Home's changed a lot for me during my life. Growing up it was someplace to be feared: somewhere where I knew my dad was always near. Then it was small apartments in the shady parts of town where I'd lock the windows at night to keep the bad guys from coming in while my mom worked the graveyard shifts. Then it was Portland with Jeremy, New York with Laurie, and finally the Avenger's tower. Now when I go back home to see my mom, home is the end of the street where I used to visit my grandpop for Christmas in the countryside. As I drive us from the airport to the house, I point out all the places I knew growing up.
"That's where I went to high school," I say with a gesture at the green and white painted high school. Bucky looks out the window where the rain is coming down hard and mean. There's muddy slosh all over the roads. Far out of the "big town" is the small city of a few thousand where I grew up. Bucky watches the greenery and white picket fences roll by before suddenly we're someplace where the air smells of Christmas trees.
Our rental car tuts us down the long gravel drive of "Schatz Tree Farms".
Bucky looks to me with a raised eyebrow. "You lived on a Christmas tree farm?"
My head sways left and right. "My grandparents did. Since they passed they gave it to my mom." I eventually reach the end of the road and park. The radio, which had been playing warm voiced country music, silences.
"Huh." Bucky stares up at the green painted house ahead of us with a bit of a frown on his face.
I hold onto his knee. "Bucky, honey, it's going to be alright." I offer him a sweet smile. He's been like this since we got off the plane. He's acting so different than he was this morning... whoa; thinking back to then makes me blush.
Bucky runs his hands, both of them, up and down his thighs. "I know, I know," he chants yet he doesn't sound so sure. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and then curses—frantically trying to fix it. He had me trim it after our shower this morning. It's the shortest I've ever seen it, but it's still thick and rather long. He's got it styled up: which is saying a lot, because he NEVER bothers to do his hair.
I pull Bucky's hands away by the wrists. I do him the favor of fixing the locks myself, smiling softly as I do. "They'll love you," I whisper. The rain is nearly louder than my voice. "And I love you." My touch lingers on his cheek.
Bucky manages a smile. "I love you more, angel." He grabs my hand to kiss each of my fingers. He sighs, saying, "That's why I want this to be perfect." He looks back at the house. The porch lights are on, which means they're waiting for us. It's ten at night and we're exhausted, but I imagine my mom and sister are anxious and wide-awake.
"It will be," I assure Bucky. I kiss his lips once more. "Come on now, darling. I'm getting hungry, and knowing my mother, she'll have a four course meal ready for us."
I'm the first to brave the rainstorm. I grew up playing in the Oregon puddles, so I hardly flinch as I'm completely drenched. Bucky's pulled up his hood and appears next to me at the trunk of the car. I struggle to lift my suitcase, but Bucky grabs it for me. In fact, he grabs all the luggage. He totes two on each arm and then gestures for me to lead.
I don't hesitate in throwing open the front door. Just as I've predicted, the house is flooded with the smell of hot food: rosemary and baked bread being the strongest of all the scents. Bucky lingers slightly behind me in the doorway but I pull him in behind me before kicking the door shut.
"Ma! I'm home!"
No sooner than I've shouted this am I met with the cavalry. First it's the dogs—the tiny fluffy white one and the big golden retriever. They bark and whimper with excitement when they see me. I laugh and try to keep them from licking me, but they're almost forgotten when I see my little sister running towards me from the end of the hall.
"MY BEST BITCH!" she screams with absolute glee.
Bucky raises an eyebrow, remembering that I've told him to always take "bitch" as a term of endearment with Bekah.
Laughing hysterically, my arms fly open wide. My sister, who's just turned twenty-one, slams into me. She's a whole six inches taller than I am. Her long blonde hair is dyed pink at the tips and she wears dark burgundy lipstick. She's the edgy, badass rebel I always wished I could be.
"What the hell took you so long?!" she's hugging me so tight I can hardly breathe.
"It's called living on the other side of the country, idiot." I squeeze her tighter before pulling back far enough to pinch her dimpled cheeks. "God damn! Look at you! Gorgeous as ever, sis."
Bekah blushes, but tries to hide it with sarcasm. "Whatever, loser." But I see the sparkling adoration behind her blue eyes.
Suddenly those blue eyes shift to the door. She sees my boyfriend standing there with the luggage all at his feet and his lips pursed shut.
"You must be the guy with the banging body and sexy voice she keeps talking about," Bekah spurts.
I hide my face behind my hands. "Oh my god, Bekah..."
Bucky's laughter cuts me short. He steps to my side, holding out a hand for Bekah to shake. "Bucky Barnes."
Bekah grips his hand. "Bekah Green."
I see Bucky's left eyebrow make the slightest upward shit. He can hear the playfulness rising up in her voice. She's got quite the malleable mood, and it's palpable through her tone.
Bekah, who is much closer to Bucky's height than I'll ever be, smirks. "You're right, sis. He's a hottie." She notices Bucky's blush then adds, "Don't worry, handsome, I'm not into dudes. You don't have to worry about me."
Regretfully I glance to my boyfriend. "Please forgive my little sister's brash manners. She's never been one for etiquettes."
"Nope, that was always your department. I was known as the fun sister."
I open my mouth to retort, but another voice covers mine.
"Sadie Mae?"
My heart lodges up into my throat. My eyes dart to the open doorway at the end of the hall. From the back porch comes my mother: auburn hair curly from the rain and green eyes blown wide. Her pink lips are pulled back to reveal a pearly white smile, and in this instant I'm reminded why I always dreamt I'd grow up to look just like her.
"Hey mom." My smile makes my cheeks ache.
She hurries towards me on bare feet. Her arms wrap around me and mine her. She always smells like basil. She's laughing as we sway side to side.
"Oh Sadie Mae, I've missed you," she whispers into my hair.
I pat her back. "I missed you too, mom." It's been three months since I've properly seen her last. And with as busy as I've been, I've hardly had time to call.
She holds me back to inspect me in the way a mother would. Her hands are rough but gentle as they grip onto my shoulders. Her green eyes, which look exactly like mine, dance all over my face. "You're so skinny," she comments with a frown.
"Better than fat," Bekah replies.
I roll my eyes. "I'm fine, mom."
My mom's hand is on my cheek. She shoots Bekah a scowl before turning back to me. "You look beautiful, honey. You look more and more like your grandma every day."
Bekah prods Bucky with her elbow like they've known each other for years. "Can you tell who the favorite is?" She chuckles. Bucky only smirks.
My mom ignores Bekah. She tells me, "I'm so happy you came."
"We're happy to be here," I reply. And at this, my mom seems to remember that I've brought a guest. Her gaze flutters to where Bucky stands. He doesn't look nervous, but I know when he reaches out for my hand that he's terrified. I giggle lightly to think that after all the foes Bucky's had to meet; my 5 foot tall mother is the one to scare him.
"Ms. Schatz, it's great to finally meet you." Bucky holds out his hand. I'm holding the metal one between us just slightly behind my thigh.
"Oh come here," my mom laughs. She surprises Bucky and goes for a hug.
"Mom," I sigh. I cringe as she gives his back a few gentle pats. But Bucky doesn't seem to mind. He hugs her back—keeping the metal arm far away.
"Wow! You really are handsome," my mom compliments. She settles back into her own respective space then winks to me. "You did good, Sadie."
"Oh my god."
I feel Bucky's hand move to the small of my back. My boyfriend, the man of very few words, takes his turn speaking. "I'm the one who lucked out here, Ms. Schatz. Your daughter's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Okay, now I'm blushing. My mom fawns over what Bucky's just said while Bekah rolls her eyes (she's not one for romance).
"That's really sweet, James. And please—call me Gwen." She smiles broadly before adding, "Or I always respond to mom. You know—you just call me whatever you want!" She seems a bit overwhelmed in Bucky's presence, and knowing my mom, it's because he's gorgeous. Attractive men fluster her no matter the man.
"Yes ma'am," Bucky drawls with his voice rich and honeyed. His eyes sparkle a bit brighter and I'm very grateful that we've cut his hair so that everyone can see those pretty ocean blue gems.
"Let's get you two something to eat then we'll get you settled, alright? Come on—the kitchen's this way, James."
I shrug off my yellow coat. Bucky helps me out of the wet fabric before carefully hanging it by the door for me. As soon as we're unburdened of the outerwear Bucky's hand is slipping through mine again. His warm, gentle fingers are stiff in my hold. I rub my thumb in circles across his wrist and shoot him a smile. He smiles back, looking a bit more relaxed while we walk across the hall.
"You painted the cabinets," I notice with a hum. I take a seat at the dining table where mom's got all the food already laid out. She eats rather late anyway, but I know she's planned this so we'd have a meal the moment we arrived home.
"It looks beautiful in here, Gwen," Bucky compliments.
"Thank you! I've been talking about doing it for years, you know: replacing the counters and painting the cabinets. I've always wanted real granite and grey cupboards."
Bekah gracelessly flops into the chair across from mine. Mom sits across from Bucky who sits next to me. "Yeah, took her until she met a sexy carpenter man at Home Depot to find the ambition to do it." She serves herself a heaping scoop of angel hair pasta with a wicked smirk peeking out behind the overgrown locks of blonde hair.
I raise an eyebrow. "A carpenter?"
My mom scoffs, "Your sister's being dramatic, as usual. He's just a friend..."
"Oh so he's a friendly sexy carpenter?" I join my sister in teasing our poor mother.
Bekah snorts, "How about you keep the details about how friendly he really is to yourself, huh ma?"
My mom grunts. "You two..." She shakes her head and looks to Bucky with an apologetic smile. "They've always been like this. They never give me a break."
"Like you don't do the same to us!" Bekah laughs. She passes the bread basket to Bucky who first gives it to me. I take a roll and listen on. "You badgered Haley for hours before you let me go to Alaska with her."
"She was your first serious girlfriend and you were only eighteen."
I raise my cup. "I gotta say, I side with mom on that one."
"You always side with mom," Bekah grunts. She whispers loudly to Bucky, "She's a kiss ass."
"Am not!" I laugh.
"That really doesn't surprise me," Bucky replies. He notices me reaching for the wine decanter—grabbing it when it's too far out of my reach. He pours some for me and then enough for him before setting it back in place between the chicken and the roasted asparagus.
"Watch yourself, Barnes." I point at him with the end of my fork.
Dinner goes by with lots of talking and laughter. It feels so comfortable and right with the people around me now—three of my favorites in the whole world. Bekah teases me while Bucky laughs along, and then we're helping clean up while Bucky persuades my mom into sitting back and watching: telling her she's done plenty enough work already. After the place is clean it's nearly midnight and I'm ready to head to bed. So Bucky and I gather our things from over by the door. I'm making for the stairs before my mom stops me.
"Where are you going?"
"Uh," I pause, sort of confused. "The spare bedroom? The one Jere and I used to share when we'd come for Christmas."
My mom shakes her head. She's wiping her hands with a towel after just washing them. "No, no. I set up the guest house out back for you."
I raise an eyebrow. "You set up the guest house? You mean the one that's been nothing but a storage room for thirty years?"
Mom laughs. "Yeah, I did it as a bit of spring cleaning. I thought you and Bucky could christen it for me." She pats my back to lead me towards the back porch door. "Go on now. Get some good sleep. You've got a lot of baking to do tomorrow."
I laugh, "Don't remind me."
Thankfully the rain has stopped. Bucky and I take the red brick path through the soggy grass to where the little guest house sits. It's a small little studio above a tool garage where my grandpa used to hide from my nana when she'd get moody.
We're both exhausted, so we don't talk much on our way there. Bucky helps me carry my bag up the stairs before chuckling and just taking it from me. Then we're there—clicking the lights on and watching as the room glows. The walls are painted soft peach while the wood is dark cherry stained. There's a four post bed, an antique probably, with a quilt stretched to all four ends. Big windows look out over the tree farm that's now a bunch of stubs and baby trees waiting for next year's Christmas harvest.
"It's cute," Bucky comments.
I nod. I peek into the bathroom. It looks to be in working order. "Wanna shower first, babe?" I ask Bucky. When I don't hear a response, I turn to see where he's gone. My eyebrows wrinkle to find that he's nowhere to be seen. That's when I notice the shadowy outline of his body over by the closet. Walking there, I see that's he's being held captive by a collection of portraits on the wall.
"Is this your grandfather?"
I nod. My arms wrap around Bucky's waist from behind. I stand on my toes to rest my chin on his shoulder.
Bucky keeps staring at the old World War 2 memorabilia. There's a grainy sepia portrait of my grandpop, his cap on straight and lips pursed tight, surrounded by a bunch of different medals.
"I didn't even know my nana had these," I say. "She hated that he went into the service. She didn't want any of it up in the house." I look around the apartment. "My mom must've found 'em in the boxes up here."
"What would you've done?" Bucky asks me randomly.
"Huh?"
Bucky turns in my arms. "If, by some strange turn of time, you were alive back then with me—back when I enlisted—what would you do?"
I blink. Bucky watches me closely. I don't know what he's expecting me to say, but I go with my first reaction. "I'd probably be mad at first," I tell him honestly. "But only because I love you." I take a deep breath and think about Jeremy leaving and what that'd been like. "But then I'd tell myself to get over it—if it was something you felt like you needed to do, I wouldn't want to be the one keeping you away from that."
It sounds like the rain has started again outside.
"And if I'd died?"
My heart hurts suddenly. I shake my head, refusing to think about it. "Bucky, don't even say that." My voice sounds so soft and far away.
"Seriously, Sadie."
I narrow my eyes. "Why?"
"I want to know that you wouldn't be mad. That you'd move on," he says slowly. "Because it could still happen. It could happen, and I want to make sure you'd be okay."
I stare ahead at Bucky's collarbone through his tight shirt. I feel the bile rising at the thought of losing the man that I've just recently found. It sounds ridiculous, but I can't imagine going a day without him. And here he is—asking me to imagine what it'd be like to lose him in the worst way possible.
I've been silent for a little while now. Bucky opens his mouth, looking like he's going to ask again.
"Stop it. I don't wanna talk about this anymore."
His eyes widen slightly. He hears the genuine hurt in my tone; feels the upcoming rage bubbling from my skin where my hands are on his chest. I push slightly away so that I can walk to the other side of the room. Angrily I pull open my luggage and dig around for something to wear.
"Sadie, I'm..." He silences himself with a low headshake. "I'm sorry."
"I just don't even understand why you thought you could ask that. It's not like I'm not already worried enough about you and what you do with the team, now I've got to have this picture of you dying at the back of my head." I chuck a pair of sleeping trousers and a t-shirt on the bed.
I hear Bucky walking up to me. "I'm sorry; it's just been something I've been thinking about lately. You're kinda in it here with a soldier, so you've got to let yourself think about it a little." He sounds defensive, and not at all ready for my spitted comeback.
I swivel around on a heel. "I'm not with a soldier. I'm with you, James, and you're not just some run of the mill military junkie. I'm with a goddamn super soldier. So when you walk out those doors to leave on a mission," I stop—taking his face in my hands. "I fully expect you to be walking back through them. You have no excuses. You have to come home to me." I take a deep breath—steadying my serious, threating voice that I've been using this whole time. "You got that, Sargent?"
Bucky, who stares into my eyes so intently I worry my resolve will break, nods weakly. "Yes, ma'am."
My eyes flutter down to his lips. Oh, how I love those pretty pink lips. "You're not allowed to die."
"Okay, princess." Bucky's hand moves soothingly up and down my back. "I won't. I promise I won't. I'm sorry I said anything."
"Good." I turn away before I lose my resolve and kiss him. I'm not going to reward him for upsetting me. "I'm going to take a shower." Honestly I'm still pretty peeved. My chest aches with the pain I can't even fathom feeling if I was to lose him, and I'm mad that he'd even bring it up—especially this weekend, especially after what happened to me last night.
Bucky seems to know he's made a mistake. He lets me go off to the bathroom without saying anything. He takes a seat on the bed and watches me leave.
I wash and ready for bed all within twenty minutes. My wet hair is braided once down my back and my skin smells like the lavender lotion I stole from the Stark airplane toiletries. When I come back into the guest room, I'm surprised to see Bucky sitting on the floor. He's flipping through pages of old photo albums my mom has stacked on one of the dressers.
I don't say a word, still kinda angry about before, and shuffle towards the bed in my towel to grab my clothes.
"You were a cute kid," Bucky comments. He's holding up a picture closer to the light. I think it's from one of my kindergarten dance recitals. I catch a glimpse of a purple tutu on the crinkled page.
I ignore him. Gathering my clothes, I drop my soggy towel to the ground. With the soft noise it makes Bucky's eyes move away from the album. He drinks up the sight of my bare body with a thoughtful face. "And you became the most gorgeous creature the world's ever seen."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, James." My voice is monotone.
I finish tugging on my shirt. Now fully dressed I climb into bed. Bucky swiftly comes across the room to crawl up next to me. His hand smothers out the wrinkly quilt on its way towards me. "You sure about that, sweetheart?"
I swat his hand away before it can touch my skin. I roll over, giving him my back, and hug the blankets tight against me.
An irritated, defeated huff leaves Bucky's lips.
I'm not that mad but... it's fun to tease him like this.
"Come on, baby. I said I was sorry."
"And I said I didn't wanna talk about it." I close my eyes extra tight when I feel him inching closer.
Bucky leans over me to get a glimpse at my face. I feel his metal finger playfully bop my nose. I ignore him, continuing to pretend to be trying to sleep. "Oh come on, doll! Don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad." I roll onto my belly to try and block him. "Just disappointed." I cross my arms under my face and shuffle to get a bit more comfortable. It's not super cozy being flopped on my stomach, but it's the only way to get Bucky not to see the small smile that builds on my lips.
"I didn't mean to upset you." I feel Bucky's metal fingers brushing up and down my back through the thin material of my shirt. I grit my teeth to hold back a shiver. At my lack of response, he sighs. "Don't go to bed mad, honey. It's not good for you."
"Then I guess I'll just have to suffer through."
My body betrays me—shuddering when Bucky's warm, soft lips press to the very nether of my neck. I can feel his smirk against my skin. That gentle hand of his appears on my lower back before slowly trailing up. He presses his thumb, gingerly but with force, into the dimple near the bottom of my spine. He massages it up and then back down again—making me sigh.
The bed groans when Bucky moves to straddle me from behind. He sits lightly on my ass with his hands both rubbing into my back. I bite my lip to keep bay the moans when he kneads at the tense muscles of my shoulders. His callouses are rough enough to give a delicious friction to my silky lotion-drenched skin.
His mouth appears next to my ear. "Still mad?"
I grin, turning my cheek. Our lips brush and he shivers. "Hmm, I think I am."
Kissing me, his handspress harder. I moan into his mouth. "Then I'll have to keep going, I think."