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The night lay as a blanket over them. Soft rain tapped against the window, reminding of the fall coolness just beyond the warmth of their embrace. It was the only sound to permeate through the room, though the remaining silence was welcomed. This moment was theirs and theirs alone—a much-needed break from the chaos of their daily lives.
They'd been talking before, however many minutes ago, but Bucky couldn't even remember what they'd been talking about. Threads of conversation weaving into each other, overlapping and familiar, until it all petered out into the comfortable silence they rested in now.
Bucky's cheek had landed on Ava's shoulder at some point, close enough to feel the rise and fall of each breath she took. She lay on her back, hand caressing his own where it splayed across her middle, her other hand threading through his hair. It could've been hours that they'd been there, or minutes, or days, but he knew he could be there forever. After everything, it was unbelievable he was able to be here at all—puzzles pieces aligned, just the two of them.
Well, the three of them. His thumb brushed along her stomach.
Normally, the safety of a moment like this would have him out in minutes; she simply had that effect on him. But, as always, Ava knew all too well when his mind was running.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks, voice soft against the quiet.
Bucky breathed for second before responding. Mostly to thread his thoughts into something more coherent than the vague snippets they'd been, though much of his hesitation lay in deciding whether to potentially disrupt the calm with this conversation. There wasn't really a better time to do so, he figured. Their lives were crazy as is; quiet moments like this were rare, as much as they wanted differently.
Resolved, he asked the question that'd been burning in his mind for days. "Should we retire?"
There was a beat too long of silence, and a brief moment of doubt compelled him to fill it. "I mean, not completely. There's always going to be something and I know neither of us can turn away from that, but…" he trailed off.
"She shouldn't grow up without parents," Ava said, and a tension he hadn't realized he held fell from his shoulders. Though, that tension was ultimately irrational. Of course she would understand—she understood the harm in the worst case much, much better than he did.
He nodded his head, once, against her shoulder. "We can't risk that."
His hand caressed her stomach again unconsciously, as if he could protect the little one within even now from that future. The motion at least brought comfort just by knowing she was there, though Ava was still too early along to truly feel her. Still, he knew.
"The team will be upset they won't be able to babysit her all the time," Ava said, lightheartedly, as if to soften their contemplation of the unthinkable, but it just made Bucky internally cringe at the very idea.
"Oh, God no," he groaned, his brows scrunching inward. "That'd be a nightmare."
She pinched his arm lightly, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "It wouldn't be that bad."
"Walker, maybe, or Bob," he conceded. "But I think Yelena would just hand her a gun and tell her where to shoot, and I don't even want to think about what Alexei would do," he groused, resisting a shudder at it.
She gave a breathy laugh. "Maybe a bit of a nightmare. You are being dramatic, though."
He shrugged a shoulder. "I can't help it. I want the best for her."
"By planning for worst case babysitting scenarios?"
"Yes."
She laughed again, and now she was definitely laughing at him. The kiss she turned to give to his forehead made up for it, though.
"It'll be fine," she said, close enough that the assurance ghosted across his skin.
He hummed, his hand beginning to trace along her stomach again. They couldn't really know how it would all go, not for sure. But maybe, just maybe, the easy path they were both due for was what would greet them in this new chapter. Bucky could hope for that. And…at least they were in this together, them and their bunch of delinquents—as bad as babysitters as they may be. That was all he could really ask for.
"Yeah. Yeah, it will be," he agreed, lifting his head to look at her, luminescent beauty even in the darkness. "Especially for as long as I get to be with the most beautiful woman in the world."
He could see her smile grow this time. He couldn't help but to meet it with his own. She rolled her eyes. "You're incredibly cheesy."
"How could I not be? In bed with the most amazing, wonderful, lovely person I've ever laid eyes on, the star that lights up my day—" she raised her brows at that "—who I somehow got lucky enough to call my wife, God knows how. And who's carrying the second most—"
She shook her head with a grin, then interrupted by pulling him in towards her and swallowing his words with her lips. He smiled into it before returning the kiss in kind.
It was gentle and almost languid, the familiar ebb and flow echoing the comfort of the night around them. Bucky could just about melt into her, crawl into her ribcage and make a home there. His hand rose to cradle her face, brushing her hair back and slotting his fingers against her ear. An accidental nip of teeth sparked a different sensation of warmth, but he didn't think either of them wished to follow through with it.
He didn't return to the kiss when they naturally broke for breath, instead leaning his forehead against hers, matching her breaths with his own. Later, maybe, they would crash together like waves, ignite that spark to a flame. Now, though…
Now, he only wished to bask in this moment with her, slivers of time that so often slipped through the cracks. He'd found peace was often water gliding through his fingers, always slipping from his grasp no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it. He had no other choice but to watch as it disappeared beneath the tides, to face the crashing waves left in its wake. For most of his life, peace had been a fickle thing.
Here, he cradled peace between his palms. For once, he believed peace wouldn't be torn out from under him. Here, Ava was a star in his night sky, a guiding light to always lead him home.
The future used to seem an impossibility—a path to walk with nothing ahead but shadows cast by the pillars of his past. Now, Bucky only thought of every morning he'll get to wake up next to her. Every time he'll get to hear her laugh, or match her smirk with his own, or kiss the mole that lay above her eyebrow, or memorize the rest of the freckles spattered like constellations across her cheeks.
It was a future he never imagined for himself, and yet it was right here in front of him. It lay as a promise within her stomach—which his hand had subconsciously trailed back to—and the warmth of her breath mingling with his own, and the world continuing on as it had always done.
Bucky couldn't imagine what he could have done to get this lucky, but like hell would he waste that chance now. Fate had given him more chances than he deserved, but this was the one he'll cherish with everything he had.