Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Because I loved Halloween, Bucky would take me to Target to buy at least one new decoration item every year. It was a tradition, even when I was in the worst moments of my depression. It was usually in the second week of September, and this year I'd wait for him in the parking lot after he went to church, because I would not go that night. It would be the only Monday masses I missed all year.

I should have known something was off when it was 8PM, and he didn't show up. He didn't call. And when I called, Bucky didn't answer.

I was worried, but not too worried because I figured that, if something bad had happened, there would probably be frantic calls from the family. So I went into the store alone and bought three pumpkin-shaped candles and two huge bags of candy. I was still worried as I drove back home, until I got a text from him saying he was with Ben and Sam and if I could pick him up in front of the pizzeria. 

None of this would have been a big deal, in any other scenario, if it weren't for the moment the three of them left when I arrived.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I completely forgot," Bucky said as soon as he saw me. He'd clearly had at least three glasses of something alcoholic, and he was hugging Ben like he was a teddy bear. "We're going to Target tomorrow, ok?!"

"How much did he drink?" I laughed.

"A glass of wine. And a shot of tequila." Sam laughed too, looking at him.

"You'll regret that shot tomorrow," I said, opening the passenger door for him. Bucky could pull off vodka, but tequila? Tomorrow he would be wasted. "Get in, silly." Bucky sat on the carseat, still facing us, tilting his head and smiling at Sam. "See you at the game on Sunday, guys," I said.

"This next game will be good, I promise." Ben said, giving me a bear hug. I smiled at him and turned to Sam who… 

There was something in his smile that made mine falter. It wasn't anger, or anything exactly bad, it was... pity. 

Sam smiled and looked at me with sincere pity. I've seen smiles like this hundreds of times. I'd lost both my parents before eighteen, had no grandparents, and shortly after moving to America, Natasha was gone too. Pitying smiles were a constant. Everyone pitied me. Without both parents . Without my only family at 22. What more people could offer if not the lament look?

"Bucky is playing really well," Sam said.

"He's an athlete," I joked, turning to buckle him. “Bye, guys. See you on Sunday.” I closed the door, waved goodbye, and got inside the car, heading home with a height on my chest. 

Why would Sam look at me like this? His realization about Bucky’s sexuality was so deep that he was pitting me for marrying him? Like I was being played? Or was something else? 

I didn't say anything on the way home, not when we arrived, or when Bucky decided he needed a shower to get sober. I just changed clothes, put on my pajamas, with my mind racing. What if Sam commented with someone? Maybe not. He didn’t seem the type from gossip. 

Sam could have been a good choice for Bucky; he said he'd had a boyfriend. But what if someone found out? They trained together, and there were two men from church on Bucky's team. Ben was too nice to say no to them when he announced about the team on Instagram.

"Are you that upset that I didn't go to Target with you?" Bucky looked like a begging puppy, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were about to cry. There was a good chance he would actually cry.

"Bucky..."

"I should have told you sooner that I was with them, I'm sorry."

"It's not that." I took a deep breath, and he looked even more worried. "I think Sam knows. That you're gay. And he feels sorry for me. He probably thinks I don't know, and that you're using me." His eyes widened. "Do you think he'll say something to anyone? Anything?"

"No... no, I..." he pushed back his damp hair, sitting by my side. "Oh my god, I think... I must have said something."

"Said something?" He wouldn't tell me whatever he had said to Sam, but I could see he was replaying everything he commented that night, and a move probably happened. "You like him." Bucky looked at me, even more shocked. "You talk about him a lot. And he's gay. It would be a natural choice."

"Yelena!"

"It's okay!” I tried to reassure him. “He's a handsome man, and you two have a lot more time together than you do with Bob." Bucky stood up, backing away from the bed as if I'd slapped him. He even looked a little angry.

"You were upset just now!" he said. “You said that he looked at you with pity!”

“And he did! But this has nothing to do with you guys!

“Yelena!”

"He is an option!” I tried to pull him back  for the real topic. “He's gay, and you're gay! I only chose Bob because... because he's far from here. I mean, Brock Rumlow and Dreykov are on your baseball team, and attending church or not, they're still the most horrible people I've ever met." I sighed. "But Sam-"

"No. You said it yourself, he's too close. My uncles are going to see the training. Bart said he's coming over on Thursday with Aunt Marienne."

"Why?"

"Because he's a pain in the ass!" Bucky walked back to the bed and sat down, in a defeated position. "I... I might have said something that sounded flirtatious. And Sam's a nice guy, of course he'd feel sorry for you." I nodded, but let a smile slip. "What?"

"You're flirting..." His cheeks started to redden. "My old man still has it." Bucky laughed loudly, and the sound gave me some relief. "If... if you try... with Sam... You can tell him that I know, and that I accept. I don't want him to feel guilty. Tell him it's an open marriage, because it is. Just be careful. Especially if you drink. And with guys like Dreykov around."

The man was the devil, he went to church every mass with a gun on his hip, tormented his neighbors, and the stories said he'd been violent with all his wives before meeting the poor creature he married two years ago. His continued presence at the congregation after all this was one of the reasons I disliked going there.

"You still seem tense," he said.

"I... I feel seen. You and Ava have always been the only one who saw me under our… performance, you know? And now Sam saw me too." And Bob, I added to myself. Bucky nodded.

"He's a nice guy."

"He is." I didn't know Sam well enough, but I believed that to be the case. “I trust in your decision, ok?” he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Target tomorrow?” I nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

+++

It had been a while since I'd read romance novels. I started reading again the same day the idea that I wanted to kiss Bob popped into my head. It was strange, perhaps, but it was how I satisfied my desire for romantic love: by reading about it. The feeling of my heart fluttering for a character that didn't exist was much safer than for a real person. 

Some romances had just kisses, others had sex scenes, but they weren't about myself. They happened to the protagonists, not me. So it was fun. And controlled. I couldn't risk feeling anything for Bob other than friendship. First, because he could still be an option for Bucky, it would be strange at best. And second, because kisses were never enough. Where my desire died, his only began.

Reading about love was so easy... it was safe. I could control it. And it was with books that I survived the whole month of August and the beginning of September. By November, all of this would pass, because time usually fixed everything. At least I hoped so.

"Bob?" I knocked on the door. I still went every Saturday and Sunday to see him. Anakin's costume was almost finished, but we had to buy some parts separately because I couldn't sew leather. "Bob?" He flung the door open.

"You know how to cut hair?" he said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Cut hair, my barber died." I spat out a laugh, as he blinked several times, until I realized he was being serious. 

"Oh my God, really?" I covered my mouth with my hands, walking in and closing the door behind me. He'd spoken so casually that it didn't seem like he was telling the truth.

"Yeah." 

"Bob, I'm so sorry. Have you known him for a long time?"

"No, I've only been there twice. But we were building something, you know?" I headed toward the living room, ignoring him for a moment before I burst out laughing again. He was unintentionally funny. Bob pulled the big table from the spare room when I finished cutting the fabric, so the half done costumes were all laying there. "Finding good barbers is hard!"

"I can only imagine." I did realize his hair was growing long, but just imagined that he wanted to keep it that way. Some strands fell over his eyes, and the back was longer, like a mullet, but it worked for him. Long hair didn't suit everyone, but he still looked good. "You could just trim it, it looks cool like that."

"Do I look Anakin enough to you?" I nodded.

"Very. Speaking of Anakin, did the gloves arrive?" He nodded, pointing at the small box on top of the kitchen counter. "Then put on the costume. I want to see if I need to adjust the sleeves."

“Cool.” He pulled the white shirt off his body, throwing in Lindy’s direction; the mannequin arms were his alternative for a hanger. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t feel the sexual urge seeing a man taking clothes off, but it still made me nervous. Bob put the first layer, the second with the belt, and the gloves by the end. 

“You look nice.” I said. It was really good, even better than I thought I could pull off. The gloves really helped, we found a girl that sold it to us on Etsy and Bob agreed for me to pay with the money he gave. “Your hair looks really… Kylo Ren now.” he made a face. “It 's too dark! But still in the family.”

“Yeah, it makes sense. But Anakin’s hair was darker in episode three so…” he nodded to himself. “I could pull it off with blond hair, right?” I purposely ignored the question, getting closer to get a better look at the costume. “You draw and sew really well too… you sing?”

“No. And I don’t like to cook very much, but I do it. And I don’t dance.”

“I know you can.” I looked at him, and Bob pressed his lips together. Quoting ‘High School Musical’ was really something. “I’m sorry.”

“If I didn’t know you were bisexual, I would have learned now,” he laughed. “I watched the movies on DVD, cause we didn’t have Disney Channel, but the third movie was in theaters, in Sokovia. And I went with my mom.” We didn't have the chance to go to the cinema that much, so these moments meant a lot to me. 

“If you don’t mind, how…” he didn't finish the question. Didn’t needed to. 

“Dad had cancer. And my mom was… was already in a… in a bad place, even before his death, so... She waited till my scholarship was approved, though." My smile probably looked like a grimace. “Then I came to America. Living the dream.”

When Bob pulled me into a hug, I felt small. Maybe because I was, Bob was much taller than me, but the feeling was more complex than that. I didn't want to cry; the sensation was like a weight in my chest, and the hug simply made me feel "accepted." Covered.

"Aside from the faux leather parts, this outfit is really soft," I murmured.

"It's warm too, not in a bad way. But it would be hell to wear in July." I smiled, still hugging him. "Yelena?"

"Hm?"

"I... I'm glad I found you on that app." There was hesitation in his words, but I was glad he'd said it. I felt the same way. "We could have met here. I used to visit my grandmother almost everyday around the time you came to live with your sister here." I laughed a little. Judging by the time period, he was right, but I didn’t stay there for more than four months. 

"How many neighbors do you know now?" His silence lasted an incredible two seconds.

"Okay, but I'm sure we'd run into each other in the elevator and you'd ask if my blue eyes are brown." I laughed some more. I didn't want to break the hug. Hugs were safe. Close, but just enough. 

"You'd be my friend and come to my wedding."

"Yeah... we could say that." He laughed a little. Bob released me from the hug, and I did the same, looking at the separate parts of Bucky's onesie. It was turning out cute, but without the gecko's bulging eyes, it looked like a dinosaur. "It looks like a dinosaur," Bob said aloud, and I laughed.

"I'll make the hood look like the gecko's 'face.'”

"Chameleon."

"Same thing." I sat on the floor, carrying the pieces with me. I liked the window near the fire escape; it was the biggest, and low enough to see the street. "The windows were the hardest thing to get used to when I moved here. Everything seems too open."

"The ones near the fire escape have a security alert. It only beeped once; I tried to open it and forgot to deactivate it first." Bob sat on the floor next to me, still wearing the costume. "Do you miss... Sokovia? Or Russia?"

"I don’t remember Russia that much, we left for Sokovia when I was five. And no. I miss my family. I didn't even leave our house that much before, so I came here and tried to be... I tried to be normal. I went to college, and went on dates, and I tried dating, which I obviously failed, and had Nat with me. I think I was pretty happy for a few years, even after I lost my parents."

"Nat was... it was hard, right?" I nodded.

"It felt like a bad joke." I took a deep breath, passing the thread through the eye of the needle. Hand-stitching helped me take my mind off things. "But I'm fine now." Bob didn't say anything for a long time, he just stayed by my side, and the silence wasn't bad. He lay on the floor, looking up, and sometimes at me, every now and then.

I sewed there, beside him, for hours until the sky began to turn orange. Bob had even dozed off, which was surprising considering he was lying on the floor, but he woke up as soon as I finished sewing for the day. The onesie's sleeves were sewn to the body.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"About six, I guess..." Bob rubbed his eyes, crawling close to the window and looking out at the street.

"I think they've already passed," he muttered, and I turned toward the window, peering out at the street through the iron frame of the emergency escape ladder. No cars, not even people were passing by.

"Who?"

"Cerberus," he muttered, and I looked at him, confused. "There are three rats that live in the sewer in this street, and I call them Cerberus because I thought it was a three-headed dog when I first saw it." The laugh that escaped me was so loud it must have startled the upstairs neighbor.

"A three head what?"

"Seriously, the three of them run together, side by side, all the time. They usually come out at the end of the day, like by six or six thirty. The first time I saw them, I thought it was a deformed dog, a three-headed chihuahua. Then I saw them again and thought it was a mutant rat, which wouldn't even be weird in this fucking city, until I saw them earlier in April, like around 5PM, so I realized they were three rats running together."

"And you named them Cerberus," I concluded.

"A three-headed rat in New York is clearly a creature of the underworld. It’s only fair that I name it appropriately." At this point, I was laughing so hard my face hurt. 

“Your mind is fascinating, Bob.”

“Thanks, it's the illness.” his face turned to me, and i stopped laughing. His eyes looked brown at that moment. The light was dim, and I should stop looking at him, because my heart was fluttering again. “You… Do you want to stay for dinner? I’ll cook this time.” I smiled. 

“Maybe next week. I need to get Bucky in practice today.” It was a lie, Bucky had his car with him, but I could not risk it to stay too close to Bob when my heart was feeling funny like this. I would not run away, he was my friend, but it was for the best to keep a safe distance. 

“Next week then,” he said, and I nodded. Next week I would make him meet Ava. A third between us would really help. 

(...)

I didn't know what I had asked Bucky for until that week before our big trip to Jersey. Maybe it was the years of having him as my closest friend, even with Ava by my side almost always. I took him for granted. And that was starting to change.

I spent the whole week scared. The baby idea seemed more real at that moment, as I would go to Jersey and leave already pregnant, even knowing it was not how it worked. Bucky was a responsible man, caring and he wanted to be a father, a real one, and this really helped, but not even my medication was keeping my nerves cool. 

He had team practice on Tuesday night and was supposed to be home at eight, but he didn't arrive at eight. Or nine. At ten, he texted that he'd be home soon. After this, I spent two hours on the phone with Ava, who was worried about her grandfather, and I just let her say whatever she needed to. I'd never been around people with Alzheimer's, and I had no advice to offer, so I just listened to her and promised to visit next week. 

It was midnight when he arrived. And I was excited. Has it been a date? Had he gone out with Sam? Maybe he had talked to Bob? Bucky laughed when he saw me sitting on the couch, looking at him anxiously. 

"So?"

"It was just a beer." He unbuttoned his shirt. "I need time with these things."

"Okay..." I smiled. "Was it Sam?"

"Yelena..."

"I wanted to know..." I mean, the idea was mine, so he could share. I didn't want details or anything, just... how it was going. “Like, you flirted again?”

“Maybe,” he smiled. I wanted more, but did not insist. He needed time.

"Okay. Oh, the doctor's assistant confirmed for next Wednesday morning." He nodded. "And I'm almost finished with your costume. I even took a picture, want to see it?" I had taken the picture on Sunday, but I had completely forgotten to show it to him beforehand. We had a big problem with some items from the Christmas collection.

“No need.” He pulled out his phone, looking at something and then smiling to himself.

“You were so excited about the costume…” I murmured, “You’re sure?” no answer for a minute. Two. He texted something then looked at me.

"Seeing it finished will be more fun. Can’t wait to try on." he said, and I nodded, watching him walk toward the bedroom. "Don't take too long to sleep," Bucky said louder, and I nodded to myself, since he wasn't around to see it anymore.

I couldn't say why I was feeling sad, but I was. Maybe I had placed too much expectation on the whole situation, that I would be part of it, like a confidant. As if it were a story I could read, like my romance novels. I had asked for this, it just wasn't going as I'd expected. It was fine… 

I just needed time to understand the new connections. 

I would provide the friendship and the family bond, and Sam — or Bob, or whoever came next —would be what I couldn't offer... sex! I just needed to get used to it. To not know everything about Bucky. 

At least, that's how I kept thinking for the rest of the week, until Saturday, when I finally finished his costume-onesie and brought it home, eager to show it off. Bob had loved it; I'd even made him try it on, since they seemed to be the same height, just to make sure it was perfect. The hood was the coolest part, and looked so much like the little gecko that I almost wanted to post somewhere, even not liking social media that much.

So I waited, sitting on the living room couch, glancing at the door every five minutes even though I knew Bucky wouldn't be home from practice until ten. Knowing the time of something never helped with my anxiety, I just got nervous or excited, and luckily the medication helped me not react in a bad way. The costume was laying on the sofa by my side.

When I heard the keys in the door, I got up, almost jumping in excitement. I had made several costumes before, but these were probably my proudest work. Bob's one was cool, and he even decided to buy a lightsaber. I managed to make the chameleon's bulging eyes and was going to make a paper structure to keep the tail curled like in the movie. It was perfect.

"I need Ben to get rid of Dreykov, he's so bad! And he complains about everything!" Bucky walked in, and I could hear him knocking things over in the front door and kicking off his shoes. "Can you believe he said I'm the worst in the team?"

"He even plays? Last game he was on the bench the whole time."

"He hits a few balls every now and then." Bucky smiled when he came to the living room. "We went to this new bar that opened near the field. It's a karaoke bar, and Sam is so… he made me sing Backstreet Boys with him, we suck, but it was so fun. I need to take you there sometime."

"We could invite Sam to dinner." I suggested, "I can get to know him better and-"

"I don't think that's a good idea." He interrupted me. "I mean... you already know Bob, it's kinda... It's better for you to keep your distance, you know?" 

"Oh... Okay." It wasn't what I expected, but I could handle it. "Look, I finished the costume!" I pulled out the onesie, which I carefully placed on the couch. "The hood is the gecko’s head, and I did the eyes and everything!"

"It turned out great!" Bucky came closer, taking the costume from my hands. "Did you make this by hand?" I nodded. "It's amazing." He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"I'm going to build a structure for the tail so it stays-"

"I'm going to take a shower and you can explain everything to me before bed." He smiled before handing the costume back and walking toward the bedroom. I lay the onesie back on the couch, "You're going to the game tomorrow, right? It's our first with the New Jersey Avengers. They have a fan base! I invited the whole family, even called Aunt Marienne."

"Sure." I followed behind him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bucky left the bathroom door open so I could hear him. "I'm going to scream your name so loud you will get embarrassed." Even over the sound of the water, I could still hear him laughing. "I'm almost finished with my costume, too."

"Cool."

"It's looking pretty good. The hair won't be as big as the character, but the extensions are still huge. I think we can win this year." Bucky said nothing back. 

Maybe I was just reading too much into it, expecting a bigger reaction. He'd been more excited last year, but this year we had more to think about, especially with the baby thing on the way. Worrying about costumes seemed childish of me. 

Bucky came out of the bathroom already in his pajamas, still trying to dry his hair with the towel.

“You want to try the costume?” I asked.

“No, I will do it for the party. I’m sure it's great.” I nodded again. "Where's the hairdryer?"

"In the guest room." He nodded and left. 

And at that moment, it felt like when I went back to college after my worst moment with depression had passed. I had other friends besides Ava back then, but they all seemed just... condescending about me. No one was cruel or mean; just felt like I was forcing myself into places. Everyone, one by one, completely stopped talking to me at some point.

I understood after a while; dealing with someone depressed wasn't easy. I seemed to suck the life out of the room, and was not a good company for most occasions. They sought me out when they were sad, as if I could be used to understanding their pain. But most of the time, I wasn't fit to be around.

I'd never felt that way with Bucky. Until that moment.

Maybe it was the depression in me talking, making me paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time. Bucky didn't take long to return, his hair dry just enough. He lay down next to me and picked up his phone, while I just turned over to sleep. Resting might have been the best thing to do.

(...)

"And he absolutely loved it?" Bob opened the front door for me. After my third visit, he just gave me the code from the main door of the building, so I just went by myself to his door. Bob had a huge smile on his face, but it didn't last a second. I tried not to let the night before get to me. It was silly. Childish. But as soon as I arrived and he mentioned the costume, my eyes filled with tears. "Yelena?"

"I’m losing my best friend..." This time, I was crying so hard, I couldn't see him properly. I closed my eyes and felt Bob pull me inside, and the door closed behind me. My tears soaked his shirt, and his arms wrapped around me in a hug.

"Lena..." It was the first time he'd called me that, and it made me cry harder for some reason. "Come here," he said, and I felt his hand reach my knees, lifting me off the floor, holding me like a baby. I just cried harder. Bob took me to the couch, and sat with me on his lap. I would have cared about that in another time, but at that moment, all I cared about was crying. "You can tell me when you're ready, ok?!"

I nodded and kept crying, until I felt the tightness in my chest ease a little. Crying sometimes helped, but I couldn’t tell if it would this time. I would probably feel like an idiot when this stopped, but for that brief moment, I just cried, thinking that Bucky didn't want me as his best friend anymore.

"I made a mistake, Bob..." I said, my face still pressed against his chest because I didn't want to look at him. "He'll find a friend in Sam, and a romantic partner. I'll be useless."

"Yelena... that's not true."

"Yes, it is. A-And… n-normal people care more about the relationship... romantic and sexual relationship… They… they want the two things in one. It’s… it's the norm," I tried to wipe my eyes, but tears were still streaming. "That would never happen if I weren't flawed."

"You are not."

"Of course I am!" A sob silenced me for a moment. "No one wants someone broken like that, and I was lucky for a while to marry my best friend, but now he won't even talk to me like before… and this b-barely started! W-What will happen when… when the baby…" Bob hugged me tighter, and I let myself cry some more.

I had decided for all of this; I couldn't even blame Bucky. I made my bed, and needed to lie in it.

"He won't stop being your friend. It's just... he's exploring new things, and sometimes people let go of what they already have when they get new things. They get excited, and could be mean sometimes, but he will never stop being your friend." 

I wiped my eyes again, and this time, I looked at him. 

"You're having a baby together. That's much more important. All of this is something... it's temporary! An exploring moment before the baby arrives. Isn't that what you two agreed on?"

I nodded. Yet still, it just made my fear about having a kid even more strong. 

"Don't worry, you're still his best friend. And Sam, and maybe some other guys, will just be the... the sexual part of it." I nodded again. "It 's alright." 

"What if I'm just the mother of his child? What if his affection continues, but as his baby's mother, not as his best friend?" Bob just looked at me, and I could tell he was unsure of what to say. The possibility had never crossed my mind because it never seemed real. Until that moment.

"You're scared. It's okay to be scared. But you don’t need to be." Bob hugged me tighter again, and I snuggled against his chest. 

A little voice in the back of my head scolded me for it, but Bob had taken up enough space in my life that being like that, with him, wasn't unusual. I felt safe. 

"Do you want to do nothing today? No sewing dress or Jedi capes?" I nodded again. "We can sit by the window and eat popcorn, and wait for Cerberus to pass. It’s still early, so we will have some time for absolutely nothing before their usual apparition."

A little laugh escaped me.

“Sounds good?”

"Yeah… T-Thank you, Bob." he smiled back at me, and this gave me comfort. I laid my head back at his chest.

"Anytime.”

+++

I didn't make it home in time for the game. Cerberus, unfortunately, hadn't shown up, but I stayed there, sitting next to Bob, looking at the window for hours, because I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to smile at people, I didn't want to have to interact and look radiant. I just wanted to go home.

So I did. I drove home and waited. The game was supposed to end at eight, and Bucky would probably be hanging out with the guys from the team. Maybe he'd arrive at ten. Maybe he'd tell me the game was good. At eight thirty, however, I heard him getting inside, dropping everything at the front door.

"Yelena!" There was a hint of nervousness in his voice, and I sat up in bed. "Yelena!" he shouted again, running into the bedroom, and relief was visible on his face. "Oh my god... Yelena." He knelt down and hugged me as he was, his clothes still sweaty from the game, his arms still dirty. "You didn't answer your phone."

"The battery's dead." I murmured back. It was true, and I forgot to put in the charger. 

"I thought you were at the game, that you were late, then my mom said you didn’t show up, and everyone asked... what happened?" He pulled away, the worried look obvious on his face. 

I could lie at that moment, yet, the truth was the easier way.

"I... I'm scared. About the baby." If possible, he looked even more concerned. "I don't want to just be... I don't want to just be the mother."

"You would never just be the mother, why do you think that?" I didn't answer, I didn't know how. My insecurity seemed so juvenile. As if my mind were that of an abandoned child, but maybe I really was, in the end. "I'll keep our agreement, you'll be in the factory in my place, and I'll stay home with the baby for the first few years. Is that what you're worried about?"

"No..." I murmured. "I... are you happy?" Bucky looked even more confused. "Are you happy with our life?"

"Of course I am." He pressed a kiss to my hand. "It'll be okay... After the appointment, you'll feel less nervous, I'm sure." I nodded. “Are you taking your meds?” I nodded again. “It’s the anticipation… you’re scared, and it’s okay to be. But it will pass.”

Maybe he was right; it was the arrival of something new and important that was throwing my mind into chaos, creating a problem where none existed. It wouldn't be the first time. I smiled at him and nodded once more.

"I promise," Bucky smiled, "We'll be fine."