Holding On | Bucky Barnes

9 | Wednesday, December 29th

"Dyker Heights... God, I remember sneaking around this neighborhood with Steve... We always said that the people in this neighborhood made it... She made it..." he adds quietly.

I drive a few more blocks before pulling up to a huge Victorian house with a red brick retaining wall and a multi-level path leading to the front door. There are snowflakes hung across the front of the house, with large nut crackers and candy canes lining the path. Strings of lights line the windows and gutters, and I can only imagine how gorgeous this place looks at night.

Eliza told us to come early so we would meet people as they came, rather than walking into a house full of people, and from the lack of cars, it seems like we're the first.

Bucky grips the small silver box in his hand, and I gently place my own over his. His eyes find mine and his jaw clenches. "It's been seventy-five years," he says quietly. I nod and he continues. "If you were in my position... You would rush head-long in there, wouldn't you?" he chuckles.

I shrug. "We have had very different experiences. I don't know what I would do in your shoes, but I don't blame you for being nervous," I say gently.

He sits a moment before nodding and reaching to the door, pulling himself out of the car.

I smile and sling my purse and the gift bag over the crook of my arm, then step from the car. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the house with a stiff back. When I come to stand beside him, his hand automatically reaches for mine, lacing our fingers together before leading the way up the steps. Our feet crunch over the snow as we approach the door, coming to a stop in front of a large sparkly snowflake.

He's quiet a moment, before he lets out a breath. "I need you to knock. I don't think..."

"Of course, babe," I say quietly, pulling our hands up and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. I squeeze our hands and use my other to knock on the heavy wooden door.

After a few moments, I hear footsteps and Bucky stills beside me. The door opens to a young woman wearing a fluffy red sweater tucked into a cute plaid skirt with a big smile across her face. "Hi," she whisper-yells, her smile somehow getting bigger.

"Hi, Eliza?" Bucky asks a little hesitantly.

She nods and steps aside, letting us in. "I'm so glad you came," she sighs, "and you must be Y/N, it's really great to meet you both."

"It's good to meet you too," I smile. "I hope you like wine," I add, handing her the gift bag with a bottle of white and red.

"Of course," she chuckles. "I can take your jackets," she offers.

"I, uh, think it may be better to keep it on," Bucky says, nodding to his left arm and gloved hands.

"Oh, if you want to keep them and the jacket on, that's fine, but you don't have to cover up," she says gently.

"I think I should keep them on at least until I see..." his voice trails off as he looks around the foyer.

"Nana is in the kitchen right now. She and my mom are making shortbread," Eliza explains. Bucky smiles a little and nods. "Come on, I'll bring you to the sitting room.

We follow her down the hall and through a pair of double doors on the right. It's a bright room with a few antique floral couches and settees and shiny dark-wood tables. Tall arched windows let in the late morning sun that bounces off the picture frames scattered around the room. The far wall has a built-in bookshelf with hundreds of books stacked on its shelves, along with a few knick-knacks like model planes and glass ornaments. Beside it is an open door leading to another hallway.