Bucky/Lavender
"Do you think this ad is serious?" Bucky asks Steve as he shoves the newspaper under Steve's nose.
Steve's spoon of cereal paused mid air as he turns his head to look at the printed words Bucky is pointing at.
Marriage proposal, no strings attached.
Non smoker. Must love pets. Will provide home and bad cooking.
"That's got to be a joke," Steve says immediately. "Besides, no one reads the newspapers anymore."
"If they're printing them, someone's reading them."
"Why are you even considering that ad? It's ridiculous."
"I was looking at places for rent. I can't keep mooching off of you. And I know you and Darcy are waiting for me to bugger off so you can make things official."
"We're not," Steve says, unblinking.
"Don't lie, Steve. It's not a good look on you. Listen, I'm happy for you two. It's just… time. I need to find my own place, and maybe my own girl, why not?"
Steve's eyes slide back to the ad.
"Never mentions a gender," he points out helpfully.
"Who cares? It's no strings attached, right? They just want the green card. If it's a bloke, so be it. At least I'll get a roof over my head and food in my belly. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me."
"You're unbelievable," Steve mutters.
"Thank you."
"That was not meant as a compliment. You're going to regret this."
"More than the rest of my life so far?"
Steve winces and Bucky grins. He's won this argument and Steve knows it.
What has he got to lose anyway? No one wants to hire an ex-assassin with holes in his memory and a gaudy metal arm. He refuses to take charity from Stark, but he can't keep leeching of his best friend either.
He's stuck, with no way out, except...
The ad offers what he needs in exchange for a stupid signature on a piece of paper. He's no businessman, but he knows a sweet deal when he sees one. Or that's what he tells himself as he sits in the furthest booth of the coffee shop he has been directed to by the ad placer.
He waits, watching every single patron walking into the establishment like a hawk, getting more nervous every time they leave without even glancing his way. At least the coffee's good.
"Refill?" the barista offers, holding up a steaming pot of black delight.
She's a pretty little thing with her long blond curls and frilly apron. She has impressive scars across her face, but they somehow emphasize her beauty instead of taking away from it. If he wasn't there to meet his future wife or husband, he would be turning on the charm to swindle a date out of her.
He nods at her offer, pushing his mug forward and she fills it up with a bright smile. Then she startles him by taking a seat in the booth with him.
"You seem alright," she says.
"Erm… Thanks?"
Bucky isn't sure that's the appropriate answer, but modern women still sometimes confuse him.
"I've had a dozen other candidates, but honestly, I'd rather be deported and married off to some wanker back to become his broodmare than agree to tie the knot with those specimens."
Realization hits Bucky like a crashing helicarrier. He knows exactly how that feels.
"Oh! You're the marriage proposal?"
She nods. Damn. Where does he sign? It's too good to be true. But she was smart, too. Not at any point had he suspected the barista.
"I do have questions, mind," she says. "I'm desperate, not crazy."
"I would be disappointed if you hadn't. Go ahead."
"Why did you answer the ad?"
"I have to move out of my friend's flat so his girlfriend can move in. He's not kicking me out, mind, but…" he trails off and she smiles in understanding. "And I'm unemployed, don't have a penny to my name actually, so I didn't have any other way of doing that until I saw your ad, offering exactly what I need."
"Why are you unemployed?"
"I've got a bad rep. No work experience in most things, no degree, no references, and PTSD to top it off. Not a great cocktail."
"PTSD?" she asks, eyeing him more closely. "Army vet?"
"Fresh off the battlefield, Ma'am."
Her faces pinches for a few seconds before her gaze meets his again, unflinching, fearless… People rarely dare look at him so directly. It's refreshing.
"Alright," she finally decides. "We'll give it a two weeks trial starting today, because that's how long it takes for the paperwork to be processed by city hall. If we find the arrangement doesn't work out, either of us can call it quits before the actual marriage."
"Fair enough," he agrees and offers his hand.
"I'm Bucky."
"Lavender," she replies, shaking his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. "And if you're looking for a job, I could use some help running the place. The pay is crap, but the owner is pretty great."
A chuckle escapes him. He doesn't know how long it's been since he last laughed, but it feels good. Bucky feels free, for the first time since he fell all those years ago, and he hopes he finally found his way home.
