"We were friends for a long time. Some kids jumped him, were trying to steal his lunch money, when we met. Steve was small, and had some health issues that kept him that way. I stood up for him, which became a pattern."

"Like a body guard," Harper chortled.

"Yeah, kinda," Bucky breathed a laugh. "We were fast friends, ended up being more like brothers. We were together almost all the time. When he'd stay over my house, we'd pull all the cushions off the couch and bring them to my room for him to sleep on. For a while, it seemed like the cushions were off the couch more often than they were on it. We went to Coney Island during the summers, trying to impress girls that we were never gonna see again, riding all the rides Steve's stomach had no chance at handling. We even went on a whole lotta double dates. Mostly 'cause Steve wouldn't go on any I didn't set up, but still."

"That sounds like the archetypal bromance," Harper grinned. "What happened that makes you think you can't be close like that again?"

"Well… then joining the army happened," he sighed. He debated leaving things there, but there were enough international tensions and military actions that had happened in recent years that she wouldn't find his story too suspicious. And telling her a bit more about himself could be done, depending on where he drew the line. She already knew of him as a combat vet, so why not expand on that? "I enlisted first. Steve tried to enlist, too, but his health was too poor. Honestly, I was thankful at the time. I couldn't imagine Steve, the guy who wouldn't back down from back alley bullies, on the other end of a gun from a real enemy.

"I went off to training, then was shipped off overseas. I eventually ended up a POW, Steve ended up enlisting and rising through the ranks. My unit was freed, Steve and I met again, and things were okay for a while. Well, as okay as they could be. But then we were sent on a covert mission. We were ambushed and I almost died. A lot happened after that. I'm not even remotely close to the person I used to be. I'm not the man he was best friends with anymore."

"And do you think he is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really think that Steve was unchanged by his own combat experiences?"

"I… maybe. He's still a good, selfless guy, always willing to fight the good fight. Even if he knows he'll lose, he'll fight for what he believes in."

"And are you not the same man who feels loyal and protective of those he cares for? Who is so hard on himself that he thinks he doesn't deserve the same loyalty, protection, and value that he places on others?" Harper asked. "Because to me, it sounds like your whole life you were the protector. The oldest sibling. The barrier between your best friend and his bullies. The soldier being shipped off, thankful that his best friend wouldn't be put in the danger he was about to face."

Bucky shook his head, hand unconsciously tightening on her shin again. He repeated, "I'm not like that anymore."

"Then why did you stay with me that first night you found out about my headaches? Why did you want so badly to defend my honor when that sleazebag down the hall wanted to pay to fuck me? Why did you just walk my drunk ass back home? Why are you still here with me now?"

The former assassin couldn't meet her gaze, having a difficult time processing her needling.

Harper continued, "James, the kinds of things you went through, the things you did, they are bound to change a person. But it doesn't sound to me like who you are at the very core has been altered. And I think that it's misguided if you truly believe that Steve is the exact same person he was when you guys were younger. You're probably just able to see that his fundamental self is still intact. The periphery is just that – periphery."

"You should be a shrink," he muttered, perturbed by her assessment. He didn't want to dare believe there could be truth to her words – that Hydra hadn't rotted him to the core, that he could still be a good man, that he stood a chance at rekindling his most treasured friendship – but he couldn't help it. A small part of him felt like maybe she could see things that he couldn't, that he had been trained not to see within himself.

"That was the goal," she laughed. "Glad to know you think I could do it. You wanna fund the road to get me there?"

"Wish I could," he said earnestly. "You deserve to be happy."

"So do you," she insisted. "But if I can't milk you for dollars, at least I'm happy here with you."

He grinned wryly. "Are you a closet masochist?"

Harper laughed again. "No, not at all. If I was, I'd deprive myself of your friendship."

Bucky suddenly noticed that he had at some point absently begun running his hand back and forth from her ankle to about mid-shin. His hand faltered before he continued the gesture. He would probably never really get to touch her. For tonight, he'd allow himself this. "I'm not sure about all the good things you said about me. But to answer your questions? About why I will always stand up for you, and about why I'm here now? You're important to me."

Heat colored her cheeks, but her voice was even as she replied, "You're important to me, too, and I want to protect you in any way I can."

A string of disgruntled meows and mewls retrieved Bucky from sleep. He opened his eyes blearily, groaning lightly at the sudden disruption to an otherwise decent sleep. Bucky lifted his hand to his eyes, rubbing the blurriness from his vision. His gaze moved downward and a smile turned his lips upward. He had fallen asleep sitting up, his torso leaning heavily into the corner of the couch. At some point, Harper had rotated her position. Her legs were no longer draped over his. Instead, she was deeply asleep against his side. He couldn't quite remember how that had happened, just that she had made the move as he was nodding off. He vaguely remembered worrying about her leaning into his metal arm, and had evidently quelled his worries by draping his arm around her shoulders. He found he liked her there; it felt good to know that gentle, kind Harper could be safely tucked beneath the arm he had never asked for, the arm which had been bathed in so much innocent blood. It suddenly occurred to him that so long as he retained his agency, the arm he loathed could be used as a means of protection.

Another distressed feline peal had Harper jolting awake. She looked in the direction of the noise before letting out a pained whimper. With annoyance, she moaned, "The fuck, Aslan?"

She let out a sigh and heaved herself up from the couch, heading toward the kitchen. Aslan darted after her, singing a symphony of excited meows. Bucky stood, stretching his stiff limbs and running his fingers through his hair. He followed Harper into the kitchen in time to see her place the old cat's refilled water bowl in front of the expectant creature.

"Morning," he greeted, suddenly feeling nervous. What if she remembered everything they had talked about and her sober mind wanted nothing to do with the broken POW who had no idea who he was or how to function?

"Good morning," she answered. "Sorry Drunk Me prevented you from sleeping in a comfortable position. And seriously, thanks for dealing with me last night."

"I slept fine and really had a good time," he said earnestly.

"I did, too," Harper replied with a smile.

"If you haven't had enough of me, did you want to grab some breakfast before going our separate ways?" asked Bucky, trying not to sound as timid as he felt. He wasn't quite ready to part with her yet, because when he did, he would have to face all of his realizations, and he wasn't ready for that. It would mean reconciling all of his mixed emotions and outlining his next steps. Whatever he decided, he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to pull away from her anymore. If it was for her safety or by her choice, he knew with certainty that he could and would do right by her. But for himself? He wasn't sure he could do that.

Harper gave an appreciative groan and immediately bee-lined toward her bedroom. "Hangover food! Yes, absolutely. Let me put on some jeans. Hope you don't mind going out with me looking like garbage."

"You always look nice," he found himself replying.

"Sure, sure, especially next to you, Mr. Tall-Muscular-Soldier-Man-With-Unnaturally-Beautiful-Eyes." She rolled her own eyes before disappearing behind her bedroom door.

Could she… find me attractive? he wondered, taken aback. He shook off the thought for the moment, knowing he had way too much on his mind already without wondering if Harper thought he was good looking.

"Ready," Harper announced, reemerging from her room in a pair of dark jeans and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. "The usual place?"

"Please," he nodded.

With genuine excitement, she announced, "Let's get going, then! My thick ass needs some pancakes."

"Step one," Bucky read, "identify the decision to be made."

At the top of his sheet of notebook paper, he wrote, "What to do About My Feelings for Harper" then let out a frustrated groan. "I feel like a fucking idiot."

Shaking his head and resolving to trust the process, he read on, "Step two: gather relevant information."

He began meticulously mapping out what he knew to be true.

About Harper:

Fun, intelligent, insightful

Beautiful, attractive

Innocent, but knows pain

Strong, protective, supportive

Amazing listener even though she hates to open up

Self-sacrificing

Loves her old, needy cat

Deserves happiness

Makes me feel comfortable and understood

Maybe I can redeemed

Makes me happy

I might be falling in love with her

He looked over his list, knowing he had far from encapsulated Harper, but satisfied that he got the major relevant points. "Step three: identify alternatives."

Alternatives:

Ignore my feelings

Confess my feelings

End the friendship

Leave Bucharest

Bucky heaved a sigh. "Step four: weigh the evidence."

But what evidence was there? Harper had never talked about past relationships. If it wasn't for the stray comments she made about which characters she found attractive in movies, he wouldn't even know that she was attracted to men. He had no idea how she felt about dating in general, let alone how she would feel about dating him. What other evidence is there? That she would likely be hurt if he suddenly ended their friendship or just up and left the country? That much seemed obvious.

"Step five: choose among alternatives."

He could leave Bucharest, but that seemed extreme. He didn't want to cause Harper any pain, and that would be unavoidable if he uprooted himself and moved away without telling her. Besides, he had established something of a life in the city, and had grown comfortable. He had a taste of normalcy and he was loath to give it up unless he had to.

He could end their friendship, but again, he didn't want to hurt Harper. Plus, he really doubted he had the mental and emotional strength to deprive himself of the only aspect of his life that made him happy since waking up to his what was left of his arm being sawed off. Especially when he knew just how close by she always was.

He could confess his feelings for her. But what if she had no interest in him that way? It would ruin their friendship – the only friendship he had. Maybe she would be too creeped out to spend time together, and he'd end up on his own again. Alternately, maybe she would return his feelings. But then what? He would lie to her for the rest of their lives? Would he ever feel like he could tell her who he really was? Would she even believe him? But he would be happy with her, he was sure. He would retain all of the good parts of their friendship, and gain the ability to give and receive affection from her. He could touch her, love her, live that aspect of a normal life, regain the piece of himself which could truly love and appreciate a woman.

If he ignored things, then nothing would change. Things could go on as they had been, unless an unforeseen event was to force his hand. But maybe it would hurt, knowing his feelings would never be acted upon or that his desire to kiss and touch her would never be realized.

He was happy as things were, so why risk ruining anything? So maybe part of him would always hurt over what could be. What was a little more pain? He'd rather have Harper in his life in some capacity than to screw up and not have her at all.

"Step six: take action," he read. With a nod, he allowed, "Easy enough. Step seven: review the decision and its consequences. Well, that will remain to be seen."

Harper: James!

James: Harper!

Harper: I found a crazy cheap thermal shirt from a street vendor today. Hope you like red!

James: You got one for me?

Harper: They're all you seem to wear. Figured that while I had the opportunity, your collection could use expanding.

James: You didn't have to do that.

Harper: You don't like red, do you? :(

James: I've never thought about it.

Harper: Well, I think red will look good on you, so that's what you're getting. Hope it keeps that muscular bod warm! ;)

James: Thanks; that's thoughtful. I hate being cold.

Harper: Yeah, yeah, you stick in the mud that hates on winter.

James: I do hate it.

Harper: Well, winter is my favorite, and I won't be convinced of its negative attributes.

"Well, fuck," he breathed. If she knew the truth and what her words could imply, that sentiment would be invaluable.

James: I won't try to change that about you.

Harper: Sure, sure. I'll give you the shirt when I see you Saturday. The usual plans? If so, grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup for dinner?

James: You're seriously too good to me. I'll bring you some wine.

Harper: Oh, keep sweet talking me ;) No red, please!

James: I would never disgrace your wine sensibilities with a red.

Harper: Again with the sweet talk! Thanks so much! See you Saturday!

"What did you think?" Harper asked, sitting up straighter so she could stretch out her back.

"It was good," Bucky nodded. "I'm surprised you've never read the books if you've seen the movies, though. We can't talk about how they compare."

"I tried to read the books," she defended. "But I just couldn't get into them."

"But if you like the movies, wouldn't that be a motivator to persevere with the books?"

"I never said I liked the movies."

"Harper!" Bucky frowned. "I wouldn't have picked this if I had known you didn't even like it. Why didn't you say anything?"

"You're allowed your choices! I don't always get the final say," the young woman replied with a wave of her hand. More coyly, she added, "And I may have a bit of a thing for Legolas."

"So you sat through the last four hours because you find one character attractive?"

"Well, you're minimizing his good looks with your tone," she chuckled. "But no, that's not the entire reason. You were excited to watch this movie, and I enjoy spending time with you. This seemed like the logical outcome."

"You're too nice to me," Bucky grumbled, unable to meet her eyes anymore.

"Stop bringing me wine then," she teased.

Seeing an opening for a change in topics, he asked, "I've been wondering about that, actually. Should you drink as a cluster headache sufferer?"

Harper hummed for a moment before admitting, "Probably not. I don't drink during my cluster cycles, because then I get even more headaches. It's hard to say whether I'd have fewer cycles or not if I did refrain from drinking. But I will admit to using alcohol as something of a crutch. Not to a problematic point, but sometimes I need to forget about how my life is derailing from every plan I've ever made for myself, or about my job, or about my tough cases. Plus, Legolas is even better looking when I've been drinking."

"You don't talk about men much," he observed.

"You don't talk about women," she countered.

"I've mentioned that I used to be a very active dater," he argued. "You've never mentioned anything."

"There's not much to mention," she shrugged. "When I was nineteen, I met this guy who I became really close to. We texted and saw each other all the time. We were really, really close and I was totally falling for him. Then I got my first cluster headache, he took me to the ER, and when I came out of a hospital stay with the diagnosis, I was devastated. He didn't want to sign up for the train wreck of self-pity I'd become, and I don't blame him for that. I do blame him for dating one of my good friends immediately after breaking things off with me, though."

"He sounds like an asshole," Bucky offered. "You stick by the people you care about, even when times are tough."

"He didn't owe me anything like that," she shook her head.

"If he cared about you, he did owe you kindness."

Harper's lips twitched into a wry smile. "For someone constantly trying to convince me he's cruel and jaded, you really do stand on a high moral ground, James."

"Hush," he scolded weakly, bumping her shoulder with his.

"And you? Ever take the same girl on more than one date?"

"Yeah, I did," Bucky nodded. "It was just... life was more about fun. I wasn't into commitment or longevity."

"What do you think of those things now?"

The former assassin heaved a sigh, heavy with the weight of her question. "I think those would be a dream. But my life is too complicated, and I'm too screwed up."

"Feelings don't often heed those conditions."

"What do you mean?

"I mean just because you're recovering from all of the shit you've been through doesn't mean feelings can't be felt by or for you," Harper explained. "Don't count yourself out of the game if it's something you'd like. Life is too short and too painful for that."

If only you knew…

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews, favorites, follows, and views. For now, I'll keep going with the usual update schedule. I'd love to hear your feedback, though! Is Bucky in character? Is the pacing alright? Thoughts on Harper? Other? Regardless, I'm thankful for the continued support.