On the day of Lucy's wedding, Steve stayed after church to help set up. The basement had plenty of furniture, which needed to be dragged into place. Tablecloths were flung over tables, having been borrowed and washed the night before. Places were set, place cards leaning delicately against glasses. The names were written in Becky's neat script, but the first letter of each name had been stitched on tiny pieces of cloth and stuck to the card. While he was putting out centerpieces of fake flowers, Steve found his place card between those for Rebecca and Bucky. The sight of Bucky's name alone filled Steve with anticipation. It had been over a month since they had seen each other last, far too long.

Steve was currently attempting to hang up streamers. No one had given him the job, but he'd seen the forgotten rolls lying on a table. Since everyone else seemed busy, he picked them up. Using a chair, he had been able to hang most of them, but the chandelier was giving him trouble. He couldn't reach over it, and he was too nervous about throwing the streamer over. If he missed or fumbled instead of catching the roll, the streamer might tear.

"Need a lift?"

The voice belonged unmistakably to Bucky. Before Steve had a chance to respond, Bucky's arms clasped right below his waist and hoisted him up. Steve easily reached the streamer across the chandelier.

"Got it!"

Instead of lowering him to the ground, Bucky perched Steve on his shoulder like an oversized parrot and marched him across the room.

"Is this what they're teaching you in the army?" Steve asked, holding onto Bucky's vacant shoulder for balance. "How to haul civilians around on your shoulders?"

"Yeah. I told 'em it's easier to toss people over your shoulder, especially if they're struggling." Bucky squeezed Steve's side lightly, a reminder that he'd done that on a number of occasions when Steve had gotten into fights in their younger years. "But it didn't take."

Steve pinned the streamer to the wall amidst a dozen pinpricks where streamers had hung for previous wedding receptions. "All right. You can let me down."

Once on the ground, Steve grinned up at Bucky, and Bucky grinned back. Steve had been afraid that basic might change something between them, might make him resentful, might make Bucky distant. But he should have known better. It would take a lot more than weeks of basic to pull them apart. Still, seeing him brought deep sense of relief.

"It's good to have you back, Buck."

"It's good to be back." Bucky threw an arm around Steve's neck. Only Bucky could make a headlock seem affectionate, and only from him would Steve put up with one. "So how the hell are ya?"

"You know. I'm –"

"Bucky!" Becky's happy squeal. She and Bucky had always been the closest out of the siblings, despite their age and gender differences. Bucky released Steve as Becky came pelting towards him. He lifted her up, and she let out a sound that was half indignant huff and half laugh as he swung her around. Steve barely managed to duck out of the way.

"We'll talk later," Bucky promised as more family members crowded around him.

Steve nodded, although he was disappointed to have their conversation cut short so soon. He went to get the other streamer, but spotted one of the McCloskeys – Lucy was marrying Donnie McCloskey, whom she had met in school – fastening the streamer to the opposite wall. He didn't even need a chair. Instead, Steve busied himself checking that all the plate settings were evenly set.

"Boo." Too his embarrassment, Steve jumped, but Rebecca had spoken right into his ear. She laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. I wanted to see if that would work for once."

"For once? You've never done that before," said Steve, straightening the fork he'd knocked askew. He hoped she wouldn't make a habit of creeping up behind him because his heart leapt painfully when startled.

Rebecca just shrugged and held up a pan with some kind of noodle casserole. "Where are we putting the good stuff?"

Steve took her up to the kitchen where Mrs. Barnes was supervising the inflow of food. While the women chatted briefly, Steve remembered Mrs. Barnes hinting that Rebecca would be different during the wedding. He looked her over. She was dressed different, dolled up, like when they'd gone out to her coworker's party. But prettier, which was strange because he'd seen her wear the dress before. Was that what Mrs. Barnes had meant? Steve had thought she'd been hinting at something more significant, but Rebecca seemed the same otherwise. Unless Mrs. Barnes had been talking about during the actual ceremony, in which case he'd have to wait and see.

Mrs. Barnes noted the time and shooed them out of the kitchen. In the entrance outside the chapel, Kathy was greeting guests along with the groom's father. Kathy gave Steve a brief hug, and he introduced Rebecca, who seemed surprised when Kathy exclaimed, "Oh, I've heard so much about you!" When they moved off to the gift table, Kathy gave Steve a knowing smile that made him flush.

At Lucy's request, Steve had sketched the ocean for her and bought a frame so she should hang it in the apartment her fiancé had bought. His present was leaning against a small pile of packages, and as Rebecca eyed the pile, she fussed over her envelope.

"I knew I should have bought something," she fretted, placing her gift on top of the one other envelope which wasn't attached to a gift. "I went to Macy's and talked to a sales person and everything, but I couldn't decide what she'd need. I figured money at least would be useful."

"It will be," Steve assured her. "Most of the people coming, they don't have money to spare or there'd probably be a whole stack of envelopes." He guessed that's how it was at her wedding.

Rebecca would never say so, but Steve wondered whether this whole affair would seem drab by comparison. He couldn't picture her having a gaudy wedding like the ones that made it to the papers, throw by the glitterati in outrageous excess while the rest of the country was getting back to its feet. She'd poked fun at such affairs that were thrown in the Wyndham. But if her engagement ring was any indication, her wedding would have been glitzy. Likely she'd have had nice china, flutes of champagne, a professional big band, and plenty of fresh flowers. Steve was about to ask, but changed his mind. He'd promised not to bring up anything to do with Montana.

They entered the chapel and selected a row close to the front. The benches weren't packed, but at least the first five on either side filled up, which amounted to sixty people or so. Steve had no doubt that more would show up later at the reception. When any kind of party was thrown, the neighborhood found out about it. No one begrudged a few extra guests as long as they behaved themselves.

Donnie came in first, fidgeting with his cufflinks, but his expression was more excited than nervous. Then, organ music signaled the procession. Lucy followed on the tail end, wearing a dress that had been passed down from her mother to Kathy and now her, altered for her petite frame. Bucky walked her down the aisle, the cocky edge of his smile softened by affection, the rest of him looking sharp as ever. They all sat when he passed Lucy over to Donnie, and the ceremony began.

Halfway through, Steve remembered to sneak a glance at Rebecca. She wore a smile, but her eyes were distant and sad. As she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek, disappearing against the deep red of her lipstick. His hand twitched, hesitated. Steve didn't want to draw attention, but he had never let Rebecca cry uncomforted. He wasn't going to start now.

Lightly, Steve touched her wrist. Rebecca took a deep breath and blinked several times. He felt her wrist shifting beneath his fingers and almost lifted his hand. However, she wasn't pulling away, but rather turning her wrist to leave an open palm. An invitation. They had held hands a couple of times, but only because Rebecca was dragging him along or wanted to get his attention. She'd never offered them freely.

A second of uncertainty passed, but Steve put his hand in hers. Rebecca folded her hand, threading their fingers together. Their hands were the same size, apart from his thinner fingers. He'd never noticed before. Her palm felt slick with sweat. Or maybe his own palm was sweating; it was getting warm in the chapel. The skin on her hand was rough from work, so the smooth metal of her wedding band provided a distinct contrast.

Steve thought of Rebecca's husband, the man with his initials whom Steve knew next to nothing about except that she had loved him a hell of a lot. He wondered if her husband would approve of the man who held Rebecca's hand in his place. He sort of doubted it, and that thought made his grip tighten in unconscious defiance. To his surprise, Rebecca squeezed back. He peeked at her out of the corner of his eyes and saw that the sadness in her face had lessened. Not by much, but enough that he sat a little taller and kept her hand in his until they clapped for Donnie and Lucy's first kiss as husband and wife.

Though Steve expected Rebecca to say something afterwards about them holding hands – not that he had the slightest idea what she'd the say – she vanished off to the kitchen with nothing but a promise to meet him downstairs. He considered going with her to offer assistance, but a gaggle of women were already following the same path and the kitchen would be full. Instead, he went into the basement, feeling confused and not entirely sure why.

Bucky turned up first, having finished taking the family picture outside. Steve questioned him at length about basic, needing to hear first-hand what to expect. Bucky didn't seem all that interested and made several attempts to change the subject, asking what Steve had been up to. Rebecca sat down while Steve was recounting their trip to Saranac Inn. After a miffed comment about not being allowed to help serve food, she jumped right in on the story, elaborating on details he missed. As they talked, Steve noticed that Bucky's gaze kept flicking between them, like he was working out a problem. Steve could sense the problem himself, hovering right out of reach, but he finally had Bucky back. This evening wasn't supposed to involve problems.

Fortunately, Becky came to sit beside Rebecca, and the conversation drifted to basic and school, setting Steve at ease. Once the married couple and their immediate families were seated, food was served. Steve ate until he felt ready to burst. Lucy and Donnie cut the cake to much cheering from the room, and somehow he managed to have a small slice of that, too. He would have been content to sit there all night between his friends, but when the band picked up, Bucky suggested that he should dance with Rebecca, a suggestion Becky eagerly seconded.

"In fact, why don't we all go?" said Bucky, getting up from his chair. "Becky? Kathy?" He took Becky's arm and Kathy tugged at her husband. Steve couldn't have protested if he'd wanted to. He looked to Rebecca.

"This sounds like foxtrot music," she noted. "Let's show them how it's done."

It was odd. Steve had never thought he'd be one of the first people out on the dance floor, but here he was with Rebecca. And since this was their third time dancing together, they did a pretty mean foxtrot.

Bucky whistled. "You got good."

"I found a good partner," Steve replied, at which Rebecca smiled.

Soon they were dancing in a crowd. Mrs. Barnes spun by, doing a fast waltz with her cousin. Lucy and Donnie appeared for a moment, a flash of white amongst a tumultuous sea of color. Bucky had a girl Steve didn't know in his arms, and they swayed to the beat. But mostly there was him and Rebecca, doing the steps they'd practiced. Because when they were together on the dance floor everything else turned to black and white static while Rebecca was blinding color, beaming with unfettered happiness. And Steve was dancing with the best dame in the room.

They were interrupted by a man tapping on Rebecca's shoulder. "Can I have a dance?"

"Umm…" Rebecca bit her lip, considering.

"Just one." The man flashed a smirk at Steve, as he would to a child dancing with the adults.

Rebecca shrugged his hand from her shoulder. "No, thank you."

"Come on, doll. I'll show you what it's like to dance with a man."

Rage ignited in Steve, and he balled his hands into fists. But before he could do anything, Rebecca spoke. Her voice sounded sweet, but behind it Steve could hear venom.

"Actually, I've already got a man. But if I feel like dancing with a gorilla, I'll be sure to find you." Rebecca gave the man a thin smile and turned her head.

The man didn't move, unable to comprehend that he had been dismissed. "You're saying no? For him?"

"You catch on quick, for a primate."

"You can have your broad," the man snarled to Steve in disgust. "I like 'em with manners."

Furious, Steve hissed, "Apologize." The man snorted. "Looks like you're the one who needs to learn – Eurgh." Steve choked when Rebecca grabbed his collar as he made a lunge for the man, who quickly slipped into the crowd. He struggled, every instinct telling him to go after that idiot and make him apologize.

"Don't, Steve, please. Not at Lucy's wedding," Rebecca begged. "And not because of me. Don't you dare get hurt because of me." Steve gritted his teeth, but he stopped struggling. She loosened her grip cautiously. "Thank you."

Steve straightened his collar, humming gruffly in response.

"Now, if you really want to piss that guy off, dance with me. Maybe he'll learn a lesson when he sees that you've got me and he's got no one."

Steve thought that was a swell idea, nearly as good as getting an apology, so he returned to dancing. Soon his anger passed, and Steve found another distraction. Rebecca's lipstick was a darker red than usual, a rich color same shade as beneath the skin of a plum where the yellow fruit had been stained. Looking at her lips reminded him of how they'd felt against the corner of his mouth. Lipstick had a texture like Richeson paint, not unpleasant, but it was the soft warmth underneath he liked better.

The crowd shifted, forming rows of partners. Many of the older generation backed away, watching with amused tolerance.

"I don't know this one," Rebecca confessed.

"It's a kind of Shag," Steve explained, hoping he hadn't been ogling her lips too long. He knew the dance from clubs, but had only ever watched it. "I'm not too sure of all the steps myself."

"Well, in that case, let's just dance!"

Gripping both his hands, Rebecca brought their arms up over their heads and spun. Steve didn't have a choice but to do the same. He staggered, unsteady for a moment, but Rebecca continued on. She rocked to the beat, moving in a dance that was part shag, part waltz, and part made-up. Steve didn't think about his feet, or what he was doing at all really. She lead, he followed. He got so caught up that he forgot this dance involved changing partners.

A man suddenly appeared at Rebecca's elbow – one of Bucky's second cousins; he couldn't remember the name – offering a hand.

"Have fun!" she said, taking the proffered hand.

Steve wished Rebecca had told the cousin off instead, like she had the other man. Then he felt badly for wishing something so unfair. It was one dance. Besides, she deserved to dance with a partner that knew what they were doing for once.

So Steve passed from partner to partner. A few of the women attempted to teach him the steps, including Kathy and Becky. Some just dragged him along, like Lucy. Those who didn't know the dance well eyed him like a failure for not being able to lead them. That or engaged in a clumsy imitation of dancing which left both parties embarrassed.

Through it all, Steve's gaze kept returning to Rebecca. He almost abandoned one of his partners when he noticed a hand drifting too far down her back. However, Rebecca pulled the hand into place above her hip. Steve tried to keep an eye on the man in case he tried the same move with any of the other women, but soon lost track. Not of Rebecca, though. He saw her rolling her eyes as Bucky murmured something into her ear. Then, dancing with the youngest McCloskey, a boy of nine, who knew the steps better than Steve did. Then, spinning around in circles with a drunk man, lips pressed together in an effort to hold back laughter.

The memory rose again, those lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. If he hadn't turned his head that night, presenting his cheek at the last second as always – which she had partly missed anyway – maybe her lips would have pressed fully against his.

Steve tripped over his partner's foot and did an awkward hop to avoid sprawling. "Sorry."

His partner sighed, a tolerant sound, like she'd expected him to have two left feet. "Let's just make it through this."

"Sure. Yeah. Sorry."

Steve attempted to concentrate, but the tempo was so darn fastand his mind wouldn't settle. He'd never thought about Rebecca kissing him before, not even on that night. Now, he tried to stop, but it was like having a roof dripping water without being able to find the leak. And every time he thought he'd contained his thoughts and feelings about Rebecca in the solid metal bucket of what he should be doing, another leak started. He remembered how her arms felt wrapped around him. He remembered what she looked like when she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, waves of dark blonde hair falling over her shoulders, eyelashes fluttering shut. He imagined her kiss landing on his lips instead, gentle, lingering. Not like when Irene Pozniak had kissed him on a dare in the sixth grade, his one experience with kissing. But perhaps Rebecca's kiss would become harder, not with rebelliousness but with the fierce intensity he'd seen from her.

His partner was letting him go, moving on. Another few seconds and he would be back with Rebecca. Steve was afraid that his thoughts of kissing her wouldn't go way by then, and she would be able to read them in his face. All too often, she seemed to know what he was thinking. So Steve did something unusual. He apologized to the woman waiting for him and fled, striding rapidly out of the basement and ascending the stairs.

The chapel was quiet, the music nothing but a faint echo. A few people were scattered on the benches, heads bowed in prayer or gazing at the cross in silent reflection. Steve chose an empty bench near the back. It didn't seem right to have thoughts about kissing in a chapel, but the fantasy remaining temptingly close. Forbidden, no. Just impossible. Steve clasped his hands to pray, then struggled over what to pray for. Eventually, he gave up, and looked at the stained glass, picking out names for all the colors.

His bench creaked as someone slid in beside him. Even without glancing, Steve knew it was Bucky. They had an ongoing joke about how Bucky was a bloodhound in a past life and so could always track him down. They sat beside each other for a minute without either saying a word.

Bucky broke the silence, his voice mindfully quiet. "You know, it's funny. I kept thinking if I brought you on all those dates, you'd find a dame who wanted to dance with you and then you wouldn't run off. But now there's one downstairs looking for you, and you still ran off."

"She'll be all right," Steve replied. "Rebecca's good with people so long as they're nice. She'll get along."

Bucky made an impatient sound. "I'm sure she will. That's not why I came looking. I want to know what's the deal between you two."

"There's no deal."

"No? So you don't have the hots for her?"

"I… I don't know."

"Yes, you do or you'd be saying 'no' instead of 'I don't know.'"

Steve leaned against the bench in front of him, eyes downcast. Bucky was right, he did know. He hadn't until tonight, but he knew now. One didn't go around thinking about kissing women they didn't like. Steve might not have experience with women, but he knew that much. He'd liked girls before. Steve looked helplessly to Bucky, who broke out in a broad grin.

"I knew it. So does everyone else apparently. The girls have been talking my ear off about it." Bucky bumped their shoulders together. "But you've always been a little slow." Steve frowned at the jab, but it was difficult to maintain when Steve was glad to have Bucky around to talk to again. "So what's the problem?"

What was the problem? Steve mulled over the reasons he had run away. "I'm terrible with this sort of thing; you know that. I wouldn't know what to say. I'd muck it all up. And I'm just not… I'm not…"

"If you say 'good enough,' I'm going to take you outside so I can kick some sense into you," Bucky warned.

That wasn't exactly the phrase Steve had been searching for, but it was close. If he tried to explain how he felt in his own rambling way, Rebecca might finally look at him like most other women, like he was hopeless. Steve figured he could measure up to other men in most areas, if he was given a chance. But when it came to romancing women, he was a dud. He didn't want to be humiliated, and he definitely didn't want to lose his friendship with Rebecca. Also, there was Howard.

"I think she likes someone else," Steve informed him.

Bucky frowned. "Who?"

"His name's Howard. She met him – uh, maybe two weeks ago? Her alarm clock broke. He fixed it, or, he's working on it."

"Did she say she likes him?"

"No."

"Well then, how come you think she does?"

"She said he's smart."

"So are you. Some of the time, anyway, when you're not picking fights."

"No, like really smart. Book smart. And he's rich."

"If Rebecca cared that much about money, she wouldn't be hanging around with your broke butt so much." Bucky scratched his jaw contemplatively. "You ever think maybe she's trying to make you jealous?"

Steve clenched his hands in frustration. "You don't understand. When she talks about him, she gets… It's like she glows."

"She could be faking it."

"She's not that kind of girl," Steve retorted. He slumped, resting his chin on his fists. "Howard's probably good-looking, tall, and charming, too."

Bucky put an arm around his shoulders. "Finding someone who likes you, it ain't always about being charming, you know."

"Ha. Easy for you to say," Steve snorted. Bucky could be charming without even trying.

"Stevie, would you listen?" Bucky reserved the childhood nickname for important moments, so Steve shut up and paid attention. "When you fall in love with someone, it's not always like in the pictures. There's no violins playing and you're not gonna run into each other's arms. You might not light up whenever they enter the room. Sometimes love creeps up on you. You start noticing all these things they do, maybe funny things or maybe it's something as small as the way they put on their shoes. And those things make you smile, and you don't quite know why. Maybe you've known that person for a couple months or maybe for years, but one day it hits you that you can't imagine life without them. That you – that you love them. And you don't love them because they're perfect. You love them because they're them."

Steve had never been so conscious of the fact that Bucky had an arm around him. His skin was tingling at the pressure; each breath sounded horribly loud. He turned to look at Bucky, slowly, so slowly. For a split second, Steve thought he saw the tiniest glimmer of something in Bucky's gaze, something that made his breath catch. But then Bucky looked away and it was gone. Steve figured he must have imagined that glimmer. He glanced around, for some reason expecting to meet stares of disapproval, but no one was looking their way.

"Before I left, I told you to be careful around Rebecca," Bucky recounted, dragging Steve back to their conversation. "But I've seen how you are around each other now and – Steve, if she wanted a wolf, she's had a chance. There are a few of them down there, but she was searching for you. You. She's hardly looked at another man all night, and for sure, she hasn't looked at any of us like she looks at you."

Dismissing the Barnes women's opinions had been relatively easy. Steve respected them, but he had decided they were so thrilled that a woman was paying attention to him that they'd made up romantic notions. Bucky's opinion, however, Steve took more seriously.

"You think?" he asked, lifting his head. Bucky nodded, and Steve felt the beginning flutters of hope. "She did call me handsome."

Bucky held up his hands as though to say, 'Then what are you moping up here for?'

Steve imaged going downstairs, taking Rebecca's hand, and asking her on a date. Anxiety followed on the tails of that image. There were a hundred ways he could screw up, and he wasn't convinced she didn't have feelings for Howard. But if she said yes, then… there was still one problem.

"If she agreed to be my girl, I'd feel bad about leaving her."

"Why would you be leaving?" Bucky questioned, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"'Cause I'm joining the army," Steve replied, as though the answer was obvious. "Her husband died, Buck, and she's real broken up about it. If I died too, that'd only make things worse for her."

"So don't join the army!" A couple of heads snapped in their direction. Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Steve allowed himself to be dragged into the hallway. "Do you know how many men would leap at the chance to stay home with their girl?"

"Then one of them can stay home, and I'll go. It's the right thing. People over there need our help."

"They're getting help. You can be me more help here."

"Doing what? Factory work?" Bucky had made the suggestion when Steve had first been rejected, and it still galled him.

Bucky shook his head, exasperated. "I'm talking about Rebecca. Look, when Ma lost Pops, she was hurt, but at least she had us. Rebecca has you."

"If I don't ask –"

"It doesn't matter if you ask her on a date or not, if you go, you'll hurt her."

"But Rebecca told me I should go if it's what I want."

"Because she thinks it'll make you happy, not because she wants you to go."

"But –" Steve was ready to argue further, but remembered how Rebecca had responded when he'd asked her whether she wanted him to stop fighting. She had replied that there weren't enough good people fighting, that he was being true to himself. But she hadn't answered his question, which was an answer in itself. What was going to war if not his fistfights on a larger scale? "But it's the right thing to do."

"Maybe. For you."

Steve had never been accused of being selfish before. The comment stung, especially coming from his best friend. He folded his arms and wished, for once, that Bucky would go away and leave him alone. Things had been complicated enough without his interfering.

"I'm sorry," Bucky apologized. "This isn't how I wanted – It's my one day of leave. Lucy's having a party, which we should be getting back to. Let's not fight, huh?"

Steve could hold a grudge when someone made him angry enough, but he could never hold a grudge against Bucky, especially with that pleading look on his face. Besides, as Bucky had pointed out, it was his night off, and Steve wouldn't see him again for weeks. He didn't want to fight either.

"All right," Steve acceded. "But you're a jerk."

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. "And you're a punk. Lucky for you, there's a woman downstairs who seems to like your sort."

"Well, I have been trying this new kind of flirting where I argue with her, get her sick, and say something dumb when she says something nice."

Bucky laughed. "And you said you're not charming." He steered Steve towards the stairs, but at the top, Steve planted his feet.

"I'll be down in a minute," Steve said when Bucky gave him a questioning look.

"Okay. I'll see you down there."

Music and chatter drifted up, overwhelmingly fast and loud. People in the chapel might stare since Bucky had raised his voice. Steve went to sit on the front steps of the church, which was quiet and abandoned. The night air felt good, cooling his sweat-drenched body. He leaned against the bricks. Why couldn't he have met Rebecca earlier? A year ago, the US hadn't been at war and everything would be less problematic. But the US army was going to Europe, and he was going with them. Sure, he hadn't been going to recruitment stations much, or at all really these past few weeks, but after being rejected at a Jersey station, he'd figured that laying low would be a smart move. Then, the healthier men could go first, leaving standards more lax. And giving time for his paperwork to be buried.

And who was to say if Rebecca really liked him? Steve usually trusted Bucky's opinion, but he'd barely been around. Maybe Bucky, like the rest of his family, was just pushing because no woman had paid Steve this much attention before. Or perhaps she had liked him, but got tired of waiting for him to notice and moved onto Howard.

If she did like him, what then? Ask her to the movies? They'd already gone to the movies. Steve knew he'd have to be explicit so she'd understand it was a date, and that made him nervous. But say she accepted, what next? He'd go off to war. Steve was aware his chances of survival weren't too hot. She would cry if he died, of that at least, he was certain. Alone in her room with no one to hold her or leaning against Howard's chest. Somehow, he didn't like either of those options.

"What should I do?" Steve asked himself, God, the universe. Anyone who could give him a sign. "What's the right choice?"

No one answered.

Honestly, she hadn't known what to expect from a Forties wedding. The ceremony itself wasn't all that different. It had been sweet, though the reminder of her own wedding had been painful. The reception had some distinctions. The basement were the reception was held hadn't been decorated too much, but whether that was the time period or lack of available funds, she wasn't sure. Both, probably. The food wasn't catered, but she could never complain about a home-cooked meal. The food even tasted less bland than usual, or she could be getting used to it. Overall, the reception had a more relaxed, homey feel. After having been in this time for a while, she'd found out that the whole idea of everything in the past being completely uptight and structured was a myth. Steve and Bucky had told her so, but seeing was believing.

Becca was glad she'd come. She had almost turned down the invitation, but Lucy and Becky had made it obvious they'd be disappointed if she did. Luckily, photographs taken were of the families outside and the couple cutting the wedding cake, so she didn't have to worry about being caught on camera. The only hitch was Bucky's appearance, which she had not been expecting. Becca would have avoided him as much as she could, but the seating arrangements made it impossible. She decided not to bother, and let herself enjoy the evening.

At some point she lost track of Steve on the dance floor. She had liked dancing fine before, but since arriving in the Forties, Becca had discovered that dancing was the one time she could truly forget about her problems. But Steve not returning was enough of a concern that she stopped to find him. It wasn't like Steve to leave without saying anything. Her search grew increasingly frantic until she talked to Bucky, and he promised to find him.

After he left, Becca sat down at the closet table and calmed herself. She was being ridiculous. Steve was probably in the bathroom. Or saw someone who needed help carrying dishes. Or had spotted that asshole from earlier and picked a fight. Hopefully, not that last option, but she couldn't be sure. Sometimes being with Steve was like having an overly aggressive Chihuahua. While she waited for him to turn up, Rebecca chatted with the groom's aunt and uncle, who were sitting across the table. They were discussing their favorite dishes from dinner when Bucky came up behind her.

"Hi there." Bucky rested an arm on the back of her chair. "I'm gonna borrow Rebecca if you folks don't mind."

"Not at all," said Mr. McCloskey.

Rebecca got up from her chair. "It was nice talking with you. Enjoy your night."

"You too, dear," Mrs. McCloskey replied.

As Bucky lead them away from the table, Rebecca asked, "You found him?"

"Yeah. He'll be right down."

Rebecca would have been more comforted if Bucky hadn't led her away from the table. Surely if there wasn't a problem, he could have simply told her Steve would be back instead of taking them off to an unoccupied corner.

"Is Steve okay?" she questioned, fully expecting Bucky to tell her Steve was in the kitchen with ice pressed to a black eye or something along those lines.

"Yeah. Well, sorta." Bucky leaned against the wall, a pose which he made look as comfortable as lying down. "I understand you barely know me from Adam –" That was a laugh. Although, Rebecca supposed she didn't know this younger, less troubled version as well as future Bucky. "But I'm hoping you can do me a favor."

"Um, okay."

"It'd have to be between us. Steve would give me hell if he knew I was talking to you."

"Okaaaaaaay."

Bucky glanced over the crowd. Looking for Steve, maybe? "Steve's not too good around women. They don't always treat him right, and it hasn't given him much of a reason to be confident."

"Uh huh. I've noticed."

"I figured. So I was hoping you could help him out."

Whenever a Barnes got her alone, Rebecca seemed to find herself lost as to where the conversation was going. "You… want me to give him advice?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not advice. A push. An obvious push. In fact, an in-your-face obvious push or I think he'll still doubt himself."

"Bucky, I'm sure Steve hasn't told you, but I don't have many friends. I have no one to set him up on a date with."

"I'm not asking you to set him up on a date," Bucky contradicted, looking puzzled. "He likes –" He caught himself, but Becca knew with sudden clarity how he would have finished the sentence.

"Steve likes me?" she murmured in shock.

"You didn't know," Bucky realized, tugging on his tie in agitation. "Look, don't tell him I told you."

This was bad. This was very bad. Steve wasn't supposed to fall for her, not yet. Peggy was supposed to be his first love and he would be meeting her in a few weeks. What if he still had a crush on her? Fuck. Becca was outraged with herself for not recognizing any of the signs. She'd dated him for four years, and yet somehow totally missed that he was developing a crush. Well, she hadn't been encouraging him, so he didn't know how she felt. Or did she? Earlier she had been holding his hand. She hadn't meant to hold it for so long! At first, she had needed that comfort, and then she just forgot to let go. Oh god, what else had she done unconsciously? And what was she supposed to do now?

"I won't."

If she pushed Steve away, that could be damaging. Becca didn't know too many details about what happened between him and Peggy, but what if she crushed whatever part of Steve had been receptive towards Peggy? Or what if in the future, he didn't want to spend time with her because she ignored or rejected him now? Not to mention how hard it would be for her to hurt Steve. Even if she stopped seeing him all together, she'd know he was hurt. Plus, he'd come check up on her since he'd insisted on walking her home that one night. Ugh, she was an idiot.

"But you do feel the same, don't you?" Bucky asked.

"I…"

What if she was receptive? Steve would only be around until next month. She could tell him it was okay not to wait for her. He might still fall in love with Peggy. Or maybe he wouldn't. She had no way of knowing how important his loving her was in shaping his choices. It seemed like Bucky's death was the one part that would make the largest difference. If they were together now, maybe he'd think her future self was a reincarnation like in those sappy love stories her mom liked to read. This could actually work in her favor. And she had to admit, there was a small part of her that felt overjoyed at the knowledge that no matter when she appeared in his life, Steve would love her.

There were risks if she loved him, risks if she spurned him. Becca had to do some serious considering of the consequences. For now, there was only one choice, which was to make no choice at all.

"I'm glad you're looking out for him," said Becca carefully. "But I think that Steve has more than me on his mind, and he has to make his own decisions. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah I do. But…" Bucky sighed. "I worry sometimes, is all."

Becca couldn't tell him that she knew exactly how Bucky was feeling, but she could do her best. "Because you care a lot about him. I understand."

Bucky scanned the crowd again. "Still thinking of going back to where you lived before?"

"Yes."

Bucky shook his head once, a nearly imperceptible jerk. "You two seemed happy. I thought – Hey!" He waved to Steve, who regarded them with suspicion as he approached. Maybe he suspected she liked Bucky. Becca wasn't sure if that would make things better or worse. "One of Donnie's friends was giving Rebecca a hard time. I had to step in."

"I could've taken him," Becca added for effect.

Fortunately, she and Bucky were much better liars than Steve. The suspicion drained as anger trickled in, tensing Steve's jaw. He glared behind him like he was ready to take on the entire room if necessary.

"Same guy as before?" he questioned.

"I took care of it," stated Bucky. He stood up straight and patted Steve on the back. "I'll catch up with you later. I left a dame waiting, which you know I hate to do."

"Okay. Thanks again," said Becca as he walked off, leaving her with Steve.

"That guy didn't – put his hands on you or anything, did he?" Steve asked, peered at her dress like he was expecting to find handprints, marks of a crime which he could make the imaginary offender answer for.

"No. I'm fine," Becca assured him. "Where'd you go? You disappeared on me." Did that sound too concerned? Great, she was going to start questioning everything that came out of her mouth now.

In an unconvincing tone, Steve said, "Uh, washroom." Suddenly, he looked nervous, and that made her nervous. Oh please don't let him ask her out now before she'd had time to think. "Rebecca, I was wondering, would you…" Becca tried to think up a reason to interrupt him, but her mind had gone a fuzzy blank. "…would you like to dance?"

Becca hoped she didn't look too relieved. "Sure." She almost took his hand, but managed to refrain. "Let's go."

As she turned away, Becca saw something she wouldn't have thought twice about if not for her conversation with Bucky. Steve's shoulders slumped for a second. He gritted his teeth and tilted his head, a little angry, a little disappointed. And Becca got the feeling that he had almost asked her a different question.

Author's Note:

This chapter officially marks the halfway point! Thanks to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed thus far. Lots of goodies still to come.

(Crystal H: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed.

N: Thanks! It's good to write some fluffy fluff. Enjoy while it lasts...)