New York, New York
Present time
Bucky Barnes was humming Bohemian Rhapsody while he reached his arm out to grab a carton of milk from the fridge. His left hand wore his golden ring, like five thousand pounds of disruptive vindication.
The hand barely wrapped its way around the jug handle when a familiar voice made him yelp, causing him to bang his head on the top shelving of the refrigerator.
He was sure his wife had gone to the office early that morning, like she usually did, to catch up on some paperwork that remained to be due at the end of the month; he recognized that she wouldn't pass up the opportunity at an opening for another promotion.
Naturally, he figured he'd spend his morning alone, so it was no surprise that a second voice in the quiet space caused him to jump about with one foot into the air, his heart beating at nearly one hundred beats per second.
A soft and feminine chuckle echoed through the large and open kitchen.
A deep groan left his lips as he rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head, the flesh there, hot to the touch. Shamefully, he spun around to see Ashlyn leaning on the kitchen island, a small smile playing on her pretty rosy lips. His eyebrows furrowed together.
"I thought you were gone," he mumbled.
She eyed him up and down with a smirk on her face.
"Yeah, about that, change of plans."
Bucky stretched out his right arm as he used his left hand to roll the sleeve of his tight white dress shirt up to his elbow, which still held a lingering tan from the summertime.
Walking up to the counter, he does the same thing with his other arm, switching the milk from hand to hand as he does so.
Ashlyn's smile dropped slightly, and Bucky raised a brow, noticing her changed worried demeanor. Slowly, he sat the cold milk down next to his white bowl and then crossed his arms - leaning forward on the cold counter. Not allowing his eyes to drift away from hers, he moved in until their faces were inches apart, and he watched her intently. She averted her gaze, looking everywhere, except for at him.
"What's going on?" He demanded, voice dripping with concern.
Ashlyn bit her bottom lip.
He peered down at her finger, drawing his attention as it traced an invisible drawing onto the marble countertop. Her gel nails were rosy pink, a ring fairly similar to his on her left hand.
"You know my sister, Y/N?" After a moment of hesitation, she spared a glance up at Bucky.
The millisecond your name rolled off her tongue, it's like a butcher knife was jammed into his lower chest, very slowly dragging its way up to his throat.
There could be a multitude of reasons why Ashlyn would bring you up, but the one he feared the most, he quickly opted out because she hadn't killed him yet. The thought, the fucking reminder of that day, of you, made everything different again. Things hadn't been different in five years, and they weren't supposed to be, not now.
Especially not now.
To say he was distraught by his wife's question was an understatement. He was unquestionably moments away from cardiac arrest or, at the least, some form of mental breakdown. He hated you. He took secret therapy sessions for the first few months of his marriage because of you.
Ashlyn knew the two of you didn't get along; she just never knew why. It was weird because the first year and a half that she'd dated Bucky, you'd both gotten along exceptionally well.
Actually, looking back, you were categorically best friends. But then one day, he was avoiding your name in every conversation, settling for the titles of her, she, or your sister. Whenever anyone brought you up, he would subtly change the topic at hand. He even wanted to have thanksgiving with just his family instead of with yours. Ashlyn had considered asking you what happened that made Bucky completely detest you, but she was afraid for some reason.
She didn't know why.
She eventually decided not to delve into it any further and made sure you were both never in the same room together. But your call changed everything.
You had called her two days ago, crying your eyes out and begging to stay with her for a bit, until everything was "okay again". Ashlyn figured it had to be severe if you were willing to stay in the same home as the man who couldn't stand you. So, of course, she said yes. Plus, you were her little sister.
"Yeah... I know Y/N," His tone was hesitant and uncertain. It was apparent he did not want to know what he was about to.
"Well," Ashlyn started, hoping she wasn't making a big mistake. She brought her slightly trembling hands to her mouth and took a deep breath. There was something in her husband's eyes as he waited for her to speak; she couldn't tell what it was. "Some things went wrong, back home, and she doesn't have a place to live."
"No," He snarled.
He didn't even let her finish, his head snapping away from her, his that one word hanging between them.
She knew getting him to agree to her request wouldn't be easy, but now the slightly tricky part was over. Now the begging commenced.
"Babe, come on. It'll only be for a bit."
His mind was running on horsepower now. He began spewing out excuses and any bullshit he could think of, anything to turn Ashlyn against her stupid idea.
Memories flashed in his mind, awful tear-jerking memories. Memories of your voice, your skin, and the way your hips moved against his. Red clouded his vision.
His words spewed out, "I don't trust her, Ashlyn."
His eyes were blurry as he scanned his and Ashlyn's massive living room. The high ceilings only made the whites of the walls more glorious, and the charcoal wood floors stretched from the open kitchen into the living room, creating an inviting but also sophisticated space. His eyes panned over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the entire south side of the apartment.
The extravagance of it all, that must be why you wanted to move in.
His voice raised a few octaves as your possible motives dawned on him.
"So, all of a sudden, after we just moved into our new penthouse, she wants to move in here too?" He puts air quotes around 'all of a sudden' for emphasis, an angry snarl taking over his features. "It's so obvious what her intentions are, babe. I don't know how you're falling for this."
Ashlyn's face fell, voice smaller somehow, "I highly doubt that's why."
Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically and dropped his arms to his sides.
"You're my wife. I love you. But she's my sister-in-law that I refuse to remember exists. Did you forget that?"
She was the angry one now as she stood taller on her feet, "Look. I'll never understand why you hate each other the way you do. But it would be best if you got the hell over it, Bucky. She's my baby sister, and she has nowhere to live."
Bucky breathed harshly, silently contemplating her words. Nervously, he ran a hand through his hair. An overwhelming amount of emotions had hit him the moment Ashlyn said your name; when she had followed that with the idea of you moving in, panic began to set in. Now, with every passing second, the feelings were building, and he could no longer control it.
He gazed over at the living room, the piano, the stairs, the elevator, and the foyer one more time.
You were going to be there.
You were supposed to stay in the past.
There was no way there weren't other motives behind your coming to stay with them; you always had an ulterior motive. There were a million possibilities of what you could be up to, the thought making his fury swell, leaving the pit of his stomach in knots.
Ashlyn noticed how Bucky was turning an odd shade of red; she began to grow worried.
She walked around the counter and took Bucky's face in her hands. She lures his eyes away from the home decor, and then finally, he stared down at her.
He let a decadent breath escape his lips, and he leaned his forehead against hers. Ashlyn allowed the calm to overtake her, too, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. "Bucky, it'll be fine. It won't even be for long, only until she finds a place to resettle."
She ran a tentative thumb across the top of his cheekbones.
He itched his forehead, a nervous tick of his, his tongue clicking in annoyance soon after.
"Does she at least have a job?"
He figured, if you had somewhere to be, that'd mean less chance of seeing you for most of the day. And surely you would make enough money to find a place of your own, sooner rather than later.
"She's going to start looking at soon as she gets here."
Bucky growled lowly as he looked at his milk and bowl, appetite swiftly vanishing.
A raging fire ignited in his gut.
"She better not think I'm going to give her one."
After a beat, he demanded to know how much time he had to collect his thoughts, to control his emotions. He was afraid he didn't have enough, "When does your sister get here? I'm assuming you told her yes before you even asked me."
Ashlyn didn't take offense to his tone because he was right. "She'll be here tonight."
Bucky let her words marinate for a couple of seconds and then nodded, his reluctant concession causing a small smile to form on Ashlyn's face. She stepped forward and kissed Bucky on his forehead before announcing that she would step out to run some errands and then catch up on work later that night.
By the time she was halfway to the elevator, he was already leaning on his arms over the sink. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing.
He hadn't seen you since the night before his wedding day, five years ago.
All those emotions he had been harboring down for years suddenly came rushing back, in the form of bile rising in his throat.
He swallowed it down, thickly.
"Also, I haven't told her about the baby yet. So, try not to mention it for a couple of days." Ashlyn called back.
The elevator dinged, and then she was gone.
Fin Du Prologue