1.
Just as Marni closes the door after her last student of the day, her phone chirps with a call. Without much thought, she reaches for her abilities, trying to anticipate who it could be, even though it's mostly unnecessary. Other than canceling classes, only one person ever calls her, and always at exactly the same time each day. If she wore one, she could set her watch by it.
"Hey, Buck." Sometime over the past three weeks since the first time he visited her apartment, she graduated to calling him that. She's not sure why, but it rolls off her tongue naturally. If Bucky minds, he hasn't said anything, and even though they've only been friends for a short time, she's certain he's the type who'd speak up.
"Hey, Marns." Her lips quirk up into a smile at the nickname. "Am I interrupting eager young minds learning the English language?"
"Nope. The last eager mind walked out the door about thirty seconds ago. All that's left is one vaguely bored mind that already speaks the language." The response earns her a quiet huff of laughter.
"Well, are you and your vaguely bored mind doing anything tonight?" It's on the tip of her tongue to say no, but a glance in the corner reveals her hamper staring at her accusingly.
"Just laundry." She's been putting off washing clothes for weeks because not only is the nearest laundromat inconveniently located nearly a mile away, but it's always so full of people. Whenever she goes, she either has to keep her earphones in and her eyes down the entire time or face a barrage of visions.
Almost as if he can read her mind, he announces, "You know, you could do it over here. My building has machines, and we could watch a movie while you waited." She must hesitate for a moment too long because he backtracks. "If it would be easier, I mean. It was just a thought. Your building might have machines too-"
"It doesn't." And even if it did – she chides herself even as she thinks it – she'd much rather spend the evening with him even though it means a trip across the city. "And thanks. That sounds great, actually."
"Good." There's a seconds long pause, then- "So, I'll see you over here in, what? Half an hour?" That's how long it'll take her to cross the city but… she chances a look in the mirror. Her curls are mostly escaped from the braid she's tried to contain them in, she needs to change out of her 'teacher' clothes, and she's not wearing any makeup.
"Maybe more like an hour." It's just so she won't scare him with her flyaway appearance, she tells herself. That's all.
"Okay. I'll text you the address." After exchanging a few more words, he hangs up, leaving Marni to her tasks. First, she shoves her dirty clothes into a suitcase (she's going to have to take a bus, so it's better not to carry a hamper; and now she's having a vision of dropping said hamper and spilling her underwear into the aisle, so a suitcase is definitely the right choice), then with that done, proceeds to the more pressing problem: a shower.
Washing takes all of ten minutes, but then she's faced with the hair situation. As in, hers never dries the same way twice, and if she exposes it to heat, it'll go from something that can be taken as somewhat beach-y curls to frizz in no time flat. That leaves letting it air dry. Thank fuck it's the warmest time of the year or else she'd freeze on the way over.
It's normal to put on a hint of makeup before going to see a friend she reasons as she swipes powder across the bridge of her nose. Nothing out of the ordinary. And that's all Bucky is. A friend. He's definitely not going crazy trying to get ready for her arrival because he doesn't see her in any way other than platonic. And she… shaking her head, she collects her suitcase and purse and pushes open the door. If she's seeing him any other way than as a friend, then she'll just have to get over it.
2.
"Shit." Bucky mutters under his breath as he ends the phone call and surveys his apartment. "Shit, shit, shit." When he asked Marni to come over, he forgot one key detail: she'll actually be here, in his apartment, seeing it. It's not as if he's a particularly messy person (the army was big on discipline and order, thank you very much). Still, it could be tidier, and he's only got an hour to whip things into shape.
The first fifteen minutes are spent washing the few dishes in the kitchen sink, wiping down the countertop and cleaning off the table. The next are spent straightening the living room and bedroom (both of which are damn close to spartan in their decor). Finally, he showers, shaves, and changes clothes, leaving him- he glances into the cabinets – wonderful. Without anything for them to eat. Or at least, nothing he can prepare with enough confidence to present it on a date.
Before he can come up with a workable solution, there's a knock on his door. Wiping his sweating palm on his jeans (hopefully she won't notice), he crosses the living room and gives the doorknob a tug.
As always, she looks absolutely breathtaking. Even in jeans and a cardigan, curls slightly damp, there's no hiding that she's an extraordinarily beautiful woman. And those eyes… it occurs to him that he's been staring a beat too long and, wetting his lips with his tongue, he forces himself to speak.
"Hey." It's been three weeks. Three weeks of dating. And yet he's still a monosyllabic wonder.
"Hi."
He's not sure who makes a move first, if he leans down or she reaches up, but either way, his arms are around her shoulders, hers around his waist in a hug. It only lasts a few seconds, but it's long enough that his pulse is thundering away in his ears by the time they separate. Moving out of the way to allow her inside, he asks, "Did you have any trouble finding the laundry room?"
"No, I found it fine." She chuckles ruefully. "But I forgot to bring detergent, so it's a non-starter." That's when he notices the suitcase she has clutched in one hand. It must weigh nearly as much as her, if the way she's leaning is any indication.
"You can use mine, if you want."
That's a normal thing to offer, right? He's not breaking some twenty-first century protocol, is he? But no, she's nodding, a relieved smile in place. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."
"Sure." Offering what he hopes is a winning smile (but it's been so long since the last time he tried it out, it could just as easily be a grimace), he pulls open the cabinet door and removes the container. "We can drop off your clothes on our way out." Good. That sounded like he planned it instead of forgetting the damn food.
Depositing Marni's laundry takes all of five minutes, and then they're on their way, strolling down the sidewalk. He's just debating on whether or not he should take her hand, when she asks,
"So, are you planning on telling me where we're going?"
"Depends. Can you keep a secret?" That earns him a snort.
"No. I tell everyone I meet that I'm an American fugitive and by the way, I can see the future." He can feel the wry grin spread across his face. She's a smartass. He suspected as much, but this is the first confirmation of it.
"Two streets over is the best assortment of street vendors in all of Bucharest. That's where we're going."
"Ah." She nods. "Your secret's safe with me."
3.
The first vision hits her out of nowhere just as they turn the corner onto Bucky's secret street vendor location. A man walks into his apartment. His cat has left a huge furball on the rug. Marni shakes her head. That's not so bad. Not useful and sort of disgusting, but definitely not the worst future she's ever seen. On instinct, her eyes dart around the crowd searching for the man the vision pertained to. There, selling-
"How do you feel about fish?" A second vision piggybacks off of the first one. The man dropping his tongs, blowing on them, and setting them back on the grill.
"Fine, but maybe not these fish in particular." Thank God they're far enough away that the man doesn't overhear, because she really doesn't want to explain the violation of sanitation standards and cause a scene.
The next vision occurs as she brushes arms with a woman in a yellow shirt. The woman hears a strange noise as she comes home and grabs a hammer. She eases down the hallway only to find the noise coming from her bedroom. Hesitantly, she opens the door, and her eyes land on a man she loves in bed with another woman. This time the vision is a little harder to shake, more unpleasant.
"What about chicken?"
"Hm?"
Bucky indicates the vendor across from them. "Chicken okay with you?"
"Oh." She concentrates for a moment and comes up with nothing. "Yeah. Sounds good." She digs in her pocket to extract the appropriate number of coins, only to look up to a head shake.
"Keep it. I've got this."
Her cheeks flush as she shoves the currency back into her pocket. "Thanks." She's not sure if it's a nineteen-forties thing or just a Barnes thing, but she appreciates the gesture. If she's being honest with herself, she really can't afford any extra expenses right now, but that's the last thing she's about to admit. That, or possibly how much time she's spent rereading their texts. Friends. They're friends. This is all… friendly.
She's still so flustered that another vision almost makes her cry out in surprise. An elderly man stops dead in his tracks, clutches his chest, and falls over, dead. A heart attack. Desperately, she searches the crowd for the man in question, ignoring the flashes of the future threatening to overwhelm her. No luck.
"Hey-" A hand on her arm jerks her out of her near panic. Piercing blue eyes are peering down at her. "-you okay, Marns?" She's fine. That man, though? He won't be for long. Maybe it'll happen today. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. She doesn't know, but his life is about to end.
"Fine." She forces herself to smile. "Just a lot of people. Means a lot of visions."
A knowing look crosses his face, but before she has a chance to wonder about it, he asks, "Is it always like this?"
She nods. "I usually put my earphones in and listen to music when I have to be in a crowd. Helps to drown all the future flashes."
"So that day in the market-"
"I was checked out so that I wouldn't see too much."
"And then I ran into you."
She chuckles. "I think I ran into you. My music cut out, so I was trying to fix it." The sympathy in those eyes nearly has her crumbling on the spot. It's more than sympathy, it's- "You get it, don't you?" It's his turn to look puzzled. "The crowds. You don't like them either."
Slowly, hesitantly, he shakes his head. " No, I'm always on high alert out here. In case someone recognizes me or-" He doesn't say it. There's no need. In case something like what she saw that day happens and he has to fight his way out. Time to lighten the mood.
"So, what you're saying is that agoraphobia is something we have in common." There it is. That laugh. Something so simple shouldn't make her so happy.
"Just another charming eccentricity." That reminds her…
"You want to get out of here?" He nods and… her breath seizes in her chest… threads his fingers through hers. Even with his gloves in place, her skin tingles at the near contact.
"Come on." He tugs gently at their joined hands. "I know a shortcut." As they pass street vendors and cut down an alleyway, Marni finds that the visions aren't bothering her anymore. No, now she has something to concentrate on.
4.
"Find anything?" Bucky looks up from his scrolling at Marni's words. Her clothes had finished the rinse cycle, so she had just gone to put them in the dryer, leaving him to choose tonight's movie. After the discovery of Netflix (it's like having a tiny movie theater at your fingertips! Why didn't anyone tell him about this?), he decided it would be the smart thing to purchase a laptop and has spent the last three weeks slowly catching up on what he's missed over the past seventy years, at least so far as cinema is concerned. Tonight however, they're taking a step back to something he's familiar with since it's his apartment and watching-
"Snow White okay? Have you seen that one?"
That sweet smile plays across her lips as she settles onto the sofa next to him. "I've seen it a few times. Have you?"
He nods. "Yeah, I went to see it with Steve when it first came out."
"How old were you?"
He checks the date on the film. Nineteen thirty-seven, so- "Twenty. Steve was nineteen." They weren't exactly the target audience, but- "It was a phenomenon. No one thought Walt Disney could actually pull it off, a full-length animated film in color, but he did it. And then everyone knew who he was overnight. So we decided we had to see it."
She chuckles. "I'm just picturing a younger Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers sitting in a theater with a bucket of popcorn watching the seven dwarves sing."
Despite himself, he can't help but smirk. "Imagine Steve almost a foot shorter and eighty pounds lighter and me with chronic baby face, and you've got it." This time the laugh is closer to a snort. "It was a few months after Steve's mom died. His dad had passed a couple years back, so he was all alone." And despite the offer to just move in with the Barnes', he said no. Independent little punk, even back then. "I talked him into seeing it one day after work. Figured it would take his mind off things for a little while." And it worked, at least for that hour. "It was all the punk could talk about for a week after. He kept trying to draw the characters."
"And you?" She leans towards him, chin resting on her hand. "What did you think of it?"
"I thought-" He could play it cool, tell her it was just alright, or he could go with the truth. "It was extraordinary. I'd never seen anything like it, and I went to see every Disney flick after that until I enlisted." But nothing topped the first one he ever saw. It's still one of his most vivid memories.
"It sounds magical."
He nods. "It sure seemed that way at the time."
"Want to find out if it holds up eighty years later?" God, that sounds wrong. Eighty years. But she's right.
"Sure." Leaning forward, he clicks the mouse, and the movie begins to play.
Just like all the times at Marni's apartment, they start out on opposite sides of the couch, but as they watch, they unconsciously move a tiny bit closer together. Then another tiny bit. Then their arms are resting side by side. He could do it now. Reach out and take her hand like he did earlier today. It would be so easy… but in the end, he's not brave enough. It's been seventy years. He doesn't know what the protocol is anymore for dating. Do people still hold hands in theaters? Share buckets of popcorn? She lets out a sigh that makes her curls bounce and leans a little closer, making his brain short circuit. Okay, he's shooting his shot.
Reaching behind them, he rests his flesh arm on the back of the couch, just close enough that her shoulders brush it, sending a tingling sensation through his nerves. It's never been like this touching anyone else. Never. When she doesn't pull away, he takes things a step further and angles his body towards her. Now their legs are touching. The dwarves sing in the background about going off to work, but he's not hearing or seeing any of it. No, his attention is completely taken up by her and the way the low light bounces off her curls, illuminating her profile. Her eyes glisten as she watches the animation, a small smile in place, and my god, she's stunning. All too soon the end credits roll, and she turns to him, a mischievous glint in those eyes.
"So, does it still hold up after all this time?"
"Yeah." He nods, swallowing hard. "Yeah, better than ever."
