On our third date we went to a local restaurant that had "the world's best hamburgers". Bucky was still embarrassed to have me pick him up, but I didn't mind. I was falling for him. It hadn't taken that long. By the second time we'd met I was dumbstruck by how kind he was. He didn't want to go to fast, he'd made that clear. He wanted to treat me like a lady.

On the car ride over I caught him flinching as he quickly looked away from his reflection in the side-mirror. "You okay?" I asked, wondering if I was going to have to pull over.

Bucky glanced over at me, blushing. "You saw that?"

"Yeah… Sorry, I wasn't trying to stare." But he was so handsome, I couldn't help it sometimes.

"I just… I still see his face, every time."

Steve had told me what it was like seeing Bucky as the Winter Soldier. How his eyes were blank and yet so full of hatred. His expression angry and creased with frustration. He wore all black and walked with purpose, a man on a mission. Bucky, in comparison, was a bucket of rainbows. "That has to be hard," I say patting his knee in attempt to comfort him.

"I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off," Bucky said, "The face was all wrong, the clothes, the hair… It was like walking around in someone else's skin for all that time. But no matter what I did, I couldn't remember who I was supposed to be. And then after I got back…. I've seen pictures from all those years ago, and I still have a hard time remembering who I was."

"It'll get easier, I'm sure," I offer a smile, "Steve went through something similar, I'm sure he'd talk to you about how you're feeling."

"I know," Bucky says quietly, "I just don't know if I'm ready to talk yet."

He looks over toward the mirror again and I can see his expression shift from thoughtful to upset. I put my hand on his shoulder, "Whoever you're seeing, that's not you anymore. Who you are?" I put my hand over his heart, "It's in here, it's not something visual. It's what you do, from here on out."

I see a sliver of a smile spread on his face. "Thank you," he says after a moment.

"Anytime," I reply.

On our fifth date I convinced him to come back to my apartment. I wasn't expecting anything to happen, I knew Bucky wasn't ready for anything intimate yet. I just wanted to let him into my life so he'd know I was serious.

"You must get lonely living in this big place all by yourself," he comments, holding up a photo on my bookshelf for closer inspection. I notice he holds in it is 'normal' hand rather than his metal hand, which hangs limp at his side unless he feels it necessary to use it. He avoids it like the plague, as though he's not even sure it works right.

"I'm almost never here," I reply, "Work keeps me busy, so really I just sleep here. But, it is really quiet..."

"Who's this?" he asks, turning a photo of Coulson and I so I can see it.

"A coworker," I say trying to keep my voice from trembling, "He um… He passed away, not that long ago."

"He must have been special to you, if you keep his photo," Bucky murmurs, obviously feeling bad for having brought up the subject.

"We were close," I tell him, "But I know he wouldn't want me to be upset, so I've done my best to move on. He would have wanted that."

"Oh," Bucky says quietly, his gray eyes finding mine, apologetic.

"It's okay," I say quickly.

He comes over and puts his arms around me. His metal arm barely puts and pressure on me, like he's scared to hold on too tightly. "You're not going to hurt me," I whisper, resting my cheek against his chest, hugging him back.

"You don't know that," he says quietly, pulling away from me, his head hanging in shame. "I… I can't give you what he gave you. I'm… I don't trust myself, with you."

"I'm a big girl," I say, "And I trust you, so don't worry…"

He's playing with the joints on his metal hand, his body rigid. "I have dreams where I'm… I'm hurting people, innocent people. And they're begging me to stop but I can't…. When I was… I wasn't in control for so long, I'm scared I'll lose control again…"

I take his metal hand in mine and trace along it with my fingers. I know he can't feel my touch but I do it anyway. Mesmerized by the technology that went into the device. "I'm not scared of you," I tell him, "You're a good guy, you mean well. If anything happens, if you start to lose control, I won't blame you. I'll be here, so just tell me and I'll help you. I'll do whatever I can."

He takes his hand from mine and cups my chin in his palm, ever so gently. I can feel the metal, surprisingly warm, on my skin. He stares at me, thoughtfully for a moment, and then leans in for a kiss. His lips are soft and he moves them slowly over mine. I feel his hand shift from my chin to the back of my neck, fingers caressing softly, pulling me just a bit closer. My hands wrap around his waist and the base of his neck. I find myself never wanting this moment to end, but I know Bucky's still hesitant about moving too fast. His taste lingers on my mouth as we pull away, and I'm grateful for him being brave enough to kiss me. I have no idea what our next date will lead to, but more than ever I'm excited for the future. His and mine.