CHAPTER ONE
[May 25th, 1941]
-xx-
Life to Lydia Ashford meant lavish parties. Expensive clothing she would never be able to afford without the help of her family. Endless drinks, flowing alcohol. Life to her meant enduring long nights of dull conversation. It meant getting herself dressed up and put on display for the eligible bachelors in town. It meant impressing her parent's coworkers, offering pleasantries and acting on her best behavior. It meant endless sons of friends - all of which trying to come up with something to say to woo their way into her heart. It meant laughing at their dry humor, smiling through pursed lips, holding down the bile building in her throat when they asked her to go out with them.
Today was no exception. Her father had finalized a new study, something about prenatal research she had very little knowledge of. In his honor, a party of grandiose proportions was to be held in a local venue. People in decadent gowns, women with their prized husbands latched to their slender arms. Single men wearing the most expensive suits they could find, tailored to perfection, their hair slicked to perfection. All the while young women donned their fanciest gowns, in hopes of ensnaring a young man of their own.
Flutes filled with champagne, all sipped as secrets were shared and lives were destroyed. The mighty came to tout their fortune - to show one another why they were superior. A class struggle in a skewed society; an endless cycle of trying to out best the person to their right and left. A maddening circle of false expectation, battles of wit, and brutal warfare dealt at the hand of sharp tongues and scandal.
Lydia ran her fingers along the plush velvet drapery enveloping the room, her heart pounding in time with the music playing in the background. A sultry tune played with jazz instruments, while a woman sang of heartbreak at the hands of the wrong man. People watched her as she weaved in and out of the countless bodies, some of the younger women even sneering as she passed. New York's Princess, they called her behind red lips and glinting, pearly white teeth. All the girls who wished for no more than for Lydia Ashford to fall from her supposed grace and tumble on each step of the way down. The girl they claimed had everything, wanted for nothing, and had all her wishes and desires handed to her.
She stopped in the powder room when the murmuring became too much, tossing her purse on the countertop and glancing at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. Some days she didn't even recognize herself. Others she didn't want to. Her hair still fell the same way, a mass of brown hair which never quite decided if it wanted to be straight or wavy on any given day. Her eyes were still rounded and brown, filled with the emotions she'd never be able to hide because she wore them in her irises. The gown she wore clung in places she thought inappropriate and uncomfortable, the same red color as the lipstick swiped across her lips.
She felt like a fake. Like any of the other young and rising elitists, trying so hard to be someone they would never quite be. What with her mother incessantly reminding her that these parties were also meant for her. That they were planned in the hopes she might meet someone and secure her future. Someone of a higher social standing with a job lined up, or an inheritance which would come in within the next few years.
But she didn't want any of that.
And yet she leaned closer to the mirror, plucked her lipstick out of her bag and swiped it across her lips one more time. Her fingers pinched color back into her cheeks, palms patting the skin for added effect. She was young, beautiful and privileged. Anyone would love to be in her situation and living her life. Yet she craved more, her heart always beating to a different tune not quite in tandem with everyone around her. Always searching for something else, though that something remained unclear.
"Oh there you are! I've been looking for you all night. You'll never believe this!"
Helena Donohue appeared in the mirror, her slender form and flowing blonde hair glinting in the pale lights of the chandelier dangling up above. Her fingers were fisted in the gown she wore, feet frantically moving across the floor. Lydia closed her lipstick and tossed it in her bag, eyes never leaving the woman now standing behind her. Helena Donohue never remained long without some sort of drama swirling around her, constantly known for being a bit of a flirt at all the parties she attended. Arching her brows, Lydia finally turned to face the girl, gasping when she nearly toppled her over once the girl latched her hand around her forearm without so much as a warning.
"I think I am in love."
"You said that about the soldier you met not too long ago," Lydia pointed out, leading Helena toward one of the seats littering the room. "And then about that man you met at my birthday party...the one with the smoldering eyes as you put it."
Helena pouted, saying, "The soldier ended up having steady relationship, remember?"
"Which he so kindly forgot to tell you -"
"And the man with the eyes and I were going steady for a bit, but it didn't take long to realize we weren't meant for each other. He didn't even want to work anyway. He was always going on and on about how he wanted to help others instead and do philanthropic outreach, and you know my parents wouldn't have wanted that. They want me to marry a doctor...or a businessman."
"They want what they think is best for you," she told her friend. "And honestly, neither of those men were good for you. I could tell from the start."
Lydia forced a smile, cupping her friend's hand in her own. "So tell me about this new guy? Is he here tonight?"
"Not yet, but I am sure when he gets here you'll realize he's different."
She hoped so for Helena's sake. Still, she kept her mouth in an upturned smile and allowed her friend to prattle on about this man. His tall, rugged build. His handsome features, from the hard line of his sculpted jaw - as she so delicately put it - to the broad width of his shoulders and the slope of his back, down to the hardened muscles of his abdomen. Utterly useless descriptors, but common for Helena who preferred to focus on the exterior rather than the interior.
"But what is he like, Helena?" She wanted to ask, though she instead settled for, "He must be nice."
"He is - oh, you'll just love him! Well, not like I do." She paused, her cheeks growing a pink tinge which made Lydia's chest burn in affection. "That's not why I came to look for you, though. In all of this I completely forgot that your parents were looking for you. Your father is being granted an award and you're expected to take pictures with him."
Always the proud daughter. She bit her tongue and dipped her head, figuring she would have been expected sooner or later to act the role of dutiful daughter in the flashing camera lights. Helena locked her arm with Lydia's, leading her toward the exit to the powder room, a concerned glint in her blue eyes. Lydia shook her head and inhaled sharply, pushed her hand against the door, and slipped back into the hysteria of the room around her. The endless couples, the clinking of glasses, the smirks the red hot lust, the comments on her attire and looks as she passed.
Always judged. Always measured against the person to her left or the person to her right. Don't let them own you, girl, her mother always told her growing up. So she lifted her head and hardened her jaw just slightly enough in the way she knew made her look regal, batted her lashes like a 'good daughter,' and waved to her father's guests as she passed. Helena, ever the rock she was, whispered words of encouragement and retorts of distaste to those who thought lesser of the dainty brunette trying to fight against the current of bodies.
As she joined her brother, Louis, Lydia slipped away from Helena and bid her thanks, coming to stand in front of her sibling. Her parents drew her close, acting the role of the 'Perfect Ashford Family' everyone expected them to. All the while her heart pounded in her chest, trying to break free, but too scared to take the leap and find out who exactly Lydia Ashford was. Who Lydia Ashford was always meant to be.
"Father looked about ready to take away your inheritance were you a minute late," Louis teased through clenched teeth, keeping his perfect smile in place for the photographers.
"That's okay, he can do whatever he wishes with that money. I'll make something of myself on my own," she bit out, clenching her fists in the fabric of her dress.
"Will you now, dearest sister? How do you plan on going about that?"
She frowned, shaking her head. "I have skills, and I was always one of the smartest in my class. Just because Father thinks I should focus my attention on finding a husband doesn't mean I can't be something."
Lydia lifted her head a bit to look at her elder brother, groaning inwardly when a photographer shouted that they liked that and suggested she should keep looking at her brother like the affectionate little sister she was deemed to be. Louis chuckled, actually amused by this, and cupped her hand in his, giving it a short squeeze.
"You're enjoying this." She loathed him for it.
"I just don't see why you fight it so much," he muttered back, ignoring the roll of her eyes the pictures wouldn't capture. "This is your life; you're privileged and happy, not everyone can say the same. Be grateful for what you have, Lyddie."
"That isn't the point," she nearly screamed, but pressed her lips into a firm line instead and forced a laugh from her throat, allowing the cameras to blind her.
Allowing the sounds of the room to drown out the unvoiced protests frantically bouncing around in her head.
-xx-
The headlines hot off the press the next day spoke of her father's great accomplishments and advancements in prenatal care. His award photos were plastered in the bottom corner, not quite important enough to garner the front page, but enough to grant him a two page spread on what exactly he was deep in research with. She flipped the pages as she stood in front of a news cart, using a beam to keep her balance she scanned the words glaring up at her.
The photo chosen of her family was one of the ones she knew was taken as her brother reprimanded her for being late and nearly overshadowing her father's moment with her lack of care. But one wouldn't be able to tell from the way her eyes were locked on his, a mix of a grimace and grin on her lips, Louis' eyes still focused on the camera.
They commented on how it was a family affair, a wondrous party thrown for anyone who was deemed important enough to be in attendance. They spoke of the elegance of the whole night, the humbleness of her father as he was handed an award, the grace of his dutiful wife. A line was even spared for Louis and her, about how they were the picture of perfection and pride in their father.
Glancing up at the man still eyeing her from his cart, Lydia suddenly remembered she had elsewhere to be and dropped the money owed into his palm. He muttered she'd given him too much, but was long gone without a care by the time she'd even realized he shouted after her. The subway she needed to get onto was called to depart in two minutes, and she twisted in and out of bodies in her frantic pursuit to catch it before it left. Helena would kill her if she was late to the date she'd acquired for the two in efforts to cheer up her otherwise aggravated friend as of late. A date she fought hard to avoid, but eventually conceded, willing to give things a try with the unknown man.
"Hold the door!" Someone shouted from behind her on the stairs, jerking her forward and sending her tumbling the rest of the way down. "Oh, God."
The doors to the subway closed once her body realigned itself and floundered to find its way back into a sitting position. She cried out in protest at the sight of people vanishing behind the metal contraption, her fist helplessly slamming on the concrete below. A gasp spilled from her parted lips at her ignorant decision, hand waving in the air, offended by the unneeded stress she'd inflicted upon it.
A bump was already forming on the back of her head, palm coming up to brush along it pathetically. At least there was no blood, she thought, wincing at the dull throb beginning to settle in. Who shouted like a fool in a public place like that?
A hand cupped around her back to lend support, to which she shuddered away from and crawled backward, meeting a pair of brown eyes filled with regret and concern. She inhaled sharply, her hands tugging her skirt down back into place. The man could be a lecherous creep, after all - though she doubted it by the way he was dressed. He must have had at least some wealth, for his clothes told her as much.
"I'm sorry. That was my fault," he admitted, looking down at the ground, still crouched low on the ground in front of her. "I was going to miss my subway, and...well, I still did. But I didn't mean to almost kill a dame - woman in the process."
"Yeah, well, you nearly did. Now if you don't mind me, I have to catch the next one and hope I'm not late for where I'm headed."
She dusted herself off and scrambled to her feet, losing her balance again upon doing so. Her deranged attacker and hero in one reached out to help her, this time his hand a mere ghost against her shoulders in hopes she wouldn't jerk away again. She didn't, however, and used his weight to steady herself before repositioning her skirt into place. He held aloft her wide brimmed sunning hat, wearing a mix between a grimace and smirk. The girl snatched it from him without a word and popped it onto her head, adjusting the rim to the shape she had it before he had almost killed her in the stairwell.
"Where were you headed exactly?" He glanced over at her, not lingering for any longer than necessary. Good, she thought.
"Ebbetts Field," she said, eyes shifting to meet his out the corner of her eye.
"That's funny, because I was headed there as well," he told her, tucking his hands into his pockets.
"Hilarious."
She rolled her eyes and stared ahead of her at the empty train tracks a few feet ahead of them, wanting more than anything to jump onto them if only to avoid prolonged contact with the man. Her reverie was stirred as the man stepped closer to her, holding open the now tattered newspaper she must have dropped on her way down the stairs. It lay opened on the page with her family plastered in the center. His eyes flickered between her silhouette in the photo and the woman standing by him now, then back again. And again. And again. Disgruntled, she whirled around to face him and ripped the thing away from him.
"Are you done?"
He held out his hands in surrender and laughed. He actually had the nerve to laugh. "I'm sorry, I really am. Though I'm not sure what I'm sorry for, seeing as I already apologized for making you fall down the stairs."
She shook her head and handed the paper back to him, biting her lip. "That was uncalled for, but can you blame me? I was just attacked and then saved by the same stranger."
"It's fine...I was just going to say -"
The sound of another subway pulling in startled the pair and the conversation lay suspended in the air. Gathering her things, she followed closely behind him, still wondering what he meant to tell her before his words died on his lips.
-xx-
"My name is Bucky Barnes, by the way."
Neither had said anything for the first five minutes of their trip, which she found odd given they'd already had a tumultuous start to whatever this was. She figured if they were headed to the same place she might as well try to fill the silence with friendly conversation. And when he said nothing, she turned her head to watch the bricks fly by in the tunnel instead. Yet here they were.
She toyed with a button on her shirt. "Lydia Ashford."
"I know," he said, shaking his head to amend his choice of words. She felt like there was something he was hiding, and before she could make mention of it he said, "Some of the lesser newspapers like to gossip and I've seen your name mentioned here and there."
She wondered briefly what he thought of them, and then pushed her brief lapse in judgement aside and swallowed the curiosity. Bucky shifted next to her, the newspaper still curled in his palm. Nervous, she scooted to the left a bit, or as far as she could manage given their tight space. His knee still knocked against hers with every jerk of the vehicle, and the heat of his upper arm seeped into her own skin. Being this close to a man was foreign to her, and even despite the innocence of the situation she still felt her toes curl in her shoes.
"I was also there last night," he added after some time, shrugging.
At this she perked up, eyes flashing toward his. "You were?"
He nodded, chuckling. "I am friends with Louis. Our parents also used to be really good friends, so I've been to a party or two that the Ashford's have held."
"Used to be?" she asked, recollection of ever knowing him nonexistent.
"They...uh, passed away."
Her face burned hot, embarrassed for being so insensitive. The Barnes', of coarse she knew them. Although she'd never been one to spend much time around Bucky, she remembered him now...albeit younger and different than the man sitting next to her now. Her mother and his had grown up together and married men who were the best of friends. When the news came in his parent's had died in that tragic accident her parents were horrified, and though she was too young at the time to understand what was happening while they attended the joint funeral, the pieces clicked into place and her eyes burned at the memory of it all.
"James," she whispered his name, trying hard to remember any memory in which they might have shared a conversation prior to this. "We weren't really friends ever, were we?"
He shook his head. "You avoided people most of the time growing up."
I still do that now. Shifting again, she turned her face and met him face on, finally taking a moment to look at him. To really look at him. Long gone was the longer, messy mop of unruly dark hair which never stayed in place on his head no matter how hard his mother willed it to. He kept it short now, cropped closer to his face with a few wisps still dancing across his forehead. It suited him, giving him an air of boyhood even now. Where his face used to be pale and hairless now hinted at a face which needed to be shaved in order to keep as smooth as it was now. And from where she sat, seemingly too close to the man, she saw the flecks of blue in his otherwise green eyes. Swallowing, she tugged at the neck of her top and cleared her throat.
"Why did you stop coming around?" she questioned, keeping her voice leveled so as to not make it seem like she cared.
"Just seemed easier to distance myself from everyone that my parents associated with. I mean, I still keep in touch with Louis...but he usually comes to Brooklyn. Where I'm at now," he explained, his eyes not once leaving her as he spoke. "Your Mother actually invited me to the party last night. I wasn't planning on going, but I was supposed to meet up with someone while I was there and Louis also told me he would foot the bill the next time we go somewhere."
"Sounds like Louis." Bucky nodded, grinning. "Do you miss any of it?"
"Being dressed up and dragged around to parties where all everyone talked about was politics and money?"
Lydia laughed, finding no fault in his critique. "It's still very much the same. But come on! You and Louis loved all the attention from the girls, I'm sure."
"Oh, you mean the ones who would knock around with the first man they find who has a decent salary?" He arched a brow at her, smirking.
"Point taken." She smiled down at her hands, which were balled up in her lap. "I guess you really don't miss it, then."
"Not at all. Last night just sort of solidified in my mind that Brooklyn is my home now."
At least one of them understood where they belonged in the world. Lydia felt the vehicle skitter to a halt beneath them, the subway bumping and tossing a bit as it pulled into the station, her knee knocking his and sending another unfamiliar jolt down her spine. Deciding she didn't like it, she jumped up once the doors opened and marched out ahead of the man. He called her name as she went, though her feet held their steady pace beneath her.
"I think we should grab ice cream before the game starts," he said, catching up to her.
"You think so?" She couldn't hide the redness of her cheeks, nor could she hide the fact that she enjoyed ice cream a bit too much. He dipped his head once and grabbed her forearm. "I didn't say yes, Bucky!"
"The look on your face said otherwise, and in repayment for earlier I'll pay for you," he said, dragging them into a nearby ice cream shop.
The man at the counter greeted him as he entered, seemingly knowing Bucky. His eyes then flickered to the girl on his arm and shot him a look Lydia could not put an emotion to. Shaking it off, she glanced around the shop once, noting the color scheme. Bright, vibrant colors littered everything. From the red clock, to the red stools and white walls. The bright blue tables, the gold accents. It looked like the American flag had shed some of its vibrance and spread it about the room. She enjoyed the homage to her country and allowed herself to peruse the different flavors offered. Some of which she'd never heard of in her life. Bucky watched her intently, muttering quiet conversation as she searched with the man at the counter.
"You two headed to the Brooklyn Dodgers game?" the man, who finally introduced himself as Paul, asked.
"Yes, but not together," Lydia said, finally pointing to the chocolate ice cream she decided upon. Simple, and just how she liked it. "We're friends."
"Friends?" Paul raised a brow at Bucky, who merely shrugged his shoulders.
"Lydia is Louis' little sister. He's come in here a few times."
"Ah, yes, with his dates. Louis Ashford." Paul scooped the ice cream onto a cone and passed it to Lydia, who practically bounced on her toes in anticipation. "You're William and Lynette's daughter."
She nodded, though she noted the slight shadow lingering over his eyes at the mention of her mother's name, and said nothing of it. Maybe they had known one another in the past, she wasn't sure. Instead of drawing attention to it, she waited for Bucky at a nearby table, tapping her fingers along the surface as she lapped away at her treat.
Her mother would have killed her if she saw her now, sitting in an ice cream parlor and scarfing down something which definitely didn't fit into her mother's dietary restrictions set for her. You need to be mindful of what you put in your body, she could hear her saying, a sneer on her face. You remember what happened to Katerina Harper? She gained all that weight and had to call of her engagement.
What her mother didn't know was that Katerina Harper had actually been pregnant, not just putting on weight, and her husband to be was not the father. And in order to protect the scandal from gaining attention around town, she left and moved somewhere in the south with relatives...never to be seen again. Laughing at the thought, she swallowed a particularly large bit and winced at the pain forming in the middle of her brows.
"Not so fast there," Bucky said with a laugh, watching her lips tug south at the pain blooming on her features.
"Paul seems nice."
The man in question had disappeared to the back to sweep the floors, still visible behind the door. Bucky turned his head in the direction she'd gestured, a fond smile playing across his lips.
"After my parents died I came here a lot. I figured it was better than drinking the sadness away."
"I would say so," she admitted, still filled with the lingering sadness over the family members she'd known growing up.
True as it was she tended to favor her solitude as a little girl, she remembered his mother and father fondly. Remembered the way her mother cried for weeks after she'd found out they died that horrible day. Knowing Bucky and his little sister Rebecca had lived since then as young adults with no parents to look over them wedged a feeling of dread into her heart. Such a thing was unimaginable.
Bucky watched her as she slipped away into her thoughts again, not saying anything, just staring. Uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair and pretended her ice cream was much more intriguing than learning about the man she spent her childhood ignoring. But try as she might, her eyes flickered to his every so often and she found herself trailing the line of his jaw with her gaze. Or watching the pupils of his eyes dilate as he spoke about trivial things like where he lived and his new town in Brooklyn.
They could have sat there for minutes or hours, she wasn't sure. But it felt natural, and she leaned closer after a while, opening up a bit more in his presence. A little bit of ice cream had happened to find its way on his upper lip, and she snorted into the cone she nibbled on between conversation.
"What's so funny, doll?" he asked, keeping his tone serious, despite the playful glint in his eyes which told her otherwise.
"Oh nothing," she teased, elbows propped up on the table.
He raised his brows at her evident lie, tossing a stray napkin at her. "Now you're lying!"
"Oh fine! You, uh, have a mustache. Here - let me."
She giggled and snatched a napkin from the container in the middle of their table tucked away in the back corner of the parlor. Hesitantly, she raised the napkin in the air and pressed it against his skin, using her thumb beneath to wipe away the frozen treat. Silence hung suspended in the air, his breath hitched in the back of his throat at the feeling of her suddenly so close to him and willingly touching him.
You don't know him, her mind screamed. But she allowed her fingers to linger, her eyes locked with his for what felt like a decade. Paul clearing his throat snapped her back to reality, and she scooted her chair back so harshly it jostled the table when it collided with her hips. Biting back a groan, she tossed her soiled napkins into a waste bin and gripped her bag, remembering they had somewhere to be and were much later than she'd ever anticipated.
"We should go," she said, to which Bucky gave a sound nod. "My friend will be wondering where I am, I'm sure she's already angry with me."
"You're probably right. Thanks, Paul." He shouted behind them and held the door open as she stepped outside, walking in the direction of Ebbetts Field.
The rest of the walk was silent. At the doors to the stadium someone took their tickets and pointed them in the direction of their seats, which were oddly enough in the same section. She thought nothing of it, even as they began walking down the steps and nearly rammed into each other upon doing so in effort to walk down the cloistered steps right by their seats.
"I'm this way," she said, pointing toward the familiar mop of blonde hair belonging to Helena.
He looked in the direction she pointed and frowned. "So am I..."
That was strange, she wanted to say, but instead continued making her way toward Helena, watching as the blonde turned around upon hearing Lydia call her name. Her face illuminated even brighter than the sun already falling onto it, and her pretty blue eyes drifted behind her, making her vibrant smile grow further if possible at all. Lydia barely noticed the man sitting beside Helena, for her chest suddenly ached in a way she'd never experienced before.
Because Helena called out Bucky's name, and suddenly she had launched herself out of her chair and in the direction of the two.
Suddenly she was standing before him and dragging his face forward, his shirt fisted in her palms.
Suddenly she was kissing him as if he were the only man present in a place filled with people.
Helena was in love with Bucky.
Helena was in love with Bucky.
And she had no idea why it made her chest ache the way it did.
-xx-
Louis Ashford was keeping a secret, Lydia decided, as she searched through his things on his bedroom desk. The man was always one for secrets, but as of late spoke less and less of his personal life. And although she had mostly put snooping behind her as of late, she decided she had the right to know what exactly her older brother was up to these days. Plus, it gave her a chance to distract her from the fact that Helena and Bucky were 'going steady' as Helena had so quickly put it once the night was over that fateful day.
Lydia didn't question her, nor did she bid Bucky a farewell once the group parted. She had simply hugged Steve goodbye, telling him she wanted to get together with him again soon to talk, and made her way toward the subway which would take her and Helena back home. It wasn't fair, and she hardly understood the emotions which coursed through her veins that night or every night thereafter, but she felt it necessary at the time and faltered not in her decision.
Thankfully, she hadn't seen him since that day now a month gone, only heard about him every time Helena came over and cried about how perfect and romantic Bucky was and about how she was practically preparing their wedding and naming their future children. And who was she to stomp on her friend's dreams, no matter how foolish she thought them to be? She barely even knew the man, and as much as she disliked the fact they were going steady for whatever reason, she still hoped and prayed he treated her well and never left her side. It would crush Helena.
Sighing, Lydia sifted through her brother's letters, stumbling across one with an emblem she faintly recognized. Military papers...enlistment forms...with his name on them. But what for? She tucked her lip between her teeth and saw the measurements of her brother, his weight, his health status, his appearance, date of birth, and countless other facts about him she already knew. There were symbols stamped in corners of the sheet. She held no inkling of anything about what she was reading, but had an idea it wasn't anything good.
A clatter of something hitting the wooden floors below reached her ears, and she barely shoved the forms back into her brother's desk before he appeared in his doorway, holding a cup of coffee in hand. He considered her for a moment, head tilted to the side, gesturing to the haggard rise and fall of her chest.
"What are you doing?" he asked her, taking a sip of his drink. "It looks like you're up to something, and I know it's within your character to snoop around other people's things, but you look like you've run a couple of miles."
"I lost my copy of..." She glanced around, frantically searching for a familiar title and stumbled upon, "...Pride and Prejudice and I felt like reading it again, and I know you had one lying around when I suggested you should read it -"
"So you figured you would snoop around in my things?" He moved further into the room, sitting down against his desk.
She nodded, feigning a look of innocence in her eyes. "So, uh, anything planned for today? Taking any girls out on the town? Going to a club?"
"I know you're diverting, but I'll pretend I don't care about why," he said, laughing. "You know, Bucky is actually spending the evening here. Mom and Dad were so happy to see him at the party that they practically begged him to start coming around more. Mom's cooking."
"She's cooking...dinner?"
As much as her heart raced in her chest at the mention of Bucky, she couldn't believe her ears at the latest development. Lynette Ashford didn't cook. In fact, Lydia had only seen her use the kitchen a handful of times in her life. Most of the time they either went to a restaurant for their meals, and while staying in hotels made sure services were present to provide them with meals. But at her brother's slow nod of the head, she snorted in disbelief.
"I think she's deflecting onto Bucky," Louis continued, shrugged. "She thinks maybe she can replace the loss of her best friend by taking in her son."
"And Rebecca?" Lydia asked, hoping to have another woman present to distract her from the discomfort of the night.
Louis shook his head. "She said she had some prior plans with some of her friends, but it's okay...Helena already agreed to come and keep you company. I know you never really enjoyed Bucky's company growing up, so I figured I would go ahead and mention it to her while I saw her at Gustav's earlier. This way you're not alone."
Of coarse he had asked Helena, and of coarse he'd seen her at Gustav's. He'd been buying coffee from there ever since he realized it was the pretty blonde's favorite place to go for her breakfast. A warm croissant and black tea every day without fail. She knew it was part of his weird fascination with the girl who never paid him any attention, refusing to look twice at her best friend's older brother. He was helplessly infatuated, and she remained forever oblivious. Still, Lydia gritted her teeth together and fiddled with the edge of the desk where a piece of wood had chipped from one too many punishments.
"You don't look thrilled that Helena is coming," he noted, brushing a finger along the back of her palm as she worked at the damaged edge. "Did you two get into a fight? I noticed the last time she was here you barely said three words to her."
"It's hard to get in a word of edgewise with her when all she does it ramble on half the time about her life." She smoothed her palm out on the desk, leaning her weight onto her wrist, head tilted up toward the ceiling. "You two would get along so well if only she were to get her head out of the clouds; both of you enjoy invading others privacy and asking endless questions until you're both blue in the face."
"Yes, well, that is why there are other women to preoccupy my time while Helena gets her wits about her."
"Those poor women," Lydia teased, her palm reaching out to thwack him against the chest. "I should go get ready for tonight."
Louis regarded her silently as she meandered over to the door, calling her name right as she reached the frame. Her fingers curled around the edge.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks."
His head cocked to the side, arms folded across his chest. "But you're empty handed."
"...Right," she murmured, marching back over to the bookcase and searching for the gilded edge of his Pride and Prejudice copy.
Once plucked from the wall, she whirled on her feet and raced out the door, mind still racing over the forms of enlistment she'd stumbled upon.
-xx-
Helena showed up dressed in the prettiest emerald dress she owned in her wardrobe and her hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, while Lydia stood in little more than a simple summer dress, her hair falling around her face in messy waves. Lynette Ashford grumbled under her breath as she kissed Helena hello - something along the lines of wishing her daughter had the right mind to make herself look put together on even the most casual of nights. Snorting, she slipped into the foyer of the home, pacing back and forth with a flute filled with champagne nearly spilling on the floor.
By the time she'd almost worn a hole into the antique rug which she was certain belonged to her grandmother's grandmother, the doorbell rang and her stomach lurched. Everyone else had settled down in the next room over, sorted out the plates and cutlery and began talking about their day and the like. Whereas Lydia found herself the unwilling greeter. Her mother insisted upon it, telling her she owed Bucky as much for treating him like a fly on the wall for the better half of her life. If you only knew, she thought as her fingers curled around the door handle, tugged it open and found herself face to face with the man in question.
He just had to look like he did. Short hair slicked back, his face freshly shaven, a dark navy button up and black pants, with a jacket overtop that outlined his lithe build. Her heart thudded at the sight, and she felt her jaw slacken a bit, only to clatter closed when he leaned forward and enveloped her in a hug. Being so close made it easier to inhale his scent. Something along the lines of fresh linen and sandalwood - and maybe a bit of mint. Definitely male, and much appreciated.
Face flushed, she stepped backward and grabbed his arm, leading him down the hall attached to the dining area. He stared at her as they walked, a fact she tried to ignore as much as she wanted to acknowledge. Words between the two were far and between the rest of the last night they'd seen one another. Everything after his and Helena's kiss clipped and forced. She'd even gone out of her way to make sure her attention remained focused on Steve, despite the fact that whatever relationship which would develop between those two was merely platonic with no hope of turning into anything more.
Bucky obviously had qualms about this; especially what with her being one of his closest friend's little sister. Still, she regarded him cooly and almost coldly. As one would treat a business associate. All serious expressions and superficial conversation.
Her mother was the first to greet them as they appeared, her arms coming to wrap around him and tug him so close Lydia was certain he couldn't breathe. What looked to be tears even clouded over her eyes. Her father fared no better, hugging him and clapping him on the back as if he were his own lost son who had finally returned home and now held a feast in honor of. Louis followed in suit, reaching for Bucky's hand to shake, but only laughed and hugged him tight thereafter.
Helena on the other hand almost knocked her chair over in effort to once again pounce on the man as if she were an animal stalking its prey. Were it not for Lynette clearing her throat disapprovingly once Helena reached forward to kiss the man, Lydia might have expelled what little food she'd eaten thus far from her body. Thankfully, she might enjoy her meal yet.
Conversation was lackluster. A lot of which surrounding what Bucky did for a living currently, how his new home was, what he did in his spare time. Helena sighed as he spoke fondly of Steve and Brooklyn, her head propped up in the palm of her hand, elbow on the table. Louis mentioned a new club that the two intended to try out in the next couple of days, and Lydia just lingered in the background, sipping her drink and listlessly pushing her food around on her plate.
"Mom, I'll get a head start on cleanup," Lydia said, moving her chair out and lifting her plate in hand. "You can all stay here and continue on talking about whatever it is you were all talking about."
Lynette thanked her, but Helena narrowed her eyes, asking, "Is everything okay? You haven't said a word tonight."
"I don't really have much to say, I suppose," she murmured, slipping down the hall which led to the kitchen. Sighing, she tossed the dishes she gathered and began washing them.
"Hey, Lydia?" Bucky asked, just when she thought she'd managed solitude. She craned her head over shoulder and stared at him expectantly. "Your mother said that you have a wine rack in here after I offered to grab some more for everyone. Where would that be?"
"Right in the corner."
The rack was clearly on display to her left, but she said nothing of it and watched the man walk over to the rack and snatch an expensive bottle of red wine off the rack. His eyes flitted over the label and then raised to meet her silhouette.
"How's your head? I forgot to ask."
She'd almost forgotten about the bruise which developed on the base of her skull thanks to their past incident. Thinking of it now, she raised a sudsy hand and pressed her fingers against the skin there.
"It seems I haven't sustained any long term damage, so you're fine." At the way his gaze lingered on her and then the bottle for some time, she laughed and said, "You know, I always thought you were more than adequate with your reading skills, Bucky."
He chuckled. "How would you know that?" She wouldn't, but his lips still upturned. "It wasn't like you were ever leaping with joy in the past whenever I spent time here. And look, I'm sorry about the baseball game...really."
"Whatever for?" She tossed the dish onto the drying rack and whirled around to gauge his expression, the skirt of her dress billowing around her knees. "You didn't do anything. We're friends, Bucky, and you're seeing Helena. Or whatever it is she does with men - which I really don't care to know about."
"...Right."
"You're Louis' best friend, and my mother adores you and I think she's got half a mind to take you in as one of her own. She's got this whole long lost prodigal son type complex about you and your sister, if you hadn't noticed."
"She does."
"Which makes us basically family..." She wiped her hands against the rag dangling from the oven handle and flipped her hair over one shoulder, watching the man fiddle with the label on the bottle once more. "So don't worry about it. You don't owe me an apology or anything, because you have nothing to apologize for."
"Right."
"So let's just go back in there and pretend everything is normal, because it is."
He nodded his head once and slipped in front of her, unaware of the fact that her heart raced in her chest and bitter tears clouded her eyes.
-xx-
Early June brought with it lots of rain - and for this time of year, Lydia was happy for such. It was much more appreciated than sweltering heat and high levels of humidity which made it feel like she wore second, slicker skin. On that day in particular, she had been walking down the hall leading to the bathroom nestled between hers and her brothers when she tore open the door and gaped tomato faced at the sight of a very bare chested Bucky Barnes in no more than a low hanging towel.
The two frantically passed horrified expressions between one another for a minute, her eyes dropping momentarily to the slope of his chest and the curve of his hips as they disappeared under the thin towel. Gasping, her eyes jerked back upward and she berated herself for looking at him as such, forcing her heart rate to return to normal as he stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. A moment later a smirk slipped over onto his lips, a slow spreading one which she nearly smacked him for.
"Do not say anything."
"I wasn't going to."
She bit her lip. "Well, if you change your mind on that I will make you regret it."
He laughed, a loud barking laugh. "Threatening me now, are you? Whatever did I do to deserve it?"
You look like...that! That's why. Her mind screamed out at her, but she leveled her gaze on his eyes and said, "Normal people lock the bathroom door when they are showering and, uhm, naked."
"I'm glad you realize that people shower naked - and that you pointed out the fact that I was naked." He paused at the gobsmacked expression on her face. Her lips had tugged downward and she looked as though she wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up beneath her. "You're blushing as if you've never seen a half naked guy before."
"Bucky Barnes."
"Lydia Ashford."
She narrowed her eyes at him, blanching. "Oh great, so now you are mimicking me like a child?"
He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "You're the one acting like they're a teenage girl finding out boys don't actually have cooties. Clearly, you haven't grown out of that mindset. I figured that's why you avoided me like the plague growing up."
"No," she said, the word spilling from her lips faster than she intended. She didn't want to look too eager to correct him. "I just...don't understand why you are here."
"In the bathroom, here?"
A growl passed her lips. "No, I mean in my house. Here. Right now - when Louis' is not even home."
He carded his fingers through his short hair, the ends curling just slightly at the tips. "A pipe burst at my place, and the cold water isn't working and there isn't anyone to fix it 'till next week. So your mother said I could come here as often as I needed to shower and freshen up."
"That's an awful long way to travel to take a warm shower."
"Yeah, well, I also just wanted to see you, doll."
She bit back the hopeful flutter of her heart. "Sure, Barnes."
He leaned against the doorway. She just stood there, eyes locked on a random divot in the wall. Probably put there by some sort of aggressive force. A moment passed, a breath exchanged in the air before Bucky cleared his throat and drew the attention of the short brunette standing before him. She lifted her head and swallowed thickly, confusion pressed into the creases in her forehead.
"I do need to get dressed, doll. Unless you prefer me like this?"
Her cheeks flamed. "No - no, you go, uh, get dressed."
He moved to walk down the hall, his footsteps echoing in tandem with the frantic beat of her heart. Then he paused in his movements and turned to look at her over his shoulder, her palm pressed tight over her heart. A chuckle passed his lips to surely torment her.
"I'm glad you're finding amusement in this."
"I think it amusing you're reacting like this," he said, watching the color drain from her face. "I don't have to go home right after this...want to go get some ice cream and walk around town? I think the rain finally stopped."
"You spending time in Upper East Side?" she asked, incredulous.
He shrugged. "I figure I can make an exception for you."
And then he was gone, replaced only by the white door to her brother's room.
-xx-
In retrospect, she should not have joined him. There were so many reasons why it was wrong. And Helena was just one of them. Yet the girl with long brown hair and eyes filled with wonder walked alongside one Bucky Barnes, taking in the sights of the city with her ice cream cone in hand. Vanilla, to be exact. Plain and simple, and yet more satisfactory than the warm summer day.
Bucky watched her in rapt fixation. The way she bounced on her toes with every step, as though she were thrilled to be beyond the four walls of her home. How her summer dress with polka dots scattered across the navy fabric brushed against her knees as she walked, her hair dancing along her shoulders. Part of him desired to reach out and twirl a strand around his finger.
He wanted to watch her cheeks flood with color, from face down to her neck. He burned at the mere memory of her standing in the doorway, staring at him as though she had never looked at a man before. Her face had colored a pretty scarlet, and he hated himself for wondering if her whole body flushed that color. Or would flush that color were circumstances much different. And her lips, full and forever in what looked to be an adorable pout, colored with a vibrant red that sang of her cheerfulness which radiated from within her. He wondered often what they might feel like were they pressed against his own. Wondered what sweet little sighs he might coax out of her, as he whispered sweet nothings against them.
Still, they were two people in a crowded street. Cars honking around them and people flitting about, conversing about their daily events. Some crowded together, others preferring to walk alone. And yet he stood beside a girl in her summer dress, her face bright with joy, and his heart filled with anguish.
"You haven't said one word," Lydia said, pausing to swipe her tongue along her ice cream. "It seems I have finally rendered you speechless, Barnes."
He was speechless. And hopelessly in her merciful grasp. Yet she didn't know and wouldn't know. She couldn't know because she had made it very clear Helena came first. Her feelings were supreme in her mind, and he decided to protect the girl's heart...if only to make Lydia happy. A mindless idea, in hopes he might turn her heart toward him. In the meantime, it gave him opportunity to remain close to her. To enjoy her company from afar, all while battling the war between what he wanted and what she wanted.
She would win a million times over.
-xx-
The four of them sat beneath a large tree casting a grand shadow along the ground, Lydia settled next to Steve with a book in her hands, and Helena draped over Bucky's lap with a pleased smile across her delicate lips.
"Steve, have you ever been in love before?" Helena asked, drawing the group to her attention.
"No, can't say I have," he answered without pause.
"What about you, Bucky?"
Lydia lifted her head at this, turning her attention to the man in question. He eyed her, a fleeting thing which she managed to notice before his gaze flitted over onto the girl staring up at him with wide eyed wonder. Lydia bit her lip and paused in turning the page of her book, waiting on baited breath for his voice to fill the air.
"What would you say it's like?"
"It's consuming. There isn't anything like it." He paused, and Helena nodded her head in frantic expectation, urging him to continue. "It sort of...creeps up on you. And when it happens, you know it's the real thing because they're suddenly all that matters. You'd put them first no matter what."
"That's so beautiful!" The girl leaned forward to kiss her boyfriend full on the lips, sighing loudly for all to hear. Lydia prayed she would be spared from the conversation, but her friend whirled on her at the last moment and grinned wide, asking, "What about you, Lydia? What do you think love is like?"
Lydia glanced down at her hands, clasped into a tight ball in her lap. Her eyes flitted up to Bucky's and she inhaled a shaky breath, her stomach a ball of anxiety. She lowered her head once more and bit her lip. What was love? She wasn't sure she knew. What she was feeling felt new and powerful, but for all the wrong reasons. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't think straight. All reason had left her mind. All the lists of reasons why what she felt and wanted were wrong seemingly eradicated whenever in his vicinity.
And yet he was always out of reach. Her fingers might reach out and extend toward him, but they would always brush the empty air.
-xx-
a/n:
This story is sort of AU, and also told in snippet/one-shot style. I don't plan on it being all that long. Maybe 10 chapters? I just wanted to hopefully write something to capture a relationship during a war, and I hope I can do it justice. I've been thinking about and writing this story for quite some time now, but I always get so scared to share them. So here we go.
