A/N: Hi all,
Sorry for the delay - I have been without internet access for over a week now. -_-
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"If you don't hurry up I'm going to start the movie without you!" she called to him from her place on the couch, mindlessly flicking through the television channels as she waited.
It was Saturday, and despite the amount of work she still had to do to get her event back on track, she was opting instead to take a well-earned day off; because, let's be honest, what else says "girl, you should take a break" more than having a morning meltdown?
So, whilst she might regret her decision for the rest of the week, she was sticking to her guns. She had set one rule for herself for the day: No work. And so far, it was working out great.
She had slept in, made pancakes for herself and James, gotten in a good work out in at the gym, had a ridiculously long shower, and even painted her nails. It may have only been midday, but already she was more relaxed than she had been in weeks.
It had been during lunch that she had suggested to him that perhaps they should strike off another movie from his must-watch list – a list that was ever growing. So far, she had gotten him through all the classic 80s action films, a genre incredibly close to her heart; and now, she was moving him forward into the sci-fi masterpieces that he had missed out on.
Today was Star Wars Day. And she had lined up episode IV ready to go.
Already he had queried her as to why they were starting with number 4 instead of number 1, which she supposed was, indeed, a very fair point. But she was a sucker for the originals, and in truth, it was more authentic this way anyway.
Checking the time once more she rolled her eyes and called out in the direction of the bathroom once more. "What are you doing in there? Did you drown?!"
He had been in there for almost 20 minutes now. To be fair, 20 minutes paled in comparison to the amount of time that she had spent in the bathroom today, but considering she was dealing with someone who was usually in and out in 10 minutes or less, she felt her impatience was somewhat warranted.
It was about two minutes later when she finally heard the door open and footsteps make their down the hall.
Taking in the sight of him as he came to sit on the couch next to her she couldn't help but laugh. Here he was, this hulking man with a metal arm, sweat pants riding low on his waist, a well-fitted t-shirt outlining the broadness of his chest, all topped off with a towel turban wrapped around his head.
Looking over at her as he sat, he gave her a puzzled look.
"What?" he asked, the shadow of a smirk showing on his face.
"I see you washed your hair then?" she teased, gesturing to his headgear.
"What do you mean?" he replied, his hand reaching up to check the turban. "I've seen you do it. Is this not what people do?"
She giggled again somewhat, "Well, generally, it's something that females tend to do – pretty exclusively, actually. But, then again, the majority of males don't have hair as long as yours…"
"So what you're saying is this is a no?" he pointed to the towel perched on his head.
She shrugged, "I don't know. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. …Besides, I think it actually looks quite fetching on you."
Without a word he pulled the towel from his head and quickly threw it her direction – his justice for her teasing. They both laughed and she promptly thrust the wet towel back at him.
As they both quieted a thought occurred to her.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he shrugged.
"What's with the long hair?"
She winced instantly at her poorly chosen words, and quickly rushed to continue before he got the wrong idea.
"I mean, it's not like it's bad or anything, it's just that the majority of soldiers are made to have really short hair. And it's not just them either – my dad was getting haircuts like every 6 weeks because that was what the Captain of his Precinct expected. So, umm, I guess the question is do you know why they let you grow out your hair?" she finished carefully.
As she finished speaking he looked away from her, seemingly thinking about her question quite intently. As she waited for him to emerge from his thoughts she was pleased to note the absence of hurt and insult from his face. She was still feeling incredibly guilty about her outburst the other day and was now incredibly paranoid about hurting his feelings again, thankfully he was someone who seemed to have very thick skin to match that metal arm of his.
"I think…" he started, still sounding somewhat lost in thought. "It's hard to say exactly. I get snippets of things all the time now, I just never know if they're memories or dreams. So, I could be wrong but I think it was because I resisted."
"Resisted?" she questioned, turning in place on the couch so she could face him fully.
"I don't know, it's all really fuzzy but I think that, at first, the wipes weren't working. It's hard to say. Basically, in order for the experiment to work – for me to become the winter soldier, they had to take away all the parts that made me Bucky. And my appearance was a big part of that." He turned to face her as well before continuing, his face suddenly alive with memories.
"Oh god, Grace – you should've seen me" he laughed softly to himself, a sad smile playing on his lips. "I was this cocky, vain, trouble-making kid, strutting around Brooklyn like I owned the place. And then I joined the Army, so of course it just got ten times worse! You should've seen me in my uniform – oh god, and the way I used to wear my hat. Jesus! I actually wore my cap on angle on my head, just so it wouldn't mess up my hair! Who does that?!" he laughed again, with true joy with this time.
As she watched him, Grace's breath hitched in her throat. He was like a different man. His eyes were so bright, his smile seemingly plastered to his face, his voice was lighter, hell, he even sat up straighter!
Staring at him now, he was a man transformed. This wasn't James – or at least, not as she had come to know him. Was this Bucky? Is this what Bucky Barnes had been like?! She was desperate to know as she found herself becoming more and more hypnotized by this new man before her.
And just like that, as quickly as he had lit up, he snapped back to reality.
"Anyway," he continued, transforming back into "James" once more. "I think that they were trying to create this super soldier to do their bidding, but every time I looked in the mirror I saw myself, Bucky, and not Number 17; so they grew out my hair. Problem solved, I guess." He finished with a shrug, as though recounting his time as an imprisoned superhuman was what people chatted about every Saturday.
Grace was silent for a moment, still somewhat breathless from what she had just seen.
"Well," she started, some slight hesitation in her voice. "I could cut it for you. …if you want, that is. I mean, it's totally up to you!" she stammered. "I just, you know, there's no real reason for the long hair now. You know, now that your… But like I said, it's up to you. If you like it, then you should keep it. I'm sure it looks good either way…"
He smirked at her, clearly he found her rambling entertaining. She didn't mind though, seeing his signature smirk was always worth it.
"You're gonna cut my hair?" His smirk still firmly in place.
"I mean, if you want me to…"
He seemed to contemplate this for a moment before answering. "I guess it couldn't do any harm. …Besides, it's not like anyone's going to see me if you screw it up" he teased.
"Hey!" she retorted, giving his arm a playful smack – a blow which he merely laughed off.
"Alright, that settles it then" she continued once he had stopped chuckling at her feeble slapping abilities, little did he know she could actually pack a punch if she wanted to.
"We'll do movie first, then haircut. Deal?"
"Sounds good to me," he shrugged again as he settled down into the couch for the movie.
Excited for both the sci-fi and the impending haircut, Grace hastily found the remote and hit play – the iconic theme music instantly blasting through the living room.
"So, tell me again why we're starting with number four?"