When we got back to my apartment, Gramma Howell was still at the play with Tony. Bucky and I showered, changed into our pajamas, brushed our teeth, and then sat in front of the TV and watched the first half of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides—before Bucky started falling asleep with his arm around my shoulders. "Go to bed, Buck," I murmured. "I'll be in when I finish cleaning up." Not that we made much of a mess—I was just going to power everything down and put everything away.

He got up and pulled me with him. "We can clean up in the morning," he decided, turning off the DVD player and the TV before dragging me into the master bedroom. I snorted but let him tuck me in before getting in himself.

Bucky held me to his chest like a teddy bear and went right to sleep.

It wasn't particularly late and I wasn't particularly tired, so I played a game on my phone until my eyes started to droop—about two hours later.

I was just drifting off when Gran got home. I heard Tony open the door (he didn't have a key but I was positive he knew how to pick locks), talking loudly and laughing at something—probably his own joke—before getting really quiet when he realized the rest of the apartment was dark so we were probably asleep. "Sorry Mrs. Howell! I think I might have woken your granddaughter!" Tony hissed.

"Don't worry," I heard Gran reply. "That girl can sleep through a thunderstorm right over her head. It's that husband of hers you've got to worry about. He's so twitchy that the slightest noise wakes him up. I swear he has super hearing."

"Well that wouldn't surprise me," Tony muttered with a laugh. "I'll let you go, Mrs. Howell. Thank you for joining me at the play."

"Thank you for inviting me. I had a lovely time, Mr. Stark."

The front door to my apartment closed. I heard Gran slide the deadbolt and then retreat into the guest bedroom.

I closed my eyes and rolled over so I was facing Bucky's bare chest. I smiled to myself, closed my eyes, and let myself finally be claimed by sleep. It hadn't even been that long of a day—I was just ready to accept that it was over and I'd had fun.

Though that didn't keep me from grumbling in complaint when I was woken up—very rudely, I might add—by Tony at about seven-thirty the next morning. Day ten of grandma's vacation—so I was already a third of the way through it. I was surviving. In five days I'd be halfway done and then I could go back to my normal life. Not that I didn't love having my grandmother stay with me. I did. I loved her very much and I loved her visiting. It was just my stupid mistake of saying that I was married when I wasn't that was making the month feel like it was dragging out.

"Today's the day! The sun is shining! Broadway is waiting! And you two are going out—!" Tony announced loudly, cutting himself off when he entered the bedroom to see Bucky's arm protectively thrown over me in sleep and me just sort of curled up against him.

His noise jarred Bucky awake. Bright blue eyes snapped open and before I could stop him he'd lurched out of the bed and throttled Tony before he could even process what was happening.

"Whoa! Cool it, RoboCop!" Tony exclaimed sarcastically.

Bucky's back muscles relaxed and he let the billionaire go. "I could have killed you! You should know better than to scare me awake, Stark," Bucky muttered, sitting heavily back on the bed. Tony shrugged and shoved his hands casually in the pockets of his jeans.

"I really should," he deadpanned, attitude dripping with sarcasm. "But I don't." He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes and got out of bed. "What are you doing here, Tony?" I asked.

"Well, just thought I'd pay a visit to my favorite power couple—and bring by the tickets for your date tonight."

"Very generous, but you really don't have to send us to a Broadway show," Bucky put in.

"I know. But I like seeing you two spend time together. You're cute," the genius replied with a cheeky wink thrown in our direction. Bucky glanced at me and rolled his eyes. I smirked and turned back to my boss.

"Well, it's very kind of you," I informed him. "The Broadway part—not the waking-up-a-dangerous-assassin part."

Tony laughed. "I'll leave the tickets on your drain-board, Cass."

"Thanks Tony!" I called as he retreated from the master bedroom, through the kitchen, and out the door. I turned back to the bed and fell on it, face-first. "I'm going back to bed." My grumbled complaint was muffled by the covers. I heard Bucky laugh and his metal hand rested gently on the back of my calf. He gave it a comforting squeeze. "People need to stop waking me up early."

"Seven-thirty is hardly early," Bucky pointed out.

"I'm a night owl," I retorted.

"The early bird gets the worm," Bucky teased.

I lifted my head from the blankets and turned to look at him. "The early bird can have the worm," I snapped. "Because worms are gross and mornings are stupid." Bucky started laughing—almost harder than I'd ever heard him laugh before. "What's so funny?" I mumbled.

"That tone was about ninety-eight-percent of Steve's personality, particularly before he got the serum—not that he changed much after he got it," Bucky replied. "But he was so full of 'fight me' and sass and stubbornness for a ninety-pound asthmatic that I never thought I'd meet anyone else who was quite like him. But here you are."

"Is that a compliment, Sergeant Barnes?" I asked, putting my face back onto the blankets.

"Of course it is! I would never dream of insulting you."

I nodded against the covers. "I'll bear that in mind."

He removed his hand from my leg and I heard him slap his knees. "Well, would you like breakfast or are you going back to sleep?"

I shrugged. "I think my brain's too awake now to go back to sleep. I guess I'll make some breakfast."

"You'll do no such thing! Let me!"

I rolled off the bed as Bucky stood with a little more grace. "No! I'm going to make something. You've made enough breakfast. Give me a turn."

"You hate cooking," Bucky pointed out.

That wasn't a lie. If I didn't absolutely have to eat to survive, I totally wouldn't. Food was one of the biggest wastes of time (except like pizza and milkshakes and ice cream). "True," I admitted. "But breakfast is the one meal that when I'm living alone I tend to forget about, so when I have people over, I have to remember to feed them."

"You forget breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"I could never forget breakfast," Bucky remarked as we left the master bedroom. "I'm always hungry when I wake up." I chuckled and slowed down when I reached the drain-board. The tickets to the show were hidden under a selection of plums. Bucky stopped completely and stared at them before looking over at me. "How would Tony know?" he asked quietly.

"Know what?" I countered, picking up a folded piece of paper behind the fruits with Bucky's name on it.

"Plums are thought to help memory," he explained as I passed him the paper but didn't read it.

"Are you still having memory troubles?" I inquired curiously. He opened the note—eyes flicking over the words I could almost see through the paper. I couldn't make out individual words but I could see it was Tony's handwriting. I'd seen enough of that to recognize it on sight.

He passed the paper to me and looked down at the floor. "I remember everything that happened," he admitted. "Every mission. Every time HYDRA brainwashed me." He paused for a moment as I looked down at the note. Hey super soldier, thought these might help. Heard rumors you like them. Tony. I turned my attention back to Bucky. He stared at me very seriously. "I remember the faces of every person whose life I snuffed out—sometimes with my bare hands."

I sighed and leaned against the counter, setting Tony's note down, unable to think of anything to say.

"And since we're on the subject," Bucky continued. "I wanted you to hear that from me—not some file you read some time. Steve, Tony, and you are the only people who definitively know that. When I was on the run I ate plums because they helped me piece everything together." He copied my position against the counter, all thoughts of making breakfast on the back burner. "I was in the Winter Soldier the whole time. Steve says it's not my fault—says I didn't have a choice. But I still did it. Which makes it my fault. That thought is only confirmed by the fact that I remember everything."

I rested my head on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I agree with Steve. It's not your fault. You were brainwashed. Even if it was your hands or your trigger, it wasn't your mind. It wasn't your choice. And that's what makes the difference."

I kissed his metal shoulder even though I wasn't even sure if he could feel it and turned around and pulled the toaster out of the cabinet.

End Note: Civil War just came out on DVD last week, so I figure now everyone will soon get the chance to see it. So there won't be a lot of spoilers, but there will be references for a while. (The plums were one, if anyone picked up on that!)

Thank you all so much for still reading! You guys are great! Please leave a question or a comment if you have any thoughts! They are much appreciated and loved! I love and appreciate all of you for being here! This is the most popular story I've ever written! I'm floored by your response to it. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart! Bucky and I send our love! ;-)