I was thinking on the weekend (I know, me thinking is very dangerous) about what would happen if Bucky rocked up in Sokovia where Wanda was hiding away in the aftermath of Westview… And then this happened. Even though I'm not too sure if it was confirmed Wanda was back in Sokovia, I prefer this fan theory and will be working with it.

I've been enjoying writing Bucky/Wanda and I thought I'd try and write something a little longer. Right now, I've outlined for this fic to have ten parts.

This does contain spoilers for WandaVision. At the time of posting and writing this, I have been watching TFATWS but it won't have a lot of spoilers from the show outside of the first episode where I've gotten a lot of my inspiration for Bucky. (I'll include it in the author's note if this changes.)

I've had a lot of fun writing this. (I ended up writing half of it in the last week, which has been a lot of fun!) I hope you enjoy!

The title is from Banks' "Underdog".

you came back as the under dog
part i

Wanda hesitates when she spies the back of a bulky figure loitering on the edge of her lake. Standing at her front window, she eyes the figure with intense scrutiny, wondering if he can sense her stare. If he can feel her stare, he doesn't so much as shift on his feet.

When she'd woken up, she had expected her day to go as it always did: undisturbed. She'd wake up, eat her breakfast outside and watch the sun climb the mountains and sit its reflection gently in her lake, and she'd go about her morning weeding her garden and watering her vegetables. By the afternoon, she'd put the kettle on and project the Scarlet Witch into the corner of her unused guest bedroom to devour the pages of the Darkhold well into the night.

What she hadn't expected when she woke up this morning was to find him with his back to her. Venturing away from the safety of her window, she quietly opens the front door. She spies his shoulders lift up and down like he's taken a big inhale of relief. With his hands in his pockets and his hair cropped short and tight to his head, she eyes Bucky Barnes unblinkingly. He doesn't disappear, even though she expects him to. Everyone disappears eventually.

She thinks she can hear him chuckle.

"You know, it's a little rude to stare bullets into someone's head." His voice rings loudly around them. Wanda knows he hadn't thought the thought but had spoken it aloud. Her head's too empty. Sokovia comes to life beneath his deep voice, breathing in a sigh of relief as though it's happy she's finally no longer alone.

Closing her front door, she takes a few steps out onto her porch, her hands coming to cup her warm mug tightly. "You know," she says, Sokovian accent thick, "it's rude to think that they are bullets. I could be staring stones into your skull."

Bucky turns around, hands still in his pockets. He smiles at her like they're old friends. He's a good distance away, but she can still see the way his mouth lifts up in a curve of a smile. It's strange to think he's smiling at her—for her.

"It's good to see you, Wanda. Nice place you got here." He looks up at her clean gutters and cleaner roof, taking in her small house as if he hadn't had time to take it all in during the hours he had been waiting for her. She imagines he must've scoped the place already, noted the window on the left-hand side of her house having a slight wobble to its frame, and the window she keeps open in her back room in the hopes two small boys will climb inside one day.

Standing on the edge of her porch, she eyes him sharply. "What do you want, Bucky?"

She notes how he inhales deeply. His hands remain in his pockets, his metal arm thick and bright in the morning light. Bucky begins to walk, strides long but easy. He doesn't fear her. "We want you to come back," he says, looking down at the ground. He slowly approaches, stopping at the first stone step of the path leading up to her house. "Sam and I. We could use you back home."

"This is my home," she says, shifting her weight on her feet.

"Your other home, then," he offers. Bucky looks at her, his blue eyes as bright as her lake's water. He peers up at her unafraid of her rejection. "We could use someone like you."

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Bucky, but I'm not interested."

"Wanda, come on," he sighs. He takes a few steps up towards her and stops at the base of her steps leading up to her porch. Tugging his hand from his pocket, he slaps it pathetically against his hip. "Please. Sam and I—we're sorry, you know. For leaving you alone. I understand now that wasn't the right thing to do—"

Shaking her head, she looks away from him. Her throat tightens as her eyes blur. She looks at the length of her porch, at the vines climbing up the posts of her home. It's easy to spot the differences between this home and the one she had abandoned in Westview. This one is riddled with weeds and thick, clumsily threaded vines. Her other home had been perfect.

She reminds herself to breathe. "No," she says, shaking her head once again. "No. The right thing would have been to take Vision with you."

He inhales deeply but doesn't let it out. At least he has the nerve not to drop his gaze. Deep down, she knows that he's not at fault. But he's here and easy to shoot her arrows against.

Wanda looks at him and roughly pulls a hand away from her mug, wiping her fingers harshly beneath her wet eye. "The right thing would have been the Avengers making sure they looked after everyone."

Bucky's shoulders slump. He then looks down. The shame radiates off of him like the heat of the sun. "I know," he says quietly. "And if we'd been there—"

"I understand why you are here," Wanda says loudly, desperate for him to stop. She'd ensured to close that hole the Avengers had dug inside of her as well as she could. She doesn't want to ache for them. That family is gone. He looks up at her, blue eyes wide open. He listens to her words and silence, even though he curls his hand into a fist by his side. His Vibranium hand remains flexed and relaxed.

"I know it's for Steve," she says, hating the way her throat clumps tight. "And I understand that you miss him and feel obligated to be here because of him. But he left Vision for Hayward to find and dissect. He left him all alone when he promised he would never leave me alone."

Bucky tilts his head to the side and lifts his foot to press against the next wooden step of her small staircase. For the first time, it creaks beneath a new weight. "Wanda, I'm really—"

Her eyes flash a frightening red. He keeps his foot where it is, his entire body still as he watches her.

Wanda shakes her head. "Stay away." She turns around and slams her front door behind her.

.

.

.

Like a good little soldier, Bucky does as he's told. He stays away from her front door, but he doesn't leave. She watches him from her front window as he slowly walks the perimetre of the lake every morning.

She expects him to leave by the seventh day, but he lingers. Another week passes with her new neighbour in tow, the whereabouts of where he sleeps or where he gets the food she's seen him tuck into when sitting beneath the tree out the back of her house unbeknownst to her. She tells herself she doesn't need to know. He'll be gone eventually. Everyone always leaves. It's easier not to care.

Wanda's daily routine changes instantaneously. She still goes outside and waters her garden and tends to her growing vegetable garden, but she begins her days with her warm cup of coffee or hot chocolate in her hands and watches Bucky Barnes as he walks around her lake, his head down and his hands tucked into his pockets. Some days, she catches him changing the direction in which he walks. She wonders if the world seems different to him, too.

.

.

.

On the sixteenth day, Bucky follows her as a quiet shadow. She takes her small white watering can to her vegetable garden on the right-hand side of her house. She does her best to ignore him following her. It's hard; his footsteps are heavy and crinkle the dry leaves of her lawn. Wanda makes a mental note to remove all the dry leaves overnight.

"It's good to see that you've planted your vegetable garden here, too," he says. She doesn't allow herself to think of the veggie garden that's now destroyed at the old Avengers Compound. Yet another thing that had belonged to both herself and Vision, gone.

Her garden is smaller in size compared to the one she had at the Compound. Square in shape, the right-hand side's slightly lopsided, favouring the left as she hadn't properly smoothed out the dirt. The leaves at the top left corner of the garden have bite marks from the Sokovian rabbits. Shoots rise from the damp mounds of dirt. Nothing has grown yet; she thinks her vegetables and fruits are afraid of truly sprouting.

He stands on the edge of the garden's wooden border, hands in his pockets as he watches her quietly.

Wanda ignores him, watering her garden. She hums low in her throat as she slowly circles the perimeter of it. She doesn't need to go and fill her small watering can from the tap. She keeps it filled, the can's insides glowing a light red when it reaches halfway.

He steps back when she comes to his side of the garden, keeping her gaze down on the wet soil.

"You know, I've got a green thumb. Wouldn't believe it if you looked at me, huh?" His laugh is awkward, unsure. Wanda keeps her gaze down as she finishes watering.

With her watering can now completely empty, he follows her as she leaves to weed her garden on the other side of her house.

.

.

.

For the first time since building her house hidden away in Sokovia, Wanda doesn't wake up to blissful silence. The rough and low growl of her lawnmower wakes her.

Quickly dressing in comfortable sweats, she's out the front door in a matter of minutes. Brushing her hair away from her face, she watches as Bucky pushes the black lawnmower across the grass. Blades shoot out behind him as he pushes it, his bare skin wet from sweat and red from exertion. He wears only dark blue jeans, his chest bare and his Vibranium arm glistening in the morning sun.

She watches him for a moment too long, feeling the heat of his skin warm hers. His determination comes to her in waves, almost rocking her off her feet. He's desperate to help, desperate to clean up the weeds that he's let grow in his own garden.

Wanda's heart skips when he turns the lawnmower around and catches her looking. With a lopsided smile, he pushes it a little harder across the lawn, reinvigorated by his audience.

She goes inside and feels disappointment from outside sweep over and overwhelm her. Those feelings don't belong to her. She's quick to try and bat them away before they cling to her like sweat on thick muscle.

Though she tries to read the newspaper she's summoned at her kitchen table, the sound of the lawnmower burns brightly to her. Finding it difficult to ignore it, Wanda makes herself a cup of tea. She sits on her porch for the first time in weeks and watches as he takes care of her lawn.

He disappears around the side of the house and she follows suit, tucking herself away in her house to watch from the windows as he continues to mow her lawn. He doesn't venture far from the house, keeping to the lawn that would reasonably be hers. He goes up to the wooden fence of her property and doesn't push beyond it to the world of Sokovia. He's comfortably tucked inside of this bubble where she ignores him.

When the world outside grows quiet, she comes out with a glass filled with juice. She looks at his bare and sweaty back for a moment too long as he sits on the top step of her porch, shoulders slouched as he rests his arms on his knees. She knows this is her one last chance to slip inside to the safety of her home and flee from him, but she finds her feet take her forward.

Sitting beside him on the front steps, she hands him the glass quietly. She ensures not to look at the bare skin of his chest. His muscles are sharp and well-defined, and where skin meets Vibranium, it's perfect.

"Thank you," he says. He takes a long drink from it. Wanda stares at the sweaty and pink-tinged skin of his shoulder and glistening Vibranium arm.

She sighs. "Why won't you leave?"

Bucky licks his lips, holding the glass down between his knees. He keeps his gaze on the steps below. Wanda watches him patiently, her gaze on the sharp line of his throat.

"You never should've been left alone," he says. Bucky looks up at her with a soft furrow to his brows. "I know what happened in Westview. And before you blast me from this step, I'm not here to lecture you. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry." He looks at her earnestly. Wanda has to look away. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Wanda. You were there for me when you didn't even know me. I should've been there for you."

She thinks to tell him it's okay, but she looks away from him, allowing her hair to fall into her face. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she clears it.

"I want to be there now," he continues, his gaze burning into her profile. "If you'll let me."

Running her tongue along her teeth, Wanda wipes her fingers hard against the skin beneath her eyes. They come back wet. She looks up at the clear blue sky and runs her hand down the line of her tightening throat. "I don't need any help."

"I know," he says. His gaze remains set on her profile. "Maybe I need help."

Smiling a small, incredulous smile, she shakes her head and still doesn't look at him. "I don't know how to help anyone."

He chuckles. "You think I do?"

Wanda looks at him, her smile widening. Brushing her hair behind her ear, she bites on her bottom lip and looks out to her lake. Even that lacks the answers she seeks.

"Maybe we can learn together," he says, his gaze drops away from her profile for only a moment. A terrifying moment. One that she can feel wrap around her and choke her. Wanda doesn't look at him despite wanting to. His expression is too hopeful, his heart beating too rapidly. "No pressure, of course."

"I don't want to go back to America," she says quietly. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she spies how he tugs in a defeated breath.

After a long moment, he looks away from her. He smiles; she knows he's proud of himself. It's a breakthrough, even if she's not eagerly packing her bags. "Okay," he says, nodding. "We'll stay here. It's not like I have anywhere else to be."

notes.

You can find me at finnicks at Tumblr. Check out the playlist for this fic there!