One month later, at a rehab facility not far from the tower she called home, Summer winced and held her breath before immediately being told by the middle aged woman in front of her, "Breathe. I know it hurts, but holding your breath makes it worse."
She nodded, forcing herself to breathe as the physical therapist helped her to bend her right leg for the first time since before the accident, which was now nearly three months into the past. Today was her first appointment at the rehab facility covered by her insurance, and while she'd had a vague idea of what to expect, it ended up being a whole lot more painful than what she had anticipated.
"Right. I've been in labor. I should know this," she said, watching her leg as closely as Bucky was as he sat at her side. She was in a room, sitting on a long, uncomfortable chair, and the three of them were the room's only occupants.
The PT smiled and continued gently bending and straightening her leg. "How many kids do you two have?"
"Just one," she answered without hesitation. No need for unnecessary clarifications to people not in "the loop". "But he's six, so it's been awhile since I had to worry about breathing."
"Oh, a six year old. That's a fun age. You look so young, though," the woman said, laying her leg down to give her a break. "Is he in school today?"
"No, actually, just with his... uncle," she said, saying the first word that popped into her head. She quickly glanced at Bucky to gauge his reaction to having referred to Steve as David's uncle, and he looked mostly amused and a little surprised.
"Gotcha," the PT said, grabbing her chart and sitting down on a stool next to where Summer sat. "So, I'll give you a quick rundown of where we're at with your leg. As you know, we measured both of your legs when you first came in today, and as we expect in these situations, your right is significantly smaller than your left now. It's never a question of if the muscles will atrophy but how much they will, and yours are right about what we would expect."
Summer nodded. "But these exercises will help that, right?"
The woman nodded. "Yes. But it'll take time. This isn't something you want to rush. So what I want you to do - and he can help you with this," she gestured to Bucky, "is do these exercises once a day. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's where we need to start."
She nodded back and asked, "Can I still not put weight on the leg? Ever?"
The PT hesitated. "At this point, I would still prefer that you stay off of it at home. You don't want to overwork yourself or the leg. Like I said, this is a very slow process. But it's for the best."
"And the brace?"
"That can stay off now," the woman replied, and Summer could have wept with joy. "You don't need that level of immobility anymore. But we'll be giving you a smaller one to wear at night, when you sleep."
"I can live with that," Summer smiled. "So when can I start trying to walk on the leg?"
"Once we've rebuilt some of your muscle," she replied. "Depending on how this week goes, we can see about first steps next week."
"Okay," Summer replied, taking a breath.
"Any other questions?" the PT asked with a warm smile.
"I would ask how long until I can start chasing my own kid around, but..." Summer shrugged, knowing the answer somewhere just shy of a million more years, if she was being hyperbolic.
"I would say that for now and the foreseeable future... definitely leave the chasing to Dad," the PT nodded.
"Right. Okay," Summer nodded, having not expected the appointment to be so loaded with family references, but she couldn't deny how natural it all felt.
"All right. I'll be right back with your new and improved brace."
And then Summer and Bucky were alone for the moment after the therapist left, and she glanced at him and contemplated for all of a moment teasing him about the "Dad" title before chickening out. "Well, this was fun."
He let out what was more of a breath than a chuckle. "Doesn't look that way."
She shrugged. "At least I'm doing something now. Now I can think about actually working to get back on my feet instead of just laying around and waiting." She paused. "Maybe once I'm walking some I can take my job back, too."
He nodded, not trying to talk her out of the notion. "But you have been working. Writing is working."
She smiled a little and said, "Well... I suppose. But only time will tell if my little farm story will actually get picked up by anybody."
In the last month, she had added to the story that she'd written for Bucky's birthday and edited it to be an actual publishable work - changed the names, traded Bucky's metal arm for a prosthetic leg, and doubled the length of the story. She still had quite a bit more to add to it, though she wanted to keep it short after reading that most first-time authors had better luck with shorter novels getting published rather than long ones.
It had kept her busy and given her something to do with her time out of work, which might have been the best thing about it. And by the looks of things, she wouldn't be running out of time to write any time soon.
In fact, the person she feared was getting the most bored was Bucky. As much as he thrived on routine, she couldn't help but worry that it was getting a bit stagnant. He had his piano hobby and he kept busy, but he hadn't been on a mission in ages. The others were busy working on a new structure for their base of operations, moving it from the tower to a new building somewhere else, and until they had all of that squared away, Bucky didn't have much to do.
Before she could mention any of this, the physical therapist came back in with a new, smaller, much less troublesome brace in tow, and soon after, it was time to leave and head back home. All in all, the first appointment was a success, and though it left her feeling unexpectedly exhausted, Summer returned home in higher spirits than when she had left.
When they left got home, Summer walked off of the elevator on her crutches and found Natasha and Sam in the kitchen, both drinking something green and most likely disgusting.
Natasha was the first to turn towards them and say, "Hey, how did it go?"
"Not bad," Summer replied, looking down at the new, smaller brace on her leg. "Got my brace way downsized and might get to try actually walking again soon."
"Good," Natasha replied. "Steve should be back soon with David. He took him to the park about an hour ago."
"Oh okay," she said, plunking down at her regular seat at the table. "I wonder if I can work in a nap before they come back."
"Probably not after the next thing I have to tell you," Nat mentioned casually, coming around the table and sitting across from her. Summer looked at her in sudden alarm, but Nat shrugged, "It's good, don't worry."
"Oh. Phew. I was worried there for a minute."
Natasha smiled faintly and then said, "I had lunch with Pepper today. I worked undercover as her assistant a few years ago, so sometimes we get together, catch up on things. I actually enjoyed working with her. Anyway, she mentioned that her event coordinator quit without notice last week, and that she's having a hard time finding someone to replace her. She's a little paranoid these days after the HYDRA attack on the tower."
"Understandable," Summer shrugged, not seeing how any of this was going to stop her from taking a nap.
"It is. So, I suggested she promote from within."
Summer stared at Natasha, clueless until the other woman spoke again, spelling it out in plain English.
"I suggested you, Summer."
Her eyes widened and she floundered for a moment. "Oh! Oh. But... event coordinator? I don't have experience with that."
"That's not entirely true," Natasha replied. "I've seen you pull together a birthday party at the last minute even with making the cake and dinner and the decorations yourself."
"Well, that was just a birthday party," Summer said, brushing it off.
"You have organizational skills," Natasha explained, "which is what you would need for the job. Your assistants would do the work. You would plan everything and oversee it."
Her eyes bugged out of her head. "My assistants?"
Natasha smiled at her bewilderment. "I suggested you for a few reasons. First being that you're trustworthy, Pepper knows you're not a mole or HYDRA. Second, it's job you could do now while you're off your feet - no running around picking up coffee or dry cleaning. And it's also a raise."
"But... I... oh God. That's a big jump from assistant."
"Maybe not as much you think. Like I said, a lot of it is organization. You're good at that. The rest is phone calls, scheduling, design - all of which you would have help with."
"But if I screwed it up and there was some big party here that sucked or fell apart because of me -"
"Summer," Bucky interrupted, shaking his head next to her. "For God's sake, have some faith in yourself for once."
She fell silent then, looking from Bucky to Natasha, then to Sam, who was noisily drinking his concoction out of a straw as he leaned against the counter, watching with seeming amusement.
"Hey don't look at me," he shrugged. "I'm not gonna talk you out of it."
She took a moment to think and then asked, "Did Pepper like the idea, or..."
"She actually loved it," Natasha replied. "She asked me to convince you to apply."
"But I have no experience," she stated dumbly.
"We've been over this," Natasha said patiently, like she was explaining something to a jittery child. "You are trustworthy and good with organization. That's really all she needs."
Summer blinked, wondering if it really was that simple. After another long moment spent thinking, she said slightly timidly, "You said something about a raise...?"
"Let's just say that you would be the breadwinner between the two of you," Natasha smirked.
Summer's eyes widened again, because Steve had mentioned that with the new facility they were working on, Bucky would start being actually paid for his help for the first time, and the estimates of this weren't exactly paltry.
"If you don't go for it," Sam quipped, "I will. I could plan some events between Avenger stuff. Hell yeah."
Summer shook her head. "No, I'll apply. I might panic the whole time I'm filling it out, but I'll do it."
"Good," Natasha smiled. "And hey, think of it this way. Stark's events attract a lot of big names. Think of all the chances you'll have to be starstruck and embarrass yourself."
Somehow, Summer's eyes managed to get even bigger. "Yeah, because I'm not freaking out enough. Thanks. Oh God."
Natasha then chuckled and got up from the table, leaving Summer to continue contemplating the job silently. Natasha had been persuasive in her arguments, but there was no stopping the doubt swirling through Summer's brain.
... The dollar signs flashing every time she closed her eyes did help stifle that doubt, however.
While she was still deep in thought, Steve and David came home, the latter of which running up to her and surprising her out of her thoughts with an unexpected hug.
"Oh, you're home!" she smiled, hugging him back. "Did you have fun with Steve?"
Pulling away, David nodded, and she noticed how he was holding something behind his back. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Whatcha got there?"
He then beamed and whipped his hand out, and then he was shoving a little handful of wildflowers towards her. And she immediately melted.
"Oh my God, you picked me flowers? Holy crap, that is so sweet. I might actually cry. Come here," she said, taking the flowers and then pulling him into a big hug while Steve stood nearby and smiled.
"That was all his idea, by the way. I had nothing to do with it," Steve clarified.
She looked up at Steve and smiled back, giving David one more squeeze before letting go. She looked at him and was reminded of why she had to go for the new job, whether she fully trusted her abilities or not. He was six now, and while she had been teaching him numbers, letters, and other subjects since he was about three, he was a year late starting school. He was up to date with what a child of his age should know, but she knew he was at the point where he really needed to start going to a real school. And the best special needs school in the city happened to come with a hefty price tag, but one that she could easily pay with this new job.
And so it was settled. She would apply for the job, cross her fingers, and hope for the best.
While Summer was busy in her room completing the new job application on her laptop, Bucky was in his own room, whiling the hour away on his piano. A lot had come back to him over the past month, from a handful of memories of playing with his mother to certain techniques that she had taught him, and as time went on, he not only slowly improved, but learned to like playing more and more. He still missed dancing with Summer and preferred that, but the time alone and the familiarity of the piano afforded its own therapeutic comforts. And his left hand wasn't at all the hindrance he had suspected it would be.
He had learned a handful of new songs to play over the last few weeks, though none of them were actually new. Once he figured out one to his satisfaction, he'd move on to another, all of them picked from the old records Steve had lent him. It wasn't easy learning by ear, but that was half of why he enjoyed it. It was a challenge.
He was more than halfway into learning the latest song that he'd chosen when he got the sudden feeling that he was being watched. He couldn't help his initial defensive reaction, having the history that he did, but he didn't stop playing or act otherwise out of the ordinary. Instead, he merely glanced slowly towards the door, then fought a smile when he saw who his audience consisted of.
David tried to dart back behind the slightly open door, but he knew he had been caught. Bucky turned back to the piano, not saying a word, merely continuing to play and waiting a moment to look back in the boy's direction. David was peeking again by that point, so Bucky wordlessly motioned for him to come inside, which he did.
Bucky scooted over a bit on the bench, and once David understood the invitation, he scrambled up and sat at Bucky's side, looking up at him shyly before looking away.
"It's okay," Bucky assured him. "I don't mind the audience."
David smiled and then started watching very closely as Bucky played through the song a couple of times, improving with each try. Bucky didn't say a word until he took a break in between the tries, glancing down at the boy and asking, "You want to try?" David nodded enthusiastically, and Bucky smiled before asking, "Know this song?"
He played the first few notes of the song, and David nodded again. Of course he knew the song - even the little ones of the current generation knew "Over the Rainbow", so it wasn't surprising. What was surprising was how David then followed Bucky's instructions to try to play the chords of the song and took all of one try to get it damn near perfect.
He played alongside David, watching with slightly wide eyes as the boy made it seem all but effortless. He knew how good David was with his piano apps on his tablet, but he hadn't anticipated this.
As they played the song together, he watched David and helped him a few times when he needed it, but for the most part, he didn't need much help at all. The best part of it all, however, was how obviously happy David was to be sitting there with him, playing a song together.
Bucky's mind drifted to his spotty but clearer memories of his mother doing this very same thing with him as a boy, and now, as surprising and unexpected as it was, he was getting to do the same thing with this child. The thought didn't scare him or confuse him like it would have before. Now it made him smile and simply let the moment be the warm, sweet thing that it was.
Meanwhile, having just completed the job application, Summer called David's name and sighed when there was, of course, no answer. He had wandered off some moments ago, after having told her that he wanted to go and find Bucky. He did so by using his self-made sign for Bucky, which was tapping his left arm. He had a sign like that for everybody - for Steve he held his arm out like if he were holding a shield, for Sam he held his arms out like he was flying, and for Thor, he made a gesture like he was smacking a hammer in the air.
She had told him to leave Bucky alone and that he was busy doing his own things, but David was rather stubborn when he wanted to be. He hung around for a few minutes before quietly slipping out of the room, and now that she was done with the application, she needed to get up on her crutches and go hunt the kid down.
She didn't need to go far, however. She stopped outside of Bucky's room and, when she heard the notes of a familiar song being played on his piano, she peered past the barely-open door and immediately smiled to herself at what she saw.
It was the first time she had caught a glimpse of Bucky playing the piano, and that in itself would have made her stop and stare, but seeing him and David playing side by side was enough to melt her right to the floor.
Then there was the whole matter of how seriously good it sounded. It would have still brought tears to her eyes even if it had been terrible music and neither of them had an idea what they were doing, but the fact that she instantly recognized the song and David was playing incredibly well, too well considering his only experience being self-taught on a tablet - it was incredible.
Her eyes were starting to shine by the time she heard quiet footsteps behind her, and Steve asking, "Everything okay?"
She glanced behind her, nodding at Steve as he came to stand at her side and peer in the room as well. "Yeah, yeah. Everything's great, actually. Look."
She then watched as Steve looked and, just as she had, almost instantly smiled to himself. "Wow."
"I know," she said quietly, hoping Bucky didn't know they were there. "I wish I had my phone on me. I need a picture of this."
Steve, ever helpful, solved her problem by pulling out his own phone and silently snapping a picture. A few pushes of a few buttons later, he turned to her and said, "Just sent it to you."
"Thank you," she smiled.
He nodded, then glanced into the room before saying quietly, "I know he's doing the piano thing for therapy, but somehow I think it's something else that's really helping."
That remark only made her smile more, and Steve smiled back and gave her shoulder a light pat before walking on down the hall.
She stole a few more moments watching before moving on herself, heading towards the living room. Bucky, who had been aware of both her and Steve the entire time and also heard every word with his sharp hearing, glanced back at the door and grinned softly before turning back to his task.
Later that day, Summer got a text from Paul inviting her and her "boys" over to his and Sarah's new rental home outside of the city. They had just moved in within the last three days, and Summer hadn't been over yet due to the general chaos of moving across the country with two adults and seven kids, giving everybody a chance to unpack some and feel human again. But that night, Paul had insisted she come over, not taking no for an answer, so after dinner, she piled into a car - Sam's, after he handed Bucky the keys and gravely warned him to bring it back with the steering wheel - and headed out into the night.
Their rental home was an hour away, safely tucked away from the crime and the bustle of the city, and when they pulled into the driveway, Summer felt excitement rush through her just as it had when Paul had first told her that he was moving to New York. It was real now, he was really living just a mere hour away from her now, and things like this - driving over to his house and just hanging out for a few hours - could actually become a normal part of life now.
"I've never seen you move so fast on those crutches," Bucky observed with a grin, David's hand in his as they made their way to the front door.
She smiled back and said, "I might be just a teensy bit excited."
Once they got on the porch and Bucky reached to knock on the door, there was a slight crashing sound on the other side, and suddenly it burst open, revealing Paul with a full face of very bright makeup and a hot pink feather boa around his shoulders.
He grinned like nothing was out of the ordinary and said, "If you weren't on crutches, Summer, I'd pick you up and throw you in the pool in my backyard because I am that excited right now."
She stared at him. "I... like the new look."
He looked down and then seemed realize his odd appearance. "Oh yeah! It's makeover day with Maya, apparently. Eight years old and makeup was the first thing she wanted unpacked. And this thing," he plucked at the boa. "Anyway, come in, and whoa," he turned to Bucky, "what's with the hand?"
As they walked in, Bucky looked down at his seemingly normal left hand, and Summer explained, "He can do a holographic thing with it. He wanted to do it just in case it would freak any of the kids out."
"Oh," Paul said, nodding to Bucky as he passed by and offering a high five to David, which was predictably ignored. "You don't have to do that, but thanks for thinking of it."
Bucky nodded, leaving his hand disguised, and then with the door closed, Paul gave Summer the biggest hug that he possibly could with her standing on the crutches.
"Can you believe we're this close now?" he smiled excitedly, pulling away and absently running a finger under his eye to wipe away some errant bright blue eyeshadow.
"No!" she grinned back. Then she looked around and said, "This place is nice. Where is everybody?"
As if to answer her question, there was then a veritable stampede of children into the foyer she was standing in. They were all beaming and squeaking about "Aunt Summer" and running at full speed at her until the oldest, Maya, stopped and they all skidded to a halt behind her and half of them fell over in the process, like bowling pins.
"She's hurt, remember?" the dark-haired little girl snapped at her siblings. "Mama said to be easy with her!"
Summer grinned at the leader of the pack, then freed one arm from the crutches and held it out for a big hug. "Come here, Maya."
The girl then squeaked again and came at her for a hug, and Paul turned to the slightly-overwhelmed looking Bucky and introduced each of his kids to him as they went to Summer one at a time for hugs.
"That's Maya, she's the oldest and sassiest," he said. "Then there's the first set of twins, who are six years old, Gabriel - our only boy so far - and Samantha."
"Sammie!" the twin instantly piped up, giving her father a scolding look as she left Summer's embrace.
"Sammie - sorry," he sighed. "Then there's the next set of twins, who're four. Selena and Charlotte."
"You had twins back to back?" Bucky asked a little wide-eyed.
"Yup," Paul nodded. "Sarah is a goddess and should have monuments built to her. Anyway, then there's Sofia, who's two," he gestured to a toddler currently chewing on a toy and staring at everybody rather than hugging her aunt. "And finally, there's Marina, who you've met and is with Sarah wherever she is."
"Right here," the woman said, rounding the corner with a smile and a five month old redheaded baby in her arms. She had grown so much since Summer had last seen her, all chubby cheeks and blue eyes and hair completely different from her all-brunette siblings. But Summer's attention was stolen by Sarah looking her over and gasping, "Oh, look at you! Come on, come sit down and get comfortable, poor thing."
Summer glanced at Bucky and smiled at his expression, which was somewhere in between oh my God so many kids and no really why so many kids, and that only made her smile more as she made her way into the living room.
There were boxes everywhere and it looked like the family wasn't even halfway unpacked yet, but their couch was as comfortable as she remembered it being in California. Sarah helped get her settled in while Marina's smiling, fat face thoroughly distracted her.
"How are you doing? Are they letting you walk yet?" Sarah asked, sitting across from her while Bucky and David took the spots beside her. The other kids trailed in the living room one by one, starting with Maya.
"Not yet, but maybe by next week," Summer replied, smiling goofily back at the baby who was still staring at her. "I'm sorry, but I can't focus on anything else but your baby right now. She's so big and cute."
"Oh I know. Here," Sarah beamed, getting up and quickly depositing the baby into Summer's lap. "She loves people right now."
"I can tell," Summer laughed, turning the baby around to face her and smiling even wider when Marina grinned and then giggled at her. "Oh my God, her giggle! I'm dead. Somebody call 911."
Paul sat next to Sarah as Summer fell head over heels in love with her newest niece, bouncing her and making her giggle more. She glanced at Paul in between dying and said, "She looks just like you."
"I know, and yet she's still adorable. Go figure," he quipped.
She rolled her eyes and then glanced at Bucky next to her, who was watching her in that same quiet, soft way that he had watched her hold Marina for the first time about four months ago. She smiled at him, and as he smiled back, his eyes darted to Marina, who was now looking his way and smiling at him as she gnawed on her little fist.
"Ooh, you have a fan," Summer said right before Marina started giggling yet again, falling over in the process until Summer caught her and set her back upright. She was a complete goner, descending into ridiculous-sounding baby talk and silly faces, anything to get more adorable reactions from the baby, and every so often she'd glance at Bucky for the shortest of seconds and find him seemingly fascinated by the sight before him.
When Marina had calmed down some and was content resting in Summer's lap with a toy that Sarah had brought over, Summer took a breath and then looked back to her brother and sister in law, saying, "Okay, now that I've died a thousand deaths - how are you guys settling in?"
"Good, aside from the, oh, ten thousand or so boxes left to unpack," Paul replied, still distracting with his makeup face, "but I actually did have a purpose for asking you guys over here."
She raised her eyebrows, but before she could ask any questions, Paul leaned over the side of the couch he was on and then produced a small box, which his set on his lap. "So, while I was packing up about a week ago, I came across this box with some of Grandma's stuff in it. You know, pictures, mementos, stuff like that," he explained.
Summer nodded, the topic reminding her of the fact that all Paul had of their grandmother was all that was left, since the destruction of her house. She tried to push the thought away and listened to Paul as he lifted the box's lid and said, "I went through it all again before I repacked it, and I was reading through one of her old diaries, and... you're never gonna believe what I found in it."
Summer furrowed her brows, Marina still happy in her arms as she replied, "Really?"
Paul nodded, finding the little book he was searching for and flipping it open while Sarah helpfully started wiping his face off with a baby wipe. "Oh thanks, honey. Anyway, yeah, so - just stay sitting down. I'm gonna read from it since I actually speak the mother tongue, unlike some of us."
"... Mother tongue," Summer rolled her eyes. "Your true mother tongue is Parseltongue."
Paul gestured vaguely and said, "Yeah, well, you're not wrong, but okay. Is everybody sitting down?" When he looked around to verify this, he then looked back down at the book and said, "This is her oldest diary we have. It's from... let's see... 1947. It's the only one she talks about the war and the concentration camp in. She wrote the whole thing almost like a really long letter to our mom. So when she says 'you' and stuff, that's who she's talking to. It's a full account of her whole time there. But I'm gonna skip to the day she was rescued."
He cleared his throat, and Sarah took off the feather boa from his shoulders and then hushed a protesting Maya as Paul began to read. Summer listened carefully, having had no idea what to expect.
"By the end, none of us had any hope left. I had lost mine the day they killed Saul - that was her husband," Paul told Bucky helpfully before going back to reading. "We had very little knowledge of what was happening outside of those walls. We didn't know who was winning the war, but from where we were standing, it certainly didn't seem like the Nazis were losing. Some of us tried to escape, but it never worked. They'd beat the ones who tried or send them to the other side of the camp, where they did their experiments. I did everything I could to keep from going there, because I knew I would lose you if I did."
He looked up to make sure he had both Summer and Bucky's attention, then went on, "On that very last day, I was so weak and so hungry, I could hardly move. I knew they would kill me soon, since I could not do their work anymore. I could feel you moving less and less. I would wait for the moment to come when you would stop completely, but every time I thought you were gone, you would kick me. I started to think that somehow, you would outlive me."
"You kicked me just as the bombing started. The alarm sirens went off, and everyone around me found the strength to get up and look out of the cage we were in. I couldn't. I laid there and waited. The officers came and opened the door, yelling at us to get up and get out. I know now that they knew they were outmatched, and they simply wanted to kill us before the Allies could rescue us."
"But before any of us obeyed them, I heard gunshots and looked up. The officers were on the floor, dead. I still couldn't move. I just stared at their eyes as the others left. Then there was a man walking towards me, and I didn't know who he was or if he was there to hurt me or free me. He walked to me and crouched down, and he started talking to me in English. I think he was trying to figure out if I was alive."
"I nodded, since I couldn't speak his language, and then looked at him. He was an American, young. Dark hair that reminded me of my Saul. He helped me stand up and then helped me walk out of the cell. He didn't look like a normal soldier. He had a big gun but his clothes were blue, and he kept talking to me even though I couldn't understand him. He led me to a man with a funny hat and a huge mustache that covered half his face, and then I was walking out of my prison. We were free. We were saved."
"Later they told me who it was who liberated the camp - Captain America and his men. I never saw him, and I did not know who he was before this. He went on to die in the war. The man who rescued me, I do not know what became of him. But those men are the reason that you and I lived."
Paul then closed the book, and looked up expectantly at his audience. Summer stared at him with wide eyes and looked over at Bucky, whose brows were furrowed and eyes confused, and then looked back to Paul as she asked, "... Does that mean what I think it means?"
"Yeah, I'm... pretty sure that it does," Paul replied. "I mean, who else could she have been talking about?"
Marina was now slobbering heavily on the Summer's hand that was holding her upright, but she didn't notice because her mind was officially blown. She again looked at Bucky, who still looked confused, but before she could say a word to him, Paul beat her to it.
"So yeah... with the exception of Sarah here, it looks like without you," he told Bucky, "none of the people in this room would be alive today."
He had already saved her life more than once. She just hadn't known that he had saved it long before she had even been born.
He tried to remember for himself what he had just heard. He focused on the details of the story and tried to piece it together in his head, but the memory was simply not there. As with a number of stories and parts of his other life, it was out of reach, and the first thing he did was try to poke holes into the theory.
"It... if it was me she described, I didn't save anyone on my own," he muttered, not exactly comfortable with the way that everyone was looking at him. "It was everybody, I..."
"Actually," Paul interrupted gently, "from the way it sounded, she was in such bad shape that she looked dead. So we don't know that anyone else would have checked her. Maybe by the time they did, it would have been too late."
"She never talked about this," Summer said, seemingly still in awe of this revelation. "I thought they freed the camp in a normal raid, not with Captain America."
Paul nodded. "Yeah, she didn't tell me this either. She told me the story of her and Saul and hiding being pregnant with our mom when they captured them, but I was like twelve and if she told me who saved her, I definitely don't remember."
Neither did Bucky, and it was infinitely frustrating. It was hard to accept people calling you a hero and raving over your deeds when you couldn't even remember doing them, but at the same time... how incredibly amazing that this was true.
"Anyway, yeah, this is one of the main reasons why I wanted you guys to come over tonight," Paul said. "I wanted to tell you both in person and I've been dying inside since I read it."
Summer then asked Bucky quietly, "Can you remember it?"
He shook his head, glancing at the baby in her arms before looking away. "No. I mean... maybe I've had a flash from it before, but I wouldn't know."
Summer nodded understandingly, and Paul said, "That's okay. I just wanted you to know. And by the way, this makes me feel even worse for being a dick to you back when the accident happened, so..."
Little Sofia, who had been wandering through the room, looked up at her father, then repeated "dick" over and over as she headed towards a pile of toys. Sarah smacked Paul on the arm, and he cringed slightly before amending, "Jerk. I was a jerk. Whoops."
Bucky shrugged him off. "It's fine."
"Not really," Paul replied, "but can we all just take a moment and soak in the fact that the dude who saved our grandmother from HYDRA Nazis is now sitting in my living room and is in a long term relationship with my sister, because... man does that sound creepy when you first hear it because you'd expect him to be old enough to pass for Dumbledore, but man... seriously, you just can't make this stuff up."
"You should write a book," Sarah told Summer, nodding in agreement. "Because he's right. It really is an incredible story."
"I actually... sort of... am," Summer replied quietly.
"Really?" Paul asked, and Bucky watched her blush faintly and look down as she came up with an answer.
"Well, it's... based loosely on us," she shrugged. "Completely different circumstances. But I've got probably about half of it written."
Paul's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa! You're actually writing a book?! Sarah, get he defibrillator ready. When did you start it?"
Summer fidgeted a little and said, "Bucky's... birthday. It was my... uh... present to him. Then I added to it from there."
Bucky then watched Paul's face shift from excitement to understanding and then mild but mostly humorous disgust as he said, "So... what I get from that and the way that you're turning red is... when I read this story eventually, I'm gonna have to skim the crap out of it if I don't want my eyes to bleed and fall out of my head."
She nodded. "Yeah... pretty much."
"I'll read it all," Sarah piped up before looking around and then nonchalantly examining her nails.
Summer smiled awkwardly. "Yeah... okay."
All was silent for a few seconds until Paul smiled and said, "So anyway, back to the whole this guy saving our entire family and everything..."
Bucky sighed and leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees as he said, "I just don't remember it. I wish I did, but..."
"That's okay," Summer replied. "I'm just really glad she wrote the story down. Otherwise we might not have ever known."
He nodded, then smiled a little as he said, "I'm glad I did it."
She smiled back, and then Paul sighed and said, "See, I should find this weird. I should. But I don't and I'm not sure what that says about how used I've gotten to things being completely bizarre."
"No, weird would be finding out that he," she pointed to Bucky, "was actually our real grandfather. That would be bizarre and horrific because... yeah."
Paul choked on the water bottle he was sipping and then said, "Oh my God, I totally should have pranked you guys like that first. Like bad news, guys - you might be violating a few laws of nature doing what you're... doing."
"Oh God," Summer cringed. "I would have actually killed you. Like you would be in the hospital now."
As the siblings carried on, Bucky continued to ponder the new information Paul had given them, and then he noticed a little face staring at him from the arm of the couch. The oldest kid, Maya, was leaning there and staring at him with open curiosity. First he tried to ignore her, but eventually he ended up staring back and waiting for her to say or do something.
"You're pretty," Maya finally said.
He furrowed his brows and shifted his gaze before looking back at her. "... Thanks?"
"You're prettier than Aunt Summer."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't know about that, but..."
"Can I give you a makeover?"
He hesitated. "I... don't know..."
Maya then stuck out her bottom lip in a pout that made his eyes narrow and protests die in his throat. He got the feeling that the kid wasn't used to being told no, because she'd pull out this face and make one feel like pure scum for even contemplating telling her no.
"... Fine."
She then broke into a smile and dashed off, presumably to gather supplies, and Bucky wondered what he had just gotten himself into.
Over the next twenty minutes, David kept busy by playing nearby with his only male cousin while Summer and Paul went through the rest of their grandmother's box and chatted. Meanwhile, Bucky sat still and played model for Maya, who apparently took her makeovers very seriously and would scold him if he so much as twitched while she did her work.
Summer kept glancing over at them, incredulous amusement on her face, and he would merely shrug and hold still while Maya painstakingly applied dark purple eyeshadow for a "smoky eye effect", as she called it.
Once she got to the blush stage, the brush she was using tickled his nose and he involuntarily scrunched his face up and turned away, only for her to immediately say, "Hey, I'm trying to contour your cheeks here."
He looked at her with furrowed brows and held still again. "What?"
She sighed impatiently. "I'm gonna be a makeup artist when I grow up. Now stop moving." He obeyed, and as she went back to "contouring", she said, "You have really good bone structure."
He looked at her strangely again and said, "You have a good vocabulary."
"Yeah, that's what my teachers say," she shrugged. "But math is my best subject."
"Really?"
She suddenly stopped what she was doing and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Do you think because I'm a girl I'm bad at math?"
He shook his head quickly. "No. Not at all."
She then stared him down for a few more seconds before accepting his answer. "Good. My mama always says I can do anything a boy can."
"She's right," he agreed, becoming suddenly more concerned for himself when she put down the brush in her hands and started browsing through the little tiny lipsticks she had in her bag.
"I'm better at baseball than most of the boys at my school. Well, my old school. They didn't like playing with me 'cause I'd kick their butts." She evaluated each tube of lipstick carefully as she added, "But I still like makeup better." Then she held up two of the lipsticks and asked, "What do you think - mauve or rose?"
He opened his mouth to answer but then realized he had even less than no idea. Then she dropped them both and said, "Never mind, neither. I gave you a dramatic eye so I should just use a sheer gloss."
He chuckled at her serious, business-like manner, and then looked over at Summer, who was now sitting next to him with a sleeping Marina knocked out in her arms. She smiled at him, and he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, turning back to Maya so she could give his makeover the finishing touch.
It was quite distracting, though, seeing how natural Summer looked with a baby in her arms. If he let himself - and he was not letting himself - he could imagine some things all too well, things that he would not utter aloud to her any time soon.
"Okay," Maya said, putting the cap back on the shiny gloss she'd just slathered on his lips. "Done. Ready to see your new look?"
He smiled and nodded, utterly terrified for what he was about to see as she pulled out a compact mirror from her bag and handed it to him. He opened it and then peered at his reflection, unable to keep his eyes from bugging out for a moment before he stifled a laugh at his "makeover". The kid actually hadn't done a bad job, and his cheeks really were quite well defined. It was the eyes that made him laugh, all dark purple and indeed quite dramatic.
"The purple really makes the blue in your eyes pop," Maya nodded. Then she looked at Summer and beamed, "What do you think?"
Bucky turned to her so she could get a better look, and Summer covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing before clearing her throat. "Very good job, Maya. He's very pretty."
Maya nodded wholeheartedly. "Hold on, I need to take a picture for my portfolio."
She then ran off, and Bucky slowly turned back to Summer and asked, "Did she just say 'portfolio'?"
Summer merely smiled, and Paul, back in his earlier spot on the opposite couch, nodded and said, "Welcome to the family. That was your initiation."
Summer laughed and he smiled, and a moment later, when Sarah and Paul were distracted, Summer nudged him with her elbow without disturbing Marina and said, "You sure do seem to be a sucker for girls convincing you to do ridiculous things."
"She's almost as good at it as you are," he replied with a grin. "Must be a family trait."
She nodded, then giggled. "I'm sorry, I can't concentrate with that smoky eye thing you've got going on. It's really distracting. I have to ask - back in the, uh, bad old days, did you put on your Winter Soldier eyeliner yourself or did other people do it for you?"
He sighed heavily and gestured with his hand as he said, "First of all, it wasn't eyeliner. It's called black camouflage war paint, and yeah, I put it on myself."
She stifled a laugh. "Oh okay. So this probably doesn't feel as weird as it should," she grinned. "It really does bring out your eyes."
He rolled said eyes and then glanced at Marina and said, "You don't look like you're wanting to give her up anytime soon."
She shook her head. "Nope. Think you could help me sneak her out of here? I'm totally up for it."
"They might notice after awhile," he shrugged towards her brother and sister in law.
She sighed and nodded, looking down at the baby. Then, when she looked back up, Bucky could have sworn that she was on the verge of saying something that she then appeared to think better of before smiling and looking back down. He never got to ask what it was, because Maya was back with a camera and the rest of the visit went by in a flash.
From the story of his involvement in her grandmother's rescue seven decades ago to the faint tug he felt inside suspiciously near his heart every time he looked at Summer holding her baby niece, the night had left him with far more to think about than he had anticipated.
And the night only got more eventful from there.
After they got back to the tower and David was happily sleeping, Bucky, whose face was mostly cleaned of makeup now, watched in confusion as Summer emerged from her bathroom dressed for bed but quickly going for her phone and proceeding to seemingly text the crap out of someone after he helped her get into bed.
He sat near the foot of her bed, watching the distress on her face grow the more she typed, and finally he had to ask, "Are you... okay?"
She sighed and set her phone down. "Yeah... well, no. Apparently nobody in this whole place has what I need at the moment and now I have to ask you to do something that really shouldn't be embarrassing considering all we've been through especially with the hospital stuff and I mean my God you've shaved my legs for me so -"
He raised his eyebrows at her and caused a brief pause in her rambling. He smiled and she rolled her eyes at herself, taking a breath and explaining, "I need you to uh... run to the store and get me some... things. You know. Girl things."
His blank stare was all she needed to know that he didn't get what she was hinting at.
"Once a month girl things," she clarified.
"Oh." Well that wasn't so bad. He furrowed his brows and asked, "Why is that embarrassing?"
"Well, it's... you know. Sometimes guys act like idiots about stuff like that. At least in my experience," she muttered.
Since her experience was limited to only one other man, Bucky fought a roll of his eyes and restrained the insulting comment he wanted to make towards him. He just wasn't worth the breath. Instead, he focused on a more pressing matter. "... What... kind... do you need?"
"Uh, well, yellow box, and... you know what, I'll just send you a picture," she shrugged. "Just make sure and get the same thing. And only name brand. Definitely no knock offs." She paused, cringing. "And get the big box."
"Okay. Anything else?"
She paused again. "I mean if you wanted to throw in a giant dark chocolate bar, I wouldn't argue with you."
He smiled at her answer and then stood up, walking to where she sat on the bed and leaning down to kiss her all too briefly. When he pulled away, she pulled him back down and then used her thumb to wipe at the corner of his left eye, explaining, "You had some leftover eyeshadow there. You know, you kinda look you wore eyeliner to bed last night and never washed it off." She paused, then grinned. "I kinda like it."
"Then enjoy it while it lasts," he replied, kissing her one more time before getting up to grab a hat and get on his way. The last thing he did before leaving was turn on the holographic function in his arm and then tell Summer he'd be back in probably twenty minutes.
On his way down the hall, his phone buzzed with the picture Summer had just sent him of the item he needed to get, and as he opened it, he passed Sam headed the way that he had come from.
"Going somewhere this late?" Sam asked curiously, taking notice of the hat and the normal-looking left arm.
Bucky shrugged and then held up his phone to show the picture, which Sam glanced at before giving Bucky a pat on the shoulder and saying, "Good man. You should throw some chocolate in while you're at it. Just speaking from experience."
"Already planned on it," Bucky grinned before heading back on his way.
There was a drugstore not far away, just a brief number of blocks east on a corner, and the night was as quiet as New York ever got. To Bucky's relief, getting to the store and finding what he needed ended up being exceedingly easy. The hardest part was actually figuring out the chocolate and trying not to burst an artery at the price of the stuff. He was getting used to the ridiculously inflated prices of the current century, but almost $15 for a bar of chocolate that would be gone in about three minutes seemed steep, especially considering others next to it were even more expensive.
Nonetheless, he plunked down the cash and then got out of there. True to his undying habits, he never stopped scoping out his surroundings as he walked from one side of the street to the other, but as usual, he spotted nothing out of the ordinary. He was as anonymous as anyone else in the city that night, but when he walked past an alleyway that laid between a pizza place and an office building, he heard what sounded like a muffled cry come from within it and stopped in his tracks.
He didn't move a muscle, listening carefully and straining to hear more. The next sound he caught was rushed whispering and another muffled noise, then, after another moment, a rather loud smack.
He didn't think about his next actions or the potential consequences of them. There was no debate or uncertainty in silently putting down the plastic bag in his hands to the ground, then once again scoping out his surroundings while pressing his back to the far edge of the office building. One short, unseen glance down the alleyway revealed two men and one girl, the latter of which was being held by one of them to the wall with a knife to her throat.
They were too far away to not see him coming. He quickly walked to around to the back of the building from the other side, edging closer to the alleyway with silent footsteps. He stopped once he reached it, then took the wall again, listening to the harsh whispers of one of the men as they told the girl, "Be quiet and it'll go a lot faster."
Bucky reached down to his boot and pulled out the knife that he never left home without. Considering the fact that there was no time to waste, he swiftly turned the corner and then threw the knife directly at the back of the man who was pressing the girl to the wall. He cried out sharply and sprung off of her, and then the second guy turned around and whipped out his own blade the minute he realized they were under attack. The guy cursed and then swung the knife at Bucky, who threw up his left arm and ended up with a slash in the sleeve of his hoodie. But at the unexpected resistance, the knife fell out of the guy's hand, and Bucky knocked him to the ground with one punch to the face.
The girl - who appeared to be uninjured - scrambled out of the alley and gave Bucky a shaky thank you on her way out, which he acknowledged with a nod. He then moved for the first guy, who was stumbling against the wall while futilely trying to reach the arm in his back. He grabbed the knife by the handle and yanked it out of the man, and as he cried out in another fit of pain, he turned him around and shoved him against the wall with the knife to his throat. The second guy, back on his feet, tried to charge at Bucky again, but he easily sent him back to the ground with one kick to his midsection while still holding the other man to the wall.
"Don't kill me," the man started pleading, and Bucky could feel him shaking under his arm and the blade he still held to his throat. "Please don't, I was just... just..."
"I know what you were doing," Bucky said, his voice low and as threatening as his inhumanly tight grip on the man. "I hate men like you."
The man swallowed and clenched his eyes shut as his very bones shook in terror. "Just... just... please, oh God..."
As easy as it would have been to snap the piece of garbage's neck and rid the world of one more rapist, Bucky wasn't as mad with rage as he had been the last time he had nearly killed a man. It was a far more righteous sort of anger, rather than the shocked and vengeful desire to rip the person limb from limb.
This man wasn't worth staining his hands with more blood. Perhaps no man was. But that didn't mean he couldn't deliver some justice of his own.
A knee powered with all of his serum-enhanced strength to the man's groin rendered the criminal in so much pain that he could not even cry out, let alone breathe or do anything at all but crumple to the ground in a heap. Bucky stared down at him, only hoping that there would be permanent damage. Then he glanced to his left and saw the other guy on all fours, trying to scramble to his feet and get away.
Bucky walked rather casually to the guy and thwarted his attempts by stomping on his leg, pinning him to the ground, and the crack of bones and resulting shout of pain alerted him to the fact that he might have done it a little harder than he'd intended.
The second guy now lying on his back and crying actual tears while gripping his most likely broken leg, and the first no more able to get up and flee himself, Bucky's head then shot up at the sound of approaching sirens.
Maybe the girl had called the cops after getting away, or perhaps a pedestrian had seen the fight break out in the alleyway from the street. Either way, it was time for him to leave.
But first, he leaned down and used the second guy's jacket to clean his knife of the blood on it from the first guy, and then he slipped it back into his boot. The last thing he did before leaving was grab the man's throat and say in his most overtly terrifying tone, "One word about me and I will find you anywhere you try to go."
Then he stood up and left the alley without a second glance. Just before the police arrived, he circled back to the front of the office building, picked up the plastic bag he'd left there, and then began calmly walking home.
On the outside, there was nothing suspicious about him. He was just another guy on the street, walking home with a bag from the store dangling from his fingers. On the inside, however, adrenaline was still flowing freely through his veins, and his mind was racing with the dark thrill of what he had just done. He felt anything but calm, but what struck him the most was how very good he felt.
He certainly hadn't left the tower with the intent to stop a horrible crime in progress and then inflict serious injuries on the perpetrators. But now that he had, and in the process proven to himself that he could curb the still-very present instincts to kill his targets without a second thought... he would be lying if he said that the idea of doing it again didn't sound incredibly tempting.
Just exactly what had he tripped and fallen into?
Summer had moved to Bucky's room while he had been gone, mostly because that was where her laptop was, and she passed the time waiting for him to get back by writing a few more hundred words of her story. It had been a long day, but in the pleasant way, and her eyes were starting to grow heavy as she typed up words that she hoped would still sound good in the morning.
When she heard the door open, she looked up from her computer screen and smiled as Bucky walked inside and shut the door behind him. He smiled back, but something immediately seemed off about him. She wasn't sure what it was at first, and since it was possible that she was imagining things, she simply chirped, "Oh, yay, you're home. How did it go?"
"Fine," he said, dropping the bag on the floor next to where she sat on his bed. She closed her laptop and pushed it aside as he leaned down to kiss her, and one of her hands went to his arm out of habit. She didn't expect to find a rip in his sleeve, like something sharp had torn right through it.
After the kiss, she looked down at where her fingers still touched the sleeve and asked, "What happened to this?"
He shrugged and pulled the arm away, straightening up to take the hoodie off. "I got you chocolate."
She raised an eyebrow slightly, taking mental note that subject change was not on his rather extensive list of various skills. Still, she replied with her thanks and then reached into the bag to grab the item. It was chocolate, after all.
He then disappeared into the bathroom for awhile, and she pondered the possibilities of just what was afoot as she ate the chocolate. None of them were particularly good, but since Bucky wasn't shaking or wild-eyed or covered in blood, chances are, whatever it was hadn't been that bad. Maybe some idiot had tried to mug him? It had to be something - his clothes didn't get ripped up for no reason.
When he re-emerged from the bathroom, she watched him carefully as he stripped off his shirt and then his jeans, though not for the obvious reasons. At least not entirely for those. She chewed and didn't take her eyes off of him as he climbed into bed, staying on top of the covers and looking at her blankly when he noticed the contemplative way she was staring at him.
But before he could say a word, she broke off one of the squares of dark chocolate in her hand and offered it to him between two of her fingers. "Wanna share?"
He looked from her fingers to her eyes with mild surprise, and then smiled for just a second before nodding. He leaned forward, and she brought the chocolate to his mouth, ignoring what it did to her to watch him take a bite and look her in the eye as he did it. His lips brushed over her fingertips, and she bit her lip without realizing it, thinking that maybe she should have done something more conventional like... actually asking him what was wrong, instead of hand-feeding him and giving him the perfect opportunity to distract her.
Still, she broke off a second piece and then repeated her last action, only this time not having to reach as far because he was sitting much closer to her now. He also seemed to enjoy the second piece more, or maybe just her obvious reactions, since he really went for it that time. He ate from her fingertips slowly, looking up at her through dark lashes and then closing his eyes as he sucked lightly at her fingers before drawing away.
She stared at him open-mouthed, at a loss and almost forgetting that she still needed to ask him a question. Then, after he swallowed, he looked up at her in a way that was unexpectedly predatory, and suddenly he was invading her space and only breaking his heavy gaze upon her to kiss her with an unexpected and dizzying passion.
Her questions were dead on arrival, lost to the far more pressing matters of his mouth hungrily taking hers and the taste of the dark chocolate on his tongue. He was relentless and she had no motivation to stop him, especially when he groaned quietly into her mouth and then broke away, sucking in a breath and moving his kisses to her neck. She held on to the back of his head and gasped a little in surprise when his right hand slid underneath the top lace trim of her camisole and groped her unapologetically, all while he panted on her neck between nearly ravenous open-mouth kisses.
Not that she would complain, but he hadn't been like this since... when? It took her a moment to gather the brain power to think at all, but then she remembered that this was similar to how he would act following a successful night in the field.
But that didn't make sense... did it?
Then, as suddenly as he had pounced upon her, he let go of her and pulled away, shutting his eyes and muttering regretfully, "I'm sorry. I forgot you're... you don't usually want to do anything when you're..."
He gestured vaguely then towards her abdomen, and she stared at him silently, knowing what he was getting at but suddenly too concerned to worry about answering him. He brushed his hair back with his hand and muttered another apology, and then as he fixed her top for her, she blurted, "What happened tonight?"
He looked at her with what might have been relief or maybe surprise - it was hard to tell because there was simply too much going on in his eyes - and then, with a deep breath, he eased away from her and sat with his back to the wooden frame behind them. She straightened up, the blood slowly returning to her head over the next few moments that they spent in silence, and she watched him carefully as he dragged his right hand over his face and searched for words to say.
"I don't know," he finally answered.
"... Was it HYDRA? Did someone find you, or..."
He shook his head. "No. Nothing like that." He paused, staring ahead, and then said quietly, "I stopped two guys from raping a girl in an alley."
Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. She raised her eyebrows and replied, "Oh. Oh. That's good. How did that happen?"
He then launched into the story, which was actually quite short the way that he told it. She listened intently, watching his face shift from confused to worried to contemplative as he described what it was like to stop something bad from happening to an innocent person and then proceed to beat the crap out of their attackers.
Judging by the words he used and the look in his eye, he had really enjoyed playing vigilante for a night. He just wasn't sure what to make of that fact.
"... It would have been so easy to kill them," he said after he concluded the story. "Took barely anything to break the one guy's leg. I mean, they would have deserved it, but..."
"I'm glad you didn't," she said gently, reaching to take one of his hands in hers. She took the closest one, which was his left, and went on, "Because yeah, maybe they did deserve it, but... that burden doesn't fall on you. It's not your place to take any more lives. Unless you had to, to save innocent people."
Bucky nodded, looking down at their hands and staying silent for a moment. "I just didn't expect it to feel so good."
"Well... I'm sure it was an adrenaline rush, which... would explain what happened a few minutes ago too," she grinned faintly, catching his eye and making him smile back for just a second before their expressions grew serious again. "And you helped someone. That girl was lucky you were there."
She hoped her words would reassure him, but his eyes remained serious and torn. "But I shouldn't enjoy hurting people. Even if they're bad, I shouldn't."
She reached her free hand towards his face and turned it towards her. "Maybe not. Maybe if you were normal. But the thing is, you're not normal. You've been through way too much to be normal, and that's okay. It's just the way it is. And I don't think anybody could understand what it's like to be a victim better than you. So maybe you should enjoy helping other people not become victims too."
He stared at her, obviously surprised by what she was saying. She didn't know why - had he really expected her to scold him or something?"
"What if I wanted to do it again?" he asked quietly.
"Well... I'd say that you need to be careful and not ever get caught, since you're... you know... a fugitive and all and like half the world wants you dead. So maybe wear a ski mask next time or something?"
If it was possible, he stared at her in even more surprise and borderline bewilderment. "You're okay with this?"
She shrugged and drew a breath, replying, "I mean, yeah, if you decide to go and beat up criminals at night, I'll worry because that's what I do, but I won't try to stop you. I know you've been bored."
He shook his head and immediately started protesting. "No I haven't."
She gave him a knowing look. "Yes you have. There haven't been any missions for awhile, and you're not exactly the kind of person who can sit around a house all day and be content. I get that. And if this helps with that and makes you feel good... then I say do it. And you'll be helping people, which is something I know you're good at, more than most."
His expression soft, his thumb ran over her hand as he asked, "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "As long as you promise me that you'll be careful and not get arrested."
He nodded back. "I'm pretty good at that."
"And cover your face. A hat and a hoodie isn't good enough."
He nodded again. "Okay."
She paused, then looked down the length of his bare torso before adding, "And just make sure you give me some warning next time so that I can expect the whole adrenaline-rush thing. Not that I'm complaining, but holy crap, when you get like that..."
"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly. "But you fed me chocolate."
She blushed a little at the very recent memory, and then chuckled before leaning her head on his shoulder. "Yeah... big scary Winter Soldier turned part time vigilante, plays piano in his spare time and lets little girls give him makeovers, then turns into a sex god when fed chocolate by hand. Quite the resume you're building there."
His arm wrapping around her shoulders, he kissed her hair and said, "Doesn't sound so bad when you put it like that."
She then looked up at him and smiled, shaking her head. "Nope. Not bad at all. That's kind of the thing with good guys. They're good. So you should probably get used to it."
He answered her with a sweet smile and a kiss, and though she would worry about him should he choose to pursue this new path, she wouldn't stand in his way. Anything that made him feel better and feel like he was making up for the horrors of his past could be nothing but a good thing.
And good, whether he was ready to believe it or not, was the perfect word to describe what he was. If this helped him to truly realize that and believe it, then for that reason alone, this was more than worth it.
A/N: So, as promised last week, here we have an actual plot-relevant chapter, with a bunch of feels thrown in :D I just want you all to know that we are getting VERY close to some good stuff. Really fracking close. So keep sticking with me. We're maybe like... halfway through the story lol (... or less? Oh God I don't even know). But thank you guys so much for reading, reviewing, following, and/or lurking, I appreciate all of these things SO MUCH and I love you ALL :D big, big thanks to midnightwings96 for helping me fix parts of this chapter that I initially hated, and just always being amazing & helpful. I shall see you all next week! :D