When James emerged from the bathroom, Harper could tell that he both felt immeasurably better and that the real fatigue from his latest assignment had fully settled in. He glanced toward the bedroom but seemed to quickly discard the idea and made his way to the living room, taking up the middle seat on the couch.
"Have you eaten anything?" Harper asked him, eyes roaming his tired face.
He merely shook his head in the negative, leaning back into the couch. She pressed her takeout container into his hands as well as her chopsticks. James looked at her and said, "I don't…"
The brunette shook her head, cutting him off. "I'm done eating. Don't worry about it."
He looked hesitant, but then decided he didn't want to squabble over it. Once he began eating the last of her sushi – the part of his brain still stuck in the 1940s remained shocked by the ability to eat raw fish and by its great flavor – she stood and made her way to the kitchen again. Earlier that evening before her friends had arrived, she had cooked in preparation for James's arrival home from his assignment. When he had ducked into the bathroom to shower, she had begun to heat everything up. Trying to blink sufficient sobriety into her eyes, she pulled the sheet pan of green beans, potatoes, and chicken out of the oven. Satisfied that everything was warm, a plate was soon piled with food.
When Harper returned, her takeout container sat empty on the table and her friends were making small talk with James. Bright blue eyes darted up to her as she reentered the room, his jaw going slack when he saw what she carried. Harper handed him the plate and silverware before sitting beside him again. She made sure to sit up against the arm of the couch in the hopes of enticing him closer.
"My god, have I made it clear how much I love you?" he asked, taking the bait and scooting in closer to press a kiss to her lips.
Harper smiled fondly at the man, shifting so her back was pressed against the arm of the couch and his legs were tucked beneath hers. He rested his elbows atop her legs, holding his plate aloft and bringing a full fork to his mouth.
"If dinner out hadn't been so good, I'd be envious, Harper," Tawny teased. "Since you didn't cook for us."
"Now that you're cohabitating, I hope that doesn't mean your cooking is off limits to anyone aside from your man," Kat laughed.
"You didn't have to cook just for me," James spoke up, lips pulling down in a guilty frown.
Harper rubbed his right shoulder affectionately. "You messaged this morning that you'd be back today and I had a feeling you weren't going to stop to take care of yourself along the way."
"I just wanted to get back," he replied. "It was a long five days."
Bright brown eyes searched his face for anything more behind his words, but found nothing in his expression to indicate that he was upset. Still, in the company of her friends was not the place to ask him more about how the assignment went. Besides, she was really pretty intoxicated and wasn't sure how much of a support she would be if there was something wrong.
Kat and Tawny filled the room with idle conversation, giggling here and there with the effects of their own wine consumption. As James leaned forward to place his emptied plate on the coffee table, Kat asked, "So, James, ever gone out for a night of drinking and dancing?"
Harper shot her friend a burning glare.
"Yeah, of course," he answered with a nod. Sitting back again, he rested his flesh hand on Harper's knee. It was the left one which had been injured about six months prior in Thanos's attack on Avengers headquarters. He kneaded the joint carefully, and Harper felt her anger lessen marginally. It was hard not to relax when he was alleviating the light pain that still arose at the end of a busy day. Particularly when she had never mentioned the lingering pain to him, but he had noticed once he'd moved in and promptly began this nightly ritual. "Steve and I used to take gals dancing pretty often before we were shipped off."
"Have you two ever gone on a date like that?" Tawny asked, ignoring the renewed fire in Harper's gaze.
"They're not talking about the same kind of dancing you are," Harper interrupted when James looked troubled and opened his mouth to respond. "They've been trying to convince me to go out clubbing with them and to drag you along."
"Not 'drag,'" Kat argued. "Accompany. So that Harper will feel less on edge."
"Would that help?" he asked, looking at Harper with concern knitting his brows.
She huffed a sigh and grumbled, "I don't know. I just don't want to go. Like, ever again."
Kat and Tawny reiterated their arguments while James listened, still massaging her knee. Harper looked longingly at his shoulder, wishing she could rest her head on it. The alcohol was making her feel heavy and drowsy.
"Still, if Harper doesn't want to…" James murmured thoughtfully. He turned to her and asked, "But are you okay with that fact that some disgusting piece of shit has taken away something that you enjoyed?"
Tears immediately began to prick the back of her eyes. Of course her partner would so easily pick up on the one piece of the situation that actually did bother her. None of her friends' points resonated with her, and while she had been truthful that she was loathe to trigger any of the feelings from that night, it actually did bother her that she had lost her sense of safety to do something she loved.
Catching his fingers in hers, she admitted, "No, I'm not okay with it."
His metal hand reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek in the process. Gently, he asked, "Then would you consider taking that part of your life back?"
Harper glanced to her friends who looked equal parts hopeful and sad. She then turned to James, whose expression was serious and spoke only of his desire to support her in whatever way she needed. Her cheeks flushed with a rush of warmth and love for him.
"I'm too drunk to say for sure," she decided. "But I'll think about it."
"Is that reasonable enough?" James asked the other women in the room.
They nodded. Trying to lighten the mood, Kat said, "Don't forget to take into account your boyfriend's risk of heart attack, Harper. Our dancing is definitely not the kind he's familiar with."
"I saw a video once from when you were in college," James revealed with a chuckle. "Definitely would never find a 1930s dame moving like that."
Harper listened in as they talked about dating now versus then. She was glad that James fit so well in her life and the people in it. Growing ever more tired, Harper gave in and scooted closer to James, finally resting her head on his shoulder. He let go of her hand to tuck her beneath his arm. A quick peck atop her head and the chatter of familiar voices were the last things she remembered before sleep took her.
Sam: How's cohabitating treating you?
Bucky: It's great.
Sam: Have y'all had a fight yet?
Bucky: No. I can count on one hand the number of fights we've had ever.
Sam: Well, aren't you two boring.
Bucky: Because we get along?
Sam: Obviously.
Bucky: Sorry we can't entertain you. Our disagreements are very tame.
Sam: Example? Gimme something to work with, man.
Bucky: I can't stand the way she makes the bed. Army level pristine she is not. So that's a chore now designated for me.
Sam: Okay, I'll rephrase. Gimme the best you've got.
Bucky: I put things on the top shelves of the kitchen cabinets all the time because I forget she can't reach. So that is brought up most often.
Sam: The BEST you've got.
Bucky: The shower has been relegated to her private space. She's lived alone for over a decade, so I get her needing a place that she can have to herself. But I really wish she'd chosen somewhere else.
Sam: See, now that's what I'm talking about. Knowing you aren't getting any in the shower warms my heart.
Bucky: Shove off.
Bucky glanced at the time on his phone. He knew Harper had texted him to say she would be home late from work, but time sure was passing slowly. The gaps of time between assignments could be fairly dull. He spent a lot of time in the gym and otherwise tended to a vast majority of the housekeeping and errands that needed doing. The opportunity to lighten Harper's load was one he relished.
Waiting for her to come home was really the worst part of the day. He loved greeting her and hearing about her day. He loved having dinner together and curling up with her on the couch. Sometimes they would read together; sometimes he would have mission briefings to review or reports to write while she had case notes to complete or clinical studies to read up on. His favorite nights were those when they would turn on a movie and she would tuck herself beneath his arm.
The hardest nights were those when she had a particularly difficult day or when he came back from an especially gruesome mission. He was grateful that she always allowed him to lean on her, and felt lucky to be able to do the same for her. Cradling her against his chest when she cried, or tucking his face into her shoulder as he did, they cared for each other. His younger self would have been ashamed at the thought of crying to his woman, but to not have to wade through his darkness alone was an invaluable gift.
Harper was absolutely the cook in their household. He was good enough to fend for himself, but her skills far exceeded his. She spent Sundays and Wednesday nights meal prepping for them, and they both made things here and there as needed between. It was a system that worked well, but when she was so on top of things, he really had very little to do to kill time until she got home. Thus, he found himself lazing around on the couch with some random Netflix original series on the TV.
Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Turning, he saw Aslan slowly slinking toward the couch. Bucky watched the aged cat pause, looking up at him with bright green eyes. With some effort, he jumped up onto the couch and sat down, not breaking eye contact with the soldier. They sat beside each other, locked in a staring match for a full minute. To his chagrin, Bucky was still a little wary of the old mammal. He was so very attached to Harper that Bucky worried everyone else risked incurring swats.
With trepidation, Bucky tapped his lap as an invitation. He had seen Harper do it before, but wasn't expecting the cat to accept the offer from anyone else. It was an unpleasant surprise, then, when not only did the large animal crawl into his lap, but he crawled his way up the brunet's chest. It was in that position Harper found them forty minutes later – feline butt in his lap, belly against his torso, and front paws and chin on his shoulder. His metal hand was slowly stroking Aslan's back, marveling at the low purrs in his ear and the vibrations against his chest.
"Oh my god, my boys," Harper cooed, immediately pulling her phone out of her purse and snapping several photos from different angles. "I love you both so, so much."
Bucky didn't admit it, but his heart was also warm.
Thanksgiving was a quiet, comfortable affair at the Montgomery household. Bucky was pleased not to be in the spotlight. Instead, Jordan had brought a new boyfriend home for the holiday. The boyfriend, Jared, was having to put in a bit of work to gain the favor of the family. With a hint of pride, Bucky thought he had been accepted with seemingly much greater ease.
He and Harper had actually stayed overnight. They had been cramped together in the guest bed, Aslan still squeezing himself between them somehow. Harper had taken a selfie that she couldn't keep herself from laughing in, saying she needed proof that his shoulders were just too broad for a full sized mattress. He certainly couldn't argue that their queen was much more appropriately sized.
The uncomfortable sleeping arrangement did mean that they didn't have to make the trek out of the city at the crack of dawn for Harper to be able to help her mother in the kitchen. Despite her mother having done a fair amount of prep work the day before, the two women spent the entire morning cooking and baking. With the rest of the family not set to arrive until the early afternoon, he was left to spend the day with Harper's father.
At first, Bucky was nervous all over again. He had soon relaxed, however, when Mitchel was so clearly at ease. Plus, the other man had laughed at his nerves, pointing out how useless it would be to go through the stereotypical father-boyfriend dance where the father threatens the boyfriend not to hurt his daughter.
Awkwardness dissipated, they had watched the Thanksgiving Day parade on television, chatting amicably all the while. They discussed how often he was being offered contracts and how he was liking Boston now that he had lived there for a good chunk of time. They also talked about Mitchel's job as a construction foreman and about what sports they both had interest in (primarily baseball). Aslan had even joined them in Bucky's lap, making it a complete male bonding morning.
Uncle Martin had eventually joined them, then Natalie, and finally Jordan and Jared. Not long after that, Harper had appeared, looking very slightly worse for wear after so many hours working over a hot stove. She had asked him to meet her in the guest room after she showered, which he did. To his delight, she had anticipated needing help with the zipper on her jumpsuit. It was a simple navy number with sleeves that fell to her elbows and a row of simple silver buttons down the bust. It hugged the curve of her waist deliciously and the v-neckline offered a peak of cleavage. His dog tag sat in full view.
Before lifting the zip, he had playfully skimmed his fingers up the delicate curve of her spine, making sure his fingers caught at the clasp of her bra. It had elicited a gasp from her, and the soldier had lamented that if they were not in a house full of her family, he would have tossed her to the bed and taken her right then.
But instead, he zipped her up and they made their way downstairs for small talk, wine, and a delicious meal. Bucky had most definitely learned from his experiences at the Montgomery household how truly lucky he was that Harper had learned her incredible cooking skills from her mother and her equally fantastic baking skills from her uncle. Delicious foods abound in their home, and holidays were an even greater display of that. Surrounded by kind people, happy conversation, laughter, and love, the soldier thought that identifying what he was grateful for had never been easier.
Harper grinned, placing the last nutcracker on her bookshelf. All of their books and knickknacks had been moved to bins beneath their bed. Snowman figurines were on display around the apartment. All kitchen towels had been replaced with red ones depicting cats in Santa hats or bursting from colorfully wrapped gift boxes. Reindeer and Santa Clauses could also be found around their home in various forms: on wall art, as small plushies, and as wooden figures.
But the bookshelf was really her favorite piece. All of the nutcrackers she had inherited from her grandparents stood at attention across each shelf. She had woven white string lights across each shelf and around the frame of the entire unit, illuminating the wooden soldiers in a soft glow. She had also placed bright red and creamy white poinsettia blooms carefully amongst the lights. They were synthetic, so they would remain vibrant throughout the holiday season.
A pair of arms coiled around her, a chin set to rest atop her head. "It looks great, doll."
Harper leaned back into him, loving the feel of his voice rumbling in his chest. "Thanks, hun. Is it too much?"
"No," James answered, hugging her tighter. "If you're happy, I'm happy. I'm enjoying finally getting to see you in the full Christmas spirit."
She looked up at him and beamed. "You may just be the perfect man for me. You can enjoy all my holiday baking to the fullest without it affecting your health. It's a true win-win."
"What baked goods are in my near future?" the brunet asked excitedly.
"Sugar cookies, gingerbread men, chocolate cherry cake, rum balls, probably some blondies…"
James hummed his approval. "And you might be the perfect woman for me."
"That might be one of the most traditional parts of our relationship. That I feed you, I mean," Harper laughed, turning in his embrace so she could meet his gaze.
Crystalline eyes looked down at her lovingly. Earnestly, he replied, "A traditional relationship would be miserable in comparison. I can imagine nothing that would make me happier than being with you for the remainder of my life."
Harper reached up, cradling his face between her hands. Their eyes were locked, searching and finding nothing but love and acceptance mirrored between them. As one, they leaned toward each other, their lips meeting in a slow, ardent kiss.
When they separated, Harper ran her thumb across his lower lip. "Having lived without you for nearly six total years, believe me when I say that I feel the same. I'm so much happier with you in my life. Maybe that's not healthy for either of us, but I don't know if I'd ever trust someone like I trust you. Or if anyone else would understand how to support me, or live with my quirks. I don't think I'd find someone else who could sit and hold me cluster after cluster. It's always been you for me."
"First and only love," he agreed with a soft smile.
Harper returned his grin. It was sort of the stuff of fairytales. Sure, James had dated around, but neither of them had ever fallen in love before meeting each other. Her past self might have scoffed at the idea of "forever" but she could truly envision living out the rest of her days with him. Warmed by the thought, she leaned up for another kiss.
"We've lost a lot of time, but we have so much more ahead of us," she murmured against his lips.
James pecked her before saying, "We're both finally free from most of the things that held us back before. We can truly live a life together now."
The dark haired woman nodded. "Let's have experiences and make memories together. Fill up journals and photo albums and keepsake boxes."
"I really want that, doll."
Harper rested her head against his chest, listening to the fast thrum of his heart. She hoped she would always be able to make his heart beat a little quicker.