Words: 5.2K
A/N: This was requested by isobellllxo ! Hope you like it, doll! Requests are still open, of course :)
OCTOBER 21st, 1925
"You've got to be kidding me."
Y/N stands at the kitchen sink with her eyes glued out at the scene in the backyard. A grunt of annoyance slithers out of her little pink lips when she sees that her dumb brother has yet again invited that wild Barnes boy over again. Now he's got James doing his chores with him—but really they only play instead of raking up the leaves like they're supposed to.
"What is it, honey?"
Y/N's mother, Sarah, leaves the table from where she's just been setting it with an extra plate for little James from next door.
"That boy is back again." Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. At her chest fitted with the white buttons she crosses her arms.
Sarah smiles softly. "He's Steve's friend."
"He's a nuisance," Y/N counters.
Sarah moves to grab the bowl of mashed potatoes from Y/N. "James is a good kid, Y/N. And he's the only boy who'll play with your brother, so you better get used to seeing him around."
Y/N feels slightly guilty about being so perturbed by the eight year old's presence for a moment but then she glances back outside to see them rolling around in the mud—looking absolutely ridiculous. Then she's back to being annoyed again. "They're going to destroy your house, mother."
"Then so be it," Sarah says with a smile. She comes to join Y/N in staring out the window. Only instead of a frown she wears a loving grin. "As long as they're happy."
...
APRIL 13th, 1930
Y/N jogs her way down the street until she reaches the house. Throwing open the creaky door she waltzes inside. The walk home in the rain was miserable. She throws her bag onto the floor then hurries to the living room to sit down. She expects to find her side of the couch empty. Only this time it's not. It's filled with the body of the boy next door.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Hey there, doll." James grins in that crooked, boyish way that makes all the other 13 year olds swoon. But Y/N's a respectable woman of fifteen now and his charms do nothing but annoy her.
Popping out a hip, Y/N says, "You're in my seat."
"Oh am I?" James touches his chest with feigned surprise. "I'm sorry, sweetie."
"Don't call me that."
Steve, who sits in a huddled ball on the other side, speaks up with a grin. "Hey sis! Mom's letting Bucky spend the night. She said it's because I did so well on my math exam. How did you do on yours?"
Suddenly Y/N is aggravated for another reason. "I don't want to talk about the math exam, Steve. I just want to sit in my seat and read."
Y/N's mother leans into the room to be seen. Her hair has been done up in rollers and now she's got rouge on her cheeks. Y/N thinks she looks really pretty like this—especially in the autumn sunlight.
"Just sit somewhere else, Y/N. I don't have time for your games. I have a ham in the oven."
"Oh you make the best ham, Ms. Rogers! I am so excited to be spending the night." James flashes Sarah that adorable smile and she grins.
Y/N rolls her eyes. This boy even has HER MOTHER wrapped around his finger! Well, if Y/N knows anything, it's that the Barnes boy will never do anything but annoy her endlessly.
Deciding not to give up so easily, Y/N stomps over to the couch. She pushes little Steve to one side and James to the other while grumbling, "Move," beneath her breath. Steve shuffles out of his sister's way while James chuckles and does the same.
"A bit bossy aren't ya, doll?"
"Not sorry to say that I am," Y/N counters.
James' smirk is big and bold. "No need to apologize. I find it fascinating, actually."
"I don't care how you find it." Y/N shoves James more out of her way as she takes off her shoes.
James shrugs. "And I don't care that you don't care."
"Good." Y/N lets out a long breath that Steve tries to copy before coughing into his arm. Y/N turns to pat him gently on the back before turning back towards James. "But don't take my seat again or I'll take your arm right off of that body of yours."
James doesn't appear to be threatened at all. "Sure thing, doll."
...
MARCH 2nd, 1933
Y/N sits at the soda shop window with her best friends Patsy and Deb. In her green gingham dress she keeps glancing out to the street where all the nice cars with the glossy wheels drive by. The soda shop plays some hip, bopping music that Y/N doesn't pay enough attention to. She also doesn't pay any attention to the shop door as it opens up and lets in her skinny, blond younger brother and his best friend. The two pals take up a booth across the joint and go back and forth about things that happened at school.
"Jerry had it coming for him." James, more commonly known as Bucky now, kicks up his feet and frowns down at his Levis that now have a smudge of grease on them from greasing his bicycle gears before coming here.
"That's what I said!" Steve throws up those skinny, gangly arms for effect. "But you still dragged me away."
Bucky leans over the table with a frown. "Because he's four times your size, punk! You can't be pickin' fights with brutes." The sixteen year old glances to the waitress as she passes by—noticing how long her legs are. But then he's forgetting all about the random girl as he sees another more familiar one seated by the window in the back.
"Look who's here, Stevie boy."
Steve glances back behind him. "Oh, it's Y/N." He coughs lightly before sniffling. He's caught another cold—the sixth one this year, and it's only April.
Bucky stands up from the booth. Tapping the table, he says, "I think I'll go say hi."
Steve's eyebrows gnarl. "Why? She kinda hates you."
Bucky straightens his leather jacket out. "Not for long." He pushes away some of his hair on his walk over: admiring the way Y/N's head tilts to the side as she laughs. Her hair is curled and long over her shoulders. In the green dress her skin looks even brighter and prettier than it did the day before.
"Oh! Oh. Don't look now, don't look now," Patsy starts to excitedly whisper. She's grabbed Y/N's hand under the table and started shaking it. "But there's a really cute boy walking over now."
Y/N's eyes widen slightly. "Really?" she whispers back. "What does he look like?"
Deb, who is also seated in a good place to see this beckoning stranger, grins. "Oh he's handsome, Y/N. Tall and fit and boy—wait until you see that smirk..."
"He's coming for you! FOR YOU!" Patsy squeals.
Suddenly Y/N is excited. She straightens up in her seat, casually fixing her hair, before the strange boy makes his way to her table.
"Hey doll."
Y/N groans—having heard his voice and that cocky little drawl and known his face before even seeing it. "You've got to be kidding me." Breathing deeply she turns to face him. Sure enough, there he is: the Barnes boy in the flesh. He's gotten taller over the past few months. Now at sixteen he's as lovable as the town's ever known him, and as cute too. Y/N is eighteen and more tired of him than she ever has been before. He's around all the time—there's never a moment he's not at her house. Steve's obsessed with him. Y/N sometimes thinks that her dumb brother would go as far as starting another civil war for this boy he calls his best friend. But as much as Bucky annoys Y/N, she knows he's a good friend to Steve. So she's nice to him.
Mostly.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk to you, sugar." Bucky jams his hands in his pockets. He winks at Y/N when she rolls her eyes. "I know you missed me."
"I saw you last night, Bucky."
"Twelve hours is a long time," Bucky counters.
"The best twelve hours of my week." Y/N picks up her soda and takes a long, loud sip. Bucky patiently watches and waits for her to say more. She hates how he looks at her red painted lips clamped around the straw so acutely.
"Now, if you don't mind, I'm visiting with my friends." Y/N gestures to Patsy and Deb with a hand.
Bucky gives her a deep bow. "Of course." There's a playful glimmer in his bright blue eyes as he steps away. "I'll see you later, doll."
...
AUGUST 14th, 1935
"So this is your new place, huh?" Bucky lingers in the doorway of Steve's house with his bag strewn over his broad back.
Steve nods—wiping the underside of his runny nose with his oversized shirt sleeve. It's wrinkly now that his mother isn't around to iron it for him.
"Yeah. Well, sort of. Technically it's Y/N's place. But she's letting me stay here."
"How'd she afford to get a place on her own?" Bucky walks farther into the house and decides to poke around a little. He hasn't seen Y/N in almost a year now. Since she graduated high school and moved to the next town over she's never around. He's slightly peeved about it, but never spoke a word of it to Steve. If Steve knew how he felt about Y/N... well, Bucky might be the one Steve would try to pummel next. Bucky knows too well how Steve reacts to men taking a liking to Y/N: he hates them.
"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Steve starts the sentence with a question before disappearing down one of the halls. Bucky glances around at the rest of the living room décor before hurrying after his small friend. He finds Steve in a bedroom—a big one—at a desk. He picks up a picture frame before passing it to Bucky. "She's engaged."
Bucky's stomach turns inside out. Swallowing, he takes the frame. In the portrait is Y/N in the arms of another man. He's tall and unsmiling while Y/N wears a sunhat on the beach. She's got that unmistakable twinkle in her eyes that keeps Bucky awake and longing at night.
"Oh." Bucky stares at the picture a fraction of a moment longer before setting it carelessly back on the desk. "That's, uh..." Bucky loses the ambition to lie about being happy for her. "What's he like?" Bucky realizes now that they're in the master bedroom—where the couple lies together.
"He's fine, I guess." Steve shrugs and leads them out of the room. Bucky gratefully hurries after him. "You know how Y/N is though. She makes up her mind on people and leaves it like that. Doesn't matter if I really like him or not."
"You don't like him? What's wrong with him?"
Steve almost laughs. "He's just alright. There's nothing special about him." He takes Bucky to the spare bedroom where Steve now stays. "She deserves more, is all."
"Yeah. Yeah, she does." Bucky looks out the window to the driveway down below. There's a car pulling up—a blue one—and it's Y/N's. Bucky can't help but stare as the young woman, now the sweet age of twenty, climbs out onto the curb. She smooths down her skirt and the wind rustles her hair as she walks up the drive. A smile tugs lazily on Bucky's face as Y/N stops to see that a weed has grown between the stepping stones. She plucks it away and tosses it before carrying on.
Downstairs the front door can be heard opening. Bucky hastily leaves the window before he can be caught staring out. Steve's unaware as he rambles on about the baseball cards he's collected recently.
"Stevie?"
"Upstairs!" Steve stops chattering for a second to holler out a reply. He pops his head out of the bedroom door to see Y/N ascending the staircase. Behind him, Bucky lurks. Y/N stops dead in her tracks when she sees him: the Barnes boy.
"Bucky Barnes," she takes a moment to say his name. And then, to the shock of them all, she smiles. "You've got to be kidding me: I thought I'd never see your pesky little mug again." She comes closer with her arms lifted open for a hug.
Bucky doesn't waste a moment to take her up in an embrace. Shocked, he closes his hands gently on her lower back. Her perfume is strong and smells like lavender. He rather likes it.
"I thought you'd be happy about that, doll," Bucky replies with a chuckle. He steps away before Y/N can—not wanting the moment to seem too long to be anything but friendly.
Y/N laughs lightly. "I would've thought so too. But it's good to see you." She's not a liar, everyone knows. Y/N is telling the truth when she says this—but not the whole truth. Honestly, she missed Bucky more than she missed any of her friends when she moved away. He was wild, flirty, and annoying: but Bucky Barnes was sweet. He was kind. He was funny. And she misses that smirk every damn day.
"Are you staying the night?" Y/N asks. She moves slightly farther away from him still.
"No, no. Just stopping in for a quick visit." Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets. Steve, who looks very confused, stares at Bucky wide-eyed. "Lovely house you have here, by the way."
"Thank you, Bucky."
Steve blinks. Not only is he confused about this warm reunion between the two of them, but also because they both seem so... awkward.
"Wanna go on a walk or something, Buck?"
Bucky, who has almost been caught staring at the pretty gal, nods. "Yeah. Yeah. Sure," he says with a tight smile. He follows Steve towards the stairs. "Good seeing you, doll."
Y/N wears a smile. "Right back at you, kid." But a kid he is no longer. No: Bucky Barnes is a man. He's tall and broad with beautiful blue eyes and a straight toothed, pearly white smile. And that smile is what sends Y/N's stomach into a fluttering feeling when he walks away: leaving her heart feeling sad and ashamed but also conflicted.
Walking out the door, Steve questions Bucky: "Why'd you lie? I thought you were spending the night."
"I uh, don't really feel like it anymore." Bucky shrugs as if he doesn't know. But he does—he knows all too well why he can't stay in the same house with Y/N and the other man. He knows because he thinks he loves her, but he doesn't know why or how to stop it.
...
AUGUST 20th, 1935
Steve fiddles with his fork—playing with the potato salad on his plate.
"What is it?" Bucky speaks around a mouth full of bread. "You haven't eaten anything. I thought you liked this place." Bucky and Steve have come to have lunch together at a diner halfway between their two towns. It was a long bus ride for both of them but worth it in the end of course.
"Something's... something's not right." Steve sets down his utensil with a frown.
Bucky stares at Steve's plate. "Did they forget salt or somethin'?"
"No, no," Steve shakes his head and looks annoyed. "I mean with Y/N."
Now Bucky's intrigued. He forgets about his food. "What?"
Steve, as if someone could overhear, leans over the table. "Something's wrong with her and Mark."
"Mark?" Bucky cocks a brow.
Steve sighs. "Her fiancé, Buck."
"Oh, oh." He frowns. "Oh." Wider eyes look at Steve curiously. "Why? What's been going on?"
Steve shakes his head. "I don't know. But they hardly ever talk. Y/N doesn't look at him when he comes in the room. It's been two weeks that I've been there and Mark's only spoken to me twice. And whenever I try to ask her about it, she refuses to talk. And when I asked her if she loved him... I could see it in her eyes. She doesn't."
Bucky stares at his food as it grows cold. He doesn't quite know what any of this means or what he's supposed to do. "You've gotta be kiddin' me," is all he can think to say. He slinks farther back in his seat.
"What do I do?"
"I—I don't know," Bucky timidly admits. Steve looks disappointed to say the least. Bucky hurries to reassure him, "But we'll figure it out. We'll fix this."
Steve breathes out a deep sigh of relief. "Good." He takes a drink of his sweet tea before replying, "I knew if anyone would be willing to help it'd be the man who's been in love with her for ten years."
"Wha—what?!" Bucky gawks. "I—Steve, I... what are you...?"
"Don't even try to hide it, punk." Bucky would imagine Steve to be upset, but in reality he seems more amused than anything. He takes another bite of food and accidentally gets some on his sleeve. "I've known the whole time. Longer than you have, probably."
Bucky Barnes, for the first time ever, is rendered speechless.
"I'm not mad," Steve continues on. "You're good enough for her." He's not paying attention as he keeps eating—but he can feel Bucky staring at him. "You're the only one good enough for her, actually." He brings his eyes back up. "I just wish she could see it."
Bucky lets out a long breath. "Me too."
...
SEPTEMBER 2nd, 1935
Y/N settles down at the dining room table with her book lying flat out in front of her. She lets her eyes wander over the words, reading for only a few minutes, before someone knocks at the door. Letting out a groan she pulls herself up to reach the foyer.
"Coming," she calls. She fixes her curls before opening up the door. Standing there, out in the rain and drenched from head to toe, is her little brother's best friend: Bucky Barnes.
"Bucky? What are you doing here?" Y/N stays rooted in the doorway. "Steve isn't here, remember? He went to see our grandparents for the weekend..."
"I'm not here for Steve." Bucky's face is strangely stoic and solemnly set. He stares straight at Y/N with enough resolve to crack stone. "I'm here to see you."
"Not a good time, Bucky." Y/N tries to shut the door. Bucky's foot jams it open. "Seriously, Bucky, get out of here."
"I'm not gonna leave until you talk to me, doll."
Giving up, Y/N sighs. "About what?"
Bucky softly pushes himself into the door and out of the rain. "About you. About Mark. About me. About how you shouldn't be with Mark; you should be with me."
Y/N's eyes have gone wide. "You've..."
"I'm not kidding you here, doll." Bucky blinks away some of the water from his eyes that's come down from the storm. "Now can we talk?"
Y/N reluctantly shakes her head. "You—you should leave." Again she tries to shut the door. Bucky won't let her—not yet. The plan wasn't to be locked out in the rain. Steve planned to go away so that Bucky could talk to her alone: get her to realize that it's Bucky she should be with and not this strange Mark character that she seems to not be able to stand.
"Hear me out, Y/N..." Bucky starts on his practiced speech.
Y/N takes him off guard by throwing up her hand to his mouth. She clamps down on it—shutting him up. He's taller than her now, which she finds strangely attractive, but she pushes away that thought as well as him out of her house. "Get out of here before he comes downstairs and sees you, Bucky. I'm serious."
Bucky gently pries Y/N's soft hand from his mouth. He stares down at her, how her eyes have gone wider and lips pursed, and comes to the conclusion: "You're afraid of him." His voice has that eureka tone to it and his eyes dark from the clouded moon.
Y/N can feel her stomach twist into knots. She's not a liar—that's something that everyone knows. So when she can't bring herself to admit yes, she can't say no.
"Leave." She steps back into the house again with her hands in fists. "Please." Now she sounds less like a strong, sassy woman and more of a begging girl—a girl begging for this boy to leave before she sees him get hurt, or worse.
Bucky's filled with more resolve now than he's ever known himself to be. He won't be moved from this porch, dammit, and he certainly won't be shoved out of this situation—not while Y/N's in harm's way.
"I'm not going anywhere." Bucky's bigger and stronger than little ole Y/N. He pushes himself into the foyer. The door closes behind him with a loud whap of finality. "Where is he?" Bucky growls. He's already glaring around the four corners of the room as if he could spot the culprit somewhere.
"Don't do this," Y/N whispers. She's grabbing Bucky by the hand and trying to tug him back towards the door. "Please, Bucky, don't. It's not your concern..."
Bucky stops in his search for a moment to look down at Y/N. Her eyes are slightly red, maybe from wanting to cry or not sleeping, and then he notices how her lower lip has been split. Someone's hit her.
His body flushes red. Rage, hot and ready to brawl, turns his soul to flames.
"He put his goddamn hands on you. That makes it my concern." Bucky notices the empty staircase. He starts walking towards it.
Y/N struggles to keep him rooted in place. She pulls—slowing him, but only slightly. "No! No it doesn't!"
Suddenly, Bucky stops. He spins to stare back at her. Under the weight of his gaze she freezes. "I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for a hell of a long time. And I don't need you to love me back—if you don't want me, I can live with that. But I can't live with the fact that you're being hurt. I won't stand to see it: I won't stand it at all." He slows down his speech when he sees the shocked, confused look on her face. "I love you. And god help the man who dares to touch you." The last part is an unmistakable growl. In the wake of Y/N's shock she's let go of him: allowing Bucky to stomp upstairs where he knows he'll find that fiancé of hers lying unknowingly in bed: blissfully unaware that he's about to receive the worst beating of his life. And later when she cries, it's not because she's sad. No—she's done crying about that. It's because Bucky takes her hand when he drives away with her in the front seat: kissing her knuckles like he's done it a thousand times before, and making her feel more loved than she's felt in her entire life... even through all of the blood and bruises.
...
PRESENT DAY
Bucky watches the news out of the corner of his eye while he fixes himself a plate of scrambled eggs. He's tired from all the training Steve's made him do since he joined the team and from the late night sessions Tony's therapist guy sits him through, but it's all been for the best. He's nearly back to being himself again. It's been a long time since he's felt like this: like Bucky Barnes again.
For a moment there's nothing on his mind but the TV and the sound of the rain. But then the lightning cracks and he's hit with the memory of standing out on a porch in the rain. He remembers holding someone's hand and drying her tears as they puttered away—leaving a beaten, angry man in the house at the end of the street. He remembers that he said something to her, to try and make her feel better, but he can't quite recall what it'd been. He just knows that he loved her—with every ounce of his being. And he knows that he spent the rest of his life loving her. He would cradle her body at night, kiss her lips every morning, and gaze at her when she wasn't looking. He doesn't remember much about his life before, but the face of the girl that had Steve's last name is certainly cemented up there at the forefront of his brain. Above all, Bucky remembers swearing to always protect her: even when he'd been across the world without her.
He hasn't been able to bring himself to ask Steve what happened to his sister. She'd been a spunky thing, he thinks with a small smile. He wishes he could remember what her voice sounded like... He imagines that it was beautiful. Why had he gone to that house in the first place? He can't remember what drove them together that night. He knows he was covered in blood—he always remembers the things that involve blood. But he feels different about this memory. He's proud: he remembers feeling like he'd finally done something right. He was protecting her. He was taking care of her in a way that no one else could. That was Bucky's purpose before it was stripped away from him by Hydra.
Bucky walks himself over to the dining room table. Pushing away some of his long, ratty brown hair he starts to eat while watching TV. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve walk slowly into the room.
Now's a good of time as any, Bucky thinks to himself with a mouth full of egg.
"Hey man," Bucky calls out to Steve. The big friend of his turns around before he can get a glass of water. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." Steve smiles. "What is it?"
Bucky's suddenly nervous, but he knows that he has to know. "What happened to Y/N?" His voice is soft and unlike him.
Steve blinks. He wasn't expecting this. In fact, he wasn't even expecting Bucky to remember Y/N at all. But he's not surprised. He knew how much Bucky loved her. He'd heard about what Bucky had done for his sister that night. He'd seen all the times the three would go out and Bucky would hold tightly onto her hand—dragging her into his side whenever a car came too close or a strange man too near. And Steve saw how hard you'd cried when Bucky never came home like he promised: how in the end he'd been the one to hurt you the most despite how hard he'd tried to keep you safe.
Steve gets that glass of water before joining Bucky at the table. Slowly, he starts the long-awaited conversation. "First of all, tell me what you remember about her."
Bucky sighs. "She was..." he searches the depths of his sore brain for the proper word. "Everything." His blue eyes glisten and Steve knows that he's really remembering. It makes his heart hurt. "Y/N was everything." A sort of smirk tugs at his lips. "And she kinda hated me for a while."
Steve snorts. "Yeah, she kinda did." He steals a piece of Bucky's toast and takes a bite. "But only until we were about twelve and you hit puberty. Then it was all for show."
"Really?" Bucky muses with a raised brow and light laugh. "I don't remember that."
"Oh yeah. She'd complain about you all the time—too much for someone who supposedly didn't like you. Mom saw it first then I caught on. And you: well, you'd just stare at her with big Bambi eyes when you thought I couldn't see."
Bucky smiles down at his plate. "Sounds like something I'd do."
"What else do you remember?" Steve prompts.
Bucky's brows gnarl as he tries to recall. "Were we engaged? I remember something about an engagement."
"No. You beat up her fiancé, though, so that's probably what you're thinking of."
"I did?" Bucky blinks. "Oh. Right—I did. But I don't know why."
"He was beating up on her." Steve clearly doesn't like this subject by the way he won't move his eyes up from the table but he keeps going anyway. "She got real vulnerable after mom died."
"Oh." Bucky breathes. "What happened?"
"When you kicked Mark's ass?"
"No," Bucky shakes his head, "What happened to Y/N?"
Steve's lips purse together. He says not a word.
"I need to know." Bucky tries again to get Steve to answer, "Please, Steve. I need to know." He goes on before Steve can stop him, "Did she get married? Have kids? Just tell me she was happy. I know you probably don't wanna talk about it since you missed all that too, but I know that she would've been the first person you looked for when you woke up again. I know if anyone knows it's gonna be you. She was your other half."
"And you were hers," Steve replies softly. His eyes break away from their dreamy stare of the tabletop. "Okay, Buck. I—I'll tell you." He takes a deep breath. "But it's better if I just show you."
...
Hours later the duo are upstate at the SHIELD headquarters. They're in front of this big IN MEMORIAL wall imprinted with a bunch of names. And etched into the stone just above Bucky's is Y/N ROGERS: the name of the girl that he drove crazy and that made him fall crazy in love.
"She was Shield," Bucky surmises in front of the wall. His rough fingertips trace over her name: loving every letter but hating that they're up here with a bunch of dead people.
"After you and I fell, well, she went looking for answers: for someone to blame." Steve steps up to join Bucky closer by the wall. "She found Peggy. They went looking for answers together."
"You mean revenge," Bucky comments.
"Yeah: that too."
The two of them are silent for a moment as Bucky stares dedicatedly at the wall with her name.
"I hope she was happy."
"She was," someone new says from behind. It's not a voice that's familiar to Bucky so he frowns and starts to turn, just as she says, "But then her jackass boyfriend went and fell out of a train and her stupid idiot brother crashed a freakin' plane into the ocean. She was kinda pissed after that, to say the least."
Bucky turns. Standing behind them, in the middle of the room, is a woman that Bucky's knows he's seen. He knows because he loved her: Bucky Barnes has really been in love with her his whole life. Even when there was nothing left of him at all there were pieces of love in his heart for this girl back home: the one in the green gingham dress.
Y/N stands with her hands on her hips and a wide smile on her face. She's been waiting for this day for a long time... years, really, since Steve said they'd found Bucky. Now she's been patiently counting the days until her brother said Bucky would be ready. Apparently he is, because this morning she got a frantic call from Steve saying, "It's time."
"What? You think you're the only badass that can be frozen?" Y/N teases despite how hard her heart aches to see Bucky again. He just keeps staring at her—looking as if he's seen a ghost. "I'm real, Buck."
Steve worriedly glances away from his pretty sister to his best friend. "You okay?"
Bucky doesn't reply. Instead he takes three long steps closer to Y/N as if in a dream. He reaches out with his hand—the metal one—for her cheek. When she doesn't flinch away, only smiles, Bucky feels tears in his eyes. Everything he's ever known flashes in front of his eyes. With her soft cheek under his palm he remembers his purpose: her. Bucky's purpose, the one he's been helplessly searching for since he's been back, has been found. Y/N is his life, love, and soul. And just when he thought it'd been gone, he's got it back again.
A tear slips out of Bucky's eye. Gazing down at her, the other hand moving to cradle Y/N face gently from both sides, his forehead presses to hers. And then while they all wait for him to speak, he closes his eyes and relishes on the feeling of being happy for the first time in a very long time.
In a single breath, Bucky Barnes relays the phrase that makes a very happy Roger's sibling duo grin with long-awaited glee:"You've gotta be kidding me, doll."