yeah. Sounds good.”

Bucky relaxed a little, cracking the smallest smile. “Cool.”

Alpine let out a loud, impatient meow from between the two of your feet, rubbing around your ankles. You looked down at the little cat, “I think she either approves, or just wants her salmon.”

“Well, guess we shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Bucky said, nodding towards the kitchen.

“Right,” you agreed, taking the bag from his hand. “But just so we’re clear, I really enjoyed having Alpine around. I might demand visitation rights when I realize I miss her too much.”

Bucky followed, smirking, “We might need to get her approval first, but we can negotiate terms over dinner.”