A lot of the roads on your way into town were rough gravel and winding. You knew them well and usually took great enjoyment taking curves maybe a little too fast, bouncing on your truck's bench seat and spitting rocks behind you. But when Bucky reached up for the "oh shit bar" above the passenger side window after the second or third wild turn, you decided to take it down a couple notches.

"Music," you asked, barely able to suppress your laughter at the way his eyebrows raised, nearly enough to disappear under the edge of his ballcap, when he nodded at you.

You flipped the radio on and started going through the tuner. Ugh, no to the country station. There was some classic rock that wasn't too bad. Bucky pulled a face at the classical station. Talk. Talk. Commercial breaks. You were just tuning past a station with a faint horn playing when Bucky touched your hand to pause you. Daring only a quick glance from the road to his face, but it was enough to realize he wanted it back there. So you obliged and a smile crept over your lips when you recognized the song.

"What are the odds," you mumbled as his hand fell from yours. Another quick glance and you saw the corners of his lips pitching upwards, pleasant recognition lighting up his eyes. You turned the volume up just as the lyrics began.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

He's in the army now, a-blowin' reveille

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B

Dancing a bit in your seat, you sang along as best you could despite it having been a while since you last heard the song. When you glanced at him again while making another turn, Bucky was staring at you with something akin to painful amusement. There was an almost teasing quality to his voice when he said "You are a terrible singer."

"Hey," you feigned offense, though you couldn't hide your laughter. "At least I'm having a good time. Don't be a jerk."

The small chuckle that left him surprised you, making your smile grow wider. And to prove the point, you sang even louder than before as you turned onto the paved road that led directly into town. You were still shimmying a little in your seat when you pulled into the lot across the street from the market, though the song had changed to something jazzy you didn't know.

When you both got out of the car, Bucky tugged his sleeves down firmly. If he hadn't been scanning his surroundings like he was on a mission, face set dour, he probably would've looked self-conscious. You wrapped your fingers around the crook of his left elbow and offered him a smile. He looked down at you, the lines of his face softening just a bit, before giving you a nod.

The market wasn't very busy that time of day, a few older people and mothers toting young children with them. To their credit, they did their best to hide their nosey glances when the two of you entered, though you were sure Bucky cut quite the imposing figure even if he was dressed like a cross between a farmboy and a hipster. It was the way he walked, took everything in, the set of his jaw. Without knowing a single iota of his past, anyone could tell there was a dangerous air about him. And there you were, caught up in the wide berth provided, giving him concerned glances and reassuring looks.

As expected, Bucky was quiet and decidedly out of his element. Hidden under the bill of his cap, you could see when his interest was piqued by something. Things like Coca-Cola and Hershey's bars and ice cream sparked cautious recognition in his eyes, you supposed because he knew the products, yet they were just different enough now to give him pause. You immediately put these items into the cart.

In the fresh produce section, when his eyes widened a fraction of an inch in what could only have been awe, you stepped it up a notch, handing him a bag and telling him to find something he might like. You watched as he touched, sniffed, appraised, weighed a few different apples before they went into the bag. Then, you were delighted to see him get another bag, bananas this time. Another bag with oranges. One with peaches. He didn't seem to know what to make of kiwi fruit and mango for a moment, but after smelling them, a few of each went into bags too. A few pints of berries were added for good measure as well as tomatoes, lettuce, carrots, broccoli, cabbage, potatoes…

He seemed to get a little more confident as the shopping continued. Soon, he was putting things in the cart you hadn't asked him to or expected. You hadn't known how closely he paid attention to your cooking until he started putting ingredients in your cart for shepherd's pie, tandoori chicken, gumbo, chili and cornbread, meatloaf… all the dishes he'd gladly taken second helpings of over the last weeks. Each time, he'd pause to give you a questioning look, waiting until you nodded before dropping something in.

The biggest kicker came when Bucky suddenly left your side and turned down an aisle out of sight. You knew it was ridiculous to feel a sudden rush of worry. He wasn't a child and not easily lost. Unless he wanted to be. Maybe that's why you found yourself quick to follow him. But before you could get too far, he was already headed back to you, kitty litter and cat treats in hand. He paused at the cart again, but this time he surprised you by simply saying "We were out."

We. It always surprised you when he said we. Whether this time it was meant as you and him or him and the cat, it didn't much matter. That phrasing meant he was making a connection and that was a very good step in the right direction. You couldn't help the big grin that overtook your face, causing his eyes to narrow a bit in confusion.

"I think that's everything," you said, with a little shake of your head. "We should probably head to check out."

He nodded and you both turned down the aisle he'd just been through. Passing by the shelves, he paused a moment to grab another bag of cat treats before depositing them in the cart and giving you the barest hint of a smile over his shoulder.