Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bucky glared at all the different types of apples displayed on the stand, yellow, green, red, small ones, big ones, he was trying his best to remember which ones were the ones you liked the best. The last time he made a mistake and bought dark red ones, you seemed disappointed but you didn’t complain or bring it up. He wished he had paid more attention to which ones he had brought home that had made your face light up when you took a bite.

The other shoppers in the market kept their distance, especially as Bucky’s brows furrowed and his scowl got bigger. A few people watched him from afar, it wasn’t every day a man with a metal arm wearing all black and combat boots with a knife strapped to his belt was just casually shopping. They all turned away immediately, as his eyes snapped up as if he had some kind of 6th sense and could feel them staring.

Finally, Bucky settled on the small gala apples, selecting a few after a close inspection before putting them in a bag.

For the rest of the shopping trip, Bucky marched with purpose, expertly navigating the aisles and grabbing everything that had been on the list, which he memorized before leaving the house.

The checker with shaky hands tried his best to engage the ex-assassin in a friendly conversation, “G-Good afternoon, did you find everything you needed, sir?”

Bucky didn’t answer, didn’t even blink, simply watched closely as the boy scanned each item. The checker laughed nervously, fumbling with the box of condoms as he rang them up. The kid was probably only about 16, tall and lanky with braces, obviously, he was still in high school getting so worked over something like condoms.

A box of tampons was next in the conveyor belt, “So, um, shopping for your girlfriend?”

Bucky raised a brow, the poor checker grimaced worried he’d crossed some kind of line.

“Wife,” Bucky stated evenly.

“Oh, nice,” the checker sighed, relieved he hadn’t pissed him off. “That’ll be $74.34.”

Bucky paid, and exited. You weren’t really his wife since he couldn’t marry you legally, not without alerting Hydra or the US government, especially considering he was supposedly dead or MIA. The term girlfriend, however, diminished how significant you were to him, it was because of you he was able to have something that resembled a normal life. So as far as he was concerned the two of you were husband and wife.

As he unloaded the groceries and started putting them away, a part of him wished he could contribute more to the household, like get a job, but you reassured him constantly that his love and support were enough.

You had never expected your relationship to unfold the way that it did.

The day you had met Bucky, it was like stumbling upon the meanest stray cat you had ever seen with his icy stare and his clenched jaw, if you had been any closer he probably would’ve lashed out or bolted.

Most people would’ve minded their own business, walked past him without a second glance, or would’ve been too intimidated by his hostile nature to even approach him. But you could tell from the way he carried himself that he was injured, alone, and lost.

In your eyes it was as if he was a puppy or kitten, your big heart was ready to care for him, nurse him to health like you would with an actual stray you’d find in some back alley. It probably didn’t even cross your mind that he was potentially dangerous, the poor man just needed a safe warm place and lots of patience.

Things happened slowly at first, you provided him with a place to stay, food, and company. You attempted to get him to open up, but Bucky didn’t even know where to start. His memories were spotty, to say the least, so much killing, so much guilt. Plus, he was worried about scaring you off once you realized you opened up your home to an assassin.

When the nightmares started, you insisted that he slept with you in your room so you could be there for him. He didn’t sleep in the bed with you, preferring the floor over the soft mattress.

One night, his dreams took a turn for the worse, he was thrashing around on his makeshift bed. You slid out from your bed, joining Bucky on the floor. You ran your fingers through his hair, stroked his cheeks, and whispered comforting words in his ear.

Feeling you beside him, brought him out of the past and back into reality. He was here with you, in your home, safe. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly, you were his anchor keeping him from being swept up in the ocean of gore and violence that had been his life. After that night, Bucky trusted you completely and became fiercely loyal.

The next day, you had taken all your pillows and blankets off of your bed and moved them onto the floor beside Bucky’s bed. Neither of you mentioned it, but he couldn’t believe how fortunate he was, you knew what he needed without him having to say a word.

It didn’t take long for the relationship to heat up after that, what had started out as sweet little kisses goodnight soon turned into long sessions of lovemaking on the floor. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, sex wore him out, helping him fall asleep faster and stay asleep.

On those nights that Bucky did jerk awake in a panic, you were right there to soothe him, right there to pull him away from the events that haunted him.

Bucky sat the cutting board on the counter and expertly started chopping up the potatoes, carrots, onion, and celery for Borscht.

It was very important to him to try to take care of you the best way that he could right now, he focused on making home-cooked food, keeping the house tidy, and anything else he could to make your life easier.

Digging through the drawers, he finally found the vegetable peeler for the beets. The poor peeler looked like it had seen better days, the blade was dull and it was slightly loose from the handle. Bucky made a mental note to replace it.

Once the soup was simmering in the pot, he wandered into the laundry just as the dryer buzzed. He dumped the clothes into a basket and headed towards the bedroom where he started folding them and putting them away. Shortly after, he got caught up in tidying up the room, putting little things you had left out on the dresser away, and straightening up the bedding on the floor.

Bucky cursed when he heard the broth starting to boil over the pot, rushing back to the stove he immediately lowered the temperature. He stirred the soup and realized that some of the vegetables had stuck to the bottom.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called, entering your small house and dropping your keys and purse on the table by the entryway. Kicking off your ballet flats, you shuffled into the kitchen barefoot. “Smells delicious.”

Bucky frowned. “It's overdone,” he muttered, pushing the food around with a wooden spoon. He looked so cute in your tiny kitchen wearing the apron you bought him.

You chuckled, “I’m sure it’s great, you’re just picky.” You rubbed his shoulders, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing as you noticed the charred bits of vegetables floating around in the soup.

He gave you a half-smile, before serving you a bowl. The two of you made your way into the living room, getting comfortable on the couch.

“How was your day?” He asked.

You made a face and sighed loudly, “Long and boring. How was yours?”

He shrugged, “Normal.”

You smiled, knowing that for Bucky, normal was a great thing. “Thanks for doing the shopping and laundry.”

Bucky shook his head, “It's the least I could do.”

Flipping through the channels you finally settled on a movie, Pearl Harbor.

You stretched out on the couch, hugging one of the cushions to your chest and resting your legs on Bucky’s lap. Absent-mindedly, he started rubbing your feet and playing with your toes as the two of you watched the movie.

Bucky was quick to point out all the historical inaccuracies, and during one particular scene, he even rolled his eyes muttering how ridiculous it is. You laughed and eventually joined in, no longer able to take the drama seriously, instead both of you were joking around and criticizing everything about the movie, not just from a historical angle, but also critiquing the writing and the acting, making each other laugh.

“C’mon, doll,” he muttered, stretching his arms over his head as the credits rolled. “Let’s get to bed. I’ll take care of the dishes in the morning.”

Bucky, who was already dressed in sweatpants and a tank top slipped under the covers as you changed into a big t-shirt. After turning off the lights, you curled up beside him pressing your chest against his back and reaching around to hold his hand in yours.

You inhaled deeply, taking in his scent and with freehand moving his hair away from his neck. He groaned and shifted slightly as you peppered his cheek and neck with light kisses.

Rolling onto his back, Bucky’s hands started roaming your body, moving under your shirt and caressing your sides, before slowly moving higher to cup your breasts. You gasped at the sensation from his cool metal fingertips tracing over your nipple.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours in a passionate kiss, and humming in approval as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. One of his hands moved from your chest down over your ass to your thigh, then guided you to straddle him.

He threw his head back and moaned, as you moved your hips, grinding yourself on his hardening cock. Peering down at him, you bit your lip, he looked so damn good, his dark hair a mess, face flushed, chest heaving, eyes shut… perfection. You pushed his shirt up and lightly ran your nails down his chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed, involuntarily jerking his hips. He couldn’t hold out much longer, everything about you drove him crazy, your soft skin, sweet lips. He could barely even think straight.

Sitting up slightly, Bucky reached into the nightstand drawer pulling out an unopened box of condoms, and literally tore it open.

You giggled, “In a hurry?”

“It's all your fault,” Bucky muttered. “Wearing just a shirt and panties to bed.”

You rolled your eyes, “You mean what I usually wear to bed?”

“I just can’t resist your charms,” he added, kissing you again, before moving to your neck and nibbling against the tender flesh.

You sighed, clinging to him tighter, your clothed sex still rubbing against his member.

He pulled back and tore the condom wrapper with his teeth, before shoving his pants and boxers down hurriedly. Getting the hint, you got off of him long enough to shimmy off your underwear.

Slowly, you eased yourself onto his cock, savoring the way it felt to be stretched and filled. At a casual pace, you started to ride him, lifting and lowering yourself on his shaft, your hands bracing yourself on his chest.

Bucky admired you from below, the moonlight seeping through the curtains making you look absolutely perfect. He was so lucky to have someone like you in his life, someone who was so loving, patient, and understanding. God he loved you.

Bucky’s hands rested on your hips, holding you in place as he started to buck from underneath you, unable to handle your slow pace any longer.

Your fingers slid between your legs, rubbing your clit as Bucky fucked you. Your walls were slick as they squeezed around his length getting closer to your release.

You moaned loudly as you came, your entire body tensed as your cunt throbbed around his cock, before you fell onto his chest limp like a doll as he continued to relentlessly pound into you seeking his own climax.

He shivered, feeling your breath tickling his neck, the little noises you were still making motivated him further. He started panting, his fingers digging into your soft skin, finally, he came biting his lip hard.

Sighing, he took a moment to catch his breath, Bucky tilted his head to the side kissing you gently. Then, carefully pulled out of you to remove the soiled condom, tossing it into the small trash can.

“I love you, doll,” Bucky said quietly.

“Love you too.”

…

Waking up, you felt absolutely giddy that it was finally the weekend, instead of getting out of bed right away like you normally did on a workday, you instead opted to stay in a while longer, pulling your blanket up higher and snuggling closer to Bucky who was surprisingly still in bed with you.

You gave his hand a small squeeze, as you spooned him.

“Morning,” he whispered, voice slightly hoarse. “Did you sleep well?”

“Shhh,” you started, peeking an eye open. “I’m still sleeping.”

“Ah,” Bucky chuckled. “Then I guess I should let you sleep then.” He shifted in bed, sliding your arm off of him and pulling the covers off.

“Don’t go,” you whined, grabbing his hand and using all your might to keep him from leaving.

Bucky tried to give you a stern look, “Do you remember what happened when I fell for that last weekend?”

You nodded, giving him a sheepish grin, “Yeah.” The two of you spent the whole day in bed, only leaving for necessities. “But I think it still turned out to be a pretty great weekend.”

Buck sighed, “I need to mow the lawn, and I promised Mrs. Nelson, I would help clean her gutters.”

Finally, you relented, letting go of his hand and sitting up. You could care less about the lawn, but Mrs. Nelson was the sweetest elderly lady, she was one of the only people who welcomed Bucky into the neighborhood, not intimidated by him in the slightest, treated you and him like you were her own children. You knew how important it was to Bucky to help her out in exchange for her kindness and baked goods.

“I’ll make breakfast before you get to work,” you said, shuffling out of bed.

After Bucky mowed the lawn, you tagged along with him to Mrs.Nelson's, while he worked on the gutters, you kept her company.

“Your husband is just the nicest young man,” she admired. “Reminds me of my husband.” She pointed him out in a photograph on her mantle. “The love of my life.”

You smiled looking at the picture, he was a handsome man like your Bucky, “Yep, there aren’t many men like them anymore.”

“It’s a shame,” Mrs. Nelson nodded in agreement. “Wish I could pay him for his time. He’s been so helpful since he moved into the neighborhood.”

She sat a tray down on the dining table, a teapot, teacups, and pastries rested upon it.

You shook your head, “Buck wouldn’t accept it anyway, he’s not that kind of guy.”

When Bucky finished, he respectfully stood on Mrs.Nelson’s front porch not wanting to bring in any dirt into her spotless home, even with her insisting that she could mop up the floor after. But he explained politely that he was far too sweaty and grimy for a proper visit and would see her later on next week. As payment for his hard work, she handed him a plate piled high with cookies.

“So what did you ladies discuss today?” Bucky asked as you two walked idly down the street.

“Not much, just about how amazingly sweet you are,” you teased.

“Sweet,” Bucky murmured to himself. “I must be a disappointment to assassins everywhere,” he joked.

“Why don’t you go ahead and shower, babe,” you suggested, arriving home. “I’ll make us something for lunch.” He nodded, stripping off his t-shirt as he made a beeline for the bathroom.

Just as you were setting a couple of sandwiches on the small bistro table in your kitchen, Bucky shuffled over, still drying his hair.

“Thanks,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before taking a seat.

The two of you casually chatted as you ate, talking about your plans for the rest of the weekend, about your job, about what plants you'd like to grow in the yard after Bucky finished his landscaping project.

Suddenly, you were interrupted by your cell vibrating. “Hey dad,” you answered your phone, excusing yourself from the table and taking the call into the living room. “I’m good, how are you?”

Bucky stayed at the table, playing with his food and resisting the urge to follow you.

Closing his eyes, he tried his best not to eavesdrop on your conversation, but he couldn’t help feeling curious. He hadn’t met your parents, you talked about them a few times expressing to Bucky that your family wasn’t what anyone would call close-knit.

However, he was curious to know if you had mentioned him, or if your family knew you were in a relationship at least. He trusted you wouldn’t share things about his past, but a part of him worried you were keeping him a secret. He figured his past and who he was might strain the relationship at some point, yet he hoped that you would at least feel comfortable enough letting people know you were in a serious and committed relationship.

“Dad,” you sighed, not bothering to hide how annoyed you were, which caught Bucky’s attention. “It’s not like that, he’s not using me.”

“He’s a great guy, he’s supportive and caring,” you explained.

You paused, groaning as your father continued to lecture you about dating some bum, demanding to know why Bucky didn’t have a job.

“It’s complicated,” you answered. “And in all honesty, it’s not really any of your business.”

Bucky pushed aside his plate, having lost his appetite. He appreciated that you were so willing to defend him, but your father’s concerns were the same worries and doubts that Bucky constantly struggled with since the beginning of your relationship.

Back during his time, it was unheard of for a woman to support the family, and in cases where a man couldn’t provide it was severely frowned upon. He was aware that things were different now, but it was hard to look past his own upbringing, which was still blurry and spotty thanks to Hydra.

He rubbed his forehead, it’s not like getting a job was even an option, he had to stay off the grid, not only for himself but for your safety as well.

Taking his plate, he headed towards the kitchen, scraping off the leftovers into the trash can before setting the dishes into the sink.

Even if he could apply for a job, he wasn’t sure what he was even qualified to do. His only valid work experience was back from when he was a soldier, most of the people who could’ve given him a recommendation were probably dead or senile. And it’s not like he could add Hydra assassin to his resume either.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about going into business for himself, to be a hitman or a mercenary, but the thought of killing people for money, especially people who didn’t deserve to die made him sick to his stomach.

“Babe?” you called outstanding beside him. “Everything alright? You’ve been washing the same plate for almost 5 minutes now.”

Bucky shook his head, “I’m fine.”

You rocked on the balls of your feet debating if you should press the subject, usually Bucky just needed some time to work things out. “Why don’t you let me finish the dishes, you made dinner after all-”

“I’ve got it!” Bucky snapped a lot harsher than he meant to. He apologized right away, setting the sponge on the counter and sighing.

“You overheard my father and me, didn't you?” You asked gently. This wasn’t the first time Bucky had struggled with this, and it wasn’t the first time some idiot butted in about your relationship.

He nodded, his eyes downcast, staring at the soapy water in the sink.

“Sweetie,” you murmured softly, resting your hand over his. “You could easily kill my father in at least 6 different ways without breaking a sweat. Don’t let what he said get to you. My parents have the worst example of marriage, so obviously sticking to societal norms didn’t help them any.”

At the mention of marriage, Bucky’s frown grew, and clenched his fist tighter, he couldn’t even do that for you.

Immediately you knew you had accidentally brought up another touchy subject. God, how you wanted to kick yourself for mentioning the whole marriage thing. You took a moment choosing your next words carefully. “If I lost my job would you leave me?”

Bucky faced you, giving you a questioning look, “Of course not, you know that.”

“Right, instead we’d figure out a way to make things work,” you added. “Bucky, I honestly believe our relationship is better than most because we’re together for all the right reasons.”

He peeked over at you, listening to what you were saying carefully as you made your point.

“You’re not just some guy who was looking for a woman to replace his mother, someone to do all the cooking and all the cleaning, just like how I’m not some girl who was looking for some guy to pay all her bills,” you explained. “We’re together because we make each other happy because we care about each other, and we trust each other. So who gives a damn about which one of us works and which one of us does the shopping, none of that is important.”

Bucky sighed, placing his hands on your hips, his head nuzzling against the nape of your neck.

“Y’know, it’s not always going to be like this,” you urged, running your fingers through his hair. “In a few years we both might be working, or both of us might be out of work.” You said, scratching the back of his head gently. “But you know what won’t ever change? How much I love you.”

You could feel Bucky smile against your skin. “God, you’re so corny,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, I got you to smile didn’t I?”

“You’re such a dork,” he joked playfully, flicking water at you from the sink.

“Hey,” you screeched. “Not fair!”

He splashed you again, more aggressively this time, “What's not fair?”

You laughed, taking the sponge and throwing it at him.

“Gross,” he complained, a smile still lingering on his lips. “I love you.”

The next few weeks went by without a hitch.

After your recent heart-to-heart, Bucky was feeling more secure about everything.

The deck in the backyard was coming along nicely, he just needed to stain it before planting some hydrangeas along the edge, and then the two of you could pick out some patio furniture. He really liked the idea of having a nice outdoor space, probably due to his time with Hydra, having been kept frozen for such a long period of time, and then under the ever-watchful eye of a handler, being outside gave him a sense of peace and freedom.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he pictured a big golden retriever running around in the grass. Lately, you’ve been hinting that you wanted a pet, getting super excited about every dog and cat you came across, subtly mentioning to Bucky how you worried about him being lonely while you were at work, but he remained on the fence about it.

Maybe if it was a rescue he’d be more open to the idea.

Going back inside Bucky grabbed the grocery list from the fridge, his mind was still occupied weighing the pros and cons of having a pet. He wondered if he was more suitable for owning a cat or a dog. He would discuss it with you, but he worried about getting your hopes up and then disappointing you if he had a change of heart.

Getting into the car, he tried to focus instead on what he wanted to make for dinner.

…

Steve grabbed a few boxes of protein bars and a large tub of protein powder before heading towards the dairy aisle for milk. As he pushed the cart along, he saw someone familiar in his peripheral. He twisted around catching another glance at the man, Steve couldn’t believe it, it was Bucky.

Who would’ve susoected that Bucky had been hiding out right under the Avenger’s nose, especially when he had Sam searching the other side of the world?

“Bucky?” He whispered to himself, immediately ditching his cart and following the dark-haired man that just passed who seemed caught up in his thoughts.

“Bucky,” Steve called out louder, the man halted but didn’t turn around as Steve approached him.

Bucky’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on the cart handle. He could feel the life he had made with you slipping from his fingers. His eyes shifted back and forth, trying to decide what to do, a part of him just wanted to take off running.

Steve cautiously placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and he went rigid.

“Do you remember me?” Steve pressed.

“Yes,” Bucky answered, finally looking at his best friend. So much time had passed, but Steve was still the same, not as scrawny anymore of course, but just as stubborn and reckless.

When his memories started coming back to him, Bucky had felt a tremendous amount of guilt weighing on him. He didn’t think or believe that Steve would be able to forgive him. All the things he had done, the crimes he committed, the government, and the rest of the world wouldn’t be able to look past these atrocities. Yes, he had changed, no longer Hydra’s puppet, but he wasn’t that confident and cocky soldier either. Whoever Bucky was now, was somewhere in between.

“Can we talk?” Steve asked, looking like a kicked puppy.

Bucky nodded, his face void of any kind of emotion despite him being on the verge of a panic attack, “I need to check out first.”

The two men sat silently across from each other at a coffee shop, neither one knew where to start.

Steve had a million questions he was dying to ask. What had Bucky been doing for the past year? Why was he still in New York? How much did he remember about his past?

Bucky was more concerned about how this would affect his life, his new life, if Steve found him it was only a matter of time before the remnants of Hydra would. In the back of his mind, he had feared that something like this would happen. He was fortunate that it was Steve who found him first instead of some Hydra operative.

“So, what happens now?” Bucky sighed, finally breaking the silence. “Are you going to take me in? Lock me up?”

“No,” Steve said, utterly confused. “I want to help you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “I was a Hydra agent, an assassin, I killed people for decades.”

“I know,” Steve said evenly. “But you didn’t have a choice. I know what they did to you, how they brainwashed you.”

Bucky visibly relaxed and Steve smiled, their bond still strong after such a long time.

“Steve,” Bucky started, fidgeting with empty sugar wrappers. “I met a girl.”