Bucky found himself facing an interesting dilemma, which seemed to have become a common occurrence since meeting Harper. What does one wear to dinner with a pretty dame if she isn't a dame you're courting? The former soldier wasn't sure, and knew that it wasn't really even much of a question given his limited wardrobe anyway. He supposed that it wouldn't hurt to shave, beforehand. Most of the time he wore a dusting of scruff, feeling too uncomfortable with his old clean shaven appearance. He wasn't that young army recruit anymore. But he supposed cleaning up a little bit before going out to dinner with Harper was appropriate.

They had gone out to eat for breakfast and lunch before, but it was always by casual, mutual decision. Tonight, though, it was dinner - a dinner he had invited her to. Did she think of it as a date? Or just a night out between friends? Did modern men have this much trouble maintaining friendships with women?

Sooner than he was really prepared for, he had gotten ready, made the walk to Harper's apartment, and found himself buzzing her. He heard the familiar electronic hum and ensuing loud clank as the door unlocked. He trekked up the stairs, ignoring the moans and smells on the way. As he walked down her hallway, he saw Harper step outside of her door, calling behind her, "See you later, buddy!"

As she shut the door behind her and locked it, bright blue eyes roamed her form. She wore dark wash skinny jeans which were tucked into black, chunky heeled ankle boots. A black tank top with a scoop neckline clung to her torso a bit more than her normal attire. Over that was a black bomber jacket with floral lace sleeves. Her hair was down in loose, dark waves and her face was naturally made up as usual, minus a striking dark purple lip. It was a color unlike what he had ever imagined as attractive on a woman, but on Harper it was very much so.

"Hey!" she greeted cheerfully, stuffing her keys into the small black crossbody bag she wore. Looking him over quickly, she observed, "You shaved!"

"I do that from time to time."

"It's a nice change," she replied, leading the way back down the hallway. One of the other apartments opened up as they neared it, allowing a middle aged man to take his leave. He was disheveled, no doubt due to the reason he had been in the apartment. He looked Harper up and down and smirked lecherously at her.

"Hey, darlin', whatchu doin' tomorrow night?" he asked her in Romanian, giving himself away as a local.

Replying in her perfectly pronounced, though perhaps poorly accented Romanian, Harper replied coolly, "Not fucking you."

"I ain't gotta pay ya her rate," he continued, jabbing his thumb back at the apartment he had just exited from. Glancing toward Bucky, he offered, "Whatever he's payin' ya, I can match."

They were level with the man now, as he was blocking the way to the stairs. Bucky glared down at him and hissed in impeccable Romanian, "Watch how you speak to her."

The guy looked at first taken aback before sneering, "Let the lady handle her own business."

"The lady is handling her business," Harper said calmly. "He can fuck me for free, and you can fuck off for free. Have a lovely evening."

She pushed by the man, Bucky following close behind and hiding his bewilderment with another murderous glare at the horrid stranger. After a moment, he called after them, "You shoulda fuckin' told me you weren't a hooker, ya bitch!"

Bucky froze and whirled around on the spot, everything in him screaming to confront the disgusting man. Harper's arm linked with his and he tensed for a moment. She had reached out to his metal arm which, though covered by a jacket and his usual glove, still had him panicking. She didn't seem to notice anything, merely giving him a gentle tug. He reluctantly turned and allowed her to pull him back along their intended path.

As soon as they were out of the building, he released a frustrated sigh through his nose. "I coulda done something back there. That was inexcusable what he was saying to you!"

"Comes with the territory of living where sex workers do their business. I can handle myself. You just have to make it abundantly clear to them that you're not for sale and that you aren't gonna take their shit," Harper shrugged, calling attention to the fact that her arm was still threaded through his.

Pushing off his discomfort for now, since the damage was already done by this point, he perseverated, "He deserved an ass kicking."

"I don't need any man to defend my honor," she said pointedly, looking up him with a peeved expression.

Bucky groaned in frustration. This was not how he wanted the night to go and it had only just begun. "I didn't mean to imply that you can't look after yourself. It was... upsetting to hear someone talk to you like that and I'm annoyed that I have never even considered it a possibility before, despite knowing your building is full of tricks."

"You don't need to feel that way. That implies responsibility, of which you have none for me."

"I'm not trying to impose a power dynamic between us, Harper. Trust me, I know you are an incredibly capable woman," he explained, agitated that she couldn't understand what he was feeling. He didn't want her angry with him over such a significant misunderstanding. "It's not about responsibility for you, it's about having a responsibility to protect someone I care about."

They walked in silence for a long moment before Harper asked, "So you meant it as someone who cares about me, huh? Hopefully not just 'cause I said you could fuck me?"

A sly grin slid into place on her lips and Bucky laughed in relief that their argument was so easily reconciled. "Well, the offer certainly didn't hurt anything."

She continued their jest, saying, "You have a lot of patience. Over half a year of waiting to find out if you could get in my pants. To thank you for the patience, and the caring sentiments, if things were to ever become physically threatening in your presence, you would have my permission to assist."

Catching the seriousness and hidden apology in her words, he flashed her a small smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, especially if you want to actually get to this dinner. All this talk of my pants and you in them, man…" she dramatically fanned herself with her free hand, effectively diffusing the rest of the tension.

"Ya know, there was a time where I probably would've found it wildly uncomfortable and unbecoming for a lady to say something like that, but it's actually really refreshing how bluntly crude you are."

Harper scoffed and said, "Wow, James, you flatter me. Offer into my pants rescinded."

"I genuinely meant it as a compliment," he said quickly. "You're really unlike any other women I've known."

"Sure, sure, trying to backtrack now that I've taken back my offer," she laughed lightly.

Bucky shook his head in amusement, glad things were back to normal between them despite the odd, crude joke that he was refusing to think about too closely. Changing the topic, he said, "Your Romanian really isn't bad, you know."

"It really isn't that good either," Harper grimaced. "Especially compared to you, Mr. Fluent."

"You really just need to work on your accent," he pressed. "And expand your vocabulary, per your own admission."

Harper sighed. "The accent is the part of a language I can never get down."

Bucky raised a brow at her. "Do you speak other languages?"

"None as close to fluently as Romanian because it's never been necessary, but I speak passable French and Italian."

"French is one I wish I could speak. I understand fine, but to actually produce is a whole different story. And Italian is a language I haven't gotten to learn."

"So do you speak other languages then?" Harper asked.

"Some," he answered with a shrug.

Harper rolled her eyes. "Is that all I'm gonna get? You can drop the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious act now that you know you're in, ya know."

"I can speak Spanish, Portuguese, German, Russian, Japanese, and I can read Latin."

"Holy shit!" Harper exclaimed, stopping and forcing him to stop as well because of their linked arms. "Are you a fucking language savant?!"

"Remember what you were saying about necessity?" he asked pointedly.

Harper blinked away her surprise and they resumed walking. "Fine, then I propose an arrangement. You help me with my Romanian accent, I help you learn some French."

"A mutually beneficial proposal," he agreed. "Deal."

"I'm all about mutual benefits," she jested, bumping her hip against his leg playfully.

Bucky blushed lightly and turned away. "You're too much sometimes."

"C'mon, you know that's part of why you tolerate me," she laughed.

"Maybe it's just because you make good cake," he countered, leading her down a side street toward the river that connected the nation's capital to the Black Sea.

"Your sweet tooth is one of your most endearing qualities," the young woman asserted.

Bucky couldn't help the heat that rushed to his cheeks again. Trying to brush off his embarrassment with a return to humor, he said, "You can stop buttering me up now that you've offered me an in, you know."

"Don't hold my offer against me, or it'll still be just you and your hand," she threatened with a hearty laugh.

Bucky blanched, faltering as he was suddenly hit with the many images of the woman on his arm that had inspired his hand on a shameful number of occasions. He knew there was no way she could know, but her sentiment caught him entirely off guard, both with its accuracy and its obscenity. "Harper!"

"Sorry, sorry!" she choked out through a fit of laughter. "Too much, I get it!"

The former assassin wasn't sure his face could flush any brighter. He had been trying not to look into the night's running joke for this very reason – too many implications that were far too real. His old self would have latched onto the offer and pursued it until he had realized some of his unspeakable imaginings. He wasn't that person anymore, but he also sure as hell was a living, breathing, warm-blooded man, and that was taking some reconciling.

Finally recovered from her laughing fit, Harper continued more seriously, "Sorry, James, I really didn't intend for you to be uncomfortable. I forget in which ways you are particularly reserved sometimes and things just come out. I'll try to be more considerate."

"You don't need to apologize or edit yourself," he replied. "You just caught me off guard."

"All the same."

Their conversation was cut short by their arrival at the small restaurant. There were a few tables crowded into a storefront patio facing the river and more crammed inside the bustling building. The aroma of seafood filled the air, and Bucky admittedly could think of little else for a moment. Somehow, from within the crowd emerged Florin, the fisherman and restaurant owner he had gotten to know through his work at the docks.

"Foreigner!" Florin greeted warmly as he approached. "And guest!"

"You did insist," Bucky nodded.

"I did, I did! Patio seat?" he offered. Bucky glanced at Harper who nodded her agreement. The fisherman beamed, "Excellent!"

He led them to a comparatively spacious table in the front corner of the patio. As they approached, an internal battle began within him about which seat to take. The far side seat was much preferable, as it would give him a view of the rest of the patio and anyone approaching the area. However, it also afforded a much nicer view of the docking area and the river, running prettily beneath the moonlight. He didn't want to rob Harper of the view for his own paranoias.

Harper immediately reached for the nearer chair, filling him with relief. He sat in the far side seat, wondering not for the first time exactly how much of what he was feeling Harper could sense.

"For the lady to drink? We have some nice local wines?" Florin offered.

"Anything white and not too dry?" Harper asked, flushing lightly as Bucky often observed her to do when called to use the local language.

"Certainly!" the man nodded before turning to Bucky, "And you, foreigner? Beer?"

Bucky nodded. "Thanks again, Florin. Your generosity is appreciated, though certainly was not necessary."

"Trust me, the time you have saved me at the docks more than outweighs one dinner. Which will be out shortly. Hand-selected," he grinned before rushing back into the chaos of the packed restaurant.

"I see Florin does have an appreciation for the strong bod, even if not in the way I initially drunkenly guessed at," Harper laughed, switching back to English.

Bucky shrugged. "You could say I am efficient."

"On another note, I was wondering if you wanted to hit up a bar later?" Harper asked. "No big deal if you don't. I just figured it might be fun since we hermits are already out on a Saturday night."

"Sure," he agreed easily. "I assume that suggestion informed your outfit choice?"

"It did," she admitted. "An atypical look for an atypical night out."

"It shouldn't be atypical. You look really nice," he mentioned.

Harper fidgeted uncomfortably, surprising Bucky. She replied with a meek, "Thanks."

Lifting a brow, he asked, "What, you don't think so?"

"I hardly think you want to sit here and discuss my insecurities," Harper waved his question off.

"I'll admit I'm baffled."

"You try being the thick American woman around here for a few years and we'll reevaluate your self-esteem," she frowned, looking dejectedly out at the river.

"Thick?"

"Obviously."

"Like… curvy? Sexy? That's considered thick?" Bucky asked, genuinely trying to wrap his mind around this revelation about modern culture. "Back home too, or just here?"

"Back home, too."

"That's… asinine," he replied earnestly, wondering at what point since he had enlisted that society had lost its appreciation for a beautiful, curvy dame. He caught sight of the grimace on Harper's face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"The word 'sexy' makes me wildly uncomfortable," the young woman admitted.

Bucky read between the lines and his chest tightened, realizing she found it uncomfortable because 'sexy' hadn't historically meant her. Carefully, he replied, "Despite the fact that it's much more accurate than 'thick,' I can refrain from using that word."

"Thanks," she replied, still visibly uncomfortable.

A wine glass was set on the table in front of her, for which Harper was clearly grateful. A beer came to rest in front of Bucky, who absently thanked the server as he continued to watch Harper. It hadn't occurred to him that she might not realize how absolutely attractive she was, at least to him. Maybe despite all of her crude jokes, she really did only have completely platonic feelings for him. But then, didn't he? Wasn't she just a friend who he happened to find attractive if he allowed himself to notice?

"Sorry, I've made this awkward," Harper sighed. "Bet you didn't expect such a rollercoaster when you invited me out, huh? Let's start again. Are you actually enjoying my Cognitive Psych textbook? That's definitely your strangest borrow."

"I am," he replied honestly, grateful to be pulled from the turmoil going on in his head.

They discussed the text comfortably until Florin returned, two bowls filled with all varieties of shellfish and two plates of freshly baked fish balanced on his arms. Setting the dishes down, he explained, "Mussels, clams, shrimp and crab legs in a sauce made of white wine, butter, garlic, herbs, and tomatoes, and baked Black Sea Salmon with lemon and herbs brought in fresh this morning."

They both offered their gratitude for the fisherman's generosity, which he waved off before rushing back into the restaurant.

"I have no idea when that guy sleeps," Bucky mused.

"Thanks again for inviting me out," Harper mentioned, sipping at her wine again. "I really do appreciate it and am sorry for all of the road bumps tonight."

"Road bumps are more than worth the present good company," he offered her a small smile.

She returned the gesture and they fell easily back into conversation. Bucky looked down at the deliciously aromatic food in front of him, suddenly gripped by an unforeseen worry. Deshelling shellfish wasn't something one normal did with a gloved hand, and he certainly couldn't accomplish the task single handedly. Harper had always had the amazingly good grace not to ask about his odd habit of covering his left hand, for which he had been immensely thankful. But what was he to do now?

He started on the salmon in an effort to delay finding a solution to the current problem. He continued to listen to Harper as she discussed some of her own undergraduate research as she systematically shelled all of her mussels. To his surprise, without missing a beat in the conversation, she pushed her plate toward his and began forking her mussels onto his plate. Bright blue eyes watched as she began moving his shelled ones onto her plate in exchange. She repeated the process until they both had plates of ready-to-eat foods and a pile of shells in a bowl between them. Neither spoke about the process, but Bucky knew she had known of his dilemma. In that moment, he had a thought that had threatened to emerge countless times in the months of knowing Harper, but which he had always pushed away before consciously acknowledging it. But now it took form, swiftly and concretely, with no chance of keeping it as bay. Suddenly, he knew: if he allowed himself, and perhaps even if he didn't, he could certainly fall in love with her.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, follows. I love this chapter and hope that you do, too! I appreciate all of the continued support and look forward to hearing more feedback.