When I first came back, after poofing back into my bedroom in a house devoid of any of my loved ones, once the powers that be contacted me and group therapy was proven a dud, I was pushed toward the idea of a pet.

"You should adopt a cat," my best friend, looking so sincere and so much older, intoned. "Or a dog."

I wasn't against having a furry pal, but considering I'd been basically trapped in nothingness for five years and I came back looking like I did before I got poofed, well I didn't think I was in the right state to go forth and take care of something else. I would have found adopting a baby just as ridiculous, but I heard that a few too many of the returned thought that would help them reintegrate too, so what did I know?

After Bucky left and I locked up, I made sure the lights were off downstairs and I brushed my teeth, washed my face, braided my hair and gave myself the pep talk I gave myself right before bed every single night since I had the first nightmare.

Green eyes staring back at me from the mirror, I took a deep breath. "The flashes aren't real. You can't remember what happened during those five years. No one remembers what happened during the past five years when we were lost. You are NOT that special, Brooke Ashley, so stop with the fucking nightmares." A stiff nod and then I was clicking off the bathroom light and heading for my bed. Praying that tonight would be the night that the pep talk actually fucking worked.

Flashes of red and blue, then colors that I couldn't name. It always started with the flashes. If I were prone for seizures, I would worry for my health, but I wasn't, so this part was almost soothing, but it was what came next. The feeling of being pinned down, of being stuck in place and forced to watch, but I couldn't SEE what I was watching. It was terrible, I could FEEL the fear and the terror, but I couldn't actually SEE it. Which was worse, somehow. Then the flashes would come, more colors with no known names, and then blue and red and I'd scream myself awake in a sweating, gasping mess.

I was having breakfast in front of the news. Juice and a cold slice, judge me as harshly as you dare. I was semi-listening, the daily paper spread out in front of me on the coffee table, when I heard something that made me raise my head. Reaching for the remote, I pushed the volume button until I could hear the words that I knew would make Bucky's day incredibly bad, and I sighed because I'd put MY number in HIS phone, but forgot to get his number. That showed excellent clarity and forethought. Maybe I shouldn't add those to my resume.

I tried, throughout the day, to put my mind on more menial tasks. I had a resume to pad. I had a life to get back on track. Bucky Barnes had my phone number, so he could call me if he wanted to. Right? Right.

I had my laptop open, trying desperately to utilize all the resources available online to give me a leg up in the job market. My mind kept drifting to Bucky and the shield being handed to - but I couldn't do that. I had a life to live. Whether Bucky needed me in his or not.

A few more additions and my cell phone chirped. I picked it up and sighed. Spam. Always spam. That hadn't changed in five years. Sitting it down, I went back to 'work'.

I was considering whether I wanted to finish off the pizza from Romeo's when my phone finally rang. Glancing at it didn't really give me any clue as to who it was, and since I'd uploaded my resume to about a thousand job sites, I knew I couldn't ignore it.

"Hello?" I was staring into the fridge, hoping for a sign as to what dinner might be. Nothing came from the other end. "Hello?" I tried again, sighing and leaning away from the Magic 8 ball that wasn't, and leaning against my countertop. "Listen, if you're a telemarketer, you're going to have to give your pitch because you and I both know that you get recorded and you'll end up fired if you don't speak. If you're a pervert, could you go ahead and start heavy breathing so I can toss out my best low blow and get on with my night? I have to make a choice for dinner and you're cutting in on my decision making time."

A sharp inhale and then that laugh that I'd decided I wanted to get used to came through loud and clear. "Do you always answer the phone like this, Brooke?"

"Do you always just lurk on the other end of the phone, Bucky?" I was smiling like a loon, happy that he'd reached out after the crappy news about Cap's shield from this morning. "What's up?"

"The sky." I chuckled and rolled my eyes at the old Dad joke. "Since you treated me to dinner last night," I bit my lip while he worked through his pitch. "I thought I'd treat you, if you wanted to that is?"

I waited a beat, then two. "You started out strong, then you sort of faded on me there, Buck." He snorted and I grinned. "Come over, I have everything I need to make -" I reopened the fridge and took stock again. "Something edible." I sounded vague, but I was pretty confident that we wouldn't starve.

"I'll be there in an hour?" I laughed and he sighed. "I don't want to -"

"Presume, I know, Buck, I know." I licked my lips and remembered our dinner at Romeo's. "If you want your beer, you might want to do a pit stop at a bodega for some, I don't -"

"Drink that rot gut, I know." I could swear I heard his smile through the phone. "I'll be there in a little while, Brooke."

"And I'll have dinner at least partially cooking," I promised.

I found all the ingredients for a recipe my mom used to make when my dad would invite friends over without ample warning. She called it a dump recipe, but it was always really filling and it was comfort food. Chicken breasts, cream of chicken soup, chicken broth, then once it was all bubbly and shredded, a can of refrigerated biscuits cut up into chunks to make dumplings. Sometimes she'd add some carrots or other veggies, either to the gravy or on the side, but other times she'd just serve it alone.

The best part? I could literally dump it and leave it.

It would take over an hour to cook, but I thought that Bucky probably wanted company to go along with the food. At least I hoped so.

The knock was softer than I expected, but then again, I didn't think he was gonna use his metal arm to pound through the side of my house. Opening the door, seeing Bucky standing in the halo of my porch light holding a bag from the store at the corner of my street in one hand and - my grin grew as he held up a clutch of flowers.

"They were near the till," he murmured, holding them out for me. "And I thought -"

"Thank you," I took them, biting my lip and moving aside so he could come in. "Dinner is going to take a little longer than I thought," I warned him, walking toward the kitchen so he could put his burden down. I turned to see him pulling his gloves off after he put the bag on the counter. Smiling at how comfortable he was around me, I pulled a vase from the windowsill and filled it with water.

"What are you making?" I watched in the window as he put the beer away in the fridge. "It smells like," he stood up and I could see him take a deep breath. "Sunday morning."

Turning around, I put the vase on the kitchen table. "Mom used to make this all the time, it's dump chicken and dumplings, so it makes sense that it would remind you of Sunday mornings." I smiled up at him as he opened one of his green bottles. "I just have to remember to cut up the dumpling part in like an hour." I grabbed the turquoise plastic owl shaped timer and set it and then led the way into the living room. "How was your day?"

Bucky let out a long breath and took a drink as he sat in the chair. "Therapy," I nodded, curling up in my spot on the sofa and putting the timer beside me on the table. "Had lunch with a friend," I smiled while he studied me. "He was trying to talk me into asking our server out," I raised my eyebrow, and he shook his head. "Had to tell him I had plans."

"Plans?" I could swear that I swallowed a few live butterflies. "Do I know the lucky person?"

His eyes fell to his lap, a smirk playing on his lips while his teeth worried the fullness of his lower one. "I really wish you and Steve could have met," when he raised his head, those silvery orbs locked on mine and the wings inside my belly seemed to go into overdrive. "He'd help you bust my chops, give you extra help. Not that you need it."

"That Steve," breathless, it came out hushed. "He's a lot to live up to."

"Yeah," those brilliant white teeth of his, tugging at that impossibly full lip of his was probably going to kill me. "I didn't want to make time with another girl, Brooke." He took another drink out of his bottle, but his eyes didn't leave mine. Fortified, he continued. "Not when I have you."

"Well, I mean, who would want to waste time with anyone else, Buck?" I took a deep breath and bit my lip. "When I remind you of your tiny, asthmatic, anemic, smartass best friend who picked fights in alleys with people three times their size?" His teeth met his lip again, but I wasn't through. "Who had also had a dick."

He snorted, eyes flashing and I shook my head, smiling back. "Yeah, exactly." He nodded. "This is MUCH better than a date."