((Thank you so much everyone for the new follows, likes and comments! MrsPacal, thank you so much for your inspiring words. It's so rewarding to know I leave an impact on my readers and I'm so, so glad you're enjoying it. As for Cody, I tried to comb through baseball player names of around the time Bucky would have been a child but came up empty on a Cody so had to make one up! CrackheadBlonde, .2021 and Guests, thank you all so much for your continued input! I love checking my inbox to find a review in the morning. :D Hope this one finds you all well!))

The trauma of that morning did not end with Bucky's discovery of his brother's secret survival and subsequent death before he got to see or speak to him.

He also had to contend with the life expectancies of some of his animals not matching up with the five years of his absence. Four chickens (Rebecca, Amanda, Emily, and Caroline) and two goats (Queenie and Dot), to be precise. Those losses had hit him hard but, as Elsa gently explained, it was part of life on a farm and all they could do was find other animals that needed homes and second chances to take their place. True to her benevolent nature, the little vet had already done that, and Bucky met Herbert (the vocal rooster), Mia, Lola, and Ava (rescued hens) and the exceptionally mischievous Rosie. Houdini Herself, his wife called her.

"She…" Elsa had said, thin-lipped, pointing at the young white and grey doe. "Is a handful. You thought William was bad? She leaves him in the dust. An absolute menace to this farmstead."

"But you're fond of her."

"James, darling, I would die for her."

Mindful of her husband's emotional upheaval but opting for distraction, it turned out that a small, quiet café on the same street as Kinsa's (opened during the years of the Snap and a haunt of Elsa's and Steve's) happened to be a perfect fit.

"I like this place." Bucky commented, his eyes lingering on the artwork on the walls; surveying each piece individually before moving on to the next. In a very communal spirit, each depiction had a price tag beside it in support of local artists. The aroma of brewing coffee and the sizzle of cooking food from the open kitchen pervaded his senses and soaked him in the atmosphere. Distraction: Acquired. "It's cosy, it's quiet, the food is good…"

"What about the company?" Elsa probed from across the table, eyebrow kinked impishly as she paused her cup at her lips; a mocha, for a change.

"Could be better." He replied, rising to the bait, as (much to his wife's relief and playful offence) some humour started to peek through the moroseness. "I mean, she's easy on the eyes but there ain't much goin' on upstairs."

"Choke on your sandwich." And he almost did when laughter caught him at the wrong time. Nothin' like a BLT with extra cheese… Savouring the crunch of lettuce and the squelch of tomatoes between his teeth, the saltiness of the bacon tingling his taste buds and the spicy cheese combined for the perfect African take on an American classic.

"Meant to ask…" The White Wolf, though still smiling at the comment, changed the subject once he had chewed his mouthful and cleared enough of it to speak; not fully, mind you. Heightening her eyes from her own lunch (a toasted wrap of goats cheese, hummus, chickpeas, and peppers), Elsa chewed expectantly and far more civilly than her husband. "That picture on the bedside table. I hadn't seen it in years… Where'd you get it?"

"Steve gave it to me, along with your dog tags, on the first anniversary of the Snap." With half of her wrap in one hand and her teaspoon in the other, Elsa gave her coffee a small stir to dislodge the scrapings of chocolate settled at the bottom of the cup. Seemingly focused on that inconsequential micro-task, her voice softened significantly to what Bucky recognized as wounded sentimentality. Whether he recognized guardedness where Steve had been mentioned, she could not be sure. "It was a massive comfort. Even when you weren't here, you were still watching over me."

Bucky grimaced at the note of melancholy bleeding through her tone, the gentle stirring doing nothing to hide the clearly ironed-in anxiety culminated over those five awful years. He had plenty to make up for, plenty to undo; none of it his fault, he knew, but once more, the universe had moved so freakishly to accommodate them and ensure the White Wolf returned to his Lioness. If nothing else, he could begin to even try to return the favour of building her back up as she had done for him so selflessly.

More to the point, he had forever to look forward to now. No more interruptions, no more hindrances, just him, Elsa and whatever came their way to be faced together. What that meant for their future and if anything had changed in that regard, that conversation was yet to be had. But for now, Bucky remained content to spoil his wife and be spoiled in return.

"And really…" Elsa went on, sorrow pushed aside for careless nonchalance so as not to lower the tone of their lunch date; once more levelling up the occasion from self-pity to upbeat as Bucky brought his own coffee to his lips. "If anyone was going to supervise me while I touched myself, it may as well be my husband."

And, as she planned, the inconsolable, coughing launch of hot coffee back into the cup and dribbling down his chin rang through the café.

"Don't do that to me when I'm takin' a drink!"He managed, mid-mop of his face and glance over his shoulder to spy if anyone heard; all the while, the muscles in his belly beginning to ache for laughter.

"If you think of it this way, darling…" The little vet contributed to the clean-up effort by laying two of her napkins across the table but kept her tone roguishly casual. "Instead of being seventy-four years older than me, you're now just sixty-nine. And we always had fun with sixty-nine."

"Shit's sake, baby…!" Bucky cackled quietly, dabbing away the spots of coffee-infused spit on his shirt while trying to keep the laughter low and the conversation private.

"Am I wrong? Or was I wasting my time? Because it doesn't feel like I was. I love how your eyes roll back in your head; makes me feel incredible."

"You're disgusting." Clean-up complete and utterly enamoured by the Cheshire grin directly across from him, his wife, James Buchanan Barnes amusedly shook his shaggy head and went for a (hopefully safer) sip of coffee. "I want a divorce. I'm not puttin' up with this."

"That's quite alright by me, James." Elsa simpered, coy and unaffected by the sentiment; a joke they had been making even before they married. Stealing one of many numerous looks over her husband's solid shoulder, whether he noticed or not but did not tackle the inquiry until now, she didn't know. "I haven't signed everything back over to you yet."

"You're cutthroat, doll. Why d'you keep lookin' at the counter?"

"Because, my love, there's one dessert selection box left. And it's coming home with us."

James Buchanan Barnes was no stranger to sleeplessness. Despite loving his bed (and the woman in it), sleep had often evaded him for one torturous memory or another, one fretful, grating worry for his future or another.

Before meeting Elsa and pursuing a relationship with her, the empty bed made for a landscape of turbulent nightmares and sweat-soaked sudden starts that went from a Hydra lab to his Wakandan hut in the blink of an eye. Going to bed had been a dread as opposed to a relief after a long, hard, slogging day on the farm.

Now, while his wakefulness was neither thrashing nor petrified nor pained, he lay awake nonetheless; staring. Not staring at the ceiling while his heart calmed or the wall while he prayed for peaceful slumber but rather, the little creature splayed across his chest whose proximity was no longer dictated by the restriction of the bed. But there she was anyway: Close for closeness sake.

His heart had slowed in rest to match the sedate beating of hers above it; almost thump for thump. His breathing, though wakeful, had adopted the slow, tranquillized pace of the chest warming his; as if fearful to breathe too deeply would disturb her.

I love you… I love you…

That said, dipping his head, the White Wolf forlornly pressed the lightest of lasting kisses to the chocolate crown warming his bottom jaw; manoeuvring himself to just the right angle to then bury his nose in it.

Bucky didn't want to wake his wife per se but taking advantage of the subtle movement beneath his nose and small change to her breathing pattern, he needed to alleviate some of the heavier thoughts clouding his mind and keeping him grounded in the conscious realm.

"Els?" He prodded, unrelenting in his protective, possessive hold. "Baby, you awake?

"I am now, love." Came the dark-shrouded utterance from oblivion; almost obscured by the ripples of Cody's snores. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just… thinkin'…" Easy… He prompted himself, licking his lips in apprehension; in case everything she had said or done and implication she'd made since his return had been a lie. "Do we… Do we need to get married again?" He braced himself, fearful of the answer that (had he been paying attention) he already knew wouldn't come.

"I wouldn't think so, sweetheart. Why?"

"Nah, it's just the "Til Death Do Us Part" thing… I mean… You've been alone for five. years, Els. Isn't there, like… a statute of limitations on an abandoned wife or something?"

"Hardly abandoned, Bucky." Elsa's sleepy husk reverberated on the sculpted expanse of his chest; he couldn't even be sure if she had opened her eyes or not. "You were Snapped out of existence by a space grape with a chip on its shoulder. And you didn't die either, so I don't think "Til Death Do Us Part" really applies. Wasn't even in our vows anyway."

"I know, but-"

"I doubt we need to get married again but, and I simply present this as an option for sentimentalities sake if you wish, we could always renew our vows. If you wanted to."

"Do you want to?"

"James. Darling. Love of my life. Are you afraid I don't love you anymore? After so long without you?"

"I dunno…" Yes, he had absolutely been categorically afraid of that. "Maybe. Guess it crossed my mind. More than once." Understatement. "About thirty seconds ago."

"And here was I thinking I was being overbearing, smothering and clingy." She imparted through the darling tinkle that sent Bucky's butterflies aflutter. Snuggling in deeper, the little vet exhaled a blissful sigh before gifting her beloved an affectionate nudge of her nose to his jaw; a trademark, animal-inspired token for the star-crossed pair that caused Bucky to tighten an almost excessive squeeze. "Five long years without you: if that doesn't qualify as "Absence makes the heart grow fonder", nothing will. Ask dear Steve."

"Dear Steve doesn't sit all that high in my estimations right now, doll." And he may come down a slot or two further when you hear everything. Elsa thought, though unwilling to broach the subject as it stood. Bucky had enough to contend with without that lumped on top. He realized it too if the grumble was anything to judge by.

"It's the dead of night, we're not unpacking that now. But to answer your question, though I asked first: Yes. I do want to renew our vows."

"That's a helluva coincidence… So do I. I mean… It's only right. Since I got back, feels like we've done nothin' but eat and fu-"

"I can't believe I missed dog farts. Christ, Cody…" Before Bucky could part with a very physical activity that most couples, married or otherwise, engage in, his wife cut him off; gagging and nestling deeper to protect her wrinkled nose from the smell.

"I thought you said you had another dog?"

"I did, but he didn't bloody fart like Cody."

"No one farts like Cody, angel."

"Only his father comes close."

"Taught him everythin' he knows."

"No, love. Cody's fartful disposition is down to his unstable diet and scavenging when his digestive system was still developing. He has, what we in the veterinary community unofficially call, a dicky tummy." Braving an assault on her eyes by the barest of light, Elsa felt around for her husband's wrist, lifted it, then turned it for the faint glow of his watch (a gift from their first Christmas together; his fascination proving massively entertaining once he got the hang of the intricacies. "Baby, guess how many steps I did today. Go on, guess." ) to impart the time. She had three and a half more hours of sleep to reclaim before getting up for work.

"So… Cody's bowel problems aside… Will you marry me?"

"On one condition."

"Condition? Jesus, okay. What?"

The light from the watch had been set to linger for ten seconds after "waking", giving Elsa enough time to adjust herself just right to softly capture her husband's lips before resettling once more; her favourite sleep soundtrack thudding in Bucky's chest.

"Go to sleep, darling. I love you."

"I don't… Is that a yes?"

"That's a yes, James. Rest."

Thank God. Girl had me scared. Though how he could have thought anything else is a mystery.

"Now I can. Love you too."

Following his tiny wife's example (their height difference a good-natured joke among their friends when they walked side by side, holding hands), Bucky shimmied back down in the mattress and allowed the beckoning of sleep; blissfully safe and content in the knowledge that he was, once more, getting married.