"I'm home!"
"In the dining room!"
Harper dropped her bag down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island before heading into the room where her partner was. She lifted a brow, seeing a spread of knives and guns across their table. James gave her a sheepish look.
By way of explanation, he said, "I had hoped to finish before you got home."
"Ah."
"It's just regular maintenance. I'll be done soon."
Harper hummed her acknowledgement and asked, "Should I wait to tell you something fairly serious until a time when you don't have a weapon in your hand?"
"What's wrong?" he asked, color draining from his face already. Evidently, she must not have schooled her own face into the neutral expression she thought she had.
"James, gonna need you to not stress out," she said gently, giving a pointed look to the knife held tightly in his grasp.
"Okay," he replied tightly. The weapon was returned to the tabletop and he took a steadying breath. More evenly, he repeated. "Okay."
"An issue has come up at work that I feel like I need to tell you about. I recently had to stop seeing one of the relatively younger patients I have been working with for some time. Among other things, he struggles with sexually aggressive tendencies toward women he desires a relationship with."
"Harper-!"
The brunette pinned the soldier with a look that had him clearly frustrated, but quiet. She needed to get the whole thing out before fielding his protests and they both knew it. "Those behaviors have never been a problem in the several years I've been seeing him. But about a month ago, he told me in session that he's fallen in love with me. That isn't unheard of in therapy, and you can sometimes even work through that and get to what's going on behind those feelings. But for this guy's specific issues, it means I was no longer going to be an effective therapist for him. He didn't take well to being transferred to another clinician, though, and has been coming into the office and trying to get through reception by saying he has an appointment with me.
"Everyone who needs to know about all of this does, and security all know who he is and what he looks like. But he is getting more agitated and more persistent. Despite some reorganizing of staff to make sure my office space is better protected and that I don't have to walk to or from the T alone, I'm still a bit nervous. It's making work not an enjoyable, comfortable place to be and I'm positive that until this is all sorted out, I'm going to be a bit more anxious and irritable than usual. So, I apologize in advance for that, and I want you to know that many, many things are in place to make sure nothing happens to me despite what's going on."
The brunet was silent for a moment, gazing at her with worry and hurt in his clear blue eyes. Finally, he muttered, "I can't tell you how much I hate this, darlin'."
"I know," Harper replied gently. "I don't want to stress you out, but with something like this… I didn't want to keep it from you."
"No, no secrets about this sort of thing," he said firmly. "Never about your safety and wellbeing."
"I truly think that the odds of anything happening are slim. If he keeps this up, he will be referred to a different location altogether and from there we can take further steps to keep him at a distance from me."
"Yes, but it's now recent public record that we bought this house," he pointed out. "It isn't difficult to find you since I don't have the kind of connections some of the other Avengers have to hide shit like that."
Harper was admittedly troubled by this point which she had not considered. Reflecting on her years with this particular patient, she thought over whether this would realistically be an issue. Slowly, she said, "I don't think he will do anything like finding our address or coming here. It doesn't fit his history or his current presentation. I really think his vigor will fizzle out and everything will return to normal."
She watched a muscle in his jaw jump before he clenched his teeth. Finally, James let out a sigh and grimaced, "I hope you're right."
Bucky leaned back on his haunches, admiring the progress he had made. With the temperate late summer weather came the opportunity to do a few projects outside without copious sweating. He had chosen that day to repaint the house's foundation. It was coming along well, but since it was a pretty mindless task it did little to keep his thoughts away from his ongoing worries about Harper's safety.
Noting the time on his phone, Bucky headed back in the house for a quick shower. Even as he washed the sweat, dirt, and paint from his body he couldn't help but continue to think of all the ways someone could get to her if they wanted to. She rode the train alone, she ran errands alone and on a predictable schedule, she sometimes worked late at the office which meant fewer staff around… Plus, she was alone in their home whenever he was away on an assignment.
More tortured thoughts plagued him as the soldier threw on some clean clothes, grabbed his things, and headed out the door. On his way to the train, he again checked his phone and noticed a new message.
Jordan: What bit my sister in the ass?
Bucky: What do you mean?
Jordan: She was super fuckin snappy with me and Harper is never snappy. It's too soon for another cluster cycle?
Bucky: No clusters currently.
Jordan: You guys fighting?
Bucky: No.
Jordan: Then what's wrong with her?
Bucky: I haven't seen her since this morning, so I don't really know. Maybe a bad day?
Jordan: Ugh. If I'd known you were gonna cover for her, I wouldn't have asked. Tell her to reach out when she gets over whatever it is.
The soldier shrugged and pocketed his phone. There was no reason to tell anyone else about their current worries. Harper's job came with a high level of secrecy out of the need to protect her patients' privacy. It was exceptionally rare that she said anything at all about the details of her work, and this entire thing was by far the most she had ever divulged. Even then, it wasn't like he really knew anything about the guy who may or may not be trying to get her alone to…
His mind thankfully fell into reprieve once he got to the animal shelter. There was a lot of cleaning to do, plenty of laundry, and food to portion out. Toys needed to be checked for damage and replacement, water bowls needed filling, and the cats needed to be brushed. In fact, there was so much to do that he couldn't return to his gloomy train of thought until he and Rose set off on a walk. With Daisy the Golden Doodle and Larry the Chow leading the way down the sidewalk, Bucky began to contemplate once again what he could do to ensure Harper's safety when he was not home.
Harper sighed and brought one palm up to her eye. The sleep and irritation could not quite be rubbed away, to her displeasure. A dull ache throbbed in the space between her brows and there was tension at the back of her neck. Dull blue light from her laptop screen bled into the yellow toned light of the lamp on her desk. She wasn't sure which was harsher on her eyes.
Every night for the last several weeks she had spent hours in her home office. She had been asked by an online clinical collaborative to write a piece about treating grief, anger, and trauma in the older veteran population for their website. While much less formal than a research publication, the intent of the article was to educate and guide other clinicians in their work. However, it would be her first published work in several years. She knew that her previous piece on grief had only been so well and widely received because it came during the Blip when it was especially relevant and when there was much less competition for publication in the field. All things considered, it felt pretty high-stakes.
Harper jumped with surprise before quickly relaxing when her hair was carefully gathered and moved to fall over her left shoulder, allowing warm, calloused fingers to land at the nape of her neck. They massaged gently, expertly relieving the pain and tension that had gathered there. James knew exactly where to focus his attention, a sign of how observant and attuned to her he always was. Harper couldn't help but smile at how clearly he loved her.
"Come to bed, doll," he coaxed in a low voice.
"This article just isn't coming together," Harper huffed. "I can't say everything I want to say in a way that is cohesive and flows well within the word limit. And I don't want to cut anything because-"
"Darlin', you're tired and stressed. You aren't going to find the solution like this," the soldier reasoned. "You still have a week until your deadline. Come to bed."
"But…" The protest died on her tongue when his thumb pressed just so against an aching muscle. James placed a kiss to the top of her head before nuzzling his nose in her hair. She was sold. "Alright."
Bucky pressed his boot down on the back of the metal shovel, helping it sink further into the dirt. Rocking his weight back and forth, he had soon loosened enough earth to scoop up the first shovelful. He made fairly quick work of clearing out enough dirt to leave a hole of the appropriate size and depth for the tree he and Harper had chosen to plant. She had fallen immediately in love with the small tree with its delicate trunk and deep red leaves. He had found it rather pretty, too, and thought it would look great with the brick exterior of the house. Plus, it was a pretty easy variety of tree to plant and care for, so he was all in.
After adding just a bit of a carefully selected gardening soil to the hole, Bucky straightened his back and looked over to Harper. They had purchased a few large urns to flank the front door and she had been working on filling them with soil and vibrant orange and yellow marigolds. Blue eyes lingered, appreciating the dirt dusted leggings that clung to her shapely thighs. She wore an oversized red flannel, its sleeves pushed up to her elbows, which allowed for the occasional glance at her rear or a teasing peek at the swell of her chest.
Perhaps feeling his gaze, Harper turned toward him. She smiled, meeting his eyes, before asking, "Ready for the tree?"
Bucky nodded. "I can wait until you're done, though."
"Two more!" Harper promised.
He watched as she carefully removed one of the final flowers from the tray at her feet and enveloped its roots in the soil of its new home. The final flower received the same treatment before both urns' inhabitants were spritzed with water. Harper then made quick work of gathering up the supplies she had used, dispensing of those that needed to be and returning the tools to their storage bucket. He watched all the while, a small smile on his face. It filled him with happiness and pride that she had allowed him to take the lead on matters of yardwork and tending to the house. He was living out part of a dream he thought had died when he fell from the train in the war. Yet it was an even better version of that dream where they could work on these projects together.
"Sorry," Harper apologized, dusting her hands off on her pants as she arrived at his side. "Ready for planting!"
"No problem, doll," Bucky replied easily. "If you want to help place the tree in and then make sure it doesn't shift as I pack in the soil around it?"
The brunette agreed and the pair made quick work of carefully sowing their new tree into the ground. With the task completed, Bucky hastily returned to their front steps, heaving the weighty urns into place at each side of the door. Returning to his partner, he tugged gently on her hand to signal she should follow him to the road. Once there, they gazed at their house, now with their own touches. In the spring, they would add more, but for now, it certainly felt more theirs.
Harper looked up at him with a wide grin. She tilted her chin and rose on her toes so she could place a warm kiss on his lips. Bucky's life may have unfolded in impossibly unpredictable ways and he may have lost a great deal to time, but everything had led to being kissed by the love of his life in front of the home they shared.
It was with great trepidation that Bucky cleared his throat and set down his fork. He watched Harper freeze and look up at him with an eyebrow raised. They were out to eat at a small restaurant just a few stops away on the subway since they both had a free weekend. Harper had submitted her article the week before and he had completed another four-day assignment earlier in the week. While away on that job, an idea broke through his worries about Harper being home alone. When he returned a few days ago he had looked into the feasibility of his solution and now it was time to broach the idea with Harper.
"Doll, can we talk about something?"
Harper took a sip of her wine before nodding. "Are we talking about what's had you so nervous since you've been back?"
Bucky chuckled. There really wasn't any hiding from her. "You're too perceptive. The subject matter isn't what has me nervous so much as your possible reaction to it."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm worried you'll be upset and not hear me out."
The brunette lifted her fork and offered him a bite of roasted potato. He accepted while she promised, "I'll hear you out, hun."
"Alright," he replied warily. "We've talked about how worried it makes me that you're home alone when I have missions? And just generally worried ever since the break-ins and your patient?"
"Yes," Harper nodded, popping a broccoli floret in her mouth.
Bucky bought himself a few more seconds by taking a few sips off his beer. Finally, he said, "I want to adopt a dog."
"A dog?" Harper asked skeptically.
He nodded. "There is a dog at the shelter that would be perfect. Sweet, smart, strong. He'll be easily trained, and-"
"And will somehow be the thing that keeps danger at bay?"
"Harper," the soldier pleaded for her patience. She pursed her lips but made no further comment. Bucky continued, "A guard dog is a really good solution. It will make me feel more comfortable and certain that you're safe and I'd hope you would feel protected too."
"I don't feel like I need protection," she grumbled, stabbing a bit forcefully at a potato. "The break-ins and my patient were things that happened by chance. And both turned out just fine."
"But what if they hadn't?" Bucky asked. "And you're not in a normal relationship, doll. People recognize me more and more, and that will bring you into the spotlight at least occasionally. That comes with risk. Plus, even if you aren't regularly in danger, I am. And I have an entire lifetime's worth of history that could come back to haunt us. Sarah was compromised with the Flag Smashers. There's always the risk that association with me will pull you into danger. This one thing – a well-trained guard dog – would lower some of that abundant risk."
"Why not just get a really good security system or something?"
"Because I've been bypassing security systems for eighty years and know how ineffective they are."
The young woman couldn't argue with that and merely sat in silent thought for several minutes. He allowed her to, knowing what was bothering her even though she hadn't yet said it. It was perhaps one of the touchiest topics they'd ever had to navigate after all.
"Why are you so sure this is the dog?"
"He's already been successfully and thoroughly trained. It would just require some alterations to his existing commands."
"Was he a police dog?"
"Similar," Bucky answered, suppressing a grimace. "His owner was a bounty hunter, so he worked take-downs, protection, all that stuff."
"Wow, a bounty hunter dog?"
He could see the nervousness in her eyes and his shoulders sagged, sensing the oncoming defeat. With a sigh, he said, "Yeah. That's why no one will adopt him."
Gazing down at his food, he missed the way Harper's eyes softened at his words. Silence stretched between them again for several moments before she said, "I won't agree if he isn't good with Aslan."
Bucky lifted his head, surprised to hear the tentative acceptance of his proposal. "Of course, Harper."
"If he tries anything with Aslan, if he makes him even the tiniest bit nervous, it's a firm and final 'no.'"
"Understood," Bucky nodded. He knew this was the main hurdle; with Aslan's declining health, Harper was ever more doting and protective of the fragile feline. "You can meet him, then they can meet before we do anything serious."
"Fine," Harper grumbled, her brows knitting with worry and agitation over what Bucky was certain were forming worries about her cat. "What's his name?"
"Bear."