Rose woke up a week before her birthday, and realized that her feet were starting to go numb.
She knows Steve and Bucky, if they knew, would immediately drag her to see the doctor- but she doesn't really see the point. She knows what it means.
She's getting worse.
She sits at the edge of her bed, just staring at her feet, for close to an hour. In her head, her entire life is playing out like a movie, the scenes printed out on paper and then shredded into sand- all filling a slowly emptying hour glass, ticking in the back of her mind. Despite both Damian and Tony's continued efforts, and Rose's desperate desire to live, hope and time were the only things she had going for her.
So she sits.
She sits and she thinks of all of the things she's never done- of the things she can still do- and she decides to write a list. When she's done, she finds herself staring again, wracking her brain to think of anything else to add.
It's not very long.
That's what she said.
….I am both extremely proud and supremely disappointed.
You're not wrong, though. My grocery lists are usually longer than this.
It's only five things. Five small, but supremely important things.
The first (and probably the silliest thing) was that she wanted to wear a fancy dress- like Cinderella. Most people, she knew, had experiences like prom or a Sweet Sixteen and got the chance to wear one at least once. Rose had never had the money (or been invited) to do either of those things. She wanted something long, and fluffy, and just completely ridiculous, impractical in every way because it could only really be worn once.
The second thing was that she wanted to go on a date. A real date- like the ones in the movies. She wanted to get picked up at her door, and go out to eat, and then get dropped back off at her door with a kiss. She loved her "dates" with her boys, but staying in and watching movies or hanging out in the Rec Room weren't exactly supremely romantic. After that first wooing attempt, it was like they'd declared "mission accomplished" and settled her into their life like she'd always been there.
She wanted to go out with them before they had to wheel her places.
The third thing, was that she wanted to have a birthday party. Her whole life, the most she'd ever gotten was a gift card and a cupcake (which she'd have to throw out) or a card from her doctor's office. She wanted shitty streamers and terribly colored balloons and absolutely awful games. She wanted all of her friends and the family she'd made together, celebrating her life while she was still alive.
The fourth thing, was that she wanted to go to the beach. She knew it was kind of a strange wish for someone who couldn't fucking swim- but it had always been a dream of hers. She was fascinated by the ocean, and had probably watched every ocean documentary on the planet. She wanted to know what the sea smelt like, experience the sun glinting off of the water, collect shells from the sand.
She wanted to know what the ocean felt like on her feet, while she could still feel them.
The last item on the list was probably the most embarrassing thing for her to write. It was also the thing that she wanted the most.
She didn't want to die a virgin.
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
After psyching herself up for hours, Rose finally decides to share her list with Bucky and Steve. She convinces herself that they'd be, if not happy, at least willing to help her tick things off her short list. Mostly, she hopes they'll help with the last one.
They are neither happy nor willing.
In fact, both of them are pissed.
Bucky, at first, had looked terribly amused by the small list she'd handed him. He'd eyed the tiny pink piece of scrap paper with sparkling eyes, barely glancing at it before giving her a tickled smile, his dimples faintly appearing on his cheeks.
"What's this, baby doll? You sendin' me to the store?" He leaned back on his and Steve's large leather sofa, plopping his feet in Steve's lap. Without missing a beat the large blonde adjusted himself accordingly, moving the tablet he was reading from in one smooth movement, keeping the fragile technology from meeting an ignoble death via Bucky's feet. Rose wrung her hands nervously, face a brilliant red as she all but danced in front of them.
"No…It's a 'bucket list'." Bucky, only having really read the first item, just looked confused. Steve, now focused fully on the conversation, looked just as perplexed as his boyfriend. Placing the tablet on their coffee table, the blond adjust in his seat, unease filling his stomach.
"Angel, you're going to have to explain a little better. What exactly is a 'bucket list'?" Rose swallowed nervously, giving up on wringing her hands in order to grab at her upper arms.
"It's a list…of things you want to do before you, you know…." The smile has disappeared off of Bucky's face, his shoulder's tensing with every hesitant word. Next to him, Steve has gone eerily still, his eyebrows lowering until he was all but scowling at her. Shaken by their obviously negative reactions, Rose continues, desperate to get her explanation out of the way. "'Kick the bucket'." There's a resounding silence after her meek explanation before Bucky speaks, voice deceptively soft, her list crumpled in his hand.
"Are you giving up, Rose?" The blonde gives him a baffled look.
"What? What do you mean-" She's cut off by Steve, the larger blond man shifting restlessly and clenching his hands spastically.
"You heard what he said, Rose. Are you giving up?" His question is short and clipped, each word spoken behind clenched teeth. Rose, not one to be cowed by a harsh tone, puffs up angrily, voice shrill and incredulous.
"'Giving up'? Of course I'm not giving up! Why would you think-?!" She's cut off again, this time by her dark haired boyfriend shooting out of the sofa and throwing the list at her.
"Because this feels like giving up, Rose! You aren't going to die! There's no damn point in making a fuckin' 'bucket list' because you're going to have a long god damn life!" Rose just grit her teeth, pushing back angry, devastated tears as she picked up the mauled piece of paper. Furious at her silence, he continues. "We let that asshole Damian stay here just to heal you, Rose! Stark and Dr. Banner haven't left the lab in close to a month! Hell, even Athena is trying to save you! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Her heart quakes in her chest, her soul splintering at the edges with each vicious exclamation. His last question rings in her head, joined by the familiar chorus of all of the other times she'd heard that same, terribly familiar phrase.
"Why can't you play with us? What's wrong with you?"
"Another fight? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Why don't you mind your own business, huh? The hell is wrong with you?"
"You thought I liked you? Are you stupid? Is there something wrong with you? Like, are you retarded?"
What's wrong with you?
Why can't you be like everyone else?
Wrong. Bad. Strange. Off.
She'd heard it from hundreds of people, in a hundred different ways and in a million different situations- but it always translated to the same thing. She was defective. She hadn't heard it in so long, that she'd almost hoped to never hear it again.
Certainly never from him.
That singular phrase hits her with more force than the punch that had started this whole mess, shocking her into stillness and forcing tears from the edge of her eyes. For the first time she can recall, neither man go to comfort her, too wrapped up in their own pain hold her together. Instead, Steve speaks, voice jarringly soft in the wake of Bucky's shouting.
"Do you want to die, Rose?" She sucks in a sharp breath, heart leaping like she'd just been punched in the chest.
Did he really just ask me that?
Because of a god damn list, suddenly I want to die?
She pushes back her heartbreak to focus on something familiar- something safe.
Rage.
"Do I want to die? You know what? No. No I fucking don't." She lets out a humorless laugh, harshly wiping at her eyes to try and stem the flow of tears. "For the first time in my god forsaken life, I wake up in the morning and I'm thankful. I'm thankful for my job. For my friends- my family. I'm thankful that I have you both-"
Had.
You had them both.
It's an insidious whisper, the darkness inside of her thriving in the climate of her doubt and self-hatred. She's not strong enough to push it away, the yawning chasm in her chest expanding with her every angry wheeze. Her boyfriends eye her pale face and heavy breathing with growing concern, Bucky even going so far as to suggest that she take a seat.
She ignores them.
"I'm thankful that people care about me enough to sacrifice their time and their sanity to make me better! I'm thankful that I can walk and talk and wipe my own ass! I'm grateful for every god damn breath I take! So, no! I'm not 'giving up'!" She breaks off with a great, wheezing sob, angrily wiping at her eyes again. "I just know that my life isn't fair- I can hope all I want, but my reality has never been about what I dreamt! It's been about stealing time. I steal tiny, beautiful moments and hope they make up for all of the other things I'll never get to do! As much as you two may claim that I'm not broken, I know the truth! I've never had cake, or gone to a birthday party, or climbed a damn tree. I am so god damn limited by this prison I call a body- there's so much I want to do, but I just fucking can't." Anger spent she slumps, the list falling out of her limp fingers and onto the floor. "I'm going to hope until the last possible second that I'll get the chance to live. But my whole life has been stolen moments- so I thought I'd choose what I get to steal next. I hope that I get to live." She trails off, periwinkle blue eyes flat and sad. "But I need to think about what the rest of my life will look like if I don't."
There's another resounding silence as the men process her explanation, Rose's harsh breathing filling the otherwise quiet living room. When neither of them say anything she straightens up, face carefully blank to hide the shattered pieces of her heart.
"I was hoping both of you would help me- but hope is always disappointing." Without another word she marches out of their apartment, slamming the door behind her as she escapes, desperate to find a spot where she can pull the broken pieces of her heart back together again.
Steve and Bucky can only stand in shock, minds racing as they review the last half hour. After a moment, Steve hesitantly steps forward and picks the crumpled paper off of the floor, smoothing out the edges with a tender hand. He scans the paper with regretful eyes, each hesitant wish like a knife to the chest.
"Hey Buck?" The brunet grunts, eyes focused on the closed door like the petite blonde would come bursting in at any moment. Steve takes the guttural sound as an acknowledgement and continues. "We fucked up." Bucky rolls his eyes in response.
"Yeah, no shit Steve. I get the feeling that a simple 'I'm sorry' isn't going to do much here." Steve licked his lips, brows furrowing as he scanned the list a second time. A plan begins to piece itself together in his head, a smile slowly appearing on his face as the details took shape. Bucky sees the smile and feels an answering one appear on his face, dimples appearing on his cheeks. "You want to share with the class, 'Man with a Plan'?" Steve huffed, a grimace appearing on his face.
"Yeah- but it's probably going to hurt." When Bucky gave him a confused look, Steve elaborated. "We're going to have to tell Darcy what happened." The brunet winced.
She was going to kick their asses.
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
Rose doesn't see either of her boyfriends for close to a day, something that she finds supremely unsurprising. She's half convinced herself that her angry tirade had been the final nail for them- that they've finally decided that she's more trouble than she's worth.
That doesn't stop her from hoping they'll change their minds.
All day she finds herself looking around corners and jumping at the sound of every footstep, only to be disappointed when it's just an intern or Sammy coming to make sure she hasn't accidentally killed herself (something she'd taken to doing ever since word of Rose's diagnosis had gotten around). By the end of her work day she's completely shattered, resigned to the fact that she's going to have to try and figure out her list by herself.
She's just settled into her couch, one of her new books in hand, when her doorbell rings.
She does not sprint for the door.
She walks. With purpose.
However, as soon as she opened the door, she's immediately accosted by Darcy's hand. The brunette charges into her apartment with all of the grace of a bull elephant, steering the blonde back into her living room with her hand on her face. Rose lets out an indignant screech at the invasion, voice high and pterodactyl-like as she backpedals wildly. Before she can fall on her ass, Darcy lets go, looking especially harried.
"Come on! We're running late! Pedro got into the trash and had a mini-fiesta making a nest in it." Rose just gapes at her, absently patting her hair and trying to tame it from the mess Darcy's hand had made.
"I'm sorry- what? Late? What exactly am I-?" She's cut off by Darcy's hand again. This time the pale, brightly colored digits are smacked over her mouth. Her friend shushes her, eyes just a little insane.
"There's no time for questions, Rosie-Posy. Get your cute ass in the shower." When the shorter woman doesn't move quick enough, Darcy lunges forward and starts pulling at her clothes. Rose screeches again, batting at her hands and scrambling back towards her bathroom.
"I'm going! I'm going!" She lets out a yelp and clutches at her chest, giving her best friend an incredulous look. "Did you just grope me?"
Better question- will she do it again? But slower?
…I'm seriously questioning my sexuality here. Maybe I'm just deprived?
Or depraved.
That too.
Darcy gives her a maniacal grin, waggling her eyebrows ridiculously.
"Yes. Yes I did. I couldn't help myself." When Rose just stares at her, face a particularly unattractive shade of red, Darcy rolls her eyes and begins to gently shove the other woman in the direction she was originally heading. "Have a crisis about your latent homosexual tendencies later. Shower now." Bewildered (and a little panicked) Rose finally did as she was told, quickly hopping in her shower while the last five minutes buzzed through her head.
Can she read my mind?
She did say she has more powers than her wolfy ones…
"No, I can't read your mind, Rosie. I just know you that well, you closeted bisexual fruitcake." There was a pause before Darcy continued, voice impatient. "You have two minutes, Rose! Hurry your skinny ass up before I just get the hose!" The petite blonde scrambled to comply, sliding around her shower and knocking shampoo bottles everywhere with an enormous crash. Before she could even think of cleaning up, Darcy chimed in again. "One minute, Rose!"
Fuck it. It's an artistic mess.
Wow. So bold. Much creative.
As soon as she was out of the shower, Darcy had attached herself to her again, manhandling her around her apartment before shoving her gracelessly in front of the vanity that she almost never used. Darcy looked at the (frankly pathetic) make up that Rose had acquired over the years and let out a low whistle, running an exasperated hand over her face.
"Now I know why Natasha insisted on using her own make up on you. Jesus, Rose- I haven't seen some of these brands since middle school." Rose opened her mouth, all set to go on an offended rant, but found herself cut off. "Never mind. There's not enough time. Try and sit still, would you?"
Thirty minutes later she was primped and shoved into the only black dress she owned, a pretty thing straight out of the fifties with pink flowers all across the bottom. Darcy looked extremely satisfied, panting like she'd run a marathon and brandishing Rose's make up brushes like she was twirling a drum stick around her fingers.
Rose was not impressed.
"I'm dressed. Why am I dressed? I was planning on having a date with my bed tonight." Darcy gave her a shark-like grin in response.
"Speaking of dates…" As if on cue, her doorbell rang again. When Darcy just continued to loom, Rose gave a resigned sigh and shuffled for the door, grumbling to herself about "psychotic best friends" and how "painful mascara was to get in your eye". She ripped the door open- and then promptly went quiet.
Steve and Bucky were on the other side.
In suits.
With flowers.
It was like every cheesy, awful romance she'd ever seen (or written), all come to life right in front of her. In fact, it would have been perfect- except they both also looked like they'd been mauled by a particularly angry cat. Rose blinked at the both of them, any anger and disappointment she was feeling temporarily cast aside in the wake of her shock.
"What happened to you two? Was there a mission or something?" Steve gave her a sheepish smile, lowering the flowers to rub at the back of his neck.
"Kind of- we realized how god damn stupid we were, but someone else decided we needed a physical reminder of the fact." Bucky rolled his eyes, elbowing his boyfriend in the ribs before giving Rose a contrite look.
"What he means is that we're fucking assholes and Darcy tore us to shreds defending your honor." There was a faint "damn straight" from her living room. Bucky ignored the reply and continued. "We, of all people, should have understood what you were trying to do, Rosie. When you said your life was just a series of stolen moments? Well, that's been our lives too. You aren't dying- but that doesn't mean we can't make your life as special as you want anyways." Steve cleared his throat, absently rubbing the bruise Bucky had prodded on his ribs.
"He's right, baby doll." He raised his flowers again, a charming smile appearing on his face, sky blue eyes sparkling. "It's also come to our attention that we haven't been treating our girl like we should have been." Bucky gave her an equally charming smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he grinned down at her.
"It's a damn crime that we haven't taken you out, doll. So? What do you say? Will you give a couple of mooks a second chance?" Rose glanced in between them both, desperately blinking back happy tears as a grin slowly spread across her face. Elation filling her up in a warm, beautiful way, she gives them both a wobbly nod, choking out a wet "yes" as she cups her face, cheeks aching from smiling. As soon as the words left her mouth, Darcy came tearing for the door, a wide, mischievous grin on her face. Rose finds herself abruptly shoved into the soldier's arms, the flowers snatched into the brunette's eager hands.
"I'll take these." Darcy waved at Rose's sprawled form. "You take that." She then fake scowled at them, putting on her best "motherly" voice. "You boys play nice now. I want her back by midnight- virtue intact. She's a lady." The scowl disappeared, a beaming smile taking its place. "Have fun kiddies! Use protection! I'm far too young for grandbabies." She then slams the door in their faces, laughing maniacally the entire time.
Steve gives the door a fake contemplative look, absently helping Rose straighten up from where she's sprawled across their bodies.
"Protection? But I didn't bring my shield with me…" There's a beat of silence where both Rose and Bucky process the dry statement, both of them gaping at the subtly smirking blond. Rose is the first to completely lose it, absolutely howling with laughter, eyes squeezed shut as she lets out little breathless snorts. After a particularly high-pitched snort, Bucky loses it too, throwing his head back in absolute glee before bending over, seemingly punched in the gut by his own hilarity. Steve eyes his two laughing loves with an air of pride, letting out his own light hearted chuckles as he watches them fall all over themselves, clutching at each other to stay standing. A couple of breathless minutes later, the laughter petered off, leaving the petite woman and the former assassin beaming at him, periwinkle and silver eyes sparkling with laughter.
It's a sight that makes Steve supremely grateful for his photographic memory.
Dazzled by their combined happiness, Steve let's out a tiny sigh, the mischievous grin on his face warming into something achingly tender.
"Come on, baby doll. We've got reservations to keep."
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
They take her out to dinner- and it's everything she could have dreamed of. She'd been a little worried about her (various) allergies, but the soldiers had her covered.
They rented the whole fucking restaurant.
It was just the three of them and the chefs- chefs who'd designed an entire menu around her allergies. For the first time in her life, she was able to eat whatever she wanted off of a menu. It was such a small thing, but it felt unbelievably huge.
She felt like a person.
It was candlelight and easy conversation and absolutely terrible jokes (mostly from Steve- though Bucky tried his best). At the end of it, they walk her to her door and kiss her breathless, leaving her standing knobby kneed in her living room.
It's the most perfect night she can recall having.
And it's only the beginning.
They take her out the next night. And the next night. And the next. Every night for five whole days, she gets a new, fantastic evening. They take her to the movies, and Coney Island; she has a picnic in Central Park and rides the carousel in Brooklyn.
She gets to see "Wicked" on Broadway.
Her favorite date, though, is when they took her dancing. She'd been nervous at first, convinced that her many disabilities would somehow spoil the evening or that she wouldn't be able to "keep up"- but she finds that her insecurities are for nothing.
Her feet never really touch the ground.
She spends the whole night swapped between their arms, sharing soft, slow kisses and swaying to whatever crooner takes the stage. When a faster song comes on they gently twirl and toss her, grinning at her wheezing laughter and passing her back and forth. She soaks up every second, savoring the feel of their arms and the taste of their mouths, the combined music of the stage and their laughter warming the parts of her she'd thought frosted over with her despair.
Her heart is a warm, heavy weight in her chest, pumping golden heat through her body- and she doesn't know what it means. The feeling is a beautiful agony, one she simultaneously craves and is deathly afraid of. She goes to sleep dreaming of them, and wakes up with their smiles seared into her eyelids. She's the happiest she's ever been, but also the most scared she can ever recall being.
She's not sure what to call that.
The only thing she is sure of, is that the only thing worse than dying, is never seeing their faces again.
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
On her birthday, Rose wakes up with a smile. She isn't sure what her boys have planned, but she's sure that she's going to love it.
Mostly she hopes they'll tick the final thing off of her list. She's ruined enough panties this week that she's pretty sure she's single-handedly keeping Victoria's Secret in business.
What she's not expecting is for Tony Stark to appear in her living room, lounging on her sofa like he owned the place (though he technically does). Rose gaped at him, stepping back and forth between her bedroom and the living room like he'd somehow magically disappear. Tony just watched her little dance with ill-concealed amusement, eyes hidden behind a pair of ridiculous red sunglasses.
"You done, Rocky?" Rose gave him a bemused nod, silently asking what the billionaire was doing perched in her apartment. The question was blatantly ignored, the brunet eyeing Rose's business wear with no little amount of disgust. "You're wearing that? Unacceptable. I demand you change." The petite blonde scowled at him, crossing her arms defensively in front of her pastel pink work dress.
"There is nothing wrong with my dress, you ass. Some of us can't just show up to work in a t-shirt and jeans and call it a day." Tony rolled his eyes, waving off the small woman's offense.
"Not that- I'm sure what you're wearing is just fine for herding nerds. Very professional. Looks great with your skin tone. No, I mean it's completely inappropriate for today." Rose rolled her eyes, planting her hands on her bony hips.
"What I have planned, is going to work. I'm not going on an adventure with you, Tony. The last time that happened we ended up stuck on the roof for three hours." Tony gave her a wild smile, perking up from his spot.
"See- that's where you're wrong. No work today. Everyone has today off, on account of it being a national holiday." Before Rose could ask him what exactly this "national holiday" was called, Tony continued. "So you need to go change- preferably into something suitable for the beach."
Any argument she had immediately vanished.
Excitement buzzing underneath her skin, Rose begins to bounce in place, an ecstatic smile nearly splitting her face in two. Tony struggles to contain a matching smile, impatiently waving at the woman vibrating in her doorway.
"Stop that- you look ridiculous." Before he can say anything else, Rose scuttles forward and throws her arms around his shoulders, squeezing the billionaire as tightly as she can. Tony is tense for a moment, surprised by the sudden affectionate contact before visibly relaxing, giving the much tinier woman a hesitant squeeze. Unwilling to make him uncomfortable, Rose pulls back from the hug, a soft, affectionate smile on her face, periwinkle blue eyes absolutely radiant with joy.
"Thank you, Tony." The brunet lets his mask of callousness fall for a second, an answering smile appearing on his face as he reaches up to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"Any time, kid." The mask appears a moment later, a playful frown appearing on his face as he checks the Stark watch on his wrist. "Now, you'd better hurry up and change. We have a flight to catch in…10 minutes." Rose shoots up with an alarmed squeak, reaching behind herself and nearly ripping the zipper down her dress before scuttling half-naked back to her bedroom. Tony is just barely able to cover his eyes, letting out an indignant yelp as he almost knocks the glasses off of his face. "Hey! I did not need to see that- I like my head where it is, please and thank you. Namely attached to my shoulders. If your geriatric boy toys knew I'd seen you even remotely undressed, I'm pretty sure Barnes would rip my head off and Rogers would use it as a new Frisbee." There was a faint "sorry" followed by a muffled crash as Rose ripped through her wardrobe, desperately looking for the only "beach worthy" item she owned. After nearly flipping her dresser she finally found the ombre pink maxi dress, unceremoniously shoving it on before slipping into her orthopedic sandals. She poked her head out, all set to ask the billionaire if she'd need to pack a bag but found herself abruptly grabbed and yanked towards her front door.
"No time, kid. Your bag has already been packed. It's time to go."
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
Rose had been expecting to go to the New York coast- maybe the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore. Tony, because he's Tony, decides to go above and beyond.
He flies them to the Bahamas.
Namely, he flies them to his own damn island in the Bahamas.
She barely has time to take in the sprawling, modern beach house before she's accosted by all of her friends. They're all spread out across the front entrance, beaming smiles on their faces as they shout in unison.
"Happy birthday, Rose!" There's a tacky, handmade streamer above their heads and some of the ugliest dollar store balloons she's ever seen spread throughout the otherwise tastefully decorated space. Thor, Darcy, and Sam are all wearing tacky, pink tiaras on their heads while the rest of the group waves cheap noise makers and pops glitter infested confetti in her direction. Steve and Bucky are right in the middle of it, rainbow colored birthday cones perched awkwardly on their heads, cheering like she'd just made the winning hit at a Dodgers game.
It's tacky and loud and even better than she could have dreamed of.
She must be standing for too long because Tony gives her a subtle nudge in the back, gently pushing her into the room.
"Go have fun, kid. I don't say this often (at least not to someone else), but today is about you." She gives him a bright smile, valiantly blinking back happy tears before wading into the chaos of the best birthday she's ever had.
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
They spend hours in Tony's villa, playing dumb kids games and eating Rose-safe food off an absolutely ridiculously huge table. (Jane still manages to eat at least a third of it- a fact that terrifies everyone except for Thor, who watches his lady-love eat with an absolutely besotted smile.) There's no official gift giving (as the entire concept made Rose profoundly uncomfortable), but each of her friends pulls her aside to give her a small gift- a new book from Wanda, a hand-knitted pink blanket from Natasha, tacky heart earrings from Pietro- all of them small and generally inexpensive.
Everything except for her gift from Steve and Bucky.
They give her a dainty, rose-gold bracelet, the centerpiece of which is a blooming, golden rose, its petals cradling a tiny, pink diamond.
It's without a doubt the most expensive gift anyone has ever bought her- so expensive, in fact, that she almost refuses it. Neither of them give her that chance. No sooner had Steve presented it to her, did Bucky have it clasped around her wrist, eyes sparkling happily at her gob smacked expression.
"Come on, baby doll. Just take it. We had it specially made for you- it would be a damn shame to have that poor jewelers work go to waste." Rose opens her mouth, stubbornly set on arguing against the extravagant gift, but is cut off by the full force of Steve's puppy dog eyes.
"Rosie, angel- don't you like it?" Rose purses her lips, desperately fighting against the sheer coerciveness of that look. Bucky decides to up the ante, pressing a soft kiss into the hand attached to the bracelet, leveling her with an absolutely smoldering look. When he speaks his voice is a soft purr, the warmth of his breath sending goosebumps crawling up her arm.
"Sugar- baby doll- you know what I'd like? I want to see you wear this at least all day. And then, tonight, after dinner…" He licks his lips, his tongue just brushing her skin. She shudders, heat pooling in her stomach as she unintentionally sways into him. "…well, I wanna' see how you look just in this."
Her libido promptly body slams her higher brain function, forcefully nodding her head. At the nod, Bucky suddenly straightens up, giving her a charming wink.
"Well, now that that's settled- I need to kick Barton's ass at 'pin the arc reactor on Iron Man'." When Rose and Steve both just blink at him, visibly dazed by the sudden burst of raw sex appeal, Bucky just levels them with a beaming smile, whistling as he wanders off.
Rose makes sure that the bracelet is completely visible for the rest of the day.
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
Around noon, they finally make their way to the beach- and it's everything that Rose was hoping it would be. She savors the feel of the white sand, surprisingly soft in between her toes, breathing in warm, salty air while gaping at the clear, sparkling water. In the distance, she can just make out what she thinks are dolphins, flipping and playing in the surf. Sea foam dances across the shore, opalescent and glittering in the sunlight. She's awed by the sheer vastness of it, stretching out in front of her in a seemingly never-ending stretch of blue. A tenseness she hadn't been aware she was carrying disappears from her shoulders, the ends of her dress whipping around her now bare feet in the gentle ocean breeze. Her friends immediately head for the surf, letting out ecstatic whoops as they crash into the waves. Her boyfriends come up on either side of her, taking in the awed expression on her face with gentle smiles. Steve gives her a nudge, tenderly running his hand down her bare shoulder before giving her hand a soft squeeze.
"You okay there, angel?" Rose gives him a return squeeze before absently reaching out and taking Bucky's hand as well, eyes still locked on the curling waves.
"Yeah," her voice is breathless, awe rendering her nearly mute "I just- it's so beautiful. I never expected to see it again." Bucky gives her a confused frown, gently rubbing her fingers.
"Again? I thought you'd never been to the beach." Rose nodded, humming absently.
"I haven't- at least not that I can remember. Some jogger found me on the beach as a baby. From what they can tell, I must have been there for a couple of hours. The police thought some teen mom went into early labor at the beach and panicked when I came out…off. So she just left me there." She gave a half-hearted shrug. "I was wrapped in a cheap compass rose towel- which is where they got my name." She abruptly shook her head, seemingly trying to shake off the daze she'd fallen into before giving them both a sheepish smile. "Do you mind if I just go walk by myself for a while? I promise not to go far- it's just today has been…" She struggled for a moment, trying to express how overwhelming all of the attention was without coming off ungrateful. "It's been a lot. I just need a minute to myself." Bucky gave her an understanding hum, giving her hand a final squeeze before hopping over her and putting Steve into a head lock. The blond let out an indignant yelp at the manhandling, weakly struggling against the silver arm locked around his throat.
"Come on, Punk, you heard the lady. Let's see how good you are with a Frisbee that actually obeys the laws of physics." Without further ado they both went tumbling into the sand, good naturedly throwing each other around while tossing playful insults at one another. She watches them wander off with a small smile, that strange, beautiful warmth uncurling in her chest.
Taking another deep breath she resolutely sets off down the beach, occasionally bending over to pick up a shell before regretfully placing it back down, idly promising to get a bucket the next time she heads to the water. She carefully makes her way into the ocean, stopping when her feet are just barely covered by the sea foam as she thinks through her day. However, she invariably finds herself drawn back to her confusion over the strange, panic inducing warmth in her chest. She knows what it is- but at the same time, it's completely unfamiliar. She puzzles through it, slowly making her way down the beach until she's a good 20 feet away from the hubbub of her friends.
It's when she hears Steve laugh, crashing into the sand as he tries to catch a Frisbee, that the answer finally hits her.
She'd heard the phrase "falling in love" more times than she could count, and that's what she assumed love would be like- a sudden, swooping drop. But love wasn't like falling- it was more like climbing. You took a bunch of tiny steps and then suddenly you were too high up to go back. It was a never ending staircase, the more time and effort you put in, the higher it took you. Love, real love, didn't break you. It lifted you up.
With this one startling revelation, the swan around her neck shatters into stardust, swirling around before jumping onto her chest, slowly taking the shape of a rose-gold swan, directly over her heart. She barely has time to comprehend her new tattoo before the sea foam around her feet begins to writhe angrily, an ominous, golden glow appearing in the bubbles. Panicked, she backpedals as quickly as she can out of the water, only to find herself pursued by the hissing foam. She only makes it a few feet away before the foam latches on to her ankle.
There's a sickening pop as the joint is crushed, blood turning the foam a ghastly pink.
The pain is such a shock that, for a moment, she's unable to scream, face paling dramatically as she gapes at her foot. It's when the foam starts to spread up her leg, the once gentle bubbles now searing her flesh that she's finds herself able to speak. Her voice is a shrill scream, her pain and panic broadcasted down the beach as she calls out to the person nearest to her.
"Steve-" She just barely finishes screaming his name when her feet are ripped out from underneath her, the petite woman going down in a massive explosion of sand before she's dragged back towards the water. She's vaguely aware of a mad scramble down the beach as she desperately grabs at the sand, trying to fight the crushing pull of the water as something pulls her towards it. As she's tugged, the foam slowly spreads up her body, each inch drawing another agonized scream from her until it's just one, drawn out wail.
It makes it up to her waist and there's another sickening pop, her pelvis seemingly crushed by the sentient water.
The pain is so terrible that she thinks she blacks out a little, because the next thing she's aware of is Steve desperately screaming her name.
"Rose!" There's a sudden displacement of air and then the blond is just about flying through the air, making a desperate dive as the blood-stained foam inconsistently drags her further in. She thinks she must say his name, because the desperation on his face turns into something near madness, eyes wild as he scrambles to grab her hand. She weakly reaches for him, periwinkle blue eyes streaming with tears as she sobs from the agony, fighting frantically to stay conscious against the nearly unbearable onslaught of pain.
For one brief, shining moment she feels him latch on to her hand, his rough digits so familiar and so loved, promising her safety with his desperate squeeze.
The ocean rips her from his grasp, sucking her down in an explosion of blood stained and golden foam, her last agonized scream echoing down the beach before she disappears.
Steve is left lying in the red-tinted sand, the rose bracelet clutched in his hand the only proof that she'd ever been there at all.