June 7, 1940

"Lucille Hollis," Bucky's jovial voice spoke through the phone, "would you honor me with your presence tonight for dinner?"

Lucille laughed at his seventeenth-century phrasing. "Of course, James, I'd be delighted to."

"'Bucky' is just fine, you know. That's what everybody calls me," he reminded her, though she could clearly hear his enormous, infectious grin in his words.

"I know," she shrugged, twirling the telephone cord around her fingers. "But I like 'James'."

On the other end, Bucky chuckled. "So proper. 'James' it is, then, just for you. Pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds lovely, I'll see you then."

Bucky arrived exactly at seven, rapping smartly on the door. Her mother answered the door, and Lucille could hear him being ever the charming gentleman as she checked her reflection in the glass of the china cabinet one last time before going to the door.

"Hello, James," she smiled.

"Hello, beautiful," he grinned back. "Ready?" Lucille nodded, waving to her mother as Bucky held the door for her. At the car, Bucky opened the passenger-side door for her, shutting it once she had gotten in and running around to the driver's side. As they pulled away from the curb and began down the street, Bucky held his hand out and she took it, fitting her fingers snugly between his.

"Where are we going?" she asked ten minutes later as they passed into a part of Brooklyn she was only vaguely familiar with.

"It's a surprise," Bucky informed her. He just grinned when she gave him a suspicious look, squeezing her hand. "We're almost there," he added, and true to his word, he pulled the car over to the curb not five minutes later, cut the ignition and got out, quickly moving to her side to open the door for her.

Lucille looked around, not seeing a single restaurant. "James," she began questioningly.

He just grinned again, seemingly very pleased with himself. "Close your eyes," he instructed her. Still slightly suspicious of his plan, she complied. She felt his hands on her shoulders and he guided her forward, pausing to open the door of the building he had parked in front of.

The interior of the building was quiet. All Lucille could hear were her and Bucky's footsteps across the hard floor. After about twenty steps, he gently stopped her, one hand leaving her shoulder for a brief moment. She heard the clank of machinery and guessed they were waiting for an elevator. As if to acknowledge her correct assumption, there was a ding and soft scraping as sliding doors opened. Bucky steered her inside and the doors scraped shut once more. A button clicked to her left and the elevator gave a small jerk as it started its ascent. Bucky was quietly humming happily to himself while they waited. Lucille couldn't tell how many floors they had passed when the elevator's movement slowed and came to a stop. The chime sounded again and the doors reopened. Hands still on her shoulders, Bucky led her out of the elevator.

"Hold on for a second," he told her, both hands leaving her shoulders. She heard him move ahead of her and there was a metallic clink and then a high pitched squeal of what she knew had to be a door on old hinges. Then his hands returned and he slowly guided her up a short set of stairs. When they reached the top, she could feel a breeze and, distantly, there were horns honking somewhere in city.

"Can I open my eyes now?" she asked, curiosity and a little bit of impatience coloring her tone.

"Yes," Bucky said, sliding his hands off her shoulders.

Lucille blinked a few times as her eyes readjusted to the evening sun. They were standing in a rooftop garden. Directly in front of her, a small circular table with place setting for two, covered in a cream-colored tablecloth, was lit by candlelight, the sources of which were placed in the center of the table and around the entire garden. It looked almost fairytale.

"James," Lucille breathed, "it's beautiful. Did you do all this?"

"I did. I'm glad you like it," he said.

Lucille nodded. "I do. I really, really do!"

"Shall we eat?" Lucille nodded again and Bucky led the way over to the table, pulling her chair out for her before sitting down himself. Bucky lifted the top off of the pot that sat next to the candles in the middle of the table, revealing sauce-covered penne and meatballs. "I know you like pasta, and I thought I remembered you saying penne was your favorite."

"I can't believe you remember that," Lucille laughed, a little breathlessly. "Oh, James. This is perfect."

Bucky smiled warmly, dishing the pasta onto both their plates. "I remember everything you say," he admitted as they began to eat. They passed through dinner with small chat about their day, Bucky revealing how he managed to plan everything for the evening.

"I've been pretty edgy all day," he confessed. "I mean, I had it all planned out, knew exactly what I wanted to do, but it still could've gone belly up."

Lucille shook her head. "It didn't. God, James, this was absolutely spectacular. You have nothing to worry about," she assured him. Bucky just shrugged, pushing a lone penne noodle around his plate with his fork. "Why do you look like you're still nervous?"

Bucky sighed, laying his fork down. "I have something to ask you."

Lucille's brow creased slightly. This wasn't the James Barnes she knew. That one was charmingly cocky, and he never showed even a hint of nervousness. This one was just radiating anxiousness. "James, what is it?"

Bucky fidgeted for a moment more before meeting her concerned gaze. "Luci, I – would you – I was wondering – hoping – that you might want to go steady. With me. Would you?"

Lucille felt her cheeks grow warm. "I would like that very much."

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