Chapter 3. Take Two

After her mother stormed out of the house, Hope rested her forehead on the table, using her folded hands to cushion the weight, wondering why she had to be such a bitch sometimes. Bucky Barnes had led an incredible life, born during World War I, thought to be killed during World War II, world's longest known surviving prisoner of war and a man who had come through years of brutality and brainwashing to return to society. He was her mother's friend, and Hope didn't even think about how insensitive her question was about whether HYDRA had managed to brainwash his fear of heights out of him. What a stupid thing to say. Like everything else in his long life, he never had a choice with them. For him to jump out of an airplane now, even if he didn't like it, indicated a man able to make hard choices, especially when lives were on the line. He was heroic and Hope made him feel small.

When he agreed to come for dinner, Hope was determined to take this second chance to at least be friendly with Bucky and make it count. After her mother walked in the door, she grilled her on what he liked to eat. Deciding on pasta, the two women walked to the market, picking up freshly made linguini, Italian sausage, garlic, Roma tomatoes and everything else necessary to prepare home made sauce. Along with the fixings for salad, a loaf of Italian bread and some red wine, Hope stopped to choose a bouquet of flowers to make the dinner complete.

"Don't," said Joyce. "Bucky will bring flowers. He always does."

Instead of grilling her mother on why that was, Hope accepted that she would have to take Joyce's word on it. They ended up having a great time preparing dinner together, as the older woman offered to bake a chocolate cake, while Hope took on the pasta and the sauce. Half an hour before he was supposed to arrive, Hope went to change into something nice, coming out with a sundress on. As she came down the stairs the doorbell rang, and she called out to her mother that she was right there. Opening it, she forgot to breathe for a moment. Bucky waited with a bouquet of pink peonies. His eyes lit up when he saw Hope in the sun dress.

"Peace offering," he murmured, offering her the flowers. "You look nice."

She took in his clothing, dark grey chinos, black dress shoes, white button-down shirt, and a navy bomber jacket.

"So do you," she replied, taking the flowers, and stepping back so he could come in. "These are lovely, thank you. Mom said you often bring flowers."

"I don't like coming empty handed." He smelled the air then smiled, and for a moment Hope forgot to breathe, as she saw the man he once was. "Smells good."

Turning away and leading him to the kitchen she reached for a vase that was too high up. Bucky stepped forward and grasped it for her, leaning close enough for her to smell his aftershave, as he had removed his ever-present stubble, making him look younger. She was aware of the heat coming from his body, feeling it directly when his fingers brushed against hers as he handed her the vase.

"Thank you," she answered, unsure if she said it without stammering.

At the stove, Joyce was stirring the pasta sauce and recognized the effect Bucky was having on her daughter. Extending her hand to him, he took it, then kissed her on the cheek.

"You dressed up," she said to the super soldier. "You clean up nice."

"I thought it was worth the effort," he replied, pulling a stool out and perching on it.

Hope cut the ends of the peonies off and filled the vase with lukewarm water before arranging them. She watched the interaction between Bucky and her mother. It occurred to her that she would normally be annoyed at her mother for being friendly with a guy from her age group. Except he wasn't, he was older than both of their ages added up and he was her mother's friend first. That was clearly evident with how easily they spoke. After she placed the flowers on the dining table she returned to the kitchen and slipped an apron over her head, fumbling at tying it into place.

"Can I help?" asked Bucky, suddenly appearing behind her.

With a nod, she waited as he grasped the apron strings and gently pulled them behind her waist. When they were fastened, he briefly rested his hands on her shoulders before sitting back down on the stool. Joyce excused herself to get changed, leaving the two of them there. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

"I'm sorry." Hope kept stirring the sauce. "I was rude to you and that was inexcusable. You were Mom's guest, and I had no right to be so insensitive to you."

"I accept your apology. I didn't handle it well, myself. Your mother's friendship is important to me, and I want to be your friend as well."

"She told me a little of how you met," said Hope. "Sounds like you got along well."

"We had a few awkward moments of getting used to each other," he admitted. "I'm not a very social person. My past can make it difficult for people to see the real me."

"What were you like before?"

"Well, I grew up in the Depression so making enough money to live on was always a concern. I quit school at 16 to work on the docks and I boxed, picking up prize money on the undercards once in a while. My dad was fortunate enough to keep his job, but the threat of being laid off was always there. Once the economy improved, I spent more on going out, dancing, the movies, that sort of thing. I had no trouble getting dates, but I wasn't looking for a serious relationship. Then when England declared war against Germany, they started up the draft and I registered, along with most other guys my age. After Pearl Harbor, I got drafted and by the middle of 1943 I was fighting in Europe."

He stopped talking about it then, and Hope realized he was likely reliving the moment when he became HYDRA's prisoner.

"You never saw your family again?"

"No, not my parents. My sister is still alive, and I have visited her. We had a good time. Other than your mom, I can likely count the number of friends I have on one hand." He glanced back at the stairs then looked at Hope again. "Your mom worries about you, about being happy. I think she wants that for you, more than anything."

Hope nodded her head. "I know. I don't make the best decisions, acting too quickly, mostly." She was quiet as well, then glanced at him. "So, Mom helped you to get your GED. Does that mean you'll go to college?"

"Some courses to start so I can figure out my strengths. Joyce suggested I see a career counsellor. Figured that with my abilities there should be something that can use them. As long as it's honest work."

"No Avengers?"

He shrugged. "No funding, although you would think there would still be a need considering how much damage the Flag Smashers inflicted. What about you?"

Joyce arrived at that moment, interrupting their conversation and she put Bucky to work assembling the salad while she poured water into the pot to cook the pasta. When they finally sat down at the table to eat, Joyce put some modern jazz on and poured out the red wine. They talked about television programs, movies, and modern music, with Joyce sharing that she had been trying to get Bucky caught up on the basics of movies, while sneaking some of her favourite little films into the viewing list.

"You do have an eclectic taste in films, Mom," said Hope. "I haven't been to a film in so long. Jack thought they were a waste of money." No one said anything and she sighed. "Sorry, I'm trying really hard to not talk about him." She looked at Bucky's plate. "Would you like some more, or should we get to the dessert? Mom baked a chocolate cake."

"Cake would be great," said Bucky. "Your pasta sauce was excellent. I would like a copy of the recipe if you don't mind."

Hope smiled broadly. "I just threw it together, but I will write it down, just for you. Maybe you can make it for me sometime."

"Deal," said Bucky.

He watched through the large opening as Hope bustled about in the kitchen, making fresh coffee, assembling cups and plates for the cake. She brought the cake out first, placing it on the centre of the table, so everyone could admire it. Joyce tilted her head towards the kitchen indicating that he should go there so he pushed away from the table and stood in the large opening.

"Can I help?" he asked. "I'm feeling a little useless out here."

"Sure, if you want to take the dishes out there," replied Hope. She pointed to the coffee maker. "Just waiting on this. I guess I could clear the other dishes from the table while I'm waiting."

He took the clean dishes out while she picked up the dirty ones, then Joyce glared at the platter with the remaining linguini on it. Taking the hint, Bucky picked it up and went with Hope back into the kitchen. She found a plastic container to transfer the leftovers into. As he transferred it over a bit of sauce splattered onto Bucky's shirt.

"Hold on," she said. "Mom? Do you have one of those laundry pens for stains?"

Joyce came in holding one, and almost used it on Bucky's shirt herself but handed it to Hope instead, giving Bucky a knowing grin. He stood stoically as her daughter slipped her fingers inside Bucky's shirt to flatten it while she pressed the cleaning liquid onto the stain.

"You're warm," stated Hope as he didn't move. She looked up and checked herself. Damn, he was good looking. "There, all gone."

"Thank you," he said, examining the spot. "Can I see that?"

She handed him the pen and he examined it then turned to Joyce.

"You never told me about these. What a great invention."

"Yeah, they're handy." She looked at the coffee maker. "Coffee's done."

Hope took the coffee pot and headed for the dining room, but Bucky was still in her way. Clumsily, he moved aside, glaring at Joyce, who just grinned at him, then went to get sugar and milk. The coffee was poured by the time they got to the dining room and Hope was about to cut into the chocolate cake when Joyce's phone rang. She looked at the display.

"It's Tom, I should take this. Go ahead and start your dessert."

Answering it, she headed outside to speak, as Hope watched how animated her mother's face was while she spoke to this Tom fellow. Bucky noticed her scrutiny of her mother.

"He's a nice man."

She turned back towards him. "You've met him?" Bucky nodded. "Do you think it's serious?"

He started to shrug then explained. "I think they each found something they were missing. A few nights after the Flag Smashers I had an anxiety attack." He grimaced. "I tend to think I'm not worthy of things. It escalated and I wasn't answering your mom's calls from Seattle. Tom helped her get back here; paid for the early airfare and everything. He was truly kind to me."

Her reaction to Bucky admitting to anxiety attacks was noticeably quiet. Then she looked at him.

"You get into a spiral, thinking negative thoughts, that no one understands you, no one loves you, and maybe it's better that you're alone." She took a deep breath. "I get them. Almost slipped into one after Jack left me then I did something crazy. He left me with money in the joint account, said to live in the apartment rent free for six months, and take what I wanted when I did leave." She smirked. "Instead, I sublet it to a homeless woman. A dollar a month for six months. Gave her half of what was in the joint account. That actually helped me get over him."

"Then you came here," stated Bucky. "What drew you to him in the first place? If you don't mind my asking."

"He was confident, handsome, and successful, everything that I thought I wanted in a man. Should have insisted on loyal and truthful." She smiled wanly. "I never wanted to move to Chicago but that's where his job took him. Except his job also took him on the road, three weeks out of every month. I was basically alone for the past year, but I still thought we had something between us and figured it would work out in the end."

The door to the deck opened and they both looked to see Joyce entering with a smile on her face.

"That was Tom. He's invited me to Boston as the family is gathering for an anniversary. He wants to introduce me to the family. It's this coming weekend."

"So is Michael Bublé," said Bucky. "We were going to that."

Her face dropped. "I totally forgot. I'm so sorry. I'll call Tom and tell him I can't make it. We've had this planned for weeks."

"No, you go," he replied. Then he looked at Hope. "Perhaps you want to go with me. It was kind of a way to practice being on a date, since I'm out of practice."

With both of them waiting for her to answer Hope swallowed. "Um, okay. But let's not call it a date. We're just two acquaintances with a mutual interest in seeing a performance."

"Sure, that sounds good." He smiled at Joyce. "You can have an enjoyable time in Boston, guilt free."

They finished their cake, while Joyce transferred the e-tickets to Bucky. It was all set for him to pick up Hope. Not wanting to wear out his welcome Bucky stayed a little while longer then made an excuse to go home. As he stood up to leave, both Joyce and Hope stood up with him. The older woman hugged him.

"When do you go to Boston?" asked Bucky.

"Friday morning. I'm actually looking forward to it." She glanced back at Hope. "Now, if you'll both excuse me this senior citizen has to go to the bathroom."

She winked at Bucky, leaving him and her daughter standing there.

"So, what do people wear to concerts these days?" he asked. "Back in the 1940s it was a dress up occasion."

"Some concerts still can be, but most men wear nice jeans or casual pants, button down shirts, maybe a sports jacket," replied Hope, walking towards the door, where she stopped. "Actually, what you're wearing tonight is perfect for a concert."

He looked over himself then at her and smiled. For a moment, he wondered if he should hug Hope, but she surprised him by suddenly kissing him on the cheek, then stepping back and opening the door.

"Thank you for the flowers," she smiled.

"Thank you for a great meal," he replied, and stepped out into the evening air.

She stood in the doorway as Bucky went down the steps and watched as he walked away, wondering if her heart would stop pounding the way it was doing right at that moment. How could this man have this effect on her? It was something she wasn't expecting. Bucky noticed that Hope's heart rate increased as they stood at the door, then spiked when she kissed him. As he went down the steps the sound of her heartbeat lessened as the sounds of the city in the evening dominated his hearing, but he had a small smile on his face as he walked away. She reacted to him. He hadn't forgotten that part of dating, the moment when a slight attraction had the potential to become something more. How did Sam refer to it? Hope was into him, at least a little. After how nice she was to him at dinner, maybe he was into her as well.

Over the following week, Hope and Bucky kept busy, trying to keep their minds on their own lives. She placed her resume on several job sites, offering herself as a digital design specialist. There weren't many jobs listed and most of them wanted experience with some programs she wasn't up to speed on. She looked at some of the local colleges for refresher courses in those programs. Meanwhile, Bucky investigated the various career counsellor services, finally finding one that was part of a non-profit organization that catered to military vets. His appointment was for the following week. Wanting to look good for the concert he bought a new shirt, a blue button-down. On Thursday night, he was invited for dinner at Joyce's, bringing a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, pale pink roses. The smell of roast chicken greeted him when he walked in through the door. Once again, Hope was wearing a dress, a yellow one. Both of them were on their best behaviour.

"You didn't have to bring anything," she smiled, smelling the roses. "These are lovely, thank you."

"You're welcome." Quickly, he ran his eyes over her. "I like your dress. It's very pretty."

It was her turn to receive the compliment, and she smiled at him in a way that made him feel warm inside. When he turned to say hi to Joyce she smirked at him.

"Don't let me interrupt your mutual admiration society," she said. "Pretend I'm not here."

"Oh, Mom, geez," smiled Hope, as she took the flowers to the kitchen. "We're just being polite."

From behind Hope, Bucky made a questioning face at the older woman, as if to ask what she was trying to do. He received a smug smile from Joyce in return.

"So, how was your week?" asked Hope, trying to reach for another vase from where her mother kept them.

Bucky reached past her, and brought one down, placing it on the counter. "Checked out some career counsellor services. Found one that caters to military vets, although they think I'll be a challenge. I have an appointment for next week. You?"

"Looked for some art jobs but even though I've only been out of the business for a year my qualifications are becoming outdated, so I'm looking into some upgrading. Posted my resume on a few job sites, so maybe someone might hire me." She filled the vase with lukewarm water, then began cutting the ends off of the flowers. "I could always get a job as a legal secretary to make ends meet. Don't want to depend on Mom to support me during my transition back into an artistic career."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need to," stated Joyce. "You know, with your master's degree you could teach at a junior college. They're always looking for contract teaching staff."

Hope stopped then turned to her mother. "I didn't even think of that. I could even teach regular art courses to bored housewives. Introduction to Painting or Watercolour Techniques for the Beginner."

There was a hint of bitterness in how she said it, which made Joyce look at her daughter with some irritation. Before she could reply, Bucky cleared his throat.

"I don't know if you're being serious or joking but from what I saw when your mom was helping me to find out about GEDs, the libraries had lots of art courses listed, daytime and evening. They wouldn't offer them unless there was a demand for them. Seems it would be more gratifying to be involved in something artistic than to be confined to an office job every day. Sure, there might be bored housewives taking the course, but there's probably someone who will become inspired enough to keep going and taking more courses. That's worth something, isn't it?"

The earnest way he spoke and looked at her made Hope hold her tongue and not say the sarcastic comment that immediately sprang to mind.

"It's just that, there was a saying. Those that can, do ... those that can't, teach." She shrugged. "If I have to revert to teaching to stay in my field, then it says I don't have what it takes to succeed as an artist."

"You know, that saying is attributed to George Bernard Shaw," answered Bucky. "It's from a line in one of his plays and maybe at the time he wrote it, and because of the way he was taught there was some truth to it. Teachers have always been criticized and the profession is always under attack, even when I was in school. Which is a shame because I had some incredible teachers who introduced me to different things not just for understanding but for pleasure. I read a lot after I got away from HYDRA, trying to make sense of life. Did you know that Socrates was a teacher, who taught Plato, who taught Aristotle? Long before Shaw ever wrote that line, Aristotle said "Those who know, do. Those that understand, teach." Instinctively, he reached towards Hope, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I think that sharing your knowledge is something noble. Teaching is a profession for a reason because it makes a difference when it's done right."

Joyce almost held her breath, watching the way her daughter looked up at the tall super soldier. His gaze was firmly fixed on Hope, and damn if she didn't have a momentary wish that the pair would kiss. Then Hope swallowed noticeably, and touched the same strand of hair that Bucky had, reaffirming it was where it was supposed to be.

"I'll consider it," she murmured. "You're right that it would be more satisfying to get back into art in some way, than be stuck in an office job all day."

He smiled at Hope, and she had to look away because that smile made her feel like a schoolgirl all over again. It was just like the first time the object of a high school crush ever paid her any attention. She turned away to finish putting the flowers in the vase, ending the moment with Bucky. Giving her some space, he retreated to the other side of the counter. Both he and Joyce helped when it was time to put everything out on the table. Hope started her playlist, which by the songs that Bucky recognized were mostly from the 1990s up to some current songs. They were all pleasant enough to have playing in the background. He complimented her cooking then winced when he wondered if his compliments sounded sexist. But Joyce reiterated his comments, and Hope responded favourably. As she began to clear away the dishes after they were finished, Bucky insisted on helping. Joyce received a phone call and excused herself leaving the pair side by side at the sink, so Bucky washed the pots and pans, while Hope dried them and put them away.

"You weren't offended with what I said about teaching, were you?" he asked. "You seemed quiet over dinner."

"No, not at all." She kept drying a pot then glanced up at him. "I made an assumption about you, based on the fact that you quit school so young, then just recently got your GED. It's my own bias, I guess. I just assumed you weren't very well read but you knew that George Bernard Shaw wrote that saying and you quoted Aristotle to me. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he replied softly. "I would have gone to college if the Depression hadn't made life so hard. Then with the war and getting drafted, it limited my choices for the duration. Sometimes, you have to play the hand you're dealt. My hand just lasted for 70 years."

"Hard to believe you're that old," smiled Hope. "What about you and your plans? I can't believe the Avengers aren't starting up again, not after what you and Captain America did with the Flag Smashers."

He smirked. "I wish they were, but Sam says he's getting all sorts of mixed signals from Washington. Doesn't help that the man who's running for president is the man who tried to shut the Avengers down with the Sokovia Accords. He doesn't like the idea of a quick response unit being independent of government interference. Except he calls it oversight."

"Got you," she answered. "Those types always talk about making sure people are acting appropriately, then make sure there are always roadblocks to doing just that. Isn't he the same guy that complained about the Avengers compound being destroyed by Thanos as if they were responsible for it? They brought back everyone who was blipped, and he wasn't happy about the damage that an extraterrestrial made. That man has his own agenda."

"You don't know the half of it," thought Bucky.

Joyce returned to say it was just Tom, confirming her arrival time in Boston the next morning.

"I guess I better get my bag packed," she said, "and reserve a taxi for the airport. Bucky, I'll say goodbye to you now. I hope you two have a good time at the concert."

She gave them both a hug, then went up the stairs, leaving them behind in the kitchen.

"Do you want a coffee or something stronger?" asked Hope. "I think Mom has some scotch here."

"A scotch sounds good."

He watched as she brought out two glasses, pouring an inch into each. Then she raised her glass and sipped from it before walking into the living room. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, each looking at their glass rather than at each other, before taking some of the amber liquid. It was awkward, then Bucky turned towards Hope.

"Would you go for dinner with me before the concert?"

"Like a date dinner or just dinner between acquaintances?"

"A date," he answered. "I know going to the concert with me was kind of forced on you but ..."

"Yes, I would like to go for dinner with you." She sipped her scotch. "Nothing fancy or expensive. Even a diner is fine."

They each sat there, feeling a little less awkward and unsure about each other. When Bucky finished his drink, he stood up.

"I guess I should get going," he said. "I'll pick you up at 5:30 on Saturday, if that's okay. The concert starts at 8, which gives us plenty of time to eat and to get there."

She nodded and stood up to walk him to the door. For a moment, they waited, then Bucky held out his arms to hug her, breathing in the smell of her perfume, and liking how it felt to have a woman in his arms again.

"Thank you for dinner and I'll see you Saturday."

"You're welcome and thank you for the roses."

Reluctantly, she pulled away from his warmth, and the scent of his aftershave, relishing how pleasant both were, not to mention the fact that the brief hug made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time. For the first time in months, she felt appreciated and that surprised her. This old-fashioned man, with good manners, eyes like the ocean, and handsome as fuck, made her feel like she mattered. As she watched him walk away in the dusk, she wondered if what she felt was real, or just a wish for something that didn't actually exist. Was he the one, the mythical perfect man for her, the prince to all the frogs she had attached herself to in the past? With a groan, she went back inside, locked the door, and poured herself another scotch, wondering if she had just made her usual mistake again. God, she hoped not.