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Bucky wouldn’t have noticed that Alpine was becoming more… rotund… if:
- She hadn’t jumped onto his chest one evening, and Bucky felt like the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs, and
- She fits in her favorite shoe box - but only if by ‘fit’ one means the sides of her fluffy belly spilling out of it.
He frowns at her while she lies in the box, contentedly pretending it’s not holding only half of her stomach in it. And then he goes to lift her out, finds that there’s considerably more of her to actually carry than ever before.
“Okay. Why are you heavier?” he asks her, like he’s fully expecting a verbal response.
Alpine merely blinks at him. Slowly. Prettily.
So? At this point, he does what every normal pet owner does:
Googles ‘Should I get concerned if my cat gets fatter but still remains active?’
The answer he got? Told him to ‘go ask a veterinarian.’
Thus, Bucky finds himself scheduling a vet visit the very next day.
“So?” Yelena asks him later. “What did vet say?”
“That she’s healthy but appears to be extremely well-fed,” Bucky replies, crossing his arms. “Emphasis on the ‘extremely’.”
Which, of course, was next to impossible. He hasn’t been increasing her food or feeding her extra treats or making any changes in her diet, so the idea that she’s somehow getting extra nutrients? Laughable.
Especially since Alpine’s an indoor cat.
Well, 70% of the time.
And he tells them as such.
“So, what. That means your cat’s freeloading somewhere else?” John inquires.
Bucky shrugs.
“Definitely possible. You have been letting her out more frequently lately, haven’t you?” Yelena inquires.
He nods. Of course he has. Alpine rarely meows at him or anything in general, but when she isn’t pleased? She tends to let him know by scratching the door to oblivion. Or staring at it until Bucky gets the message that she wants out. Or opening windows on her own, even those that Bucky thought were tightly locked.
Bob, who had been pretending not to be listening for the last ten minutes, actually looks at them over his shoulder and comments offhandedly, “You know, my mom’s cat basically had three families. Like every day, he ate breakfast in our house, but come lunchtime and dinnertime, he was nowhere to be seen. Turned out he always went two houses down for lunch, then four houses down for dinner.” He tilts his head, clearly reminiscing. “Theodore was a good cat. We all loved him. Then he went and died horribly because some idiot poisoned him. We never found out who did it, though we’ve always suspected it’s the third house down since Teddy’s always skipped them.”
Bucky, Yelena, and John all stare at him, clearly horrified.
“Anyway, good luck with Alpine. I’m sure she won’t get poisoned like Teddy,” Bob says, returning to his computer - as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Bucky that moment.
Suffice to say, he orders a pet cam that same day.
It arrives on a Saturday. The cam’s shaped like a tiny flower that’s supposed to hang from Alpine’s collar because, in Yelena’s words, “Alpine is a lady and should be given lady-appropriate things, even if you are disgustingly spying on her lady activities.”
He installs it with military precision, all the while pretending that he is not at all bothered by the fact that the instructions were written in a language he can barely understand. Alpine, bless her, tolerated the process with the long-suffering patience of a well-loved princess who knew she was about to get away with everything, anyway.
Finally, after hours of figuring things out, Bucky managed to clip the cam on Alpine’s collar, adjust the angle twice, and sync the camera feed to his phone.
“Just for a week or two,” he mutters, giving the cat a belly rub afterward. “Then we’ll know who’s overfeeding you.”
He doesn’t feel great about it, but, well. It was for Alpine’s safety, anyway. He remembers Bob’s story about his mom’s cat dying from poisoning, and nope, that’s not going to happen to his only emotional support animal. But, worst-case scenario that it does happen?
At least Bucky will know who to blame.
And take revenge on.
In the worst possible way.
The first few days of surveying Alpine’s outdoor activities turned out to be deeply normal and boring.
Bucky lives in Unit B of a duplex with a small courtyard, and Alpine patrols it like she’s the one paying rent. Naps under the bountiful hydrangeas two houses down. Stares judgmentally at a scurrying squirrel, then up at a crow standing at the electric lines. Lies down in a sun patch. Sits on the low wall dividing Bucky’s unit and the one next to it, looks down, and starts cleaning herself.
Bucky shuts the feed to give her privacy.
He turns it on the next day, however, as soon as Alpine bolts out the door.
Same uninteresting events. Which must be thrilling for a cat.
Then, on Friday, everything goes sideways.
Bucky’s at work when his phone buzzes with a live-feed notification. Glances down at it out of habit, already anticipating a normal and boring peek into Alpine’s world.
Only to nearly drop his phone three seconds later.
Because nope. Alpine isn’t actually staring at a squirrel or a crow this time.
Alpine’s staring at a person.
Specifically, a woman.
Despite the low and slightly tilted camera angle, she can be visibly seen crouching in front of Alpine, laughing softly as she scratches under the cat’s chin, fingers unknowingly moving against the flower-shaped camera in the process.
She’s wearing leggings and an oversized shirt that’s carelessly slipping off one shoulder, hair twisted into a messy knot behind her head. She’s very attractive in a quiet, almost infuriatingly casual way.
Of course, Bucky’s already aware of that.
For months now.
“Hey, Snowball,” the woman says warmly. “I was wondering if you’re going to show up again at my door this week.”
Bucky blinks, surprised to hear an English accent. Not that it matters, since it isn’t doing anything to Bucky’s insides at the moment, nope.
She holds out her hand. “Are you hungry? Oh, you poor, poor dear. Come, let’s get you sorted out, then.”
Alpine rubs her face all over her hand like she’s just found her person. Like she hasn’t experienced any sort of love right before this very moment.
Bucky stares at the feed, feeling deeply offended by how pathetically soft his cat was being.
Then the woman stands, turns, and the camera catches the familiar blue door of -
Unit A.
Bucky’s jaw tightens.
Of course.
He should have known.
See, the woman from Unit A is such an absolute menace of a neighbor that he starts referring to her as Unit Annoying. But when he’s feeling less than charitable, he thinks of her as Unit Asshole.
Because, coincidentally, that’s also how she parks her goddamn green Sedan.
The duplex they both live in has exactly two assigned spaces, one for Unit A, one for Unit B. There are no marks or anything, but it makes sense that the parking space in front of Bucky’s unit is his for his truck. And true enough, Bucky’s been parking there, always mindful of the dividing line, always in that space. His old neighbor - the one he thoroughly misses now - always takes the spot in front of Unit A, so there’d been zero issues between them.
And then his old neighbor moved away, and Ava Starr - whose name only became known to him via a package delivered on his doorstep instead of hers - decided that, actually, parking rules don’t apply to her specifically.
And blatantly displayed her disregard for it by taking his space so soon after moving in.
Which, okay, isn’t really a big deal. The first time it happened, Bucky assumed it was because she made an honest mistake. New to the neighborhood and all. So, he lets it pass.
The fifth time it happened, he wasn’t feeling so forgiving anymore.
So what did he do? He left a polite note on her windshield early in the morning, just before heading off for work.
Hey! I think there’s been a mix-up. This spot usually goes with Unit B. My unit. Just wanted to flag it, in case you’re unaware :)
He added the smiley face even though he hated coming off as passive-aggressive. But, whatever. Maybe adding that to the note will make him look a bit friendlier.
Bucky finds the response taped to his windshield the next morning.
Hey! I don’t think there’s been any mix-up, actually. Pretty sure the lease said parking isn’t assigned. First-come, first-served, right? Have a nice day! :))
A passive-aggressive smiley face.
With a double chin.
Bucky stares at the note, something tightening in his chest.
Okay, then.
Then, because having his parking space regularly snatched from him isn’t bad enough, there’s also her annoying tendency to move furniture.
In the middle of the fucking night.
But she was smart enough not to do it every night, because that would’ve been easier to complain to the owner about. Nope. She did it sporadically. Enough that he couldn’t really report her to anyone without sounding unhinged or obsessed.
And somehow, she always does it on a night he absolutely needed a good night’s sleep, too.
Bucky’s already in bed by 10:30 p.m, Alpine resting contentedly on a cat bed near his feet. Him already a tenth of the way to dreamland, imagine that.
Then comes the noises.
At 11:47 p.m., a loud scrape. A dull thump. Something heavy being dragged or pulled across hardwood floors with the determination of a woman rearranging her entire life at midnight, because of course she was.
The sounds that vibrated through the walls dividing their units were annoying enough to wake Bucky up from his one-tenth of sleep.
Who does that? he thinks, staring at the ceiling, just after realizing what exactly woke him up. Who thinks, “Tonight I move the couch” at midnight?
Ava Starr of Unit A, apparently.
So he leaves another note, this time taped to her front door.
Just a heads up. Noise can actually carry through the wall. Not sure why the need for it, but maybe try moving your furniture earlier in the day? Some of us actually try to sleep at night. Thanks.
No smiley face this time, because he thinks it’s already passive-aggressive enough.
Her response, predictably, arrives the next day. Taped to his front door.
I work late, so no promises. Also, did you forget I live here, too? Maybe invest in earplugs if you have sensitive ears. Thanks.
No apology. Not even a tiny hint of remorse for disrupting his sleep.
He stared at the note for a full minute before crumpling it in his fist.
Well, then.
From then on, it was war.
Which was, admittedly, slightly stupid and childish.
It went on, anyway.
She started parking slightly over the line dividing their parking spaces. Once, she even parked so crookedly that Bucky had to do a seventeen-point maneuver and climb out through the passenger side just so his car door wouldn’t scrape the paint off hers.
So how does he retaliate? Bucky parks exactly in the middle of the dividing lines, leaving no space at all for her car on either side.
That made her park on the street as her only option.
Then she started vacuuming very loudly, either very early or very late in the day.
Even on Sundays.
Especially on Sundays.
So? He started cooking meals that required aggressive chopping at night. Bucky even googled recipes and asked John for recommendations. Kept a handy supply of onions, celery, carrots, and other choppable shit as a result. Ate veggie soup and stew for weeks.
Then, there’s the loud AF music.
Hers, alternating between pop and heavy rock.
His, a tasty blend of jazz, classical, and 40s hits.
Always drifting through the wall between them at any given hour of any given day.
Still, they never spoke directly to each other, choosing instead to communicate entirely through passive-aggressive notes and noises that, miraculously, haven’t made both of them the subject of complaints from other folks living in this quiet, suburban neighborhood.
And now?
Now, apparently, Unit Annoying was feeding his cat. With the fancy-looking pink brand that he had once looked at at PetSmart and dismissed for being an overpriced pure organic salmon nonsense.
Bucky stares at his phone in silence, completely in disbelief.
Then, very calmly, he tells himself, “This explains everything.”
Still, Bucky gives her the benefit of the doubt, because he’s a Mature Adult like that.
Alpine coming to Ava’s unit once might just be a fluke. After all, Bob’s Teddy - God bless his feline soul - had three houses when he was still living. Maybe Ava’s just one of those guilty of overfeeding Alpine.
That hypothesis soon goes to shit when, in the next five days, Alpine consistently makes a trip only to Ava’s place. Always through a different route, too, so Ava doesn’t know she’s coming from the unit beside hers. Like Alpine is hyperaware of the active, ongoing feud between Bucky and Ava - and she knows any hint of her being his cat will culminate in being banned from premium organic salmon for life.
Bucky shows the incriminating footage to Yelena the next day.
“Wow,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her. “Congratulations. Guess you found the culprit.”
“And you say spying is bad,” he scoffs, feeling all sorts of vindicated.
Just then, both John and Bob wander over Yelena’s cubicle. “What are you guys watching?” Bob asks, frowning at Bucky’s phone.
“Evidence of Barnes being completely unhinged about Alpine and the pretty neighbor who’s been feeding her,” Yelena tells him with a smirk. “Not that we don’t know that already.”
“Neighbor?” Bob says, looking at Bucky now. “The one you’re feuding with over parking?”
“One and the same,” Yelena confirms, nodding.
And, just as Ava once again comes into view, John snatches the phone right off Bucky’s hands.
“Hey–”
“Oh,” John says, eyes completely glued to the screen. “Oooooh. I get it now.”
Something about the way John’s completely absorbed in looking at Ava–
Bucky snatches his phone back, irritation prickling the back of his neck. “Get what, exactly?”
John raises both hands in surrender. “Nothing! Just that, you know. She’s a ten. If a woman that beautiful fed me regularly, I’d defect from you, too.”
“Except Alpine hasn’t defected,” Bucky replies, glaring at John.
“Yet,” Yelena adds blithely.
So he glares at her, too.
Because who knows?
Maybe there is a very slight chance of that happening.
At some point, Bucky knows he has to confront Ava about Alpine.
Except every time he thinks about initiating a conversation with her, he freezes. Completely turns away from the thought like a fucking coward.
After basically confirming that Alpine is cheating on him and his cheap food supply with no one else but Ava, Bucky unclips the camera from her collar. It’s only decorative at this point, because every time the camera feed starts showing Ava’s quiet, tidy house, and her pretty yet tired smile, Bucky’s turning his phone off anyway.
Watching the footage now just feels… wrong. Like he’s intruding in a private moment.
And in truth, he was.
Still. The problem persisted: Alpine’s getting even fatter. So he knows he has to at least tell Ava to maybe stop overfeeding his cat.
He just… had to come up with a good way to do it, that’s all.
The universe hands him an opportunity the very next day.
By virtue of his running into Ava by the mailboxes.
She’s wearing leggings and a loose tank top, messy hair pulled back, keys dangling from one finger. Still unfairly beautiful in a way that he doesn’t notice at all, nope.
She pauses when she sees him, posture stiffening just a little.
“Hey,” she says. “You’re Unit B.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “I am.” And then, because he’s hyperaware that they haven’t exactly exchanged any verbal words before this, he introduces himself by way of saying, “Bucky.”
No last name, since she hasn’t earned it yet.
She nods. “Ava.”
He doesn’t remind her that he knows that already by way of a previously misdelivered package.
Annnnnd silence. But Bucky’s very much aware that the air between them is tight, full of unspoken irritation and defiance.
She breaks it first by clearing her throat. “Just so you know, your giant truck’s over the parking line again.”
He exhales. “Well, you keep parking in my spot, so.”
Her mouth twitches. “Funny how that keeps happening.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s a real mystery.”
Then they just stand there, both clearly unwilling to move or leave first.
Finally, Ava tilts her head. “You leave notes for everyone, or am I that special?”
He meets her gaze. “You started it.”
She laughs, incredulous. “You were the one who left a note on my car, remember?”
“Well, again, you kept parking in my spot. Plus, you’re the one moving your couch at midnight.”
“I was assembling a bookshelf.”
“Because midnight is the best time to assemble a bookshelf.”
“I work weird hours. And it was IKEA, okay? Don’t judge me.”
He huffs despite himself.
Her eyes flick to the cars, then the mailboxes. “Look. I don’t want to be fighting with my neighbor all the time, all right? But I also don’t appreciate receiving passive-aggressive notes. Or listening to you move in your kitchen like a madman during ungodly hours every night.”
“Then maybe stop vacuuming on ungodly hours and on Sundays.”
“Then maybe be a bit more open to things. Like changes in parking habits.”
They stare at each other.
And something… shifts.
“Fine,” she says finally, sighing loudly. “Truce. On the parking.”
“Fine,” he agrees. “On the notes. And the noise.”
They part without another word.
Only later does Bucky realize he absolutely did not bring up the subject of Alpine whatsoever.
Idiot.
That Thursday, Alpine doesn’t come home.
Not for an hour after he’d arrived from work. Or two.
Three hours later, and Bucky’s unease was outweighing his irritation.
Because this isn’t like her. Alpine wanders, yes, but she always makes it a point to be home at this hour… if only to sniff at the food Bucky gives her like it’s beneath her current station in life.
He grabs his phone, intending to check the camera feed… only to realize later on that, fuck, he’d already removed the cat cam and the app from his phone.
Which basically means he has no way of knowing where Alpine is at the moment.
Unless…
Bucky glances at the wall. The one he’s sharing with Ava.
And realizes well, there’s no better time to check with her than today.
So he goes out the door, glances at his right–
–and spots a hooded figure sitting on the porch steps on Ava’s side of the duplex.
That was… odd, to say the least. Carefully, Bucky made his way over, because if a stranger had made themselves comfortable on her property, the least he could do was–
A closer look revealed that, actually, it was no stranger at all.
It was Ava herself, in an oversized hoodie that basically swallowed her entire frame. Hands around her knees, eyes focused on somewhere down the street, like she was looking past things instead of at them.
She looked entirely… different. Tired. Worn down.
Bucky slows his steps without realizing it.
And then he hears it. That blessed, familiar sound.
Purring.
Coming from none other than Alpine, comfortably tucked in Ava’s lap, belly up.
Bucky exhales in relief. “There you are,” he says out loud.
Startled, Ava looks up at him, guard automatically going into place. “I’m sorry?”
He shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t–” Then Bucky points at Alpine. “I was talking to my cat. I haven’t seen her for a while now, so.”
She blinks at him. “Sorry, your cat?”
Alpine chooses that moment to put both paws up, resting them on Ava’s chin.
“Yes,” Bucky replies carefully. “Her. Alpine.”
“Snowball is–”
Then understanding dawns slowly across Ava’s face as she looks down at Alpine before glancing up at Bucky again. “Oh. Oh. I hadn’t realized… Oh my god. I’m so sorry. She came over while I… and then she wouldn’t leave–”
“It’s okay,” Bucky cuts in quickly. “I was just worried.”
Ava eyes Alpine again. “She’s been comforting me this whole afternoon. I never even thought– I thought she was a community stray.”
That makes him clear his throat. “She has a collar.”
“But no name or contact details in case someone else finds her on the street.”
Okay. Okay, that was… fair. Bucky makes a mental note to get that next time.
Then Alpine stands on Ava’s knees and actually presses her face near Ava’s jaw. Once. Twice.
Bucky stares.
She only did that when something was wrong with him.
His gaze flicks over Ava properly this time. Notes the dark circles under her eyes. The paleness of her skin. The slight shaking of her hands.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, even before he can stop himself.
Ava hesitates.
Then shrugs and says, “I will be.”
Still, he thought it prudent to follow that up with, “Do you need me to call someone for you or–”
She shakes her head. “No. No. I-I’m fine, thank you.” Ava strokes Alpine’s head, smiles down at her, then looks at Bucky again. “Take her, then.”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, just studying her.
Then, before he can change his mind, Bucky says, “She can stay. I just needed to know she’s in a safe place, anyway.”
Ava blinks at him, surprised. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. “You can just return her when you’re feeling better.”
Something in Ava’s expression softens, just a little.
“I will,” she tells him quietly. “Thanks.”
Alpine purrs in her lap like she’d orchestrated this entire thing.
Ava brings Alpine home later that night. After handing the cat to Bucky, she lingers awkwardly in the doorway, hands shoved into her hoodie pockets.
“Hey, so. Thanks again,” she says. “For earlier.”
Bucky nods. “Anytime. But, uh. We should probably talk about her feeding schedule. Especially since it doesn’t seem like she’ll stop visiting you anytime soon.”
She stares at him, surprised once again. “Oh, so you’re not mad about the whole thing?”
“Nah. I’m over it. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to poison her, are you?” But Bucky says it like he’s obviously joking.
She catches on and says, grinning now. “No! Of course not!”
Alpine chooses that moment to leap off his arms and trot inside his house, tail high and fluffy.
As if the very thought of having an official feeding schedule offends her greatly.
Ava turns to go, stops, and says, “For what it’s worth… I didn’t mean to be a complete arsehole to you. About the parking. And the other things.”
“Yeah, you did.” Bucky snorts. “I kind of did too, so. Guess we’re even.”
She laughs.
The sight startles him.
And the warmth that spreads in his chest at the sound?
Yeah, that startles him, too.
The next morning, he finds a note taped on his front door.
Hey, Bucky. Thanks for letting me borrow Snowball Alpine. She’s been helping me more than you know. I appreciate it a lot. ~ Ava
He smiles.
Then folds the note carefully, places it in his pocket, and heads to work.
The next time Alpine goes missing, Bucky doesn’t panic immediately, no.
Just knocks on that blue front door next to his.
And when Ava opens the door? She’s smiling softly. Like she’s been expecting him.
And Alpine?
Weaves between their legs, purring loudly all the while.
The little shit.