Christmas: Part 6
Bucky stuffed his metal hand into his pocket as he walked into the coffee shop that had quickly become Chanel's favorite. She was waiting for him in the car which he had double parked. He realized he had spent so much time with her that being alone even for these few minutes had his anxiety rising quickly. Without her fingers intertwined with his metal ones, he felt unmoored. People stared at him openly, taking pictures sneakily as he kept his eyes trained on the floor. Things had been worse. Back before he was granted his pardon, people were much more forward. Ugly stares and insults were not uncommon. At that time, he rarely left his apartment. How could he when every ugly detail of his life was constantly breaking news? He truly didn't know how he survived it.
Bucky went through the motions of ordering coffee and moved to the side to wait. How much of his trial had his family seen? Was it naïve to hope they hadn't seen any of it? That they hadn't watched the constant attacks that passed as news?
"Bucky!"
Bucky frowned at the cheery barista that now recognized him as a regular called his name over the sizeable crowd.
"Where's Chanel?" The barista, a college kid with an optimistic smile, asked.
"Car."
The barista nodded, handing Bucky his drinks. "Well, tell her I say hi!"
Bucky raised his brows in response. Maybe he didn't need to be worried about what his family knew or didn't know. They'd be too distracted by Chanel, just like everyone else. Even when she wasn't in the room, she outshined him.
Bucky finally gave the barista a small smile. "I'll tell her. Happy Holidays, kid."
"One vanilla latte with extra whipped cream," Bucky handed Chanel her latte before he sat his plain black coffee in the cup holder.
Chanel popped the lid off the cup and inhaled deeply. "Perfect. Want some extra spice in yours?" She held out a small vodka bottle and a little flask.
Bucky laughed and shook his head, assuming she was joking.
"Suit yourself," Chanel shrugged and dropped the flask back into her purse before twisting the cap off her vodka bottle.
Bucky bit his tongue and focused on easing the car back into traffic. He didn't blame her for needing a little help to get through the day; he was actively fighting the pit of anxiety threatening to open and swallow him whole.
"How long is the drive?" Chanel asked as she gulped down her coffee.
"About five hours. If I drive fast."
"Damn," Chanel took another big drink of her coffee. "I'm sure the traffic will lighten up once we're out of the city."
Chanel rubbed Bucky's thigh. She always knew when he was getting overwhelmed. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Being late should not be at the top of his worry list right now. The longer Chanel rubbed his thigh, the harder it was for him to think of anything that should be at the top of the list.
Several hours later, they were cruising through little suburbs and large stretches of open road. The scenery, large trees dusted in snow, and the occasional deer made Chanel feel like they had left more than just the city behind. The anxiety she had been trying to ignore the entire drive dissipated for a moment as she imagined the life she would lead if she lived here. Out in the quiet, open, calm.
"It's pretty out here," she said casually, stretching in her seat.
"Yeah? I thought you liked the city?" Bucky questioned.
"I do, but–I don't know, it might be nice to live out here… someday."
Bucky smiled, "someday?"
"You know what I mean," Chanel muttered, not quite meeting his eyes.
Bucky lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Tell me."
Chanel's tongue swiped over her bottom lip. "Someday, when things are normal, and we have a baby and…."
"Fuck," Bucky let her go and turned his attention back to the road. "You're gonna make us late."
"How–"
"Because I'm seconds away from pulling this car over and fucking you right where you're sitting."
Chanel had to bite her tongue to keep from begging him for it. Once she had control over herself, she opened her mouth. "If I thought I could fuck you without ruining my hair and outfit, I would beg you for your cock right now."
"Chanel–" Bucky warned, shifting in his seat.
"I know, I know. Maybe on the way back, though."
"Promise?"
Chanel rubbed his thigh again, "promise."
Chanel woke up just as Bucky pulled into the driveway of a large house set against tall pine trees and the cloudy gray sky. An ornate gate decorated with giant wreaths opened automatically to allow his entrance.
Chanel blinked her eyes to clear her vision. This hadn't been what she expected at all.
This house was old and big. Enormous white pillars, decorated with garland, wrapped around the front of the house, making it look like a museum, not someone's home. Brand new, shiny cars filled the circle driveway. Christmas decorations decorated the expansive lawn; large candy canes, giant glittery ornaments, a full-sized Santa's sleigh with all 8 reindeer, and a tall white cross covered in twinkling lights. Chanel felt like she was inside a snow globe. It was gorgeous, but she felt a sudden rush of anxiety; everything about this was screaming GET OUT. That was a ridiculous reaction; it was Bucky's family–but her anxiety spiked again as she looked around and realized there were no other houses in sight. Bucky didn't know these people; what if it was an elaborate trap and his sister wasn't even here?
Bucky parked the car and Chanel grabbed his arm tight to keep him from getting out.
"What's wrong? You look sick." Bucky turned in his seat to hold her face.
"I just–I need a minute."
Bucky nodded, his brows furrowing slightly. Chanel avoided his worried gaze as she took deep breaths and reached for his dog tags on instinct. The raised letters of his name brought her back down to Earth.
"Talk to me." Bucky kissed her forehead.
"I'm–afraid." Chanel wouldn't look at him, embarrassment scorching through her.
"There's nothing–"
"Yes, there is." She cut him off and gripped his dog tags tighter. "What if it's a trap? The Power Broker–"
"Oh." Bucky smoothed the worry line from her face. "Don't worry about that, I trust Shuri. She did her research."
Of course she did. What was Chanel thinking? But her nerves still didn't lessen.
"What if they don't like me? Did you–tell them?"
"Of course I told them I was bringing you. They'll love you–"
"No, do they know I'm black?"
Bucky paused for a moment, at a loss for words. "Um, should I have told them?"
Chanel was barely listening to him, continuing down her spiral of anxiety. "What if–I mean, I know it's your family but Bucky, this place screams all lives matter."
Before Bucky could respond, the front door opened and several people stepped out onto the porch, all dressed to the nines and smiling excitedly in their direction. One man with cropped brown hair stepped forward and waved them on.
"Oh god," Chanel gulped.
"Hey breathe, everything is going to be fine. We'll stay right here until you're ready, okay?"
Chanel nodded and closed her eyes again. She could feel Bucky gesturing through the window, buying her some more time to get herself together. This was ridiculous. How many times had she infiltrated these same families? Stephan's family had been a nightmare, yet she did that with ease.
"Doll?" Bucky called gently, bringing her back from her thoughts.
"I'm okay, we can go. I'm sorry."
Bucky took off his dog tags and placed them around her neck. "Will that help?"
Chanel smiled slightly and tucked them under her shirt. The cold metal against her chest had a strange, calming effect. She nodded.
"The second you feel uncomfortable, we'll leave. Okay?"
"Thank you," Chanel met his eyes, "are you good?"
Bucky nodded, his face determined. "I'm always good when I'm with you."
Finally, Chanel grinned and Bucky kissed her cheek before exiting the car and leading her up the steps.
Bucky hadn't known what to expect, but the mammoth of a house had not been it. He gripped Chanel's hand tighter and tighter the closer they got to the people waiting for them at the top of the steps. It was odd. They looked vaguely familiar, like a face you've seen in a dream but don't recognize. Connor looked a little like him. He had the same shade of brown hair, the same blue eyes. But his jaw was rounder, his smile bigger. Maybe that's what Bucky would have looked like in another life. One where there had been plenty of food on the table, where he spent his time indoors with his books like he wanted. He looked away from Connor, quickly scanning the others. The blonde next to him must be his wife, Deena. She was petite in every sense of the word. Even in her white heels, she barely reached Connor's shoulder. Behind them, there were several older people. One man using a walker looked how Bucky would have if he hadn't been frozen in time. An older woman looked so much like Becca that Bucky stuttered in his step and Chanel placed her hand on his arm to urge him forward. Several kids of various ages peeked out between the legs of the adults, wary but curious.
"James!" Connor stepped forward and met him a few steps down. "So glad you made it."
Bucky felt Chanel's hand squeeze his tighter as she unconsciously tried to hide behind his larger frame. He stood up a little straighter and put a smile on his face.
"Connor, thanks for having us. This is Chanel."
Connor turned his bright smile to Chanel and held out his hand. "Welcome!"
Chanel gave him a small smile and took his hand. Connor pulled her into a hug, and Bucky saw Deena shake her head.
"Oh–" Chanel exclaimed. "Nice to meet you." Chanel glanced back at Bucky and he gave her an encouraging nod.
"Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone. And surprise! Betty is waiting for us inside. Didn't want ya to have to make two long drives in one day."
Bucky didn't register the names of everyone he was introduced to. Once Connor told him Betty was inside, that's all he could focus on. He smiled and shook hands and gave hugs, but his mind was already inside with his sister.
Chanel was good with names. Connor. Deena. Mark. Charles. Joan. Such mundane, classic American names. Every time her name came out of Connor's mouth as he introduced her, she felt more and more out of place. These people were not at all what she had expected. Not a hair was out of place. Their teeth were pearly white, their smiles big and wide. They looked like fucking Kennedys. Bucky had never once given off trust-fund vibes.
"Chanel? What an interesting name." Laura, a 30-something icy blonde, held Chanel's hand too long. Her eyes sparkled as she repeated Chanel's name.
"Thanks," Chanel's voice wavered, the statement coming out like a question.
"I'm sure it's plenty common," Laura's wife, Rachel, chimed in. "You know, like Mercedes–"
"Oh, like, isn't Cardi B's sister named Hennessy? Like that?"
"Yeah, exactly like that." Chanel finally got her hand out of Laura's grip. "Lovely to meet you both."
She looked around for an exit, only to be reminded they were in the middle of nowhere and there was no escape. Her eyes found Bucky next. He was being hugged tightly by Charles and Joan, Becca's kids–his niece and nephew. Would that ever not be weird?
"Chanel! This way." Deena looped her arm through Chanel's and led her through the front door and toward the kitchen. "Sorry about them. They can be a lot. I'm sure you're ready for a drink."
"Oh god, yes, please." Chanel liked her already.
Finally, Bucky was led into the house. He scanned the room of even more familiar, yet unfamiliar faces and his eyes landed on a large portrait of his parents above the fireplace. They looked just as they did the last time Bucky had seen them. His dad was in uniform, always so stoic. Bucky knew if he'd been able to, his dad would have gone to war with him all those years ago. At least Bucky had made him proud. The night before he was shipped off to war, he had come home drunk and depressed. He had tried to forget, had gotten him and Steve dates, but Steve had left him. He spent his last night with two strangers, worried about his best friend. His dad found him crying silently on the couch. His father never said anything, just held him until he fell asleep. Bucky woke up the next morning embarrassed, avoiding his father's eye. He wasn't a coward. He would fight for his country, for what was right. But what if he didn't come back…? There was so much that he still needed to do, that he needed to experience. He was lost in his thoughts, staring at the eggs his mom had made him when his dad's hand clamped down on his shoulder. Bucky saw nothing but love in his brown eyes. His father never brought up the previous night. He simply told him he was proud and that he loved him.
Bucky's eyes moved to his mother's face in the portrait. Her blonde hair was pinned perfectly in place and her cheeks were rosy. She looked happy but enervated. The day Bucky left, his mother didn't cry, but Bucky knew that was for his benefit. He didn't think he'd have been strong enough to leave if she'd have asked him to stay. When he was at war, scared and tired and cold, he thought of her. He wondered if she knew he had cried out for her when he laid in the cold snow, fighting death. Not for Steve, not for God, he just wanted his mother.
"This was done shortly after you left."
Bucky turned and saw his sister. After all these years, she still looked the same to him. Her hair was gray, but her eyes were still a sparkling blue and her smile hadn't changed a bit. A wave of emotion almost crushed him and he had to remind himself she was 93 years old and he couldn't crush her in a hug like he wanted. With as much self-control as he could muster, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms gently around her.
He squeezed his eyes shut; he knew he was shaking but he couldn't make it stop.
"It's okay, don't get all emotional," Betty whispered to him. "We have to eat first."
Bucky laughed and pulled back. "Thanks… I…" He genuinely didn't know what to say. 'I missed you' didn't cover half of it.
"Come on, there's time for talking later. Dinner is ready." Betty grabbed his hand and led him toward the dining room.
The large dining table was full of every Christmas food Bucky could imagine. They had ham, turkey, duck, and goose. Tons of vegetables and other side dishes, and Deena had reminded everyone to save room for dessert.
"This must have taken you weeks," Chanel said to Deena. Bucky was glad they seemed to get along well. Just as he had suspected, everyone seemed to be infatuated with her.
Deena waved her hand as if to say it was no big deal. "I didn't really do anything but supervise. Our chef, Ronaldo, is amazing. I'll have to give you his card."
Chanel laughed shortly before returning her attention to the plate in front of her. Bucky smiled and rubbed her thigh under the table. They had been separated almost as soon as they had arrived and now that everyone was immersed in their own conversations, he just needed a moment to feel her. Chanel shot him a glance when his hand moved a little higher under her skirt, but he just shrugged his shoulders and kept eating, trying to ignore the swirl of anxiety that had been pestering him since the coffee shop. The longer he was away from Chanel, the larger it grew.
He should be happy over the moon, but he was scared. Scared that this was all a dream or an elaborate ruse. They were too perfect. Everything about this was too perfect. How many times had he dreamed of this before he forced himself to stop hoping? He didn't believe in God anymore, but if there was one, Bucky couldn't help but think he would never allow him to have this much happiness.
After Deena had poured her a glass of vodka punch, Chanel had relaxed. Bucky's family was lovely. Of course they were. No one had been anything but welcoming since the second they got out of the car. Even with a few microaggressions here or there, and Joan attempting to touch her hair, Chanel felt safe and overwhelmingly happy for Bucky.
So she was a bit confused as to why he was squeezing the fuck out of her thigh under the table. She had lost track of the conversation, too busy focusing on Bucky's body language. He was shutting down. His eyes barely left the plate in front of him but he wasn't eating anymore. Chanel glanced around the room, no one seemed to notice. They were all tipsy and laughing.
She rubbed Bucky's hand and waited for him to look at her, but he just squeezed her tighter.
"You good?" She whispered as she scooted a little closer to him.
Bucky nodded curtly and slowly released the grip he had on her thigh.
"Buck—"
"Fine," Bucky cut her off with a strained smile.
Chanel backed off, giving his hand one more squeeze under the table.
She tuned back into the conversation; glad no one was paying them any mind. Chanel thought listening to them reminisce about past Christmases would be good for Bucky. He had missed so much and now had the chance to relive it all with people who loved him. But, suddenly, Bucky jumped up from the table, his chair scratching loudly against the floor.
Everyone went silent, staring at him, and Chanel could see the panic in his eyes.
"It's okay." she jumped up from her seat and grabbed Bucky's hand. "We'll be right back."
She led Bucky out of the room and kept walking until she thought they were far enough away that no one would hear.
"Are you okay?" She asked tentatively, trying to get Bucky to look at her.
He took a deep breath and shook his head with the exhale.
"It's too hot," Bucky sounded like he was choking.
Chanel quickly pulled his sweater over his head and pushed him toward a bench further down the hall.
"Water?" she asked, fanning him as much as she could with her cloth napkin.
"No, don't leave." Bucky put his head between his legs and took several deep breaths.
Chanel was quiet as she rubbed his back soothingly. Had she been so caught up in her own anxiety that she had totally missed his?
Bucky sat up again and looked a little less pale. "Can we walk a bit?"
"Of course, baby. What's going on?"
Bucky stood up and took her with him. "I just—I got so anxious. It wouldn't go away."
They walked down a large hallway. Several family portraits decorated the walls. Each one of Bucky's sisters was immortalized in large gilded frames. They were breathtaking, and Chanel lost focus for a moment, staring up at them. But Bucky was pulling her down the hall as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.
"They were talking about all those family memories and I just–all I could think about is where I was when they were moving on without me. They were eating fucking goose, and I was having poison injected in my veins; assassinating people and getting the shit beat out of me if I even thought about resisting. I was out there and they had no idea."
Chanel rubbed his arm, not knowing what else to do. "It's not fair to you or to them. But you're here now and they're so excited."
Bucky nodded, stopping to pull Chanel into a hug. "I was alone for so long."
Chanel hugged him tighter. "You're never gonna be alone again, Buck. Never."
"God, I love you." Bucky's hands moved down her waist until they settled on her ass. He left them there, just holding her gently.
"Feeling better?" Chanel tried to move, but he held her in place.
"Almost," Bucky muttered against her hair.
"You're not seriously about to try to get in my pants in the hallway, are you?"
Bucky chuckled and Chanel breathed a sigh of relief; he must be feeling better.
"No, your ass is like my comfort pillow. It helps me feel grounded."
Chanel snorted. "You're serious?"
"I could also use a boob, but this was easier."
"Ok, you're clearly better. Let's go finish dinner."
Bucky groaned and gave her one last squeeze. "Fine, but," Bucky leaned down so his breath was hot on her ear, "you have to let me eat you later to destress."
Chanel squeezed her thighs together and quickly nodded. "Deal."
With his hand securely in hers, Chanel led Bucky back to the boisterous dining room. Someone had refilled both of their plates with heaping amounts of food and their glasses with dark wine. Chanel smiled to herself as she watched Bucky dig in. The more he ate and laughed, the more relaxed he appeared. She could imagine him back in the 40s, carefree and full of so much life, so much optimism. For the first time since she met him, Chanel truly believed Bucky had the opportunity to have all of that and more.
After dinner, Deena and Connor herded everyone into the parlor for dessert. Laura played the piano and everyone sang along to various carols. Bucky finally felt relaxed. He kept close to Betty's side, still so shocked that she was really there. Chanel mingled, but never too far. He didn't think he could have done this without her.
He could feel Betty's eyes on him as he looked around the room. The Christmas tree was massive. It had to be at least 12 feet tall. It was covered in white and gold ornaments, sparkly garland, and soft white lights. A fat gold star sat at the top, and Bucky wondered how they even got it up there.
"Do you remember our last Christmas together?"
Betty nodded with a slight smile. "I got you socks… didn't want your feet to get cold when you were in the war."
Bucky smiled. "I'm pretty sure you took them out of my drawer and wrapped them up, though."
"I didn't have any money. What did you expect?"
They laughed quietly until Betty's eyes turned sad. "Was that the last Christmas you celebrated?"
"Well," Bucky cleared his throat and rubbed his palms on his jeans. "We celebrated as much as we could during the war. But it wasn't the same. After that… I didn't really have a reason to celebrate anything."
They both went quiet then until Chanel sauntered over with a plate of cherry pie. She stood at Bucky's side, almost shyly. He grabbed her waist and pulled her down into his lap.
"I brought you some pie," Chanel murmured.
"Thanks, doll," Bucky kissed her cheek.
"He always was a bit of a ladies' man," Betty said to Chanel. "Every week, a new girl on his arm."
"Not true!" Bucky shook his head.
Chanel laughed, leaning against his chest. "Oh, I can imagine. With this face, and that uniform…"
Bucky could feel himself blushing and, thankfully, Betty changed the subject, asking Chanel about how they had met. He wondered if it was hard for her to lie; it didn't seem like it. Her made-up story about meeting him at a bar, spending the night flirting and playing pool, made him wish it was true. Not that anything was wrong with how they met, but her story sounded so–normal. If they were more normal, if he was more normal, would she have said yes to the baby?
Deena grabbed Betty's attention and pulled her away to the other side of the room to watch the children open gifts. Bucky felt Chanel relax against him.
"That was a nice story."
Chanel huffed a laugh, "not as interesting as how we really met, but I don't want to scare her off. Make her think I'm no good for you."
"She likes you. They all do." Bucky opened his mouth as Chanel fed him a piece of pie.
"I like them too."
Bucky felt the blood rush out of his head as Chanel kept feeding him pie. His thoughts were quickly getting inappropriate, and he willed himself not to get hard sitting here in front of his whole family. The worst part was Chanel wasn't even aware of the effect she was having on him. He remembered raunchy talks with the commando's, several of the men insisting that marriage was a death sentence and would ruin the sex. They didn't know what they were talking about, clearly. Because the more Bucky thought about marrying Chanel, about having a life with her forever, the harder it was for him to keep his cock under control.
"No more." Bucky forced himself to refuse the next bite and lifted her off his lap. Later, he reminded himself.
Chanel refilled her drink, glad that Bucky would be the one driving them all the way home tonight, and sat on a plum velvet couch between Deena and Betty. They all laughed as they watched the many great-grandchildren fight for a turn hanging from Bucky's arm. They had all been obsessed with him ever since he stepped through the door. The various parents gave up trying to teach them manners several hours ago. But Bucky didn't seem to be bothered by their questions in the slightest. So many 'whys?' Why do you have it? Why is it gold? Why is it cold? Why won't my mom let you show us how strong it is?
"Are you a good guy or bad guy?"
Chanel's smile faltered when she realized the tiny voice was speaking to her. She quickly recovered, offering a pleasant smile.
"I'm just a regular person, like you."
The little boy tilted his head, his eyes unbelieving. "No, I've seen you on TikTok. You fought Captain America."
"I—"
"None of that stuff is real," an older girl chimed in, "and my mom said that wasn't the real Captain America, anyway."
The boy rolled his eyes and focused on Chanel again. She still hadn't answered his question, good or bad?
Nearly her whole life had been spent telling lies, so why was she at a loss for words as she stared at this child? She was a good guy… now. But the answer was never that simple.
Chanel sighed with relief when Bucky made his way toward them, drawing all the attention away from her. He picked her up easily and spun her around so he was sitting in her spot and she was in his lap.
"Chanel is the best good guy… she might even be the new leader of the Avengers."
"What?" The kid's eyes were wide with disbelief.
"Yup," Bucky beckoned the kid forward as if to share a secret. "She can shoot lasers out of her eyes. I've seen it."
Before the child could beg for Chanel to show him, his fussing mother dragged him away.
"I thought you forgot about me over here," Chanel teased as she snuggled into the safety of Bucky's arms.
"Of course not." Bucky squeezed her waist. "Had to come make sure Betty wasn't sharing anymore embarrassing stories."
Chanel shook her head. "Just the one about you almost getting arrested for indecent exposure."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "That makes it sound much worse than it was!"
The women laughed, and Chanel kissed Bucky's reddening cheek. She stayed there in his lap, giggly and tipsy, until the shadows grew long and the room quiet.
Bucky squeezed Chanel's waist. The feeling of her, warm and soft, underneath his fingers reminded him to check the time. As much as he was dreading the drive home, he was looking forward to getting Chanel in his bed.
"James, let your dame go and help me to my room. I need to lie down."
Betty stood without waiting for Bucky to respond. He was quick to follow, offering her his elbow.
They were quiet as they made their way to her guest room, and Bucky helped her settle onto the bed.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Sit down," Betty patted the edge of the bed.
Bucky did what she asked, still feeling–well, he didn't know how to feel. Overwhelmed didn't begin to cover it.
"You know I'm still older than you, right? I don't remember you being this bossy."
"James–"
Bucky looked up at her light blue eyes, and his joking demeanor dropped. "I missed you."
Betty opened her arms and Bucky fell into them without question.
"I can't believe you've been alive this whole time. I didn't believe Connor when he told me. I didn't think you'd actually show up. Thought he was crazy."
Bucky chuckled, holding her tighter. "I'm so sorry." a wave of tears strangled his voice.
"What in the world are you apologizing for?" Betty sounded exasperated, the same tone she used to use when Bucky didn't play by her rules as a kid.
He sat up and was surprised to find she had been crying too. Her voice certainly didn't sound like it.
"I–should have tried to find you."
Betty waved his words away. "Don't be stupid. Now stop crying and tell me about the girl downstairs that looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."
"Language," Bucky shook his head. It was so easy to slip into the big brother role again. "First, I brought you something." Bucky gave her the blue velvet jewelry box and Betty gasped when she saw the diamond and emerald teddy bear pendant inside.
"James–how much did you spend on this? What am I going to do with this? Wear it on my robe at the nursing home?" Betty snapped the box closed and tried to hand it back to him.
Bucky laughed and refused it. "Well, if I knew you had so much money," Bucky waved his hands around the elegant room. "I would have spent more. I made you a promise. Remember?"
Betty went quiet for a moment, opening the box again as more tears welled in her eyes. "That you'd bring me something pretty."
Bucky nodded and squeezed her frail hand. He tried not to let that affect him, not now. He couldn't think about how much time he may or may not have left with her when he just got her back.
Betty dried her eyes and motioned to the drawer next to her bed. "Give me the black box in there. I have something for you, too."
Bucky did as she said and let out his own gasp when she opened it for him.
"It was mom's, do you remember?"
Bucky nodded quietly and took the box with his shaking hand. Her wedding band. A thin band with intricate lace-like metalwork. A European-cut sapphire sparkled in the middle, surrounded by little white diamonds.
"It was always meant for you and I was the only one crazy enough to save it this whole time. Becca was pissed when I refused to give it to Charles when he got married. It's yours."
"Betty–thank you." Bucky didn't know what else to say. He remembered rolling his eyes every time his mother expressed her excitement to see it on the hand of his wife someday. The fact that she never would was enough to make him crumble. With the ring tight in his grip, he laid on his sister's lap and sobbed. He thought he had suffered the worst of his eternal pain, but this felt new. The wounds were so fresh he could feel every rip of his heart.
"I know it wasn't, Buck—I know."
Bucky hadn't realized he had been talking—yelling, really, about how unfair his whole life had been. Betty held him as tight as she could, her hand rubbing circles on his back.
"S—sorry-sorry—I can't—"
"Deep breaths, take your time."
Bucky nodded, still trying to stop the sobs that were now making him hyperventilate. Betty was patient, humming to him until he fell silent, silent tears still streaming down his face. He sat up and looked at the ring in his hand. The conflicting emotions were exhausting him… his mother wouldn't be here to see it, but Betty would be. Sam would be, and Chanel—he could really have a normal life after all.
"Is she worth it?"
"You have no idea." Bucky sniffled, wiping his red eyes. When he looked up, he smiled at the way Betty's face had lit up. She was happy for him, proud, and that's all he had hoped for.
Bucky was not looking forward to the drive home. The day had been amazing but draining. As they said their last goodbyes and loaded the copious amounts of leftovers Deena insisted they take, Bucky kept his smile in place. But as soon as his car door shut, he let out a tired sigh.
"You better not fall asleep on me," he told Chanel as he put the car in reverse. "You made me a promise. It's the only thing that's gonna get me through this drive."
"Actually," Chanel smiled mischievously, "I have a surprise."
Bucky raised a brow as he exited the driveway. "Is that so?"
Chanel nodded, quickly typing an address into the car's gps. "Just follow the directions."
She gave him no other information, just sat back in her seat with that teasing smile on her lips.
About an hour later, Bucky was pulling up in front of a cute white house in the suburbs.
"Whose house is this?" Bucky sat on the brakes in front of the house.
"Come on, pull into the driveway." Chanel nudged his arm, and Bucky did as she said.
Before he could ask any other questions, she was out of the car and waving for him to follow. Bucky shook his head and let out a little huff, but quickly turned the car off and joined her side.
"You gonna fill me in now?" Bucky asked nervously as Chanel turned the handle on the front door.
She opened the door and turned to face him. Bucky took a quick glance around the inside of the house before sending her a questioning look.
"It's ours for the night," Chanel beamed. "Go get the bags out of the car."
Excitement thrummed in Bucky's veins, and normally he would ask a hundred questions, but tonight, he didn't care. He ran back to the car and found the bags Chanel had snuck in at some point. Chanel was giggling as he jogged back to the front door with a big smile on his face.
"Don't move," he huffed as he slipped past her and set their bags in the hall. He stepped back outside and lifted her into his arms, bridal style. "I don't know how you did this, but I'm gonna ruin you, doll."
"It's just Airbnb," Chanel giggled, running her hands through his hair as he carried her through the house.
It was cute, but Bucky would have to appreciate that more in the morning—maybe while he was making her breakfast—fuck, why did that just make him hard?
He pushed the bedroom door open and laid Chanel on the large bed, immediately joining her. "You couldn't wait until we got home, could you?" His fingers worked frantically to pull the zipper on her skirt down.
Chanel scoffed but helped him pull her skirt and tights down her legs. "I didn't want you driving all the way back tonight; it's been a long day."
Bucky stopped and looked up at her face. A lump caught in his throat. He loved her so damn much he felt he might burst.
"What's wrong? We don't have to if you're tired, baby."
"Doll, you have no idea how much I want to." Bucky kissed the insides of her thighs. "But you're about to."
"Fuck," Chanel mumbled, still running her fingers through his hair.
"Now, lay back and let me relax."
Chanel did as he said and Bucky pushed her to the head of the bed so he could lie on his stomach between her thighs. With the first taste, so uniquely Chanel, he felt his muscles relax and his stress dissipate.
Finally in bed, Bucky snuggled against Chanel's back, holding her as close as he could.
"Thank you for doing this with me," he whispered as he placed a kiss behind her ear. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"I'd do anything for you, Bucky."
Bucky's chest burned pleasantly. "I love you. Get some sleep."
"Love you more," Chanel mumbled.
Bucky held her tight until her breathing evened out, and he knew she was asleep. The ring, now safely tucked away in his backpack, was all he could think about. It wasn't even a question of if he would do it. It was a question of when and how. He never thought he'd even get the chance, maybe in another life, but here and now? Suddenly, he felt like things were moving far too quickly in this new life of his. He never let himself want anything, because he never thought he would have anything. And now so much had been dropped right in his lap in a matter of months. He sat up and took a few calming breaths before he opened the little box again. The ring looked even more beautiful in the moonlight. He could already imagine it on Chanel's finger, the sapphire and diamonds sparkling against her dark skin; the smile he'd put on her face when he asked. How would he do it? How did people propose these days? He'd have to ask Sam for help, of course. Maybe he could do it in Louisiana. Would that be too soon? He'd already been stupid enough to ask her to have a baby with him–and it was definitely too soon for that. But she wasn't running away. He glanced over his shoulder. She had turned on her side, facing him, probably seeking his warmth. His dog tags still hung around her neck and she looked almost innocent as she slept so deeply. He briefly considered never sleeping again if he got to look at her like this every night.
He snapped the box closed and hid it away. He'd ask Sam. Sam would know what to do.
