As soon as you stepped out of the truck, you spotted a familiar mop of dark, curly hair. "Uncle Bruce?"
He whipped around, grinning widely at your approaching figure. "Hey! Wow, look at you!" he gushed, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. "What are you doing here?"
"We heard about the new guy," you chuckled, nodding toward the dig site where the search was ongoing for other hominids. "Dad was hoping-"
"We could get the first, in depth look at him for our magazine," Tony interrupted. He hugged Bruce, then stepped aside to allow Pepper to greet him as well. "I hoped you'd be in charge here, and since I'm one of your oldest friends..."
"You thought I'd just let you come in and make yourself at home?"
"Yes," he grinned, causing you and your mother to shake your heads in mock disapproval.
Bruce sighed, but gestured for you to follow him to the tent where the new discovery currently resided. Your mother quickly began a sketch, while your father continued his conversation with Bruce. You pulled your camera out and approached the table with all the pieces laid out.
"Need me to move?"
You looked up and met the eyes of a man at the far end of the table. He held a small bone in hand, appearing to have been measuring it. It took you by surprise, as few people were so accommodating. Usually they were annoyed whenever asked to do anything because of a photo.
"No, you're fine. Thanks."
He nodded, and returned his attention to the bone. Your parents would deal with him or whoever else when they took their photos. After all, theirs would be the ones printed in the magazine for this story. You only wanted some for your own memories and your journal to James.
After shooting the photos you wanted, including some of the camp, the fatigue of travel caught up with you and Bruce offered his tent for you to rest. You took your pack from Jarvis, and quickly changed into something more comfortable before settling into Bruce's cot for a nap.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
He'd thought about it, on and off, for years, but he could never bring himself to ask. As soon as his birthday rolled around, he found himself desperate for it. He was both heartbroken and elated as he read about what you'd been up to the past year, and every year it was too much. Finishing the book always left him feeling lonely; abandoned. He always asked himself the same question: why didn't you come back?
And now Nat knew. Well, not everything, but enough. And it wasn't fair to her.
Bucky parked his car, taking a deep breath before approaching the front door of the home he grew up in. He'd made up his mind. After all these years, he was finally going to do it.
He knocked, ignoring the part of himself that wished no one was home, and hid his disappointment when a familiar blonde answered.
"Hey, Bucky!"
"Hello, Sharon," he greeted, leaning in for a cheek kiss. "Welcome home."
She stepped aside, allowing him entry. "Thank you. So what brings you?"
"Oh, I uh, need to talk to Steve. Is he here?"
"In his office."
"Perfect." Bucky began to cross the living room, turning back toward Sharon as he reached the hallway. "Dinner still on this weekend?"
"Yep!"
He nodded, and headed toward the office. He knocked, but didn't wait for an invitation before he was stepping inside.
Steve looked up from the document he'd been reading, and quickly noticed the unease emanating from his brother.
"Drink?" he offered, getting up to pour himself one.
"No, I just... I gotta get this out before I lose my nerve."
"Alright, what's wrong?"
"I'm marrying Nat," he said, taking a seat in the chair opposite Steve's.
Steve froze for a moment, but forced himself to relax before Bucky took notice. "It's not set in stone," he said. "Buck, if you're not sure, you could always come home and-"
"No! I mean, that's not what's wrong. I'm trying to move forward, move on, but I can't do that if I'm clinging to the past."
Steve stopped mid sip. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like where the conversation was going. "How do you propose to do that?"
Bucky fidgeted with his hands, and Steve reached across the desk to stop him. Bucky shut his eyes, releasing a shaky breath as he met his brother's eyes.
"I need to get rid of it. All of it."
"Did you think this through?"
Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. "I just need it gone."
"Why didn't you do it already, then?" Steve asked. He set his drink on the table and moved to kneel beside Bucky. "If you're so sure, why are you here talking about it?"
Bucky's body began to shake, prompting Steve to grip his shoulder in an effort to provide comfort.
"I can't."
"Well," Steve sighed, taking in the agonized look on Bucky's face. 'Then maybe you shouldn't,' he was about to say, but thought better of it. "Alright, Buck. If that's what you need, I'll do it."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
You buried your face into Winter's soft fur, attempting to drown out the noise that threatened to pull you from sleep.
Rustling, soft cursing, and water being poured into who knows what won out. You stretched and yawned, briefly wondering how long you'd slept.
"Wakey wakey."
You didn't recognize the voice, bolting upright on your cot to face the intruder in Bruce's tent. It was the man from earlier.
"What are you doing?" you asked, watching as he pulled a shirt out of Bruce's bag.
"Cleaning up for dinner. You should get up if you're going to eat."
You watched him peel his shirt off and reach for a washcloth in the nearby basin. Though his physique was rather impressive, you looked away in embarrassment as he began to clean himself of the day's dirt and sweat.
"I mean what are doing in here?"
"This is my tent."
"What?" you spun around, eyes landing on his tanned chest. "No, this is Bruce's tent."
The man chuckled, wringing water from his cloth and continuing to wash. "Sorry, angel face, Dr. Banner's tent is one over."
You grabbed your shoes, putting them on as quickly as you could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!"
"It's alright."
"How long have I been asleep? You should've woken me! I'm so sorry!"
The cot dipped beside you, and he took your hand. You were met with a pair of amused, brown eyes and a charming smile.
"It's ok. Besides, it would've been a shame to disturb such a lovely sight." You didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't give you a chance to respond. He reached across to your other side, taking Winter into his hand. "Well this guy's seen better days. What happened to him?"
He traced the patterns of where he'd been re-stitched and the small patches of missing fur. You still remember how your heart nearly stopped when the border officer cut through Winter without any warning. He later tried to explain that he thought you were too old to have such a thing and assumed you were trying to smuggle contraband inside it, but Tony had made such a spectacle of it by then that the officer had been fired. You were also issued a formal apology by the Prime Minister, and offered everything from rooms in his own home, to guarded escorts for the remainder of your stay.
You were just glad Jarvis had been able to save Winter.
"Just years of being loved," you said, taking the wolf back from him.
"Well," he smiled at you again, "help yourself to whatever you need. I'll save you a seat at the dining tent."
Your eyes glued themselves to the muscles in his back as he put his clean shirt on. He was nice to look at. More than nice, if you were being honest, but a heaviness settled in your stomach at the thought.
"I think I'll just see how my tent's coming along."
"I can bring you something, if you like?"
"No, thank you." You picked your pack up and flung it over your shoulder, gripping Winter close. "I'm still tired. I'll probably just go right back to sleep."
He held the flap open for you as you exited. "Suit yourself. If you ask me, breakfast is the meal to skip. Porridge and mushy fruit every day."
"Thanks for the tip. And I'm sorry again for..." you gestured to his tent, which he waved off.
"Sweet dreams, angel face."
"Uh, sure. You, too."
You didn't waste any time parting ways, heading to the small cluster of familiar tents. Jarvis was just heading out to dinner, and asked if you were going to join the others. When you said no, and declined another offer to have something brought, you settled in your own tent and sifted through the assortment of snacks you had on hand.
Once you'd eaten, you felt better about what had happened earlier. It was an honest mistake; all the tents looked exactly alike. You set Winter down on your cot and pulled the journal and a pen from your pack.
'My Dearest James,
You won't believe what I did today. It was so embarrassing! We ran into my uncle Bruce at the dig sight, and...'
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Are you sure it's even necessary?" Sharon asked as the others filled her in on what she'd missed while on her latest assignment. "He said it was in the past, right? And he did take you on that cruise to make up for his behavior on his birthday trip."
"Yeah, but something still feels off," Natasha sighed. "Whenever I mention her, he gets all rigid and just ignores it."
"Why mention her at all?"
"Because she was important to him, and I'm curious!" she defended. "And he should be able to talk about her."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure if all Bucky wanted to do was talk about your exes, you'd be really happy about it."
Wanda laughed into her drink, earning a disapproving glare from Nat. "I'm gonna go get another round," she said, quickly leaving the table.
"Let's not forget Steve's reaction when he found out we'd broken into the safe," Peggy chimed in. "He was furious. But, not as much as I was when I asked him if Bucky still had feelings for her and he just stormed out of the house."
Sharon raised her brows in surprise. It took a hell of a lot to make Steve Rogers mad enough to walk away from Peggy.
"That's a strange way to say no," she said. "But then, we all know nothing makes Steve angrier than upsetting Bucky."
Wanda returned, placing the tray of drinks on the table. "Bucky didn't object when Nat suggested pushing the wedding back."
"Ouch. Well, I'm here now to offer fresh perspective." Noticing Natasha's downcast eyes, she reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Everything's going to be just fine. I promise."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
No matter where in the camp you went, you felt like you being watched. Whenever you decided to check, your eyes met the man's whose tent you slept in. There hadn't been a chance for him to speak to you again other than to offer a passing 'hello', and you weren't sure how you felt about it.
A small party were venturing into the village, and you quickly joined up. You took pictures of everything from the architecture, to the vendors, to the children playing with a semi deflated ball in the streets. After purchasing a few trinkets, you found a seat in the middle of the square to jot down some notes.
Feeling a presence beside you, you looked up in relief to find it was only the man from the camp. He offered to share a plate of food he'd gotten from one of the vendors, and handed you a bottle of water.
He tried to make small talk, asking where you'd been before joining Bruce. You replied, and in turn asked how it was he came to work with Bruce. He seemed a safe enough subject to revolve the conversation around, so you kept it there.
The man chuckled, leaning back in his seat and casting you an amused look. "You always play everything close to the vest, Angel Face?"
You swallowed the bit of food in your mouth and shrugged. "Never been one for oversharing," you said. "Besides, I'll be leaving in a few weeks, anyway. No point in making attachments."
His smile faltered, and he reached out for a piece of sauce soaked bread. "Perhaps. But have you never crossed paths with someone more than once?"
"I have."
"What happened then?"
"It was just temporary," you replied, beginning to grow annoyed with his persistence. "It always is."
"Huh." The man studied you carefully, and you tried not to squirm. "I have to say, I didn't take you as the type to run away from an opportunity."
You scoffed, pushing the plate away from you. "And I suppose you're an opportunity?"
"If I am?" he asked, pleased to have struck a nerve. "Come on, angel face, don't give me that look."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" you snapped.
His eyes shined gleefully, as if that was the reaction he was waiting for. "Well, for starters, you didn't give me your name. Secondly, I thought 'Angel Face' would get me better results than calling you something like say... 'Crybaby'."
He began to laugh as you gaped at him. You tried to match his features to the boy you'd long forgotten, but he'd changed a great deal.
"Brock?" you gasped. "Is that really you?"
"Good to see you again, Y/N," he smiled amiably. "So tell me, do you still write James?"