Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who commented with suggestions and thoughts about what movies they think Bucky and Maggie would watch together. I'm glad that struck a chord (and it makes sense for many of us being inside watching movies is all we've got atm)!

Recommended Listening: Happy by Pharrell Williams; In the Mood by Glenn Miller; Sing Sing Sing by Louis Prima; Stardust by Willie Nelson; Into the Night by Santana ft. Chad Kroeger; Never Gonna Dance by Fred Astaire


Chapter 39- Never Gonna Dance

'Because I'm Happy, Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof...'

Bucky heard the music long before he'd made it to the source, echoing out a fair distance up the path from Jelani's workshop, and likely to the culprit of the noise. He'd been by yesterday for the usual feed delivery and their Tuesday lunch. Not like they hadn't seen one another since last Tuesday. After Casablanca, they'd watched The Godfather on Friday and then started Raging Bull on Monday. They'd had to stop about halfway through, and reading the synopsis decided that highly acclaimed film or not, it wasn't worth their time.

Then yesterday, during their usual lunch hour, they'd made plans to watch Gone With the Wind next, though they hadn't pinned down a time. Now he'd been sent on an errand by Omondi, and Bucky had been unable to reach either Ramirez or Jelani, and he had a feeling he knew why.

He stopped as he came up the path to the workshop where Ramirez was working. Well, Bucky couldn't exactly call what she was doing work. Instead, she was dancing, utterly unaware of his presence. She hadn't heard his approach, and so she danced and sang to herself, belting out the lyrics gleefully. It was a private, almost intimate moment as he watched as she was completely vulnerable and open, without any inhibitions. A moment, he was wrongfully witnessing and intruding upon.

"So, that's what you kids call dancing nowadays?" Bucky said, loud enough to pierce through the din and announce his presence.

Ramirez jumped, startled. Wheeling around to face him, she turned off the music. "Jeezus Barnes, how long have you been standing there?" She gasped, her cheeks tinged pink, her chest heaving from the momentary fright.

"Long enough to realize how long I've been out of the world." He answered vaguely as he took a few steps toward her. "Damn. I'm old." He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"Obscenely." She agreed, walking from the workshop to where he was standing under the tree where they usually met for lunch on Tuesdays, eyeing him curiously.

"So I take it you go out to night clubs and do...that?" Bucky continued, just to see if her blush would spread to the rest of her face and the tips of her ears like Steve.

Instead, she raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying, exactly?" Ramirez answered skeptically, though, with a heavy dose of good humor.

"Nothing." He shrugged, as innocently as he could manage.

She snorted, shaking her head. "Well. Fair is fair, Barnes. How exactly did you "kids" dance back in the day?"

"We danced."

"No, Shit. Let's see it."

"What? Right now?" He asked, glancing around.

"Not scared, are you?" A huge grin spread over her face.

"What? No. No. I happen to be missing some essential prerequisites." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Such as?" She led expectantly.

"An arm for one, and a partner who knows what they're doing for two," Bucky answered, hoping that the hint would be enough for her to drop it.

"James Barnes, I'm hurt you think so little of me."

"After that?" He motioned vaguely, "shouldn't I?"

"Ouch!" She threw her hand against her chest, melodramatically. "You cut me deep, Barnes. You cut me real deep."

"You're funny," Bucky said dryly.

"But Seriously. Show me your moves, how hard could it be?"

Was that a dare? He was almost sure it was. He paused, licking his lips. Well, this had certainly taken an unexpected turn. God, how long had it been? 70-75 years or so. It would be fun, something from the old days, something familiar. He starred down, trying to think through the logistics. The left hand and arm did the hard work. The right arm was basically for balance.

I could reverse it. Use the right hand for everything, and she'll just have to balance herself.

Then there was teaching her the steps. Sure he'd done it with Steve, a million years ago, but that had been when he'd had both arms, and he wouldn't have to reverse engineer the entire thing twice over. It was one thing to mirror or flip which direction you were going. It was another thing to teach it. Bucky looked up at her, meeting her dark, expectant gaze. "Alright. Alright, fine. But if we're going to do this, you're going to have to step on my toes."

"I thought we wanted to avoid that," She said with a pronounced twang.

"So I can show you the steps," Bucky replied shortly.

"No. What am I five?" Ramirez shook her head, removing her work gloves, she shoved them in her back pocket, brushing her hands off.

"I taught Becca how to dance that way. It works."

"What? When she was five?"

"No. She was twelve."

"Not better, Barnes." She laughed.

He examined her expression. Was she laughing at him? At his discomfort? He could feel it coming off him in waves. He hadn't done this in 75 years, to begin with, never mind with only one arm. Now here he was, and she was being like this. Was it just to watch him squirm? Did she know what she was doing? What she was asking?

"Forget it." He said. "It was a stupid idea, anyway."

"Hey," Ramirez said, her tone more gentle now, she took a step toward him. "Just show me the steps. We can practice it a few times and go from there."

"It's not that...it's just..." He couldn't quite verbalize it, but it just felt dumb. Like he was trying to prove something to himself, to her, that he could still do what old Bucky could do.

"Hey." She repeated, she reached out to put her hand on his shoulder, but stopped, letting it fall back down by her side. "This will be fun. Let it be fun."

Bucky looked her up and down. She didn't appear to be making fun of him, she looked like she was actually serious, that she did want him to teach her, that she was curious and did want to know how he danced back in the day.

"Okay." He exhaled, "okay, okay." He nodded, running his fingers through his hair. "So, the steps are step, step, rock step, then repeat. In any normal circumstance, the man would lead to his left, your right but-"

"So to my left, then?"

"Yeah." Bucky took another deep breath. "So yeah, let's practice that."

He took her left hand in his right, and she placed her right hand firmly on his left shoulder. The familiarity of the action would have been comforting if he hadn't had to lead. "Okay, on my count," Bucky said, and Ramirez nodded. "Step," he stepped the wrong way, and Ramirez let out a laugh as he stepped on her foot.

"Maybe I should step on your toes so you won't step on mine." His face flushed a deep scarlet. She cleared her throat, smoothing out her expression. "One bad start isn't the end of the world. Let's go again."

He counted off again, and this time used the correct foot, and they slowly worked their way around the barn. Ramirez focused down on her feet, chanting along as he said the steps in time. "So, there you have it." He said as they came to a stop. He let go of her hand, wiping his sweating palm on his pant leg.

You could've done this in your sleep back in the day, what's wrong with you Barnes?

Seventy-five years and one twice amputated arm. The bitting little voice in the back of his head answered.

"Well, that was fun, can we try it with music? Something up-tempo?" Her voice brought him back

Bucky surveyed her. She looked so sincere. It would've been very nearly endearing had he not been totally on edge. "You have something in mind?" He asked dryly.

"I'm more than a little partial to Glenn Miller's In the Mood." She replied.

"Miller?" He echoed skeptically. She was a beginner, at absolute best, and she wanted to attempt "In the Mood?" This was only going to end in utter catastrophe.

"Yeah. Why?"

Bucky could've suggested any number of slower songs to start with if it had been 70 years ago, but now his mind drew a blank. Damn. "That's a bit fast, don't you think?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, trying to save them the shame and embarrassment this was surely going to cause.

"You're a good teacher." She smiled warmly. "I trust you."

Trust. Right. That. She trusted him, how could she? Why would she?

"What'll it hurt?" She supplied uncertainly.

A lot. It could hurt a lot. He wanted to say, but he couldn't, and so he didn't. Instead, he cleared his throat. Exhaling sharply, he managed an, "Alright then, you ready?" He looked down at her. Her whole body language had changed. She looked focused, yes, but there was something about her that looked...he couldn't quite put a name to it. Eager? Perhaps. Determined? Certainly. But something, almost mischievous, danced on her expression.

"Yes."

"All right, In the Mood by Glenn Miller, it is," He said, watching as she keyed it up on the Kimoyo bracelet, listening as the familiar tones began to filter through the speakers and fill the air around him.

At this, Ramirez extended her hand to him, which he took, and she placed her right hand on his shoulder again, just liked they'd practiced. He wished she wasn't looking at him like that, all trust and enthusiasm and willing, like this wasn't going to end anything other than embarrassment and disaster.

"I follow your lead." She said, a smile in the corner of her mouth.

Bucky nodded, and they began. Mercifully he started on the correct foot and counted as they moved, watching their feet to make sure he didn't step on hers. Ramirez, it seemed, moved almost effortlessly, responding to his verbal and non-verbal cues. "You're a quick-" He looked up and met her gaze. "You've done this before." He said.

Her demure smile spread into a wide grin. "Once or twice." She coughed politely, smoothing her expression.

Bucky nodded, wordlessly looking back down at his feet, watching as they moved. Once or twice. It felt like a gut punch.

She moved with confidence and ease. She'd clearly done this more than just a handful of times. So why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't she said something? Had she been waiting to see what he'd do, being down an arm? Was this some kind of private joke or prank? Had she felt sorry for him? Bucky didn't know, but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone, never mind someone like Ramirez pitying him.

I trust you. She'd said.

What could she possibly mean by that? There were no stakes in this. She knew what she was doing. She didn't have to trust him for anything. Was she saying she trusted him not to hurt her? Trusted him to know how to lead? Trusted him not to make a complete ass of himself? Why would she tell him that she trusted him but not tell him that she knew how to swing dance?

His mind spun, and he could feel a sourness at the back of his throat.

The song ended, and they stopped, stepping backward away from one another, Bucky practically wrenching his hand away.

If she noticed anything, Ramirez didn't say anything. Instead, she chuckled, muttering, "God, its been forever since I've done that," more to herself than to him.

Looking back up at her, Bucky watched for any hint of sarcasm. He found that there was none, not a trace or hint of it anywhere in her expression, her tone. She was serious. Beyond just that, there was a sort of tenderness, a sort of softness to her voice that took him aback.

"When was the last time you danced?" He asked. It was the best compromise he could come up with, rather than asking, 'why didn't you tell me you could dance?'

"Oh. It's been a while. Since before, Riley died. Of course, he was the reason that I learned. Sam and I took swing lessons with Riley for a 1940s themed military ball back before we were married." She answered. "To be honest, I wasn't sure if I remembered how to dance like that. Thanks for the refresher, Barnes." Ramirez smiled.

Bucky nodded. Trying to find his way through the rush of emotions he was feeling. He felt oddly on edge like Ramirez was making fun of him somehow, but that wasn't the case at all. She wouldn't? Would she?

Why does it matter, Barnes? Why do you care?

Because he wanted Ramirez to be his friend, he realized. Because he didn't want her to be one of those people that whispered behind his back as he went past. He wanted something normal in his life, and a friendship between him and Ramirez was about as normal as things might get for him, despite how abnormal their entire situation might be. He wanted that, but he also knew how impossible it all might be.

"Was that your first dance since 1945?" Ramirez asked her voice, pulling him out of his head.

"Yeah." He nodded, bracing himself for whatever comment was to follow.

"You dance very well. You're an excellent leader. When I was learning with Riley and Sam, neither of them could ever quite get the hang of leading."

I'm an excellent leader, really? That had been nothing compared to when he'd been in his prime, before all of this. "You're a good follower." Bucky managed.

"Really?" Genuine surprise crossed her face. "I've always been told that I'm a horrible follower, from when my brother taught me to two-step when I was about six, all the way through proper dance lessons with Riley and Sam."

"You did pretty well, following a guy with one arm." He said, his voice dripping in self-deprecating sarcasm.

"Rather a guy with one arm, than one with two left feet." She chuckled, not unkindly. "All things considered? I think we both did rather well." Pausing, she cocked to the side as the first notes of Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing) started to play. "Oooh." She cooed. "This is a good one."

"You want to go again?" Bucky asked hesitantly, not sure if her reaction was an indication of willingness.

Ramirez raised an eyebrow, "Is that an offer, James Barnes?"

He hesitated. Did he? Did he want to go again? Give it another shot, now that he knew Ramirez wasn't a beginner, and that she might be able to handle going that fast. "Sure." He extended his hand to her, which she took, smiling.

They were able to fall easily into rhythm. The song was, of course, as uptempo as you could get without it being ridiculous. Soon they were moving at some speed around the clearing under the tree, and Ramirez twirled and spun around him with ease. Bucky's mind worked in double time, trying to remember as much as he could and compensate for his missing limb simultaneously. The music blared, and Ramirez laughed breathless as they moved at a nearly frantic pace for two people so clearly out of practice, only a step or two away from total calamity. Yet, Ramirez didn't hesitate as he led her, totally trusting that he would catch her, that he wouldn't lead her astray.

Then he heard it before he realized what was happening. "SHit!" Ramirez screeched, reaching out to try to correct she grabbed a wad of his scarf, and they were both topping toward the ground.

Bucky braced, turning his body so he wouldn't land on top of her and rolled away as they both hit the ground. "Music off!" Ramirez groaned, and the music faded into silence.

"You alright?" Bucky asked, lifting himself into a sitting position. "Ramirez?" He turned to her

She lay flat on her back with a slightly dazed expression on her face, her chest heaving. Then much to his surprise, she started to laugh uncontrollably. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed a deep-chested, nearly full-body laugh. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air between peals of laughter. Bucky sat frozen, unsure if he should call for help. "I-I-I'm o-ok-okay!" She gasped out, trying to catch her breath. She wiped at her face with the heels of her hands, her breath shuddering as the laughter subsided.

Her face was flushed as she sucked in air in large heaving gulps, but there was a massive grin on her face, her eyes closed, a relaxed near peaceful aura exuded from her. Bucky sat beside her, watching as she collected herself, lying in the dirt flat on her back in the middle of the yard. "I think that might be the closest to flying that I'm ever going to get," She commented breathlessly, but offered no further explanation. Then after a moment, Ramirez sat up. "Sorry about that." She winced, rubbing the back of her head gingerly. "You okay there, Barnes?"

"Ye-yes?" He stammered, surprised by her inquiry. "Why?"

"I did pull you to the ground, and then burst into hysterics. That's more than enough reason to ask you if you're all right." She said, brushing off her sleeves and picking grass from her clothes and hair. "So, you all right?"

"Yeah." Bucky managed with a little bit more of a convincing tone. She was worried? About hurting or upsetting him? He couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea, particularly since that even down an arm, he could probably still seriously injure, if not kill her. It wasn't something that he liked thinking about, but it was the reality of the situation. Yet, here they were, Ramirez was asking if she had hurt him.

"So. Now that I've sidetracked you completely. Did you need something? Or were you just here to judge my dancing skills?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah." Bucky said, remembering why he'd initially been sent. "Omondi needed to borrow a couple of tools from Jelani."

"That's right, Jelani did tell me that Omondi might be sending someone by. I didn't know it was going to be you." She commented, rising to her feet, doing her best to brush the dirt and grass off her clothing. "Let me get those for you." She said, rushing back into the workshop.

"Omondi and his village are going to slaughter and roast some of the herd tonight, in honor of the King's birthday. He asked me to pass along the invitation to you, and Jelani and his family to join him." Bucky called, hoping that his voice was carrying over the sound of bumping and crashing noises coming from the workshop.

"Jelani and Sisay mentioned something about that before they left on their house call." She answered, from somewhere out of his direct line of sight.

"So you'll come?" He asked, wincing at the overeager hopefulness in his voice. "I mean if you want. You don't have to if you have something else going on. Just thought I'd offer."

"I was thinking about it. It's been a while since I've had cabrito." Ramirez mercifully interjected into his ramblings as she re-emerged from the shed, carrying a small tool bag in both hands. "Here you are." She said, stopping a few feet in front of him and extending the pouch to him.

"Thanks." He took it from her, adjusting the weight in his hand. Bucky stopped, watching Ramirez curiously as she ran her foot over the dirt as if looking for something.

"Ah, ha! There it is." She looked up at him, an expression of triumph across her face. "The only major dip in this entire patch of ground, and I find it with my foot while going approximately 100 miles an hour."

"Approximately?" Bucky echoed.

"Yeah, approximately," She chuckled, shaking her head. "Again, thank you for humoring me. It's been a long while since I've danced with anyone. Really, Barnes, I appreciate your patience and willingness."

Bucky nodded slowly, still feeling on edge, still feeling like he was being made the butt of some joke, but also feeling less so than he had before. "You'll have to teach me some of your moves, sometime, Ramirez."

"You can count on it." She said, her grin widening. "But I'll let you get back to it. See you tonight?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you then." He nodded before making his way from the workshop.

Walking back down the path, he heard her put on music again. This time it was softer, quieter. He could just make out the tune, Stardust. It was the version of the song she'd played back on the ranch, and it was a sad, practically mournful little melody.

What have I done? He couldn't help but wonder. Everything felt wrong. Something had happened. They'd been joking around, and then it hadn't been a joke anymore. They'd been having a casual conversation, and then it hadn't been. In an instant, something harmless had become harmful; something innocent had become volatile. They'd crossed a line, how and why, and in what way, Bucky wasn't entirely sure. What had her comment about flying been about? Why did he feel there was somehow a connection between Stardust, her dead husband, and the comment. To him was the logical progression, but what did it all mean?

Then, on top of wondering what was going on with Ramirez, he felt angry for some reason, if not a bit hurt. Not at her, per se, but at the entire situation. Why can't you act normal for once? His brain screamed at him. This wouldn't have been a problem for him, way back when. He wouldn't be micro-analyzing every conversation, wouldn't be concerned with what she thought, wouldn't have a reason to be concerned if this was 1942 if he was the Bucky from before all of this, all of this shit.

Well, it's not 1942, pal.

That was the reality, and that was the problem. He wasn't the Bucky from before, from 1942, there was no way he could be; he knew this on an instinctive, nearly cellular level. Yet he wanted to be. Ramirez, for whatever reason, made him want to be the man he'd been before.

Bucky shook his head. It didn't matter. It was a stupid and impossible thought anyway. The idea of normal, the idea of him being normal now or ever again, was utterly ridiculous. What exactly their little exchange meant, what any of it meant would have to be left until later, if she actually came to the party, and if he got a chance to talk with her. Until then, he was left with only his thoughts and consolation in the Stardust of a song.


Magdalene Ignacia Ramirez! What have you done? Maggie could practically hear Riley laugh as he rushed to turn off the water main. They'd been doing some renovations on the kitchen, and one false move had busted one of the old pipes, quickly sending water everywhere and soaking her to the bone.

That's what this felt like. That she'd made one false move, and now water was spouting from the line and drenching everything within reach. She hadn't meant to, she really hadn't, but in the pit of her stomach, she knew that her intentions didn't matter.

She'd crossed a line, crossed an invisible boundary. It had been written all over the man's face. She hadn't really thought about what she was asking. It hadn't occurred to her what dancing might mean to him, might represent. To be honest, Maggie really hadn't thought anything of it. Barnes had made fun of her dancing, and so she had asked him to show her how he'd danced back in the day. Part of her had been trying to figure out how far she could push him, how flustered she could make him if she could rustle his feathers. Boy had she been successful. Probably a little too successful.

That was until she'd seen it on his face. She shouldn't have pushed him, should've told him that she did know how to dance. But that hadn't been the point, it hadn't matted, or at least she'd thought it hadn't mattered.

Then there had been the pure leaden resignation in his voice when he'd realized, and she'd seen the full brunt of her mistake written all over his face.

Damn.

Frankly, she felt like an ass. Mostly, She'd been an idiot. She should've just stopped pushing, stopped insisting, given him an out. But she hadn't. And it had devolved into an impromptu "Let's talk about how Your Disability Impacts Your Life" session.

You're not his therapist. You're not his girlfriend. You're barely his friend. If EVEN.

But they'd made it work, right? It had been fine, they'd managed it, and he'd even offered to go again. Had he been fine? There had been a moment, a few moments where he could see him struggling, see him fighting with himself. It wasn't like he'd had much time, reason, occasion, or opportunity to confront his disability. How much had he processed? How much could anyone speak to the fact that he'd lost the same arm twice? That he'd lost the same arm twice in two very traumatic circumstances.

The second time might not have happened if you'd just told Steve.

And how exactly would that conversation have gone? Oh, by the way, your best friend, the man we've devoted hundreds, if not thousands of hours searching for, that guy, he killed Tony Stark's parents.

Maggie shook her head. Didn't matter. She couldn't change it now, and she certainly couldn't think like that.

She had to focus on the present, on the now, because she couldn't think about what had happened or what might happen without completely losing her head. Aside from that, she had other things to worry about. It was the King's birthday, and while it wasn't the entire nation showing up in Omondi's village, it would be crowded, and the King and his family were expected to make an appearance. Meaning she, and very likely Barnes, had to be on their best behavior. Not that they wouldn't be, of course, it was just an added stressor to an already stressful situation.

Maggie sighed as she picked up her comb and started working through her hair.

Since when had social interaction been considered a stressor for her? She'd always been a bit of a social butterfly and genuinely enjoyed being around people.

Since Juarez, when crowds meant danger, and people meant problems. Since you speak tourist level Wakandan. Since your only normal point of human contact is a man who spent the last 70 years being repeatedly frozen, brainwashed, and sent out periodically to murder and maim.

And now she'd probably ruined that too. She'd made him uncomfortable, more than normal, more than appropriate for their level of interpersonal connection.

She shook her head, twisting her hair into the green, blue, and black fabric that matched the fabric of the jumpsuit Teela had suggested she wear for the occasion. The color scheme was from the river tribe, and the way that Maggie understood it, the bolt of fabric had been a gift from the river tribe given to Teela, who had, in turn, commissioned a few pieces of clothing for every woman in the village. Teela had given it to her with a little note attached, Merry Christmas. Christmas wasn't for a few more days, and of course, the Wakandans had their own celebrations that didn't involve western, Christian traditions. However, the fact that Teela had been thoughtful enough to make mention of it, was incredibly touching, and Maggie knew that she had to wear the beautiful garment at least once before returning to her usual pants, button-down, and boots.

Securing her hair, she slipped on the large copper earring, before quickly surveying her reflection in the mirror. She looked exhausted, but the dark circles around her eyes had eased since she'd arrived in Wakanda. Certainly, her stress and anxiety levels had gone down, which was good. Still, tonight and all of its festivities were looking to be yet another stressful situation, thanks in no small part to her misstep earlier in the day.

"Hey, cowgirl! You ready!" Jelani's voice called. "You coming?"

"Be right there!" She called back. Casting one last look in the mirror, and slipping on her kimoyo bracelet, she walked out where Tee, Jelani, Sisay, and a few others from the village were waiting, all on horseback. Fortunately, Stella was already saddled, and Maggie quickly mounted. Wordlessly, the group started toward Omondi's village at a gentle trot.

It was a quick journey on horseback, and Maggie focused on what she was doing, rather than what the afternoon had entailed. She tried not to think about the fact that she'd upset Barnes. She tried not to think about the fact that it was the first time she'd danced like that since Riley had passed away. Tried not to think about Stardust, or about how long it had been since he'd passed away, or think about the fact that when she'd danced with Barnes, she'd felt like she was flying. She tried not to think about the fact that she desperately wanted to dance again and dance properly with the man who had ruined her life, and who despite everything, was quickly becoming one of her friends. Yet the thoughts plagued her, try as she might, even as she knew in her heart of hearts that it didn't matter what she wanted. If she'd misstepped, if she'd pushed him too hard, and too far, there wouldn't be another time. That if she'd ruined this, it was all on her.

By the time they arrived, the sun was starting to get low, giving the landscape a purplish hue. Dismounting, they stabled their horses, and Teela took her by the hand, leading her through the party to meet a number of the local women.

For her part, Maggie struggled to keep up, but smiled and nodded, trying to remember names and modes of address. When they'd finally made it through the gauntlet, Teela handed her a drink, patting her amiably on the back. "You did well. Are you okay?"

"Of course." Maggie smiled, taking a sip from the drink Teela had given her. It was a coconut and mango combination, with the faintest bit of alcohol. What exactly was in it, Maggie didn't know but felt it was probably better not to task.

"Good." She paused. "You have been a good and considerate guest in our village. But you need not consider yourself a guest, Magdalene."

"Thank you. You have been a kind and gracious host. I am honored." Maggie said.

"You should not feel so obligated to us." Teela continued.

"Obligated?" Maggie echoed.

"Yes. You feel you must socialize, must come to all of these events, must do everything you are invited to. You are allowed to say no. You are not obligated to us." Teela explained.

"Oh." She glanced down into her drink. Was it that obvious she was miserable at socializing at the moment? Was she being rude? Surely, Teela, or Jelani, or someone would've said something by now. "I do not want to appear ungracious, disrespectful, or disinterested in your country and it's customs, practices, and traditions. Particularly since you have allowed me to live among you, rather than cloistered off in the city."

"There is very little you could do to insult us. That you have put so much thought into not insulting us is telling of your character, but you should not worry so, you both shouldn't worry." Teela replied, her gaze moving past Maggie to a commotion that was taking place behind her.

"Both?" Maggie stammered, turning to follow Teela's line of sight. "Oh."

The source of the noise was none other than James Barnes. A group of four kids had attached themselves to his arm, and he was swinging them as they giggled and laughed in sheer delight. Maggie couldn't help but smile at the sight, as he laughed and smiled along with them, seemingly happy to facilitate them and whatever game it was he'd become a part of. It seemed a sort of universal truth was unfolding before her eyes, a group of children around a much larger, stronger adult, will always want to use them as a climbing frame.

Perhaps what was more striking was that he was laughing and smiling amicably and that to her amazement, she realized that she had never seen him do so before. Not like this, not to this degree. Sure, she'd managed, at least once or twice, to coax out a laugh or a smile while they were watching a movie, or talking during lunch, but this was something else. Was this what he had been like with his sisters? She could imagine, thinking about the photographs, a young Becca doing something similar to what she saw now. Bucky's face all soft and warm lines, something unspeakably kind in his eyes and mouth. Maggie realized as she watched that somehow this felt special. As though she was glimpsing something rare, something from the "before," untouched and untarnished by time, something incorruptible to outside influences.

He looked up, meeting her gaze, and Maggie looked away and down, trying to find anywhere else to look. Next to her, Teela cleated her throat, and Maggie starred down in her drink, trying to will away the blush that was rising on her face. She'd been caught staring, and even Teela had noticed.

"Is he looking at us?" Maggie muttered under her breath into her glass.

"Yes. He's coming this way."

Maggie sucked in more drink than she'd meant to, partially choking. Coughing, she looked back up to find that he was disentangling himself from the kids and was making his approach.

"Heyi, White Wolf, It is good to see you!' Teela called as he walked toward them.

"Madame Teela."

"Please, please, just Tee is fine." She said, "Now if you both would excuse me, I need to see what my husband and child have gotten up to." Patting Maggie on the back, she disappeared into the throngs of people.

Hesitantly, Maggie looked up and met Barnes's curious gaze. "Hi." She offered breathlessly.

"Hi." He looked her up and down uncertainly.

Maggie opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a group of kids who came rushing past, laughing and joking, calling, "White Wolf!" As they passed.

"You're popular," Maggie commented.

"Strange one-armed white guy, remember?" He said dryly.

"Law of nature Barnes, small children are constantly in search of something to climb onto or hang off of. You're just a convenient target."

"Because I'm the strange one-armed white guy."

Maggie sighed, nodding, "Point taken."

There was a long pause as they both surveyed one another. Barnes had changed from his usual trousers, and button-down with the sleeve ripped off, and instead wore a more traditional looking set of Wakandan pants and robe, with matching scarf. Rather than his usual red and blue color scheme, he was in darker browns and blues, a thick leather belt cinching up the fabric, the scarf, as usual, hiding his pronounced lack of an arm. Someone, or perhaps he'd managed it with one hand, had put his hair up into a half up half down bun, and he'd even trimmed and groomed his beard.

They made eye contact, and Maggie smiled. "You look nice."

"Thanks, so do you."

"Thanks."

There was yet again another pause, as they tried to find what to say next.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Barnes admitted hesitantly after a moment. "After this afternoon, I mean."

Maggie glanced up at him. "If anyone has a right to be avoiding anyone after this afternoon, it would be you."

He frowned, furrowing his brow.

"I want to apologize, Barnes, I realized after you left that I had been a little too forceful, and tremendously inconsiderate."

Barnes nodded thoughtfully, taking a moment to chose his words before he spoke. "You can't make me do anything I don't want to do, Ramirez."

But it was awkward. It was uncomfortable. It did push you out of your comfort zone in a way I had no right to ask, demand, or force. She wanted to say it, but she didn't. I'm not making fun of or making light of you or your disability. But this wasn't the right time, place, or moment for that. Not right now, in front of the Wakandans, when this was supposed to be a celebration, and they could be interrupted at any moment.

"Well, I wouldn't want force to come into the equation in any context. I'll do my best to be more mindful in the future." She managed, as light-heartedly as she could manage.

He nodded again. "I'm glad you came." He continued after a moment.

"I'm glad you came too. These things are always easier to bear when you're not alone."

"Yeah." He agreed softly.

You wanna get out of here? She almost asked. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to ask. After all, it was clear they both didn't want to be there. They could slip away and watch a movie at his place. They were still trying to pin down when they were going to watch Gone With The Wind. Why not tonight? "So when did you want to watch our next film?" She inquired slowly.

"Gone with the Wind? You're really serious about watching all of those old movies with me?"

"Well. Yeah. I mean, if you'll have me." She stammered.

"Why?" He asked.

Oh boy. She hadn't expected him to ask. Why would he? Maggie took a deep breath, trying to find a way to not make this about her dead husband. "I've never seen a lot of these," She began slowly.

"I meant, why do you want to watch them with me?"

"Oh." She'd asked herself the same question it felt like a thousand times over, and it always came down to, I'm lonely, what the hell else am I going to do? But it didn't feel like that, not when they were actually sitting there watching the films. They'd only watched Casablanca and Godfather together (and part of Raging Bull, if you counted that before she'd rage quit over the pedophilia), but she'd been able to ask him questions during Casablanca. Then after watching The Godfather, he'd asked her about the differences between the book and the movie. They'd been able to relax around one another without the pressure of a performance. But she couldn't say that, not without it being weird, or weirder than their entire relationship already was.

"Well." She continued. "Believe it or not, Barnes, but I think I'm starting to enjoy your company."

He snorted, shaking his head, before he looked her over, his expression changing. "You're serious."

I know, I'm as surprised as you are. Maggie would've said, but that felt mean spirited. Instead, she nodded with a faint smile, "So far as I can tell." She said, trying to convey as much as possible that she was being sincere. And of course, she was being sincere, but she couldn't help but note Barnes's skepticism.

"Oh," Barnes replied slowly.

"I wouldn't spend time with you if I thought you were a total asshole."

"Just a partial one?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Only when you want to be."

He chuckled, nodding. Opening his mouth to say something, he was cut off by a loud commotion, and they both turned to see none other than King T'Challa, Nakia, Princess Shuri, and the Queen Mother entering the village, flanked by some of the Doras, including the General, Okoye.

Maggie watched as they moved through the crowds of people, wishing the King a happy birthday. "Barnes, what's the Wakandan convention on gift-giving for the King's Birthday?" She managed under her breath.

"You know, I hadn't really thought about that until you just asked."

"I mean, what would we even begin to give a King?"

"Beats me." He shrugged.

"Well, it's not too late to sneak—"

"Barnes, Magdalene, I'm honored you came." The King said as he approached.

Barnes shot her a look that she couldn't quite decipher, "The honor is ours." He said before she could manage to find her words.

"Happy Birthday, your highness." Maggie managed. "I'm afraid we didn't think to bring anything in honor of your name day."

At this, the King shook his head. "No, no. While gift-giving is customary during a name day celebration, as King, I have the special privilege of bestowing gifts."

"That really isn't necessary," they blurted out at once.

The slightest hint of a smile, upturned at the corner of his mouth, and he nodded, regally. "That may be so, but never the less, it is my right." He said, removing two Kimoyo beads from his pocket. "It is my understanding that two of your holidays are forthcoming, and that likewise, it is customary to receive messages of goodwill from friends and family, and return messages in kind." He extended the first one to Barnes. It was slowly flashing a blue color rather than it's usual white, and he took is uncertainly, holding it in his hand, inspecting it carefully. The King then turned to her, giving her the second one, which flashed a purple color. "Messages for you, from Captain Rogers, and Samuel Wilson. You may record your own message and leave your beads with Omondi and Jelani. They will get them to the appropriate people who will deliver your messages."

"Thank you, your highness." Maggie stammered, placing the bead on her bracelet.

"Thank you." Barnes chorused.

"I will let you enjoy your evening. Thank you again for coming." He nodded before returning to the main party.

Maggie could feel Barnes exhale a long breath beside her. "You were saying." He commented dryly after a beat of silence.

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes. "I spoke too soon, or not soon enough. Although I don't think I can decide which is worse."

"Well. Regardless, we still got V-mail. That's something."

Maggie nodded, "That is something." She paused, chewing on the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad they were able to get a message through, I've been wondering how they're doing."

"Yeah. Me too." He agreed.

They faded off into silence, watching the activities of the party as they unfolded. Then the Princess Shuri called her name. "Magdalene! Magdalene, come here. I must teach you to dance!"

All eyes of the party, and it felt the whole of Wakanda, turned to her, and Maggie could feel as the blush rose on her cheeks. "If you'd excuse me." She managed before throwing back the rest of her drink.

"Of course." Barnes nodded, a curious and playful expression on his face, his hands still balled around the Kimoyo bracelet.

"Wish me luck," Maggie murmured, before walking through the crowd and toward where the Princess was beckoning her.


Bucky watched her walk away and into the crowd, where a group of women had started to gather around where the Princess would be teaching Ramirez the steps to the dance.

Although he couldn't make out what was being said, Bucky could see that Ramirez was listening intently, her face bent in extreme focus and concentration.

It was a traditional Wakandan dance for women. What it's significance was Bucky. Couldn't entirely figure out, but as the music started, all of the women, including The Princess, Queen Mother, and Nakia, lined up and started to dance and sing along. Ramirez did her best to keep[ up, laughing and smiling as she fumbled a step, her face bright in the light of the massive bonfire that had been built up in the center of the village. The light danced on her face, illuminating her eyes, and smile.

Was that how she'd looked while they were dancing. He couldn't recall, and they'd been close, closer than Bucky was to her now. Only then, he'd been focused on his own steps, worried, practically frantic, afraid to make a misstep, afraid to make an ass out himself, or incur Ramirez's laughter, her scorn.

Only she'd been the one to apologize. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. Had his discomfort been that obvious? Had he made her feel guilty? She hadn't done anything wrong, not really. It had all been in his head rather than something she'd personally done or said. As he'd told her, there wasn't anything that she could do to force him into anything he didn't want to do—all that pressure, all that expectation, that had been internal.

She'd said she didn't want force to enter the equation, and she'd apologized. Should he apologize for his behavior? He didn't know. Steve might know, Wilson would certainly know how to respond to Ramirez.

Jeezus, asking Steve for advice on how to talk to a woman. It was almost more than he could bear.

Bucky shook his head, glancing down at the Kimoyo bead he was rolling between his fingers. A message from Steve. It would be good to hear his voice again, hear what they were up to, know if they were safe. He'd, of course, send a message back to Steve. That, however, was more troubling.

What was he going to say? What could he say? He'd even forgotten that it was nearly Hanukkah. Time, it seemed, moved differently in Wakanda, moving fast and yet not at all. He would report, of course, that he was fine. That's always how V-mail started. It didn't matter if it was coming or going; you always started with reassurance. You were fine, the family was fine, the neighbors, postman, milkman, however, they were all in good health. After that, there'd be the local gossip, who'd gotten married, who was carrying on with the girl down the street, before talking about the weather or something to fill the space. Then you'd wish them well before you signed off.

They didn't necessarily all go like that, but that was the general format. Becca had been a master at writing interesting letters. Of course, the letters had all been in her handwriting, but Bucky could always tell which parts were hers and which parts she'd directly copied from their folks.

Fortunately, Becca had never had to find ways to couch bad news with a positive spin. Other guys in the 107th hadn't been so lucky. Deaths or severe illness in the family were the most common. One had received a Dear John, that had been difficult to watch.

So what was Bucky going to say? What was there to say? What was he willing to say when it would likely be listened to by the Wakandans and then overhead by Steve's team. What could he say that would approximate the truth without worrying Steve, but also not sound totally made up.

He paused at the sound of laughter and focused back on what was happening. Ramirez was laughing and clutching her side, even as she continued to dance, badly, by comparison to the others dancing around. Still, she was grinning and laughing and apparently enjoying herself.

What would she say to Wilson? Would she report that she'd happy and well adjusted? Would she tell him about their movie nights, or that they'd danced under the trees and she'd tripped and dragged him to the ground? Would she tell Wilson that she was lonely and unhappy? That she was bored and didn't have any friends? Bucky didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know how he figured into her world.

"Heyi, White boy!" The Princess Shuri called, and he turned to see her waving him over. "Come and let me teach you how to dance."

Ramirez stood at his side, looking mortified. Catching his eye, she mouthed, 'Sorry!'

Bucky hesitated, momentarily frozen in indecision. This should be fun, let it be fun. He could hear her say.

Letting the Kimoyo bead slide onto the bracelet, he nodded, walking through the parting crowd to where they were standing.

"Well, Ramirez, you did say you'd show me some of your moves." He commented dryly as he joined them.

"She did?" The Princess raised an eyebrow.

"She did," Bucky confirmed, glancing between the Princess and Ramirez, who was blushing, her ears tinged with pink. "So. Who's going to show me how it's done?"

He'd figure out what message to record for Steve later. He'd figure out how to cope with everything he'd been dealing with later, but for right now, he was going to let tonight, let right now be fun.


So. The Title of the chapter is actually in reference to a wonderful Fred Astaire song (as featured in the playlist/recommended listening). It is from the film Swing Time starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Unfortunately, the movie has a horrible blackface number, but (aside from the horrible racism) is a quaint little film with some wonderful dance numbers.

That aside! What did we think? I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS and only more feelings to come! I hope you all enjoyed it! I can't wait to hear what you think, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding. Life threw me some very interesting curve balls over the past few weeks, so writing has been a little low on the priority list.

Happy Reading!