By the time March rolls around Bucky and I have gotten into a routine with each other. He stays over every night except for Saturdays, which are guys night with Steve and Sam. The medication and therapy have really reduced his outbursts and nightmares, but when he does have a bad spell I know exactly how to stop them. It took me until the fourth time he lost it to figure out what to say, and with the help of Google Translate I now had an exact speech to give him under my belt.

"Eto ne vy. Pomnite Steve? Vy ne na missii, Bucky. Polozhit' nozh, prezhde chem prichinit' komu-to bol', ya znayu, vy ne chuvstvuyete sebya 'vas' pryamo seychas, no ya znayu, chto ty do sikh por vy gde-to tam..."

(This isn't you. Remember Steve? You're not on a mission, Bucky. Put the knife down before you hurt someone, I know you're not feeling 'you' right now, but I know you're still you somewhere in there…)

Everytime he would sink to his knees and sob, but the spells came less and less frequently, and every time they lasted for a shorter duration. I figured out that saying whatever I needed to say to him in Russian was a lot faster than my English words having to travel through the mind of the Russian assassin and then to Bucky. If I said it in the soldier's natural language it was a direct hit, and Bucky got the message sooner.

Because things were going better between us, I wanted his birthday to be a big celebration of how far he'd come. The theme for the party had been Steve's idea, and at first I was hesitant to go for it because I was afraid it would upset Bucky, but after a few discussion with the rest of the Avengers it became clear that a 1940s party was the way to go.

The day of the party I was a ball of nerves. I was hoping he wouldn't be freaked out by the surprise of everyone being packed into our living room when he came over, but I had my 'script' written out and stashed in my pocket just in case.

"He's going to love it, don't worry," Steve piped up, sticking the last of the 98 candles into the cake on the counter.

"Plus you're probably going to give him a heart attack in that dress, so if he hates the party he'll probably die before he has a chance to even tell you," Nat teases.

"Do you think it's too much?" I ask, stopping mid-pace to look at her and the rest of them.

"Nah," Steve assures me, "It's a nice touch, I know him, he's going to think its great."

I resume pacing, glancing down at my blue and white dress and sincerely wishing I had just opted for modern attire.

When Bucky's key slides into the lock everyone ducks behind the sofa as Steve throws on one of Bucky's favorite songs "Paper Doll" by The Mills Brothers.

His face lights up when he comes in, and his eyes immediately land on me.

"Happy Birthday!" everyone cheers.

He steps over to me and takes me in one arm, cupping my face in his other hands as he looks at me for a moment. "You're too much," Bucky laughs, "Thank you, everyone."

Steve breaks out a few bottles of champagne and Bucky leans over to whisper to me as we walk to get a glass, "By the way, I would much rather have you than a paper doll. Despite the song."

"I figured," I tell him, "But thanks for the reassurance."

The night is full of laughter and dancing. Bucky attempts to teach me how to properly swing dance, but we discover I have two left feet. It doesn't help that the heels I'm wearing are higher and stiffer than I'm used to.

Once everyone has left for the night and we've seen them out the door, Bucky scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the sofa. He deposits me gently on one side and then takes a seat on the other. "You look beautiful," he tells me, "You would have stolen every guys' heart at the dance."

"Oh really?" I say slyly, "Even with my lack of dance skills?"
"Even with your lack of dance skills," he says kissing me on the nose.

"Well I'm glad you didn't actually think it was too much," I say, gesturing at my dress.

"Not at all," he replies, "Tonight was fun."

We sit for a moment, enjoying each others company, and then Bucky looks over at me.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks softly.

"Mhmm," I say back.

"I think…" he sighs, fidgeting a little.

"You think…?"

"Never mind," he blushes, "You're not going to want to hear it, that was cheesy…"

"No no, come on. You can't leave me hanging like that."

He shakes his head, "I don't want to ruin tonight."

"Bucky, what could you possibly have to tell me that would ruin tonight? Unless it's something in Russian about trying to stab me, or if you're planning to leave and go off on an adventure without -"

"... I want you to marry me…"

My words catch in my throat and I feel my eyes go wide.

"Please don't look at me like that. I just mean, that I want to spend my life with you. And I don't mean that we have to actually get married, well I do, but I mean that I want you to be mine, permanently…"

"You want to get married?" I breathe.

"Yes."

"Well then, yes!"

For the second time that night his eyes light up. He takes me in his arms very lightly as he speaks, "I was afraid you weren't going to want to. I know we've talked about it, and it hasn't always seemed like the right time. But I don't think there is a 'right time' with lives like ours."

"Now," I say softly as happy tears well in my eyes, "Now is good."

I feel him laughing and he kisses my neck, "Yeah, now is good."

Hi guys! So I thought this was a cute way to end things with this. There might be a sequel, but I didn't want to actually get to the wedding because I know it will be wayyy too cheesy if I write it the way I see it in my head. Hope you enjoyed!