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The air smelled like cinnamon and wet leaves. A thin mist clung to the trees, softening the edges of the world, and somewhere in the distance, kids were laughing as they tried to lift pumpkins twice their size.
Wanda pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and looked over at Bucky, who was inspecting a lopsided pumpkin like it was a mission-critical piece of tech.
“It’s a pumpkin,” she said, her voice teasing. “Not a Hydra relic.”
He looked up, one brow raised. “You sure? You ever seen one this ugly before?”
She laughed—a light, genuine sound that made something warm uncurl in his chest. “I think it’s charming, like you.”
“You would.” He set the pumpkin down, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You always go for the weird ones.”
Wanda grinned, stepping closer until she could hook her fingers around the crook of his metal elbow. “And yet, I’m here with you.”
Bucky snorted, his ears turning pink beneath his beanie. “Okay, that one was too easy, Winnie.”
They walked slowly between the rows, the mud sucking at their boots, the world painted in every shade of gold and red. Wanda reached out with her powers occasionally, turning a few pumpkins just to inspect them without bending down. Bucky caught her every time, smiling to himself.
“You know,” he said after a while, “back when I was a kid, we used to come to places like this. Me and Steve and Becca. Ma would make us take pictures with the pumpkins.”
Wanda’s hand tightened on his arm. “Sounds nice.”
“It was,” he said, a little quietly. Then, almost as an afterthought: “You’d’ve liked her.”
They stopped at the edge of the patch. The trees beyond looked like they were on fire, all crimson and orange, the air sharp and sweet. Wanda turned toward him, cheeks pink from the cold. “She’d be proud of you,” she said softly.
Bucky blinked, the words hitting deep. He wanted to argue, to deflect—but Wanda was looking at him with that patient, knowing expression of hers, and he couldn’t.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Maybe she would.”
Wanda smiled, reaching up to brush a leaf from his hair. “Definitely.”
Something in the quiet between them shifted then—soft and easy. Bucky reached up, catching her wrist before she could pull back, and pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles.
“Thanks, Winnie.”
She tilted her head, smiling. “For what?”
“For making me feel like a human being again,” he said. “Not just… another day of nightmares and therapy.”
Her heart fluttered, and before she could say anything, he bent down and kissed her—just a brief, warm brush of lips, like he’d been holding it in for too long. The scent of apple cider and rain mixed between them.
When they pulled back, Wanda’s eyes were bright, her smile soft. “You know,” she murmured, “I think this one’s perfect.”
She gestured toward the first pumpkin—the ugly, crooked one he’d mocked.
Bucky huffed a laugh. “Figures. The weird one.”
“The charming one,” she corrected, bumping her shoulder into his.
“Yeah,” he said, stealing another kiss before she could scold him. “Guess I’ve got a type.”
They ended up carrying the pumpkin home between them, fingers brushing in the middle of the handle. The sun was starting to set, painting everything in amber light. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky thought—maybe fall didn’t have to mean endings. Maybe it could mean something beginning, too.