1.
The text comes when Bucky is ankle-deep in various pipes and tools (he could call the building's super to fix the plumbing but with this great new thing called the internet, he figured it would be pretty simple to figure out why every time he takes a shower, the bathroom sink fills with sludge), and his hands are so full, he can't check it. Besides, he reasons with himself, it's probably nothing. Nobody texts him unless it's a wrong number or a telemarketer. In fact, at this point, he's not even sure why he has a phone.
It takes a full hour to put everything back together (the YouTube tutorials he watched made it all seem much simpler than it is), this time sans dead rat in the elbow fitting (he's trying not to think too hard about that), and by that time, he's nearly forgotten about the text. It's only when he checks the time that he sees the alert on his phone. With a tap, he opens his messages, and as he reads the name attached to the latest one, he nearly drops the phone. It's Marni.
He hasn't seen the woman who has visions in nearly a month. Never expected to hear from her again if he's being honest. But there it is: a message with her listed as the contact. It's not very long; only four words, actually.
'Hey. Are you busy?'
He quickly types, 'Why?' but realizes just as he's about to hit send that it's probably not the best response, all things considered (especially since he really, really wants to see her again… despite his better judgment). Alright, he needs to concentrate. Possibly, 'That depends. What've you got in mind?' No. That's too suggestive. Too flirty. Although he is flirting… sort of… maybe… he hasn't figured that out yet. Finally, he decides to go with a simple, 'No.'
There. No way that can be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable (which is the last thing he wants to do). Unless she takes into account that it took him an hour to reply. Damn it. How do you even go about talking to a pretty girl these days? Is there a YouTube video on that?
Two minutes tick by. Then five. Then fifteen. He's almost decided she's not going to respond when his phone chirps again.
'Sorry. Got caught up grading a paper.' This time, he's fast on the draw.
'That's fine.' But not fast enough, because before he can hit send, another message appears.
'This may be weird, but would you want to meet up? It's okay if not. I just don't know many people, so…' So…? That's it? Is he supposed to wait for her to finish the thought or come up with a witty reply? How the hell does he do this? Finally, he comes up with another simple response.
'When?' Great. He's a monosyllabic wonder. It's been a long time, and he can't prove it (you know, because everyone who could bear witness to it is either ancient or dead) but he's fairly certain he used to be better at this whole "talking" thing. Less than thirty seconds pass by before there's another message.
'Now.' Now? Now! Okay, yeah, that's fine. The shower's fixed, so maybe he can hose off and change clothes fast enough that it won't cause much of a delay. But he also hasn't shaved in… when was the last time he shaved? At least he did laundry two days ago, so he has something clean- another ding. 'Or, you know, whenever.' followed by… a yellow smiling face with a bead of sweat. What does that mean? Why is the face yellow? Once again, a ding. 'What I meant is, I have this afternoon free. If you do too, that would work fine. No pressure.' No, he's free pretty much for the foreseeable future. He should probably say something back sooner rather than later.
'Where?' No, that's too short. 'Where would you like to meet?' There. Better. Maybe. When did people stop talking on phones and only… texting? You used to be able to tell where a person stood because you could hear their voice. Now it's all guesswork. God, he's old. Definitely too old to be possibly thinking about Marni like-
'Wherever is fine. We could do a coffee shop again, or my apartment. Whatever's most convenient for you.'
Ball is in his court. Um… he'd really rather not be out in public. For now, he's safe (at least as far as he can tell), but it's always a gamble, him betting against himself that his simple disguises will work, he won't be recognized. That leaves… oh boy.
'Your place, if that's alright.' That's forward. Maybe too forward. She offered, but maybe that was just being polite? More importantly, is this a date? No. Can't be. Possibly. What the hell is wrong with him?
'Sure.' the words are followed by a string of numbers and a street name. 'Just give me half an hour to make the place presentable.' Another yellow, sweaty smile. He really needs to look up what that means.
'Alright. See you then.' He presses another button, and the screen goes black. Thirty minutes. What can he do in thirty minutes? As he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he makes a decision. He can start with getting the sewage off his face.
2.
"What the hell is the matter with me?" Marni mutters it to herself as, for the fourth time in ten minutes, she changes her clothes. "This is NOT a date. Not a date." She needs to get a grip. Now. Because this is definitely not a date. Barnes might be many things, but at all interested in her THAT way is not one of them. How could he be? She's… weird. And damaged. Not that he's all there either, but the possibility of this being anything more than a potential friendship? Uh-uh. No way. She doesn't need to see the future to know that much.
A knock on her front door makes her jump and she immediately hates herself. Why is she nervous? There's nothing strange about this. People meet up all the time to talk and eat… in one or the other's apartment… after finding out they both have special abilities. Okay, all of this is pretty strange, especially since it's her.
After taking one last glance in the mirror (and smoothing down her hair that's sticking straight up, thanks to switching out her shirts so many times), she steps out of her bedroom and makes her way towards the door. Not a date, she mentally repeats to herself. No reason to be nervous. Not a date. Then why the hell is she shaking a little? She needs to get a grip. Now. Taking a deep breath, she pulls the door open (as it so happens, just as the man on the other side raises his hand to knock again).
"Hey. You made it." That sounded almost normal. Not like she's quaking in her boots.
"I did." He's smiling, so she must not sound as awkward as she feels.
"Did you find the place okay?" Wow. She sounds like she's reading from a script. A really boring script at that.
"Yeah. There's this thing called GPS now, and…" He trails off. "You probably already know about that." Great. Now they're both fish out of water.
"I do. Super helpful." It occurs to her that she's just leaving him standing in the hallway, so she asks, "Would you like to come in?" Sweet Jesus. Her brain. Where is it?
"Thanks." He doesn't make a move, and that's when she realizes she's still blocking the doorway. Trying not to seem awkward, she walks backwards, promptly running into her kitchen chair.
"Ouch." Bucky winces, and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.
"Graceful as an elephant." She murmurs it under her breath, but a snicker from the man behind her lets her know it's been heard. Right. Super hearing.
"That should turn into a nice, purple bruise by tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah?" She calls it over her shoulder. "Do you see the future by any chance?"
"Nah." He shakes his head, grinning. He has a nice smile. No, she needs to stop thinking like that. Right now. "I've just had a lot of experience running into things."
They've gone so far into the room that they've walked straight past the tiny kitchen into the living room. She wasn't really intending to jump straight into, 'Why don't we sit on the couch, which happens to barely be big enough for two people', but there's no way to work, 'Let's retrace our steps into the kitchen' into conversation smoothly, so she takes a seat, scooting as far to one side as she can.
"I thought super soldiers were supposed to be agile." Thank god, he's sitting too.
"They are, but for around twenty-eight years before that, I was as clumsy as the next person." Immediately, he freezes. "Not that you're clumsy-" So maybe she's not the only one out of practice in the fine art of making friends.
"No, you had it right. I am." He still looks a little unsure so, ignoring the little voice in her head screaming, 'Don't do it! You're coming on too strong!' she leans towards him. "Actually, that new bruise is the latest of at least five others I currently have, and I can't remember how I got any of them." Does that make her sound weird? But no, he seems to be rolling with it.
"Haven't you ever heard of looking where you're going?"
She goes out on a limb, assuming he's joking. "I've heard of the concept, but I'm usually too busy looking ahead, so-"
"Fair point."
There's a lull in the conversation. It goes on so long that, just to fill the silence, she blurts out, "Are you allergic to anything?"
"Huh?" He frowns. "Don't think so. Why?" There actually is a reason, but now that she thinks about it, how would he be allergic to anything? If her frantic Googling is correct, whatever Captain America is hopped up on took care of all physical weaknesses, so it's unlikely Barnes will suffer anaphylactic shock due to something in her kitchen.
"I cooked, and…" She trails off. "… never mind."
"Oh." Now she really wishes her abilities had something to do with disappearing. "Thanks, um-" he clears his throat. "-was I supposed to bring anything? I thought about flowers, but-" he scratches the back of his neck, and if she had to guess, she'd say he's nervous too.
"No, just yourself."
"Great, because that's all I brought." Splendid. Neither of them knows how to hold a conversation. Finally, she decides to just come out and say it:
"I'm not good at this sort of thing." He looks mildly confused, so she explains, "Talking to people. That is, unless I'm teaching them."
"I don't think I am either." She starts to ask, 'You don't think?' but reels it in. Apparently, her face must show what she's thinking, because he continues. "This is the most of it I've done in a long time."
It's completely inappropriate, but she laughs. "Same for me. Hiding out to avoid capture doesn't really leave many opportunities to practice your social skills, does it?"
He chuckles. "Not unless I'm doing it wrong."
It may be a mistake, but she decides to make a suggestion. "You know, I think I heard from someone that there's this really great solution when two people are in a room together and are out of practice holding a conversation."
"What's that?" At least he doesn't seem offended.
"Watching a movie."
"Huh." He nods. "That was the go-to when the cat's got your tongue back in my day too." Good, so it's not a foreign concept. "I'm afraid I don't know of any theaters around here though, or even what's playing."
"Not a problem." As she says it, she powers up her laptop "Any preferences? They've got pretty much anything if you know where to look."
He thinks for a minute, then asks, "Fantasia? Do you think they have that?" It's an unexpected request; out of all things, the ex-soldier wants to see a Disney movie.
"I'm sure they do. Give me a second." Luckily, it's on the first service she tries. As the opening credits play, she struggles not to laugh at how wide his eyes go.
"How did you-"
"It's on Netflix." Nothing. He doesn't know what that is. "It's a website. I just typed in what I wanted to find, and there it is."
The only sound for a few minutes is the swelling music coming from the speakers, then finally, Bucky murmurs, "I don't think I've been using the internet to its full potential."
3.
"Really?" Somehow, over the course of the evening, they've stopped sitting stiffly next to each other and watching their words. Now Marni is turned towards him, a plate balanced on her knees, both of them completely ignoring the movie playing in the background. "A rat in your pipes? Are you serious?"
Bucky nods. "Afraid so."
"How the hell did it even get in there?"
"Beats me. I didn't ask it."
She snickers, and he thinks to himself that she's got a great laugh. It's the kind of laugh that makes you want to give into the giggles too. "That's probably for the best. From the sound of things, it wasn't in any condition to answer your questions." He's about to shoot back a reply, but then he remembers.
"That reminds me-" Careful not to elbow her (this sofa is barely a sofa; he's not complaining though, because now that the ice has been broken, it's actually kind of nice being close to another person again), he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up her texts from earlier. "-what does this yellow face mean?"
She frowns and leans towards him (she smells like cinnamon, maybe cloves… it's not weird that he's noticed that, right?). "Oh." Again, that laugh, but quieter this time. "It basically means, 'I'm second guessing what I just said, and I hope it didn't come off the wrong way.'" That makes sense, given the context, but he still has another question.
"But why is the face yellow?"
Her brow furrows slightly as she thinks. "You know, I'm really not sure. That's just how most emojis look."
"Emojis?"
"May I?" She indicates his phone.
"Sure." With a brief tap to the screen, a full page of yellow faces (amongst other odd symbols) appears.
"These are emojis. They sort of add interest to a text."
"Huh." Taking back the offered phone, he studies the symbols. "That would've been useful to have when we sent telegrams." As soon as he says it, he realizes how he sounds. "I just dated myself, didn't I?"
She smirks. "Just a little, but don't worry. It's charming."
He places a smile on his face and laughs lightly, but on the inside, he's still trying to figure out whether or not this is a date. Is Marni, against all odds, actually interested in him, or is she just being kind? Two hours later when the clock strikes nine, he's still not sure.
"Well, I hate to kick you out, Bucky, but I have a student coming by tomorrow at seven a.m., so I need to get to bed." Has he overstayed his welcome? But no, she doesn't look offended.
"Sure. No problem." He stands and, without thinking, offers her his hand to pull her up, which she takes. How long has it been since he's touched another person, or another person has touched him, like that? A casual gesture that normal people with simple secrets share? "Thanks for the meal, by the way."
"Oh, no trouble." She still hasn't let go. "Did you want to take some leftovers with you?"
"No, that's okay." Yes, he really does want to (it's much better than what he usually comes up with on his own) but if he had to venture a guess, she probably doesn't have the funds to be giving away food willy-nilly.
"Alright." She pulls her hand away, and immediately, he feels colder.
They walk single file towards the door (this apartment is too small for them both to pass through shoulder-to-shoulder), her right behind him. As he pulls open the door, he tells her, "Thanks again for everything."
She chuckles. "Thank you for the conversation." He's about to say something more (although he's not sure what) when she wraps her arms around him in a hug. It takes a second for him to realize what's happening, but then he returns the embrace. It's over far too quickly, and when she stands back, her cheeks are flushed. "Be careful on your way home."
"Will do. Have a good night."
On the bus ride home, he plays over the events of the evening. He's still uncertain as to whether or not it was a date. He feels like it was, but it's been so long… time to consult the internet. As it turns out, there's quite a few websites that offer opinions on the subject. He finds one that has a quiz attached and, calculating how much time it'll take him to get home, decides to take it.
The questions are pretty generic, and he gets through them in under two minutes. Waiting for the result to load, however? He's back in his apartment before he gets a solid answer on that. There's a graph showing how they measure each factor, but the final result is stands at, "You've been on a date- likelihood, 99%." Huh. First time in seventy years. Maybe he'll give the whole "texting" thing another go.
4.
Morning dawns far too early for Marni's liking, and with it, her memories of last night return. It was going okay. Really it was. Until she hugged him, that is. Why couldn't she show some common sense for once? Friends don't hug goodbye, especially not, "I'm just getting to know you" friends. She's never going to hear from him again because she came on too strong, and now he really doesn't want to have the "I'm not attracted to you" conversation.
As she makes a cup of tea, a scene plays out before her eyes. The phone dings with a text alert under the name "Barnes." She doesn't realize it's a vision until that exact thing happens ten seconds later.
"Wow. So helpful. Really." She mutters to herself. It's almost as useful as someone yelling 'Duck!' just as you get hit in the head. She really shouldn't read the message. She has a job to do, a student to teach, and if she's distracted during their lesson, she'll feel terrible. But another "ding" sounds and curiosity gets the better of her.
The first text is simple: 'Good morning' followed by… she has to choke back a laugh… several various smiley faces. Guess he's decided to give emojis a go. 'Hope your class goes well today. Shaking her head, she scrolls down to the next message. 'Last night was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime?'
"Well, I'll be damned." She whispers as her fingertips make contact with the keyboard. Maybe he didn't take it as her trying to make something happen between them that never will. Or maybe he's just been away from normal human interaction for so long, he's accepting whatever she throws at him simply so he'll have a friend. Either way, she likes him and would like to know him better, and if that means swallowing down the silly crush that's starting to develop, she can do that.
'Good morning. That sounds great.' She types back, then puts her phone on silent. Certain areas of her life may be changing, but for now- a knock sounds on her door- class is in session.
