Winter Woes

Spring Cleaning

It's 4 in the morning and I felt like I needed to write. Excuse the crapiness, it's hard to follow up to Winter Woes :P

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"It's strange how much stuff you can fit into a closet," Bucky Barnes muttered to himself, standing over a heap of books he had pulled out, "and then just forget all about it."

It was a cool March day and the old timer decided that some spring cleaning was in order. So, he emptied out his closet and separated his things into piles. Presently he was rummaging through old books. Bucky took a seat in front of the pile and started sifting trough the it, causing dust to swirl. He turned away and coughed as he picked up a paperback book. Le Petit Prince, read the cover.

"Huh," Bucky smiled to himself, "I didn't even know I owned this book." He set it aside in the 'keep' pile and picked up another book. After rifling through the pages, he placed it in the 'donate' pile. He continued the process until he stumbled upon a large, leatherbound book. The edges were worn with age. He opened the front cover and was presented with pictures. A photo album. The photos may have aged, but the memories were still clear in his head. Bucky gingerly removed the picture and studied it intently.

-

1935. Or maybe '36? The sun shone down brightly on the town fair as Bucky, his father, and younger sister Becca meandered through the throngs of people. Becca, only three at the time, gripped at her brother's slacks tightly as she waddled alongside him. The eldest Barnes tugged at his father's wrist. "If you don't hurry up, the line will be too long when we get there!" He whined, eliciting a chuckle from his father.

"Don't worry, Buck," he ruffled his son's hair, "the line's never long." He had a point. Despite the Ferris wheel being the most popular of the the fair's attractions, the lines were never long and always seemed to move fast.

Becca briefly let go of Bucky's pants to point to a shop that had been set up. "Ice cream?" She asked, looking at her father. Bucky also turned towards him and poked out his bottom lip, hoping that he could help persuade him. After a moment of thought, he agreed. Bucky cheered and scooped up his sister, who giggled in his arms, then ran over to the shop, their father walking after them.

Once in the shop, Bucky set his sister down and pressed his face up against the cool glass and sighed in content. Becca pressed her face against the glass as well and mimicked her older brother, which made him laugh. Anytime he would laugh, Becca would follow suit. He loved seeing her face light up like the sun.

The bell above the door jangled and their father walked in. "Can I get a vanilla?" Bucky asked, but his words came out garbled due to his face being smushed up against the glass.

"English, please," his father requested. Bucky unsmushed his face and repeated his question.

"Chocolate?" Becca questioned, pointing to the chocolate ice cream.

Their father smiled. "Go right ahead." The kids ordered their sweet treats, paid, and went on their merry way.

"Now," Bucky announced, "Ferris wheel!"

"Ferris wheel!" Becca squealed, clapping her chubby little hands together in delight.

"Ferris wheel." Their father nodded, smiling, and led his kids towards the attraction.

-

Bucky smiled fondly as he came to, the memory fading. He carefully tucked the photo back in its place and turned the page. The next photo was of a stoic-looking bride and groom. "Mom," Barnes mumbled, running his metal fingers over his mother's picture.

She had brown, wavy hair that fell just past her shoulders. Her face was sullen; she looked as if she hadn't had much sleep. But her eyes– oh, her eyes– were bright and cheery. Even in photograph, he could sense a flame behind her eyes; the fire of her life, her flickering essence. Bucky saw a likeness in his mother and Becca, which brought a sad smile to his face. He didn't have either of them anymore, but at least they were alive in photograph. And memory, of course.

He turned to the next page and was met with the smiling faces of two young boys. One had ratty brown hair and was missing his front tooth. The other, smaller boy stood on his tiptoes, his blond mop of hair just grazing the brunet's shoulder. His face was grimy and dirty, caked with dry dirt.

Steve.

Bucky tried to think back to that day. How had he lost that tooth? Why did Steve look so dirty and bedraggled? He closed his eyes and focused, but to no avail. With a sigh, the nostalgic soldier turned the page.

A pack of developed photos had been tucked between the pages. The packaging looked old, so Bucky handled it with care. Curiously, he opened the package and pulled out a stack of Polaroid pictures, all of which featured a familiar redhead.

Natasha wore a broad rimmed hat, which she pulled down over her face, a pair of Audrey Hepburn-esque sunglasses, and a white sundress that billowed in the breeze. A cheeky grin was plastered on her face, and Bucky could almost hear her ordering, "Put down the camera, James!" or "Take a picture of something else!"

Bucky assumed they'd been undercover– tourists, most likely– at what seemed to be a pier. He judged that the year was either the late 60s or sometime during the 70s, but he couldn't have cared less; he was transfixed with the subject of the shots.

Some pictures were blurry, but you could still make out the general picture. Others were clear as day. Most of them seemed to be taken on a whim and had caught Natasha off guard.

One photo had her looking out at the sea (this solidifying Bucky's idea that it had, in fact, been a pier), hair and dress blowing and hat flapping in the wind. Her sunglasses were now taken off, fully revealing her face. The picture was taken from the side, capturing her profile. The sun struck her face in such a way that it gave Buck the impression that the sun had been setting. Natasha's expression was focused, but her eyes seemed far away. There she was, physically, but her mind seemed to have wandered away. Bucky set this photo aside for later.

The last Polaroid of the stack was what would've been labelled as a selfie by today's standards. Sitting on a bench, Bucky had his arm draped across Natasha's shoulders and they both smiled into the camera. Natasha nestled into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Bucky imagined that that had been the only fleeting sense of normalcy Natasha had ever felt. It was probably the closest thing he had ever felt to normal too, at the time.

Smiling, he set the photo aside along with the other one, then put the rest of the Polaroids back into the package.

Snapping back to reality, he looked around his room. Outside, the sun had just begun to dip behind the horizon. A soft breeze blew the curtains aloft. Bucky gently closed the photo album and slowly, stood up and stretched, taking the two set-aside pictures and the package with him. The old man gave his room a once over; he was nowhere near done with cleaning and there were still piles of stuff on the floor, but, with a shrug and a smile, the soldier left his room, closing the door behind him.