Bucky redressed, with NO help from me because apparently I'm NOT actually helpful when he's partially dressed. I'd dare anyone to actually HELP Bucky Barnes put clothes ON. I sat on the bed that we mangled and watched, biting my lip as he blushed through his changing of the guards, so to speak.

"You're making me self conscious." He offered, as he pulled off the blue shirt that I wanted him to wear forever and ever after. My eyes were raking his bare chest, the dog tags that hung proudly, my teeth digging into my lip. "Are you that hungry?"

"For food?" I asked, eyebrow arching as he pulled a shirt that was as red as the other one had been blue. Well, fuck, maybe red was a good color on him too. I watched him pull it over his head and pouted as his bare skin disappeared from view, earning a laugh from him. "What?"

"You," he shook his head, and contemplated something with narrowed eyes. "Turn around." I stared at him waiting for the punchline. "Brooke, turn around."

"Why?" Countering his orders was becoming something of a habit, but to be fair, I wanted to know what he was planning while my eyes were on the wall or the window.

"So I can change my pants," I blinked at him, surely he was fucking joking. I SWALLOWED him barely an hour earlier, what was with the sudden need for modesty? "If you don't turn around, we aren't leaving this room today." My stomach clenched, my pulse kicked up a gear, and my mouth went dry. "See?"

I nodded and turned around. "You're only winning this round because I'm hungry," I gasped out, shutting my eyes because I could swear the sound of his zipper was amplified. "For food," I clarified as they hit the floor. I was throbbing again, everywhere, listening as his pants reversed course. "Can I turn around yet?"

"Not yet," he murmured. My eyes were still closed and my arms were broken out in goosebumps. How could he manage to do that? He wasn't even in touching distance for fuck's sake. And then I felt his warmth closing in on my back, his fingers skimming my arms - raising more gooseflesh, making my breath catch. His mouth touched the juncture where my neck met my shoulder and I sighed. "Mine?" All I could do was nod, but I could feel his smile against my skin. "Mine." And then he turned me and our lips met again, but it wasn't the fevered hunger I expected, it was soft and sweet, tender and filled with affection. And when he pulled away, his forehead met mine, our eyes opening to stare into one another's, and he whispered back. "Yours."

We managed, after that very hot start, to leave the hotel with our phones not completely at zero percent charge. Finding a diner while we charged them in the car on the drive there, we talked about him helping Sam with his family's boat.

"How much more work do you think it needs?" I asked, as he pulled into the diner's lot. He shrugged, and I unplugged our phones. "Aren't you lucky I don't have a job to get back to?"

He laughed as he jumped out to get my door, always a gentleman Bucky. "I didn't know you were a photographer," he reminded me of the camera I'd shown up with, and been clicking away with all day long.

"I'm not a REAL photographer," I shook my head, walking through the diner door he held open for me. We were told to grab a table and we'd be waited on in a minute, so we grabbed a booth and pulled the menus free from the condiment stand. "I loved taking pictures in school - for yearbook and I don't know, my dad thought -" I stopped talking when the waitress came and took our drink orders.

"You were saying?" Bucky was watching me as if I were the most interesting person he'd ever met.

"We should figure out lunch first, then I'll finish my story." My attention went back to the menu, it was normal diner fare, with a southern bent - so I chose simply enough. A burger, fries. Bucky needed more fuel than me, so his servings were a bit larger, but pretty similar in choices. Once our waitress had our drinks in front of us and our orders down, he was in listening mode. "My dad reached out to some professionals, he used some prints of pictures I took to set up the camera for the yearbook." I shrugged, but he was still waiting. "When I - when it happened, everything was put on hold. My dad KNEW we were coming back, Bucky, somehow. And my mom figured it out too." I bit my lip and shook my head, it sounded crazy. "You have to understand, my parents were KNOWN for being the MOST pragmatic people in our neighborhood. They weren't fanciful or prone for fairytales or miracles. So when my dad, and then my mom told everyone that they KNEW I'd be back - which meant that everyone else would be too? People figured they had to be right."

"OK," he wasn't saying it to pacify me, I could tell. "So the camera?"

I smiled. "They had presents for me, for my birthdays and holidays - everything I missed. Up to their deaths." I thought about the car. "Including a REALLY big one that I'll show you when we get back to New York."

His eyebrow went up, but he didn't ask. "Have you reached out to the professionals your dad made contact with yet?" I shook my head, but we were interrupted by our food. Small town diners were the best for quickness. Once we assured our waitress that everything looked amazing and we had everything we needed, she left and we could dig in. First bites out of the way, we talked while we ate. "What do you have to do to get into it?"

I considered his question. "It depends on which one actually wants to take me on as an apprentice," I explained the list that my mom wrote up with the notes. "So this trip is great for more than the obvious reason." I let my foot drift to his side and tease against his.

"That picture of Sarah's sons and the shield?" I nodded, smiling as his foot moved so my foot could go higher on his ankle. "I think you should include that in any of your portfolios."

"Really?" I asked, chewing carefully while I considered it. "Any and all of them?" He nodded, taking a drink of his water. "You don't think it would be -" I didn't want him to think I was using him. "I don't want you to think I'm using our relationship for -"

"Hey," I bit my lip and he shook his head. "You're not, Brooke. You took that picture because it struck you as being lit well, right?" I nodded. "It's gorgeous, and you should include it."

We finished lunch and while Bucky paid, because yes, he is THAT guy, I finally looked at my phone. Connie had practically lit my text and voicemail on fire with her need to see that I was safe and sound, but I had actually sent her a message upon landing, I swear.

I was in the car, waiting for Bucky when my phone rang. Seeing her name and face I considered letting it go, but that would NOT be a good idea, not after how many missed messages and calls I had wracked up so far.

"Hello," I was holding the phone away from my ear without the speaker on when Bucky opened the door and he looked confused, until Connie's voice exploded out of my phone.

"What the literal fuck?!" I cringed and Bucky's eyes went wide as he climbed into the car. "One fucking text, Brooke, I got one miserable fucking text that reads, 'here.'" I heard her take a deep breath and knew she was building up for another explosion. "HERE? Are you fucking kidding me?! I guess you made it to bumfucked Lousiana, well la-de-fucking-da. But for all I know one of those fucking hicks could be wearing you as a skin suit by now."

"They aren't," I broke in, my eyes meeting Bucky's as he started the car and pulled onto the street to head for the dock. "I'm alive and well, I swear." I didn't chance putting the phone up to my ear, but I should have.

"Uh-huh." Connie didn't sound sure. "What about Bucky?" I was about to ask if she was worried if a hick was wearing him as a skin suit, but I wasn't fast enough. "Did you saddle that boy up and ride him into the swamp?" I'm not sure how wide human eyes can go, but I knew mine were in danger of falling out of my head. Bucky was chuckling and in danger of nothing - the man was a fucking miracle of perfect reflexes.

"Bucky's right here, Connie," I somehow managed to get out, glancing at him and catching him eyeing me. He was licking his lip and shaking his head, but then he winked and I rolled my eyes. "And he heard your - suggestion."

"Oh," I could almost feel the burn of her blush through the phone. "Um, hello, Bucky." She was quiet enough that I had to put her on speaker now. I did so he could hear her better, and she could hear his answer to her greeting. "Nice to sort of meet you."

"Same," he was grinning as we pulled up to the docks. "I'm gonna go see what Sam's up to," he unbuckled his seat belt and kissed me. "Bye, Connie."

"Bye, Bucky." She offered, waiting until she heard the door shut and it to get quiet. "You could have told me he was listening." She hissed and I giggled.

"You were so busy bitching at me for failing to check in that I didn't have much of a chance, Connie." I watched Bucky move across the docks, his red shirt easy to spot. "And as for that interesting metaphor you mangled, let's just say that I don't need pineapples for awhile." She gasped and I smiled.