Chapter 4. The Date
Getting through Friday was painful for both Bucky and Hope. He had to force himself not to walk past the brownstone on the off chance that she would see him and invite him in. She found herself looking outside the front windows often on the possibility that she would see him on the street and invite him in to talk. They both pulled their phones out more than once, started writing a text, then deleted it before sending it.
To pass the time on Friday morning, Bucky checked the notes he made from the book of love for those over the age of 50 and read how one of the things he should be concerned about was personal grooming. It was an issue. The serum accelerated his hair growth, almost everywhere. As much as he hated having scissors or electric clippers buzzing around his head, he had to force himself to get a short haircut at least once a month. He had been considering letting his hair grow longer, not as long as when he was in Wakanda, but certainly longer than what he had now. Perhaps, he could discuss that with the lady who currently cut his hair. Surely, she could come up with a style that required less cutting and more styling. His chest hair had started growing back. After years of a hair suppressant with who knows what in it being applied to his chest so that the HYDRA technicians could peel off heart monitor stickers without the threat of him killing them, it was kind of reassuring to know that he still had chest hair.
With a sinking feeling, he realized that what was happening there was also happening further down, making his nether regions look positively animalistic. Maybe he should invest in one of those personal hair trimmers just to keep that part of him looking neater. He slumped back against the back of the sofa in his apartment. Who was he kidding? It had been so long since he had been with a woman, he wasn't sure if Hope would even go for it. He couldn't read her like he used to be able to read women. Even if she did, was she into body hair or liked the hairless look more?
"Stop it. You're overthinking this."
Yes, he was. It was hard not to. That date with Leah had been awkward because she didn't know who he was, and he didn't know how to bring up the truth about him. But Hope did know, even if it was dicey between them at first. Once they both made an effort to play nice it seemed that the awkwardness wasn't about their differences but more about ... what did Sam call it? Sexual tension, but it was more than just that. He liked being with her, awkwardness, and all. Somehow, with her, it felt right. He stood up. Enough of thinking of doing this or doing that. He was going out and doing something for himself, even if he was unsure exactly what that would be.
At the same time Bucky was obsessing over his grooming habits, Hope was in the bathroom, peering into a magnifying mirror, looking for wrinkles. At 34, she wasn't old, but she wasn't a kid anymore either. She had to use a cosmetic serum on her skin now, and sunscreen. She thought of getting Botox and having a facial peel but with her finances stuck it wasn't something affordable right now. Yes, Bucky was much older, but he looked like he was in his late 30s, and his rugged dark good looks were sure to attract the attention of other women. Would he be like Rafe, the first man she ever loved, and flirt with women who came on to him in front of her? Thank God she never moved in with him, as she would have always brooded on where he was or who he was with if he was late coming home. Then there was Kane. She closed her eyes and shuddered slightly. He was bad news from the beginning but always gaslighted her into thinking it was her fault that he was so jealous. Every time she went out with girlfriends, he would insist on approving her hair, makeup, and clothing choices, to make sure she was being "appropriate." She had to call her brother to help her leave him. He brought two of his friends with him to make sure that Kane wasn't going to be a problem. Even then, the torrent of verbal abuse he inflicted on her, as she packed her bags, made her brother punch him.
She put the mirror down. Why was she comparing Bucky to her past boyfriends? Other than walking out when she asked that insensitive question about whether Bucky was afraid of heights, he had been quite pleasant to her; especially after she shelved her attitude towards men in general and tried to see him as her mother did. He was refreshing; polite, thoughtful, and made her insides go all warm and mushy. In a week, he had totally got under her skin. She wanted to see him; wanted to be with him; wanted more with him. Was that so wrong?
Frustrated, she headed back to her bedroom and went through her closet. What was she going to wear to the concert? She could wear that yellow dress again, but she already wore it for dinner with him. Her money would run out if she kept buying new clothes, but she wanted to look nice for Bucky. He noticed the dress, complimented her on it and she liked how that made her feel. To hell with it. She could afford to buy a new dress and maybe a new bra and panties ... just in case her resolve slipped.
Twenty minutes later, Hope was walking to the nearest ladies' wear store. It didn't take long for her to find a blue dress that made her feel feminine. The lingerie store a few doors down had a sale going on and she picked up a lacy bra and panty set for a really good price. As she walked back home with her shopping bags in hand, she looked up at the sun for a moment, then found herself stopped by a strong pair of hands grasping her arms.
"Hey, fancy bumping into you," said a familiar voice attached to Bucky's face. His hands were still on her arms as she looked at him. "How are you?"
"I'm good," she smiled. "Decided to treat myself. How are you?"
"Same." He was gently rubbing her arms, then realized what he was doing and stopped, lowering his hands to his sides. He held up a small bag. "Just picking up some things."
Neither said anything, then they both started talking at the same time. Bucky deferred to her.
"Do you want to get a coffee?" she asked. "It's such a beautiful day, we can sit outside."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."
Gesturing to the inside of the sidewalk so Bucky could walk on the street side they strolled in the direction of the coffee shop where he first met Joyce, taking their time, and just enjoying each other's presence. As she picked out a table for them, Bucky placed their order, then brought it outside to where she waited. They each took a sip then looked at each other.
"So, what did you get?" he asked, trying to peek in one of her bags.
"Something to wear for tomorrow night," she answered. She leaned towards his bag. "What did you get?"
"Trying something out." He looked away, slightly embarrassed. "I don't want to say anything more."
Hope accepted his answer without pressing for more. "Can I ask you a question? When was the last time you went on a date?"
"A while ago, but I messed it up," he admitted. "My anxiety got the better of me and I left part way through without saying much. It was wrong to do that to her, but my thoughts got the better of me. It was a setup date, that I really didn't want to do but I was too embarrassed to cancel it beforehand." He drank some of his coffee. "I wouldn't do that with you. I'm really looking forward to our date. Before that was 1943."
"You're not a rebound," said Hope, after a brief silence. "I know I've only been back a week, but I didn't see Jack for three weeks before then and I am over him. Looking back, he was distancing himself a long time before he left me, but I just didn't see it. There were three before him. One wasn't faithful, the second was abusive, and the third was a con man, who almost took all my money, until he realized I didn't really have any and left me stranded in Mexico." She sighed. "I don't know why I told you all that. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," smiled Bucky. "You obviously wanted me to know." He looked down at his hands. "I hope this doesn't scare you off, but I like you. We didn't have the best beginning when we first met, but I like talking to you and being with you."
Nervously, he licked his lips before looking at Hope, surprised to see a soft smile on her face.
"I like you, too. You're different. It's obvious why my mom and you connected. I think she feels a little motherly towards you, in a good way."
A chuckle came out of Bucky's mouth. "The feeling is mutual. Do you know she showed up to bail me out jail one night?"
"You were arrested?"
"It was a misunderstanding," he began. "I needed to clear my head and went out for a run after midnight. There was an outstanding warrant for missing my therapy appointment, but it should have been marked as completed. Paperwork didn't get filed, I guess. She called a former student who's a lawyer and came into the station with him. She told my therapist off as well. It felt good to have someone in my corner like that. I'm glad I met her." He looked steadily at Hope. "You know I would do anything for her."
"I do now. I'm glad she was there for you. She's been there for me, too, although I haven't always confided in her. I should really thank her for that."
She noticed that Bucky's attention was drawn away from her and looked to where he was looking, across the street and down a bit to a spot in front of an alleyway. An older man was yelling at a younger man, in Japanese. His angry tone indicative that he was probably swearing at the other man.
"Yori, shit," murmured Bucky. "Excuse me for a moment."
He stood up, then looked both ways and threaded his way through the traffic, before placing himself between the pair. The older man looked up at him with recognition then sadness. Then Bucky spoke to him in a low voice, his face full of concern and the old man shook his head, then walked away without a word. That action seemed to affect Bucky as he watched the old man for some time, until the younger man said something, and the super soldier whirled towards him. Even Hope could hear him, his voice loud enough to drift over to where she sat.
"Leave Yori alone," she heard Bucky say. "Put your garbage in your bin, not his. How does a single guy generate so much garbage, anyways? Haven't you heard of reduce, reuse, and recycle?"
He left the younger man there, sputtering to explain himself, then approached Hope, before plunking himself down in the chair. A heavy sigh came out of his mouth before he looked apologetically at her.
"Sorry about that," he said. "The guy keeps putting his garbage in Yori's bin, because he fills his up with who knows what. It's been an issue for a while."
"Who was the older man?" she asked.
"Yori. Your mom knows him." He finished his coffee, then stood up, and tried to appear pleasant. "I hate to run but I should be going. I'll see you tomorrow."
Then he was gone, walking quickly away from Hope. She watched him until his figure disappeared from view, then finished her coffee, and cleared their table, putting the ceramic mugs onto a tray left outside for that purpose. Whatever happened between the three men was something that bothered Bucky. That much was obvious. But she also respected his right to talk about it when he was ready and decided against calling her mother for details.
She didn't hear anything else from Bucky for the rest of that day, or the Saturday, other than a text message in the morning to confirm they were still on for dinner and the concert. She spent the rest of Friday going over the art supplies her mother still had in the extra room, throwing out those paints that had dried out. Writing down those colours, she visited an art supply store on the Saturday morning, buying some more as well as some new colours that she could have mixed herself if she wanted. If she did decide to teach art classes, then she could get rid of the remaining old colours quickly enough. By the time she got home she was ready for some food and made herself a sandwich, eating it outside on the deck as she drank a beer and scrolled through her phone. With the warmth, and the soft breeze, as well as the birdsong from the surrounding greenery, she felt relaxed and calm.
Bucky, after Yori refused to speak to him during the altercation, was anything but calm and relaxed. After gently telling the older man in Japanese not to let Unique bother him, he asked Yori how he was doing. That was when his former friend shook his head and left. What happened since he last bumped into him just days before? Yori had spoken to him then but something had obviously happened to make him walk away without speaking to Bucky. That led to Bucky shutting himself up in his flat, and drinking a bottle of scotch by nightfall, as he floundered into a pity spiral. His goal of sleeping in the bed was ignored, as he pulled the blankets off and settled on the floor of the living room, watching infomercials with the sound turned down low, until early in the morning.
Despite the urge to cancel the date, he knew that would hurt Hope, and Joyce would be furious, so he reconfirmed it the following morning. He was surprised that Hope didn't ask about Yori, then thought she could always ask Joyce for enlightenment of the situation between them. As the day went on, he tried to keep busy, cleaning his apartment, doing laundry, then looking up Michael Bublé on the internet so he had an idea of what the guy looked like and the songs he sang.
By the time he had to leave to pick up Hope he was calmer but still a little distracted by the encounter with Yori. Even with stopping to pick up some flowers, Bucky was early, but it didn't matter as Hope was ready to go. She wore a pretty blue dress that Bucky noticed right away and complimented her on. He could tell his words pleased her, as she blushed a little then invited him in as she put the flowers in a vase. It was funny to Bucky that there was already a vase on the counter. It meant she expected him to bring flowers, which he didn't mind.
"I like it when my girl is happy."
That thought suddenly occurred to him, surprising him with its confidence. When had he started thinking of Hope as his girl? She had kissed him on the cheek but otherwise they had only hugged, and awkwardly at that.
"You okay?" Hope was looking at him. "You seemed far away for a moment."
"Overthinking something," he admitted. "If you're ready to go we should head to the restaurant."
After grabbing her purse, Hope made sure all the windows and doors were locked then she set the alarm and locked the front door. Like he always did back in the day, Bucky placed himself between Hope and the street, something that she noticed. She curled her hand into his elbow, feeling good when he bent his arm, so it looked more natural as they walked. They were in no hurry and were able to enjoy the warmth of the early evening. At the restaurant Bucky opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first. Still a gentleman, he pulled her chair out for her.
"You're spoiling me," she smiled. "I haven't ever been treated like this on a date."
"You're serious? How do guys get away with that?" A shrug was her answer, but Bucky looked away, irritated, before looking at Hope again and saying what was on his mind. "What happened to people that they forgot how to be decent to someone?"
The waiter came with water and took their drink order, then left them to decide on their food. Bucky watched her as she looked over the menu. He could see she was upset and even struggling not to cry. Was that because of what he said?
"Hope," he said quietly. She ignored him. "Please, look at me." She looked up, the pain inside her now evident to him. "What happened to you?"
Swallowing nervously, she reached for her water, but Bucky put his right hand on hers. The waiter returned with their drinks and asked Hope if she had decided on food.
"Shrimp linguini," she said, then smiled weakly at him, a smile the waiter didn't return because he wasn't really looking at her.
"And you, sir?"
"A double order of meat lasagna," said Bucky. The waiter left. "Hope, I'm a good listener."
"Not here," she whispered. "Please."
He removed his hand and let her have her water. When the food came, they ate without talking much. It wasn't the best date he had been on, nor was it the worst (especially since neither of them left without a word halfway through the meal), but there was tension. Bucky paid the bill, then they left the restaurant. Hailing a cab, he opened the door for Hope, smiling kindly as she got inside.
"We'll go to the concert," she said. "My mother expects it of us, and I've disappointed her enough." Bucky started to protest but she squeezed his hand. "Don't. I know I have."
At the theatre, he showed the digital ticket on his phone, watching as the usher scanned it with a hand device. They were directed to their seats, and he let Hope into the row first. It didn't take long for the other rows to fill, and Bucky actually felt a sense of anticipation when the house lights dimmed. The music started and Michael Bublé began singing songs that Bucky hadn't heard performed live for over 70 years. It touched him, more than he thought it would. There were other songs from the other decades, and he enjoyed them as well. He wasn't aware of exactly when it happened, but he found himself holding Hope's hand and this time she didn't pull away. After the encore and the house lights stayed on, he stood up, offering his hand to Hope and they slid along the row of seats to the aisle, where Bucky allowed her to go first, then gently placed his hand on her lower back, with the lightest of touches. Outside the theatre, other patrons stopped to light up cigarettes before continuing on into the night. With it seeming crowded Bucky just wanted to get some room and he grasped Hope's hand, gently pulling her away from the venue, then dropping her hand when the number of people lessened. They walked for some time, side by side without touching, just being in the moment.
"You enjoyed it," she said, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, I did," he answered. "Are you okay?"
"Working on it." She took his arm as they walked. "I'm sorry I got emotional."
"Don't be," said Bucky. "You don't have to tell me anything until you're ready but when you are I'll listen."
"Thank you. Be patient with me, please."
He pulled her away from the sidewalk, guiding her towards a small park with a bench. It seemed to be part of an art installation as there was all sorts of creative lighting that made it seem moody in a good sort of way. Once seated he took two cell phones out of his jacket pocket, a flip phone, and a smart phone, holding them out in front of him. She looked at them, then at him.
"Why two phones?"
He held up the flip phone, looking at it grimly. "This is the one I showed my therapist. We weren't a good fit, but she was who the army assigned to me and her thing was to use tough love, I guess they call it, to push me into getting better. It was easier to make her think I was stuck in the past, using this dinosaur of a phone because I was too afraid to embrace the future. It was also the number I originally gave to Sam Wilson because I tended to ignore the calls and texts on this phone. I pushed him away for a long time rather than allow him to be friends with me. Part of it was that I thought he didn't fully trust me which is understandable because I did try to kill him more than once when I was the Winter Soldier. I wasn't fair to him because I made assumptions about how he felt about me, based on how I felt about myself. Even though I tried to kill him he went on the run for two years after helping me escape custody and get to Wakanda. I should have given him the benefit of the doubt, but I wasn't even giving myself that."
"And the smart phone?" asked Hope.
Bucky grinned. "That is my real phone, and whoever invented those was a genius. I caught onto it pretty quick. Your mom caught on me to pretty quickly, figuring out after she realized who I was, that I wasn't locked into the past so much as I was afraid to let it go and embrace the future. I still struggle with PTSD and anxiety, and a host of other issues but she's always made me feel like I'm worth investing time in. So are you, Hope. I felt connected to you from the moment I saw your self-portrait and recognized the lost person who was represented in it. It's obvious that something happened to you for you to express it the way you did in that painting, but I hope you tell me about it when you trust me enough to share it. Until then, know that I think you're smart, pretty, and a talented artist. You're also quite kind, once I got past that shell you wear to protect yourself."
"Do you have my number in the flip phone or the smart phone?" asked Hope.
Putting the flip phone back into his pocket, Bucky opened the smart phone and showed her his contacts list. There was her mother, her, Tom MacIntyre, Matthew Murdock, Yori Nakajima, a guy named Peter Parker, another named Joaquin Torres, Sam Wilson, and Sarah Wilson.
"These are the people I trust," he said. "Even Yori, although he won't speak to me for some reason. I will always have their backs."
"You left pretty suddenly after you saw that Yori guy," said Hope. "Then I only heard once from you until you picked me up. What's the deal with him?"
It was a fair question deserving a fair answer. If he wanted Hope to trust him he would have to trust her as well.
"He was my friend, before I met your mother. In fact, he's the one who told me your mother could help me get my GED. I wasn't trying to become friends with him but he's closer in age to me than almost anyone else, except my sister, and we just hit it off. Yori was on my list of people to make amends to for killing a family member; in this case, his son, who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, when I was under orders not to leave witnesses. I finally told him, and I hurt him so much that I knew it was over between us. But about 10 days ago I saw him and we talked briefly. He said we should meet up for coffee, so, when I saw him yesterday, and intervened with that jackass Unique, I kind of hoped it might ..."
His words trailed off. "You hoped it was a sign that he had truly forgiven you," said Hope. "But he didn't say a word, did he?"
Bucky shook his head. "That sent me on a spiral and I went home, drank a bottle of scotch, and watched informercials until I finally fell asleep. I was going to cancel our date, but I talked myself out of it." He looked at her in the darkness. "I'm glad I did because I had a great time tonight. I enjoyed the concert."
"I'm glad," she smiled. "I promise that on our next date I'll be more fun."
He smiled in a way that made his eyes crinkle. It was nice to see him like that.
"Can I ask you something about my mom?" Bucky nodded his head. "Did you watch Crossing Delancey with her?"
"Yeah," he replied, quizzically. "Why?"
"I never really understood why she liked that movie until my grandmother told me that my mom didn't like my dad that much when they first met. She'll tell people otherwise, but she thought he was kind of a nerd and boring. He gave her space but always seemed to be there whenever she needed a hand. He changed her flat tire once when she was all dressed up for a date with another guy and often showed up at the library with a coffee when she had been studying for exams. Basically, he was just there for her and validated her, just like Sam did for Izzy. I think that movie reminded her of my dad when she finally began noticing him as not just an acquaintance, but as someone to build a life with."
It was strange hearing Hope tell him about that aspect of Joyce's life then it hit him.
"Your mother set us up," he said. "You think that don't you?"
Hope smiled in a mysterious way. "I wouldn't be surprised if she hoped for that, but I was still with Jack when she met you so maybe not me specifically. She never liked him. She thought he stifled my creativity, and she wasn't wrong. He didn't want me to bring my art supplies to Chicago. I stayed at home alone most of the time doing nothing and when he was back, I was expected to do what he wanted. You're not like that, Bucky. Which is why I'm going to tell you right now, that as much as I do want to have a relationship with you, I'm not going to follow the pattern of my previous relationships. I want us to know each other first before we take the next step. It might be a month, or it might be shorter or longer. Are you okay with that?"
He was slightly taken aback by her declaration as he hadn't said anything to her about a relationship other than as friends. Before he could reply, Hope put her hand over her mouth and giggled a little, a sweet sound that made him grin.
"Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"
"Maybe a little," smirked Bucky. "I hadn't thought that far ahead yet."
"Not even a little?" She sensed a flash of warmth from him, from his whole body. "You're blushing, aren't you?"
"No ... maybe. Okay, I can't deny that I thought of us kissing and it maybe leading to something else, but I wouldn't press it. I'm not that kind of guy."
"No, you're not," she smiled. "You're a gentleman and I'm sorry I didn't see that from the beginning. We wasted a whole day being prickly around each other because I was mad at the men in my life, and I took it out on you. How can I ever make it up to you?"
"Well, you did go out with me, and you did say there would be a second date," he replied. "I guess the only thing left is whether you'd kiss me or not."
She looked at him, noticing he had shaved. It made him look younger and less intense.
"I wouldn't object."
"I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to have a good life."
It was Joyce's voice in his head that he heard wanting him to repeat what she said, after he had spiralled the night he told Yori about his son. He repeated it in his head.
"I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to have a good life."
He took the glove off of his right hand as he stood up, pulling Hope up with him. Then he slid it along her neck so that he was cradling her head.
"I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to have a good life."
Drawing her closer with his left hand on her back he looked at her mouth then lowered his face to hers, pressing his lips onto her lips. Slightly opening them, he smiled when she opened hers as well and they touched their tongues gently together.
"I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to have a good life."
After several long seconds of enjoying the feeling, he slowly pulled away, then ran his right hand down her shoulder, until he got to her hand. He lifted that to his lips, kissing it gently, then gazed at her.
"I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to have a good life."
"That was some kiss," she croaked, then swallowed. "I guess it's like riding a bicycle."
"Sweetheart, it's nothing like riding a bicycle," he answered, smiling. "That's work and a kiss should never be work. It should always be pleasure."
"Is that a line from the 1940s?" she asked, her face alight.
A laugh from Bucky was her answer. "I'll never admit that but you're right about it being some kiss. I should get you home, unless you want to go for a drink."
"It is late," agreed Hope. "You want to come over for breakfast?"
He nodded, then took her by the hand and walked back out to the street. In the cab they held hands for the whole trip back to Brooklyn. After paying the driver, he walked her up the steps of the brownstone. The outside light came on automatically allowing Hope to unlock the door and open it. She quickly disarmed the alarm system before standing in the open doorway.
"Do you want to come in for that drink?"
"Yes, but considering what you declared I don't think it's a good idea. I'm a gentleman but I'm also human, and that kiss was awfully nice."
"Fair enough."
"Goodnight, Hope," he whispered as he kissed her on the cheek.
"I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to have a good life."
"Goodnight, Bucky," she replied, then watched him walk away in the dark.
Inside the house, she leaned back against the now locked door. That had been close. If he had come in and kissed her like he had before, she would have gladly repeated the pattern of sleeping with him, just like she did with all of the other men she had ever let past her defences. It might have been a disaster for both of them and she really didn't want that, not with him. He was different, in ways that her first acquaintance with him didn't reveal. Bucky Barnes was the most interesting and unique man she had ever met, and she wanted more of being treated like a lady. She wanted him to always be in her life.
