pppppp
And I don't know how I survived those days
Before I held your hand
Well I never thought that I would be the one
To admit that the moon and the sun
Shine so much more brighter when
Seen through two pairs of eyes than
When seen through just one.
Cowboy Junkies, "Anniversary Song"
oOoOoOo
Stark Mansion, Malibu CA
May 16, 2012
Steve's hand is tight in her hair, Bucky's arm nearly painful around her waist, but Toni isn't going to ask them to let go. Not now. Not when everyone's been through so much to get here. The quinjet's been on the ground for at least ten minutes, but no one's moving. She's certainly not inclined to do so either, not when she's got her fingers through Bucky's hair and is half-smothering herself in Steve's side.
Her soulmarks are hot under her skin, pulsing brands that sing and churn with emotions too complex and knotted to easily identify. Tears well behind her closed eyelids, and her smile, she's sure, is as blinding as the sun.
Steve's hand loosens first, disentangling from Toni's hair with reluctance, and he pulls back, clearing his throat as he does so. Both she and Bucky reach out for him, still clinging to each other, but he just keeps stepping back, out of their reach, with a fond smile.
"I made dinner," he says gently, and bends to pick up his shield. "It'll burn if I don't take care of it."
"You're worried about dinner?" Toni squeaks, then clears her throat with an embarrassed flush as her marks flood with amusement on both sides. "Shut up," she mutters, clearing her throat again. "I'm emotional."
Bucky presses a kiss into her hair, arm tightening around her. "Nobody said a word," he says. "But I'm with Toni on this one, Steve. Dinner? Now?" Steve does something with his eyebrows, and Bucky goes still in Toni's arms. "Oh," he says, in a completely different tone that has Toni's eyebrows raising. " Dinner . Damn, Stevie. I didn't think you'd do that this soon."
"Been seventy years, Buck," Steve replies, and taps the door release with the side of his fist. He smiles at them both, soft and tender, as the door starts lowering. "It's been long enough, don't you think?"
Toni frowns after him, then looks up at Bucky. Her confusion deepens at the awestruck look on his face. "I'm missing something here," she says quietly.
Bucky blinks, shakes himself out of it, then turns her in his arms until she's facing him. "Yeah, doll," he says with a tiny grin and bumps her forehead with his. "You are. But I ain't gonna ruin it. This is Steve's thing."
Toni frowns as he steps back, picking up a gym bag and his rifle before throwing her a wink and heading for the ramp leading to the courtyard. "I hate it when people don't tell me things," she mutters, and clomps in disgruntlement after Bucky. "J, be a good kid and lock the quinjet down."
LIghts start dimming down around her, accompanied by the soft whine of mechanical parts spinning dormant. "Shall I also lock the flight controls of the Mark VIII down, ma'am? There was some mention of Bora-Bora, after all."
"Oh, bite me," Toni grumbles. "Let the popsicles know I'm tucking Eight into bed, grabbing a shower, and I'll be up for dinner when I'm done."
"Very well, ma'am."
Screw it, she thinks spitefully, but she's allowing herself the indulgence just this once. It's catty and it's childish and it's unwarranted, but she really does need a shower, and she's not above a little petty behaviour when she's being stonewalled.
"Captain Rogers notes, ma'am, that a shower is a good idea, and he will take the time to clean himself up also. He humbly requests that you wear, and I quote, 'something nice', as this is an important meal."
Toni sighs noisily, and activates her boot jets, lifting off the ground and moving towards the hangar bay doors. "Fine," she says. "I'll dress nice. I'll dress so nice, I'll knock his fuckin' socks off."
"Of course, ma'am," JARVIS replies. "Though that may prove to be more difficult than initial thought, as Captain Rogers also wears loafers or boots over his socks."
Toni actually feels his teeth grind together. "JARVIS, I am going to—"
"Recompile me into a Blackberry?" JARVIS cuts smoothly in. "Yes, ma'am. I've made a note in your LIst of Things To Always Threaten But Never Do. It is currently prioritized under 'repulsor Clint in the ass the next time he steals your apples' and just above 'buzz Bill Gates' house because principle demands it'. Shall I prepare the armor case while you are landing, ma'am?"
"Yes," Toni says, and she's still sullen as she swoops into the hangar, and the doors close silently behind her. "And start the shower in my suite while you're at it. You know my preferences. Do I have an inventory available for the contents of my closet?"
"Of course, ma'am. I have been provided with visual access to your wardrobe. Ms. Potts insisted."
"Of course she did." Despite the flash and the media focus on her antics, Toni doesn't require every landing be a three-point crouch. Sometimes, namely when she's not in the mood to fill and roll the dents in her flight deck floor, she alights like a butterfly on a flower, and her boots barely make a noise as they touch down.
By the time she's arranged Mark VIII to her liking in its docking station, she's chosen a dress, shoes, a hairstyle and accessories, all from images displayed from JARVIS's databanks. She strips as she moves from the hangar and up two floors to her bedroom, shedding clothing wherever each piece lands.
She hears voices from further down the hallway, but decides against investigating. She's fairly sure that she could successfully derail her soulmates from whatever plans they've been cooking up, but a shower sounds fabulous, so she turns into her bedroom instead and heads straight for the shower, already running and at the perfect JARVIS-controlled temperature.
oOoOoOo
Steve
Not for the first time, Steve thanks the long-deceased Erskine for the miracle of Rebirth, because he would never have managed to finish the prep work on the meal and get it into the serving dishes on the table without enhanced reflexes, peak hand-eye co-ordination and speed. JARVIS had helpfully turned off all the heat sources under the food, but spoilage had been a near thing.
"Thank you again for your help, JARVIS," he says as he takes one last critical look over the table, calculates again with some minor fretting how he's going to make the meal for two stretch for three, with Bucky here.
"Of course, Captain Rogers," the AI replies pleasantly. "Ma'am is nearly finished in the shower and will soon be getting dressed. Might I suggest a similar plan for yourself?"
Steve checks the watch embedded in the arm of his tactical armor and starts. He's been in here doing this longer than he wanted to be. "Probably for the best," he says, and forces himself not to look back at the table one more time, because if he does, he'll be there forever.
With the shower running in the main bedroom, he regretfully goes to the spare room, where he'd been staying before moving into the room with Toni. He speeds through the fastest shower he's ever taken and dresses just as swiftly in slacks and a button-down shirt. Those fashions, at least, don't seem to have changed much in the last seventy years, but he still has a small pang of regret he hasn't had more time to figure out more modern styles.
Bucky's sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his tactical gear, phone in hand and tinny game music just barely audible. He looks up when Steve enters, slips his phone into his pocket and grins. "Well," he says, eyes raking up and down Steve's body, "don't you look nice. You must have a date with a pretty gal or something."
Steve eyes Bucky right back, and starts moving towards him. "Gal and a fella," he says. "So you should probably shower and change. There's a dress code at the Rogers table, after all."
To his surprise, Bucky just smiles and shakes his head. "Naw, Stevie. This dinner ain't for me. I'm not gonna intrude on what you have planned for you and Toni."
Steve blinks, opens his mouth, but Bucky surges forward and shuts him up with a quick, heated kiss, then steps back out of range again before Steve's got the wherewithal to reach for him. "You're in this relationship too," Steve says, clearing his throat.
"I am," Bucky replies, "but you and me already got to have that meal. Toni deserves it too, yeah? Wouldn't be right for me to get my own and her to have to share." He shrugs, and unzips the front of his jacket, drawing the tab down deliberate and slow.
Steve clears his throat again, shakes his head to try and rid himself of the heat suffusing his cheeks, but can't pull his eyes away from the bare skin of his soulmate revealed little by little. "What're you doing, Bucky?" he asks softly.
"Getting you nice and riled up for Toni. Seems like a considerate thing to do." Bucky drops his jacket at arm's length, and it hits the floor with a loud thump.
Steve swallows, trying to wet a suddenly dry throat. "You gonna go do this for Toni too?" He does not squeak. Captain America does not squeak. Captain America also does not get inappropriately timed erections at the sight of Bucky's bare shoulders, but no one told his penis that.
Bucky just laughs and stretches, smug and showing off since he knows it would take a movement of the earth for Steve to look away at this point. "Hell no. That dame's hornier than Pamplona in July. I go in to flash her a bit of skin and one of two things'll happen. Either she'll see some teeny tiny fuckin' dent in my arm and want to take care of it right away, or she'll jump me all sideways and slinky, and we'll end up fucking hard and rough against the wall."
Steve swears under his breath as his eyes close involuntarily at the mental image and his entire body tenses to a quivering strain. "Jesus Christ, Buck," he says hoarsely, and rubs his hand over his face. "Someone needs to turn you over their knee for the filth that comes outta your mouth."
"Is that an offer, Steven? I didn't think Captain Fuckin' America had that kinda kink in him."
Steve growls and swipes out, wrapping his hand around Bucky's upper arm and yanking him in. "Buck," Steve murmurs, and watches Bucky's eyes darken. He slides his hands into Bucky's hair, brushes his thumbs over Bucky's forehead, and walks backwards until Bucky's back hits the wall. He gets a sly, wicked grin in return, the saucy tilt of Bucky's head, and feels a growl rumble in his chest.
"Stevie," Bucky says, sweet as sin, sliding his arms around Steve's waist and canting a hip directly into Steve's groin. "Somethin' I can do for you?"
"Mmph," Steve says cleverly, then bends and slots his lips over Bucky's. "I missed you," he mutters, sinking his teeth into Bucky's lower lip. His eyes flutter shut and he groans as Bucky's hand slides under the waistband of his pants, fingers skittering over his abdomen. "Christ, Buck," he groans. "I missed you."
"MIssed you too," Bucky murmurs back, curling his hand around Steve's hip and cupping Steve's jaw with the other. "Didn't sleep well this week. Bed was too empty."
"You should have come with us," Steve says, tilting his cheek more firmly into Bucky's hand.
"Couldn't. You know that." Bucky's thumb sweeps under Steve's eye one final time, and the warmth of his hand drops away. "Fuckin' killed me too, watchin' you two fly off without me. I mean," he adds, as their blended mark heats with the tiniest bloom of guilt that Steve knows always means Bucky's telling a half-truth, "it was kinda a relief too, because you two would've kept hiding behind me forever to avoid each other. But that got real old real quick."
"It's fine, Buck," Steve says with a gentle smile, gives into the urge to reach out and run his fingers through Bucky's hair, mostly because he enjoys the way Bucky's head tilts up and his eyes close like a cat's at the petting. Toni does that too, comes the idle thought, and he smiles as the realization sinks in a little deeper. "Everything worked out in the end."
"Mmph." Bucky cracks an eye to level a look at Steve, but Steve is unfazed. "Suppose it did. Which brings me to ask, the fuck are you doing standing around here pawing at me?" His grin surfaces again, sharp and sly. "Don't you have a girl you gotta go marry or somethin'?"
"Suppose I do at that." He turns, hesitates, looks back. "What're you going to do while we're eating?"
Bucky shrugs, smiles and bends to start unlacing his boots. "I'll find something to occupy my time, Stevie. Plenty of makework to do."
oOoOoOo
Toni
The warm glow of candlelight greets her as she makes her way down into the dining room she's vaguely surprised she has. She's certainly never eaten a meal in it before, because what she can't take to the lab for consumption is generally eaten at the island counter in the kitchen. But as she enters the dining room now, she's suddenly glad she went to the extra effort of digging out the little black dress she reserves for schmoozing new clients at fancy restaurants, because Steve pulled out allthe stops.
She's not even sure where he dug up the old-timey radio set up in the corner, softly playing 40s-style jazz. There's a real, legit tablecloth on the table, flowers in a vase, and candles freaking everywhere. She looks around, can't help but wonder what fairy tale she accidentally stumbled into, and has to swallow down a lump in her throat.
"Goddamn, Steve," she breathes, and takes another couple of hesitant steps into the room, hand toying with her necklace and eyes shimmering. "You sappy, sentimental bastard."
"I take it everything meets your approval then?" comes his voice from behind her, but she doesn't jump, because his mark is warm and calm and reassuring. She turns with a smile, tucks a strand of hair left strategically loose from her upswept style back behind her ear.
"It's … I don't even think I have words for it, Steve. It's … " She stops then, because as simply — or archaic, for that matter — as he's dressed by her standards, there isn't an outfit she could think of that would look better on him. She's a particular fan of the tight stretch of his button-down shirt across his broad shoulders. "Wow," she says, awkward and belated. "You clean up nicely."
Steve smiles with just a hint of bashfulness, and a pleased feeling echoes across their bond. "It's only respectful to look your best for your soulmate," he says, then reaches out to take her gently by the shoulders. His eyes go up and down her body, slow and appreciative. "You look amazing," he says softly. "Really classy, Toni. Thank you for putting in the effort."
Uncomfortable as always with any sort of compliment, Toni shrugs with an uneasy smile. "You said it yourself, Steve. Respect, right?"
"I did say that." Anxiety flares bright across the bond as Steve rubs the back of his head. "You're probably wondering why this is such a big deal to me."
"Just a little, yes." Toni tilts her head, can't help but grin a little, because nervous Steve is adorable Steve. "Are you ready to tell me?"
"It's pointless to go any further with this unless I do." Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, opens his mouth, closes it again and takes another deep breath. "This was easier with Bucky," he mutters, and scrubs his hands through his hair.
Toni presses a hand to the soulmark on her chest, buzzing and itching like it wants to jump off her skin, frowning again in concern. "Steve, honey. Whatever it is, it's okay. You know that, right?"
"I know that." Steve doesn't sound so sure though, but he settles his one hand on her shoulder again, and cups her chin with the other. "Will it ruin your makeup if I kiss you?"
The corner of Toni's mouth curves up, and she lifts her arms to loop them around his shoulders. "Steven, this is the twenty first century. We have the miracle of long-lasting, 24-hour wear, kiss-proof lipstick in these wondrous times. If you can budge my lipstick with anything short of a natural disaster, I need to go back to the drawing board and revisit Stark Solutions' cosmetic lines."
"Challenge accepted," Steve says, and tilts her chin up gently with a knuckle as he lowers his head.
His mouth fits over hers, gentle and chaste, and she sighs with contentment and closes her eyes. "You're hardly fitting the criteria of the challenge like this," she mumbles, linking her fingers together behind his head. "I said natural disaster, not priceless heirloom."
"You have no patience," he mutters back, but adjusts his stance, shifts his hands to her jawline, and kisses her again, harder, more demanding, and a spark jolts through the bond. An involuntary, muffled moan breaks from the back of her throat and she melts against him, opening her mouth obediently when his tongue swipes across her lips.
He growls back, a deep rumble in his chest, and her knees go weak with the shiver it pulls out of her spine. Steve hoists her up, holding her effortlessly with one arm at a level where he can comfortably plunder her mouth. She locks her legs around his hips, and he hisses when the heels of her stilettos dig into his ass. Her back hits the wall and her skirt rides up, but she's past caring, because she is one hundred percent on board with this right now.
She whispers filthy things against his lips, until he's groaning and grinds forward into her, a hand restlessly pawing her breasts and the other one keeping her head cradled. She whimpers and claws at his shoulders, tears her mouth free of his to gasp for air, and gets utterly, besottedly lost in the lust-blown blue shine of his eyes, staring into hers.
He's reluctant, but he pulls back anyway, pressing a single, soft, close-mouth kiss to her lips again before straightening his clothes and adjusting the fit of his pants over his crotch. She stares up at him as she pants for breath, fighting the urge to haul him back down, because if he doesn't want to come down, there's not a chance in hell she'll budge him.
He smiles at her, though the effect is somewhat lessened by the flush in his cheeks and the tousled mess of his short hair. He reaches out, swipes his thumb across her lower lip, and she shivers again at the butterfly caress. "You were right."
"What?" she croaks.
"Your lipstick stayed in place," Steve says, oddly pleased. "That's good to know."
Toni whines softly, reaches out for him with greedy hands. "Maybe you just weren't trying hard enough."
"Don't be greedy, Toni," he replies with a laugh, and dodges her flailing attempts to snag him. "There's plenty of time for that after we eat."
"Plenty of time before we eat too," Toni grumbles, and starts straightening her dress back down over her hips, smoothing her hands over her hips to make the material lie flat again. "What's the deal with this dinner of yours, Rogers? You and James are both being weird about it, and I'm dying to know what's going on."
His smile broadens, softens, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He holds out a hand to her, and she eyes it warily before taking it with hers. Whatever had been causing the anxiety before seems to be gone now. The only thing coming through the marks are amusement, affection and the banked embers of lust still smouldering. "We have a tradition in the Rogers family," he says, leading her back to the table and pulling out a chair for her. She sits, old Ana Jarvis's etiquette lessons surfacing from the rusty depths of her memory to remind her to move as Steve moves the chair, and to tuck her skirt neatly beneath her ass.
"Lots of families have traditions," Toni says, when Steve doesn't continue immediately. She reaches for the cloth napkins tucked under her silverware and snaps it open with a practiced, negligent flick of her wrist before settling it on her knee.
Steve reddens as he pulls out his chair and sits beside her, and Toni arches an eyebrow. "When a Rogers takes a spouse," he says, and both of Toni's eyebrows shoot straight into her hairline, "or bonds with a soulmate, they cook a bond or marriage supper for their new partner."
The silence that follows that pronouncement is exquisite in how very, very quiet it is. Toni stares at Steve, and he stares back at her, and she can't tell a goddamn thing from either his expression or their soulmarks. Finally, she clears her throat, and the sound is loud enough in the stillness that it makes her jump a little. "Are you asking me to marry you?" she asks, because she wants to be very, very clear. "Because once we register the soulbond at the DSMR, it's equivalent to legal marriage. You know that, right?"
"I do." Steve's neutral expression doesn't shift, twitch, or flicker a hair. "But this family tradition dates back to times before there were laws about soulmates, before there were even priests in every town." He reaches out, carefully picks up his napkin and starts unfolding it, dropping his eyes to watch what his hands are doing. "My mother died before Bucky and I bonded, but she made sure I knew the right things to cook, and why."
Toni's eyes suddenly shimmer, but she chokes it back, clears her throat quietly and reaches out to rest her hand over his. "Okay," she says softly, and he looks up sharply. She offers a smile, feels it tremble in the corner of her mouth, because this… this is big. This is the biggest thing anyone's ever done for her. "Okay," she says again, pulls her shit together, and strengthens the tremulous smile into a real, encouraging version. "Show me, sweetheart."
Steve squeezes her hand, smiles brilliantly, so brilliantly it lights up his eyes, and he reaches for the first lid.
The bread and stew are delicious, and Toni devours two bowls, groaning over the flavors the whole time. She's not sure what part the spouse is supposed to play in the Rogers ritual, but Steve seems very pleased with the noises she's making and the compliments she's paying, so she figures she's at least not fucking it up for him.
She nearly loses it when he pours her a glass of mead, cuts her a sliver of marbled cake, and quietly explains it's meant to symbolize a sweet, rich, and enjoyable life together. Sweets are not her snack of choice, not unless it's ice cream, but she eats every crumb and drinks every drop. And if Steve notices the fine tremor running through her hands, he's kind enough to not mention it.
When she starts to get up to help him clear the table, he pins her with a stern look and, chastened, she sinks back into her seat, feeling strangely helpless as she watches him stack dishes and cart them away.
She sags the minute he's through the door, pressing shaking hands to her cheeks and exhaling a noisy breath. "JARVIS, what the hell is going on?" she asks, and her voice cracks. She clears her throat a couple of times, but it doesn't help. "Why do I feel like I'm going to cry?"
When JARVIS responds, his voice is gentle. "I believe Captain Rogers is demonstrating, after a fashion, his ability to care for his soulmates, ma'am. If I were to hazard a guess based on your past behaviours and reactions, you have a hard time accepting that people enjoy taking care of you as much as you enjoy taking care of them."
"God." Toni sinks her face into her hands, drags them down her face, remembers belatedly about her makeup, but her cosmetics people are as good as their word, and not even a hint of black comes off her lashes. "I'm so fucking messed up."
A beat, then, "It's an unfortunately normal reaction, ma'am. My apologies. I know how you so hate being pedestrian."
A laugh breaks from her, short and startled, and Toni sniffles, grabs her napkin and wipes her nose and eyes. "One of these days, I'll program that sass right out of you, kid."
"I know, ma'am," JARVIS says gently. "Of course you will."
vvvvvvvvvvvv
Steve's gone longer than she thought he'd be, but he returns just as she's starting to feel awkward sitting at the table by herself. Toni stands as he comes in, and arches an eyebrow at both the polished wooden box under his arm and Bucky trailing him, looking confused.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," she says lightly, but she smooths her hands over the material of her dress over her hips to calm her nerves. She looks sharply at Bucky as he makes an appreciative noise, smirks a little to see him raking his gaze over her.
"Damn, babe," he says, eyes dark and sinful. "You look fuckin' hot."
She tilts a hip just a little, sets her hand on it, tosses her head back, and smirks as he licks his lips. "You think?"
"Uh huh," he says, eyes locked on her cleavage as he takes a step towards her, and lust thrums through her chest, deep and dark and warm. His, hers, she can't tell. They're too intertwined to separate out these days. "Kinda wanna peel that itty-bitty, painted-on thing offa you with my teeth."
She preens to hide the shudder at the promise in his tone, then sets her shoulders back and her chest out. "Come get some, soldier," she purrs, and laughs softly when he grunts in muffled shock.
Steve hastily reaches out, snags Bucky by the shoulder and stops him in his tracks before he can get any closer to Toni. "Swear to Christ, Buck, I will shove you in the icebox to cool off. I ain't done yet."
Toni opens her mouth to protest, but stops at Steve's flustered look, the flush high in his cheeks, the clear and obvious strain in his muscles, the deathgrip he has on the box in his other hand. The slip back into his relaxed, natural speech. This is important to him. So she closes her mouth again and straightens from the seductive stance. "I'll be good."
"No promises," Bucky said, and folds his arms sullenly, but he steps back. "Chrissake, Steve. Everyone's on the same goddamn page for once. Blended marks an' all, all around. And you haul me into a room where both'a my soulmates are fuckin' mouthwatering and randy." He jabs an accusing finger at Steve as Steve opens his mouth to say something. "Don't even, Stevie. I can feel how fuckin' much you want everyone to just be naked as sin right now. And we should be. So why the fuck are you askin' me to wait longer?"
"Because," Steve says calmly, and sets the wooden box on the table, and Toni blinks at the Lady Lexa monogram carved into the wood. He flips the latch with his thumb. "I want to give you these first."
When he lifts the lid, Toni can do nothing but stare. Three bands gleam in the candlelight, snugged into tight beds of Lexa's hallmark deep blue velvet. Steve's talking, explaining to Bucky and her how he asked JARVIS for help to get the right measurements, how he thought about rings but with their line of work, and Toni's hands-on practice with engineering in particular, rings might catch or get in the way.
But Toni can't hear much of that anymore, because a roar is growing in her ears, and her vision is narrowed down to the titanium wrist cuff in the middle, the slimmer one stained red and gold, the one with a stylized arc reactor etched in the center, bracketed by a red star on the right and a white star on the left.
Pressure builds in her chest, behind her eyes, thunders across her sinuses. Her eyes burn and her vision goes watery and when she blinks, the first tear that falls scalds her cheek.
Cool metal touches her cheek, and she exhales, soft and sharp, turns her head to look at Bucky. The thumb of his metal arm sweeps under her eye, wiping away the tear. "You with us, babe?" He doesn't sound worried or concerned, and there's a world of understanding in his tiny, reassuring smile.
She doesn't answer, but he doesn't seem to need one, and she turns towards Steve. Steve of the worried look, Steve of the panicking eyes. Steve, as loud and clear as a five-bar phone call, broadcasting a feeling of shit what did I do so strong she can practically read his thoughts.
"Nothing," she says, and steps towards him. "You did nothing wrong, Steve." Her voice breaks on his name, but she keeps going. "Everything has been perfect. Everything is completely fucking perfect."
She understands why he looks confused, disbelieving, alarmed, because she's openly sobbing as she slides her arms over his shoulders, and kicks off her shoes. He grabs her by reflex, and she wraps her legs around his hips, and kisses him firm and tender. "I love you," she says, and tucks her face into the crook of his neck, and cries.
Steve's arms tighten around her waist, one hand pressed between her shoulderblades. "Bucky?" He's plaintive and bewildered, and Toni really wishes she could stop crying to explain, but she can't. "What did I do?"
"Made her feel her own feelings," Bucky drawls in a completely unconcerned tone, and Toni relaxes further when Bucky's hand begins smoothing up and down her spine. "She's fine, Stevie. If you'd done somethin' wrong, you'd know it, because she'd be yelling at you about how she's Toni Fuckin' Stark, and no one gives her shit she isn't willing to take. Trust me on that."
"Toni?"
"Yeah," she breathes, sniffs, and lifts her head, lifts a hand to brush at the bangs spilling over Steve's forehead, smooth away the furrowed lines. "I'm a trainwreck, sweetheart. But I'm okay. Better than. Just a little overwhelmed."
"If you say so," he says, still looking unsure.
"Only you, Toni," Bucky says fondly, and drops a kiss to her shoulder. "C'mon, Steve. Give us the shinies properly, because I have plans for you both, and my patience ain't gonna last forever."
