Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Present day

Just let me know when you’re going to be home sweetheart. I’ll start dinner.

Bucky Barnes (3:14 pm)

Will do

You (3:15 pm)

You smiled as you sent the response. You hadn’t meant to be gone this long. Bucky’s birthday was coming up, and you were desperately trying to find the perfect present. The two of you hadn’t been together long yet, not officially at least. Maybe a month. But you’d been dancing around each other, flirting, and ‘making eyes’ as Clint called it, for almost a year now. 

You knew Bucky. You saw him, understood him. And yet you were at a loss as to what to get the man for a present.

He wasn’t short on money, so he could buy himself anything. But he wasn’t the most materialistic of people, for obvious reasons. Growing up during the depression, serving his country in the trenches of a world war, and being held captive as a brainwashed assassin for decades, didn’t lend itself much to surrounding himself with stuff. 

You’d only just convinced him to start using a separate shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in place of the cheap 3-in-1 he’d had when you met. 

You took another sip of your coffee, then set the mug onto the table and glanced out the window. You’d been shopping around New York City all day, wandering in and out of shops. Nothing had struck you as something Bucky would want. 

Logically you knew that whatever you got him would be something he would love. And you knew you could get him something useful for his apartment like pot holders or something. But that just felt…impersonal. 

Frustrated with the lack of inspiration, you’d come into the coffee shop for a break. Figured you could scroll around on your maps app to see if there was anything nearby you hadn’t checked in yet. 

You watched the wind blow a balled up newspaper up the street. It stopped in front of an old shop. The glass window had the words ‘Antiques’ hand painted in old-fashioned gold lettering. Even from here you could see some chips in the paint. Various items sat in the window. A wooden rocking chair, a gorgeous dresser with a few books on top, and a mannequin with an evening gown straight from decades past. 

You’d never seen the store before. Which was curious, because you’d stopped at this coffee shop plenty of times. Sat in this very seat and looked out the window before…

There was something about the store, something you couldn’t put a name to. You hadn’t had an ounce of luck all day, but you knew that would change inside. You just had to go in and see.

Someone in the kitchen must’ve dropped a plate, and the sound of it shattering startled you back to yourself. 

That was odd , you thought. You’d zoned out for a second there, like the only thing in the world you could see was that antique shop. And you’d felt this…pull. 

You glared down at your empty mug at the thought. In your line of work you should probably be more cautious about weird, supernatural feelings . 

But this felt different. Safe.

You stood from the table and brought your mug to the counter, thanking the barista again. You put your coat back on. March in New York was unpredictable, and today had been chilly with the wind streaming through the streets.

You glanced both ways before crossing the street and quickly found yourself in front of the shop. You couldn’t see a name, only ‘Antiques’ written again on the door, right above a sign that said ‘Yes! We are open!’

You pushed the door open, hearing the jingle of a bell. You were immediately hit by the comforting smell of wood and old books. As soon as the door closed behind you, you were enveloped in the quiet. You rarely noticed how noisy the city was, having grown up here. But you noticed the absence of noise now. 

There was no one at the front counter, but you saw a small bell. If you needed something, you’d ask, but for now you settled on walking around. You couldn’t see the back of the shop over all the things, organized neatly in aisles and rows. You could get lost in here. The thought wasn’t alarming. 

Somehow you’d walked through the door into somewhere time seemed to stop. You felt it in the silence of this place, a place where things from another life rested. Things that were once precious to someone, forgotten things. 

Portraits and landscapes covered the walls. Furniture and trinkets were everywhere. You saw several racks of clothes. You found yourself in front of some bookshelves, looking at the titles. Searching for something, anything you thought Bucky would like. 

You pulled an old copy of Romeo and Juliet from the shelf, remembering a few weeks past when you and Bucky had been laying in bed together in the early morning. He had been watching your face, something in his eyes you couldn’t quite read. You’d asked him what he was thinking and he’d said, “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.” 

You had smiled and teased him for being so sappy. But the way he had looked at you…You tucked the copy under your arm and continued on. 

Honestly, I should bring him in here , you thought. He would love to just look at some of this stuff . 

You ran your hand gently over an old record player, the kind with the beautifully engraved golden horn. You half wished to yourself that there was music playing, something to fill the silence. You turned another corner and noticed a glass cabinet filled with jewelry. You took a closer look, seeing the sparkling gems and ticking pocket watches. 

You thought of the old watch Steve carried, wondering if Bucky would like that. How cheesy would it be to put a picture of us inside, you wondered. 

“Can I help you find anything, dear?” 

Years of training with SHIELD is all that kept you from jumping out of your skin. You hadn’t heard anyone approach. You watched as an old woman came into view and went behind the jewelry counter. She moved slowly, but her smile seemed genuine. 

“Oh, no ma’am. I’m just browsing, really,” you answered. 

“Anything in particular?” Her gaze was piercing, like she read through your thin white lie easily. 

“Just trying to find a birthday gift for my…boyfriend.” You still hesitated on the word. While it was true that you and Bucky were officially and exclusively dating, the term ‘boyfriend’ felt so very not enough. In the year since you’d met, you had both fallen hard and fast. Almost like he was your…You scoffed internally. You’d almost thought of the word ‘soulmate.’ 

“Ahh, I see,” the woman said. “A gift for a man that says what he is to you.”

“How did you…” you smiled at the woman, and there was a twinkle in her eye. 

“I’ve been selling old things to strangers for many years. You learn to read people.”

“I’ll bet. Well, you’re very good at it, it seems.” You pointed to one of the pocket watches. “Can I see this one?”

“Of course, dear,” the woman said, unlocking the cabinet and pulling the velvet tray of watches out, placing it on the counter in front of you. 

You picked the watch up, turning it over in your hands. It was a silver watch, relatively simple. There were no intricate engravings like some of the others on the tray. You opened the watch, finding a beautiful pearl face. On the inside of the lid was an engraving, and you felt your pulse quicken as you read it. 

For B.

Anything in the world could have been engraved on the watch. And there were a few dozen in the shop you could have looked at. And yet you’d picked one that already had the right initial. 

“What do you think?” the woman asked. 

“It’s great,” you half whispered, clearing your throat. “I think I’m going to get it.”

“Wonderful! I’ll box that up for you at the counter,” she said, reaching her hand out for the pocket watch. You hesitated, a feeling of wrongness in letting it go. But you did, and you followed the woman to the front of the store. 

“While I polish this one more time and wrap this up for you, you ought to take a look through some of those pictures, dear. I think you might find some you like.” She nodded her head towards a box on the counter. There was a handwritten sign on the front. 

Photos

25¢ each

You picked up the first few photos from the box, noticing the stillness of the air. The quiet. Feeling like somehow you were no longer in New York City, but some…otherwhere. 

The first photo was a black and white of a bride, smiling brightly at the camera. She was happy, but nervous. So full of love for her soon-to-be-husband. 

You smiled to yourself and shook your head. She did look happy, but there was no way you could have known how she felt. It was just a picture. You flipped to the next. 

A house, small and quaint. A man and a woman were on the front porch, but they weren’t posed for the camera. They were lost in each other, laughing about something only they knew. He had just told his lover something, a whisper of something inappropriate for upstanding company. You felt like you were looking into a private moment, their joy and happiness seeping through the photo paper. Again you realized your overactive imagination must be filing in your own thought-up backstories. 

Nevertheless, you flipped to the next photo and had to suck in a breath at the sadness you suddenly felt. The street was crowded with soldiers and their loved ones, ready to board a train. Off to war, mostly likely. In the center was a man and a woman. She was looking at the camera with tears in her eyes; he was looking at her with love in his. Your heart ached. 

You had picked up one last picture, so you flipped to it. Two teenagers holding hands, smiling at the camera, a mixture of pride and embarrassment on their faces. He was wearing a tuxedo and she was in a gown. He had asked her to their high school prom, and your mom had made an embarrassing comment when he’d slipped the corsage onto your wrist…

You shook your head and looked up. Onto my wrist? You were losing it, you were sure. Too much caffeine or something. You were putting yourself into the shoes of the girl in the picture. But somehow, it hadn’t felt that way; rather, it had felt like a memory. You weren’t imagining how she must have felt because you had felt it.

Stop being dumb, that’s impossible , you mentally berated yourself. You flipped the picture over and saw the date. 1958. See. No way it was you, dummy. You weren’t born yet. 

The woman had finished wrapping the pocket watch. You put the book and the pictures on the counter, mummering, “These too, please.”

“Of course, dear.”

You felt like you were in a haze as you paid and bid a polite, if not distracted, goodbye to the woman. You pushed the shop door open, and suddenly felt like you were emerging from an entirely different reality. The sights and sounds and smells of New York City hit you like a baseball bat to the head. You could feel the headache coming. Somehow in the ten minutes you’d been in the store, you’d grown accustomed to the quiet. The peacefulness. 

Without really thinking about it, you had dialed Bucky and had your phone to your ear. 

“Sweetheart, are you there?” There was concern in Bucky’s voice. You wondered how many times he’d said your name without an answer. 

“Yes, sorry. Sorry. I uh,” you trailed off. Why had you called? “I just wanted to tell you that I’m on the way home.”

There was a pause. “Okay. You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, Buck, I’m fine. Good.”

“Alright,” he said, and you could hear the concern. He would take your word for it though. You wondered if he’d track your gps the whole way home though. Probably. Old habits die screaming when you’re a paranoid ex-assassin. 

You wanted to tell him about the photographs. About the people in them, about the joy you had–no, they had felt. Must have felt , you corrected yourself. It was the same joy Bucky made you feel. The same feeling of ‘rightness.’ Like two souls who were meant to be together, even in a different life. 

“I’ll see you soon. I–I love you.” You had said the words to each other only a few times now. It was still new, still sacred. 

“I love you, too.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

That night you lay in bed, wrapped tightly in Bucky’s arms. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck. You felt safe. 

Your mind drifted back to the photos you had looked at. They were safely tucked inside the front cover of the book you had bought, wrapped together and hidden at the top of your closet. You tried to remember the photos but instead of seeing the picture, you felt like you were inside of the picture. Looking at the person behind the camera, or at the man with you in some of the photos. Feeling what she had felt…But it hadn’t been you. It couldn’t have been you. 

You drifted off to sleep, wondering about the curiosities you had found in that antique shop. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Down the block, there's an antique shop 

And something in my head said, "Stop," so I walked in 

On the counter was a cardboard box 

And the sign said, "Photos: twenty-five cents each" 

And that's when I called you and it's so hard to explain 

But in those photos, I saw us instead 

And, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other 

In another life, you still would've turned my head even if wе'd met 

Chapter Text

Saw a 30s Bride

You looked in the full length mirror at yourself. 

You had perfectly smooth waves in your shoulder-length hair, swept to the side and pinned with a small pearl pin borrowed from your mother. Your ivory dress fit beautifully, the wide waist of the bodice cinching you in to accentuate your curves. There were beautiful satin buttons all the way down the front, and your pleated sleeves and slightly padded shoulder gave your body shape the perfect balance. 

It was not the most expensive or elaborate dress. But it was the best your father could afford, and it was made to fit you. 

But more importantly, you knew Bucky would think you looked beautiful. He always did, and he made sure to remind you of it. But there were times when you could tell he especially liked what you were wearing, when he’d get a little catch in his breath and whisper, “Look at you, doll. You’re perfect.”

You smiled at your reflection and tried to picture what Bucky would look like at the end of the aisle. You knew he would be handsome in his suit. You wondered if he was done getting dressed now, too. Just across the hallway of the little church. So close to you, and yet not close enough. Never close enough. 

Meant to be. That’s what everyone had said. You and Bucky were meant to be. Made for each other, a perfect fit. 

Girls had always whispered as he passed by, hoping he’d send them a smile and a wink. But his eyes had always been for you, even though it took you quite a while to realize as much. That while he was a known ladies man, it was wildly overstated and exaggerated. More like he was the ladies’ favorite. 

You and Steve had become friends, sharing a class together. And where Steve was, Bucky was; they were inseparable. So you and Bucky had become friends, too, albeit a bit more reluctantly. You were wary of him, an obvious charmer. He was handsome and you knew you could easily fall for his charms if you let yourself. Which you were determined not to, not trusting the flirtatious nature of him. 

He was quick to compliment you, but it was always different from what he’d said to other women. More…honest. You tried to brush it off, but it had only made Bucky more determined. The joking and laughter behind the “one day you’ll agree to be mine, doll” had turned to seriousness. 

You remembered how he had looked at you the night you’d finally said yes. The flirtatious glimmer was there, yes. Bucky could never truly lose that Brooklyn charm. But there was also a sincerity in his eyes. 

Bucky had walked you to your door. You, he, and Steve had gone to the picture show. Steve was closest and had said goodnight a few blocks back. Bucky had insisted on walking you to your door, despite having to pass his own to do so. 

“Well, here we are,” Bucky said. 

“Yes.” You took the first step up to the door, then stopped and turned to Bucky. “Thank you. For walking me home.”

“It’s nothing. Have to keep up that good impression you got of me. One day you’ll agree to be mine, doll.” 

You had laughed, like you always did. But there was something different this time. And maybe the last few times, if you really thought about it. The sincerity, the hope in his voice. You stepped back down from the stoop, which put you right in front of Bucky. You had to look up at him now. 

He had searched your eyes. You had nodded. And then he had bent down and kissed you. 

There was a knock on the door, shaking you from your memories, and you turned to look. Your mother had gone to check on your father and brother, make sure they were both dressed and ready. 

“Come in,” you said. 

Steve poked his head through the door and you grinned. Steve was your best friend, the reason you’d finally taken Bucky seriously enough to give him a chance. 

“Hey, wow…uh…damn. Sorry,” Steve stammered, slipping in and pulling himself to his full height–which was frankly, not very tall. “You look beautiful.”

You smiled. “That’s just what you’re supposed to say, Stevie.”

“Nah. I mean it. Bucky’s real lucky to get himself a dame like you. He uh…” Steve trailed off.

“Yes?”

Steve lifted up his camera. “Can I?”

“Sure, Steve. Where do you want me?” Steve toted his camera around everywhere. And though you teased him about it constantly, you were extremely grateful for the moments he had snapped pictures of. You and Bucky. The three of you, best friends. Your brothers and your parents. 

“Right by the window, should be good light,” Steve said, pointing to a spot. You went, drawing your shoulders back. Steve bent down and adjusted the train of your dress, making it perfect. He backed up and held up his camera. You smiled and tried to hide the nerves by thinking again about your soon-to-be-husband. Husband , you thought. You liked the sound of that.  

Right before he took the picture, he said “Buck wanted me to tell you uh…” Steve hesitated, face blushing. “That he can’t wait to see you. And uhm…that you’re brighter than the sun.”

You felt the warmth in your cheeks, and your smile brightened. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Black and white, saw a 30s bride 

The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime 

The kind you don't put down 

Chapter Text

Two Lovers Laughin’

“After this, are we unpacking your clothes? Or are there too many unmentionables that you don’t want me to see?” Natasha smirked down at you. 

“Nat!” you blushed, although you didn’t deny it. You handed two more glasses to Natasha, who was standing on the counter to put them into the cabinet. 

“One more box and then we’re done. Then Bucky and I want to treat you two to some lunch,” you said, trying to change the subject.

“You really don’t have to. We would’ve helped you move in without the bribery,” Natasha smiled at you. 

“We want to. You’ve both been so wonderful through this whole thing. I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.” The small house was beautiful, but old. It had been sitting empty for a few years before you and Bucky bought it. And it had taken a bit of work and cleaning to get it livable again. 

Natasha and Steve had helped tremendously with that. 

You heard the two men coming inside. They had been fixing the shutters on one of the windows. 

“...can always stay in the guest room, you know that, Stevie,” Bucky was saying. 

“I might take you up on that if we ever have late nights at work,” Steve smiled. 

“Steve Rogers, I haven’t even finished moving in and you’re already moving with us?” you teased. Steve had the sense to look mildly guilty, but you’d always known he’d been around more often than not. He and Bucky were like two sides of the same coin. And thankfully, you’d found the same in Natasha once Steve had finally gotten the courage to ask her to go steady with him. 

“Only for a little while,” Steve said. And then he looked right at Natasha and said, “Until I have a house of my own you’ll have to help us move into.”

And bless him, he made Natasha blush, which was something you’d rarely seen. 

Bucky smirked behind Steve, then cleared his throat. 

Steve helped Natasha down from the counter, watching her smooth her shirt down once she gained her footing. You smiled at them, happy that they were happy. 

“What were you ladies talking about? I hope we didn’t interrupt,” Steve said. 

“Oh nothing at all, Steve.” You glanced up at Bucky and sent him a wink. “Who’s ready to eat? There’s a booth at the diner calling our names.”

Bucky’s face lit up at your tone, hearing the teasing beneath your dodging of the question. You knew he would ask you later what you’d refused to say. You thought maybe instead of answering, you’d show him those unmentionables…

The four of you made your way out the front door and onto the porch. Bucky turned to lock up, and you felt the fullness in your heart at the sight. Locking up our first home… You and Bucky had been so lucky, and you could hardly believe that he was yours. And would be forever.

“Get a picture of these two, Steve,” Natasha said. Steve grabbed his camera and went out to the sidewalk, right in the opening of the little picket fence. 

“You two, sit here,” Natasha pointed to a spot on the porch, right at the top of the steps. Then she went and stood next to Steve to make sure she was out of frame. 

You sat down on the second step from the top, leaning slightly into Bucky’s leg. He was on the step above you. 

“Come on, get closer. Act like you two like each other!” Natasha laughed. 

“Come ‘ere, doll,” Bucky said, moving around you so you were cradled between his legs. You blushed, thinking it was rather close and intimate for others to see, but Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in closer. You settled your weight back against him. He felt like home, the other half of your soul. 

“Alright, on the count of three,” Steve said, lifting his camera. “One…”

As Steve was counting down, Bucky leaned down to whisper in your ear. “The things I’m going to do to you in this house, sweetheart…”

“Two…” Steve counted.

Your cheeks flooded crimson, and with a smile you turned to Bucky, who was already laughing, “Bucky!”

“Three!” the camera flashed. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

And two lovers laughin' on the porch of their first house 

The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime 

The kind you don't put down  

Chapter Text

On a Crowded Street

There were so many people here. Bucky pulled you along through the crowds, his hand holding firmly in yours. He looked so handsome in his freshly pressed green Army uniform. You had made sure there wasn’t a speck of dirt on him, smiling with pride at how sharp he looked. The closer and closer you two had gotten to the train station, the more somber you’d become. 

It was settling in, just what this meant. 

Bucky was going off to war. He’d been talking about joining ever since President Roosevelt had come on the radio to tell Americans about the attack on Pearl Harbor, not yet old enough then to enlist. 

Then March of 1944 came, and he turned 18…

He had talked about serving his country, doing his duty. But you saw it in his eyes every time he said he had a duty to protect his country, what he meant was he had a duty to protect you. That’s when you realized you loved him. 

It had taken you another year for the two of you to work up the courage to admit you had feelings for each other, tiptoeing around it. You thought of all the time you’d wasted, all the moments you could have had together had you admitted it earlier…

No , you told yourself. What we have is perfect. I wouldn’t change that for the world. And he’s going to be fine. And when he returns, safe, he’ll be mine for the rest of our lives together. You felt determined in that, hoping that somehow you could bend fate to your will if you loved Bucky strongly enough. If you believed in him enough. If you begged fate, the gods, whoever. 

The two of you made it to the edge of the train tracks, right beside his assigned car. Bucky set his luggage down to be loaded onto the baggage car, tucking the matching number ticket into his jacket pocket. 

Bucky pulled you along again, trying to find a place out of the way that wasn’t too crowded. When he did, he turned to you, grabbing your other hand. 

You looked up into his face, and what you found nearly broke you. You had both avoided talking about this, about him leaving. You spoke of the future like it was a fact. “When I get back,” Bucky had said. “When this is over,” you had said. 

Neither of you had the strength to acknowledge this part of it. The part where he had to leave first in order to come back. 

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, hating to see you sad. 

“I’m fine,” you lied, glancing down at his shoes. His perfectly shined, Army issued shoes. You sucked in a breath. 

Bucky pulled you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his middle, not caring that his hands in your hair would mess up the pins you’d worked so long to place perfectly this morning. You breathed in his scent, taking solace in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you. This was home, this was where you were meant to be. 

You were made for Bucky. You were two pieces of a puzzle. He would come back to you, he had to. 

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Bucky spoke. You could feel his chest moving as he did. You stayed put, holding him tight and watching the other soldiers and their loved ones on the street. “You’ll wait for me, right?” 

You nodded. Of course you would. You’d wait for him forever. And if he didn’t come home…you shut that line of thinking down. 

“I’m gunna buy you a ring. Take you to the courthouse, make an honest woman out of ya. Make you mine, doll. Mrs. Barnes. I…” Bucky hesitated for a moment. You waited, loving to hear the determination in his voice, like he truly believed he would come back to you. “I think we were supposed to find this. What we have. It’s special. And I’d be an idiot not to make it home to that. To you.”

You felt the tears rolling down your face, and hoped your makeup wouldn’t stain his jacket. 

“You were always meant to be mine, in this life and the next.”

And you believed him. How could you not, when he said it so earnestly, with such fierce determination? 

Bucky pulled back from you some and you looked up again. Then his hands were on your face, cradling you like you were precious. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. 

“I’ll write to you,” Bucky said. You nodded, too afraid that if you opened your mouth, you would sob. You knew he would write, and you would read those letters every single night. You knew his words would bring you as much comfort as you could have, despite knowing the treacherous possibilities of war overseas. 

Bucky’s forehead touched yours, and he closed his eyes. For a moment you were reminded how young he was, barely just a man. “I love you,” he whispered. It was the first time you'd ever heard him say it aloud. Your heart ached. 

“Aye, you two. A picture for the Times ,” a man said, holding up a camera. You had seen him making his way through the crowd, interviewing folks and taking a few pictures. 

You turned in Bucky’s arms, not quite willing to let go of him yet. You sniffled, hoping that your makeup was at least still in place. “I love you, too, Buck.”

As the camera flashed, Bucky turned to look at you. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

On a crowded street in 1944 

And you werе headed off to fight in the war 

You still would've been mine 

We would have been timeless 

I would've read your love letters every single night 

And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right 

And you would've been fine 

We would have been timeless 

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this 

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine 

We would've been timeless 

Chapter Text

Holdin’ Hands on the Way to a Dance

“Pretty dress,” your sister said, looking up at you like you were a princess who had stepped right out of one of her fairy tale books. You spun around, feeling the child-like whimsy of the twirl in the skirts of your gown. 

Your sister smiled brightly and clapped. 

Your dad cleared his throat and you turned to look at him, standing with your mother. “You look like a beautiful young woman,” he said proudly. 

“Thanks, dad.”

“Oh, baby, you’re just stunning,” your mom smiled, leaning into your father’s embrace. You knew they were supposed to say those things, but it felt nice. And you did feel grown up. This was prom night of your senior year of high school. You could see the look your parents were giving you, the one that  said ‘how did my baby girl grow up so fast?’

And for the first time, you felt it. That realization that you were on the edge of something. The cusp of womanhood. It was 1958, and you were 17 years old. In a month, you would graduate high school. In two, you’d be 18. Officially an adult. A woman. 

And for a moment, you considered what your future might look like. You had a part time job as a secretary at the newspaper. You were hoping to be hired as a full time writer or columnist. Maybe take some classes at the community college. Maybe get married one day…

Your thoughts shifted to the man you were waiting for tonight. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bucky Barnes. The school heartthrob. Ladies man, flirt, captain of the football team. He was the one every girl wanted. And somehow, it was you that he’d asked to prom. 

You hadn’t realized he noticed you. You spent most of your time in the library or working on the school paper. You didn’t write the sports section, so you rarely made it to games. But Steve was the editor, and Steve was Bucky’s best friend. Which meant occasionally, Bucky hung around the places Steve was. Places you often were, as well. 

And Bucky hadn’t flirted with you. You thought that was a clear sign he wasn’t interested at all. Once, you’d caught him and Steve talking quietly in the corner, stealing glances your way. You tried to ignore it, no patience for gossip. 

Steve tried to put feelers out for Bucky, unbeknownst to you. 

“Hey, so uh, Buck–uh Bucky Barnes–he’s got a big game tonight. Against East High. He wanted to know if you’d come to the game?” Steve asked.

You didn’t even spare a glance up, marking your edits in red. “No thanks, Steve. I’m not one for football games.”

“Oh, right. Okay then.”

You didn’t see Steve shaking his head to Bucky, who was standing just outside the room. You didn’t see the disappointment on his face. 

But he hadn’t given up. 

“Hey, a few of us are going by the ice cream parlor later. Would you want to come?” Steve asked. 

“Sure, Steve. Sounds like fun,” you’d smiled, writing it down in your planner. You’d stop for a few minutes on the way home from school. 

When you got there, you’d searched the room for everyone, spotting Steve at a booth in the corner. With Bucky. Odd , you thought. Wonder where everyone else is.

“Hey, sit, please!” Steve said, getting up to offer you his side. You sat, thanking him. Steve awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and you glanced between him and Bucky. They were communicating with their eyes. You narrowed yours. 

“Is there a problem?” you asked. 

“Oh no, no problem. Uh, look, sorry, but I have to go pick up, uh, my dog from Mr. Jones’ house. I’ll catch you two tomorrow!” Steve stuttered out, bolting from the diner. 

You looked vaguely alarmed, wondering what on earth had gotten into Steve. You looked over at Bucky, the question on your tongue. But it died in your mouth. Bucky looked sheepish. 

“What’s going on? Is this some kind of prank?” you started to get up from your seat, but Bucky reached across, trying to stop you. 

“No, please. Don’t leave. It’s not a prank. Look, I’m sorry, I asked Steve to get you here…”

You sat back down, taking in Bucky’s earnest look. Why, you thought. You stayed quiet, forcing Bucky to speak. 

He played with a straw nervously. “I wanted to ask you to prom.”

Of all the things you’d been expecting him to say, that was most definitely not one of them. 

“What?” 

“Prom. It’s in 5 weeks, I know it’s kind of early to ask but I…I wanted to make sure no one else asked you first.” Bucky was looking down at the straw in his hands. When you didn’t say anything, he looked up at you through his lashes. Your heart caught in your throat. 

“You ignore me,” you said.

“What, no, I–” you cut Bucky off with your hand. 

“You flirt with all the girls at school. Charm them, take them out. But you ignore me. You’ve never been rude, but never…Why would I go to prom with you when you’ve never shown any indication that you have an interest in going to prom with me ?”

“You aren’t like the other girls. I didn’t want to treat you like you were just one of them. I’ve liked you since freshman year, in math class. When you helped me with inequalities, you would only use a pen. Like you knew you were gunna get it right… I never said anything. I didn’t think you’d go for a guy like me. The flirting it…it never means anything. But you mean something. To me, I mean.”

Oh. 

“Look, you’re right. You should probably tell me to go kick rocks. But I had to ask. It didn’t feel right to not try. I really like you, and I think we could be good together.”

The waitress chose that moment to walk up to take your orders. 

“What are ya having?” she waited, pen hovering above her notepad. 

Bucky looked at you, expecting you to get up and leave. 

You smiled and caught his eye. “Bucky here was going to buy me a milkshake, I think. Chocolate, please.”

“Got it. Coming right up, then,” the waitress said, walking off. 

The smile Bucky gave you had been blinding.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

There was a knock on your door. Your dad went to answer it and your mom came to help you put on your shoes. 

You could hear your father at the door. “And you’re going to have her home no later than midnight, James.”

“Yes, sir,” you heard Bucky answer. You could hear his nerves and stifled a laugh. 

You finished getting your shoes on and went to the door. Your dad stepped aside and you got your first look at Bucky Barnes in a tuxedo. And boy was that a sight to behold. He’d gotten a fresh haircut and shined his shoes. 

His eyes wide, Bucky said, “Damn.”

Your father coughed, and Bucky snapped out of it. “Oh sorry, I mean, uh,” catching sight of your little sister. “Wow. You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you. You clean up nice yourself,” smirking at his correction. 

Bucky walked you to the driveway where his car was parked. Your parents followed you out. 

“You’re brighter than the sun, and I think I’m caught in your orbit,” Bucky said quietly enough so only you could hear, holding up a box with a matching corsage and boutonniere. 

“Bucky, that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard. I love it,” you smiled, reaching for the boutonniere to pin to his lapel.

You took a step closer to Bucky, reaching up to his jacket. You saw him stand straight, and he seemed to almost hold his breath. But he watched you the whole time, unable to take his eyes off you. 

Bucky took the corsage out of the box, reaching for your arm. 

“Awe, James, aren’t you just the charmer!” your mom practically squealed. 

Your cheeks grew red with embarrassment. But you couldn’t help but notice that Bucky’s did, too. He slipped the corsage onto your wrist, his hands lingering longer than necessary. You felt your blood pulse through your veins like electricity at his touch. 

Emboldened by the feeling, you laced your fingers with his, and absolutely seared into your memory the way his face lit up at your action. Your hand fit perfectly into his. He felt right, like he was meant to find you. Made for you. 

“Alright you two lovebirds, look here for a picture!” your mom said, holding the camera ready. 

You both turned to the camera, smiling at the feelings swirling inside.

“Say cheese!” your mom said, the camera flash going off. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I had to smile when it caught my eye 

There was one of a teenage couple in the driveway 

Holdin' hands on the way to a dance 

And the date on the back said 1958

Chapter Text

In the 1500s Off in a Foreign Land

Princess, 

 

I love you. I praise the fates that be for giving you to me, even if the world will try and keep us apart. My heart searched for yours, and I have found it. I will find it in every lifetime. It is written in my very soul that I am meant to be yours and you, mine.  I have arranged passage for us out of the kingdom. I will wait for you in the gardens, by the fountain at midnight on the night of the full moon. 

 

Eternally Yours, B.

You folded the letter along the well worn creases, holding it to your heart and closing your eyes. He had slipped it to you two weeks ago while you dined in your room, discreetly placing it amongst the pages of your book he had insisted on carrying. He had held your eyes when he handed it back to you, bowing and excusing himself to stand guard by your door, as he did every day until the night shift guards took over. 

Sir Barnes had been one of the Royal Guard, a group of the best knights in your father’s kingdom, for a year now. He rose through the ranks quickly, proving himself time and time again. He was promoted to lead guard after the last incident.

You had been walking through town on the way to the hospital to help Doctor Banner. James was keeping his distance, knowing you liked to look approachable to the townspeople. Unfortunately, the wrong sort of townspeople decided to try something today. You had barely turned the corner into the alley, a shortcut to the hospital, when the man had you against the wall, one hand on your throat and the other pulling at your skirts. 

Within seconds, he was pulled off of you and you got to watch the wrath of the famed Winter Soldier in person. It should have scared you, and James expected as much when he approached. But you weren’t scared of him. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t. 

From there, he followed you everywhere, tasked with protecting you should the need arise again. He sat with you while you read, read aloud to you when your eyes grew tired. He was a skilled chess player, always ensuring you had actual talent on which to hone your skills. He told you stories of the village where he’d grown up, of his assent to knighthood through his position as second in command in a group in the king’s army called the Howling Commandos. He steadied your hand when you needed it, stepping into carriages or walking through gardens. 

And somewhere along the way, you had fallen madly, deeply in love with him. 

In a rather unfortunate turn of recent events, your father informed you that you were to be married to Lord Sark from the neighboring state. 

Anthony was lovely, really. You had many delightful conversations over the years. He was a good friend, often sending you scribbled letters of his latest inventions. But he was much older than you and you felt he was like a brother. Tony told you much the same, but that he’d be unable to convince his father otherwise. He was apologetic, promising to be a good husband to you nonetheless. 

You could still recall the look on James’ face when you had told him the news. The devastation, which turned to determination. 

“I will fix this,” he’d said. 

“How?”

“I will find a way, Princess. Trust me.”

You did. You trusted him with your life. And now you were about to trust him with it forever. The two of you were running away together, leaving behind the life you’d always known. Leaving behind your title, your comfort, and your ever-looming betrothal. Tonight was the night. 

You donned stolen clothes from your handmaid, Natasha. She’d found you a cloak to cover your face and hair. James had already taken a bag of things you’d given him a few days earlier. This was it. You slipped from your room. Sir Barton, the night guard on duty, nodded at you and smiled. 

“M’lady. May fate bring you luck,” he whispered.

You nodded at him, then slipped down the hallway without a sound. The corridors were quiet at this time of night. Your trip down to the garden was easy. Something in the back of your mind spiked with worry that it had been too easy. 

James slipped out of the shadows as you got close. He was dressed in casual clothes, not the armor you normally saw him in. The moonlight shone in his eyes and you breathed relief as you put your hand in his outstretched one. 

“Princess,” he breathed. 

You corrected him with your given name. “I am a princess no longer. I am only yours.”

James bent his head and pressed a kiss to your lips. You felt blinded by the fire in your veins, like two souls meeting together in that kiss. James pulled back, suddenly alert. You listened carefully, finally hearing what he had heard. The sound of guards moving. 

“We must go,” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you along in the shadows of the castle walls. 

Your mind raced, fear spiking through you. What would happen if you were caught leaving? Your father would surely not be happy, but nothing would truly change. You’d be shipped off to be married soon enough anyway. But James…your heart raced. James would likely be put to death. 

The two of you made your way through the castle defenses, hiding from groups of guards and slipping past the defenses. There was one last door to go through. You thought you heard someone behind you, but when you looked back, there was nothing. 

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding once you went through the last door. You were outside the castle walls. You were free. 

A shout. “Intruders! Sound the alarm!”

“Run!” James shouted, withdrawing his sword and pulling you along with him between the cottages and houses, heading for the treeline. The guards had spotted you, thinking you thieves trying to break in rather than leaving. Your heart raced and you ran, trying to keep up. James kept one hand his sword and the other tightly in your grasp. 

You were stopped short, running into the back of James. “Run, go back,” James spoke quietly to you. 

“I will not leave you,” you whispered back. 

A guard had blocked your path. You recognized him, though you didn’t know his name. James had pointed him out before, a man whom he had bested time and time again. 

And it seemed the man had now realized his revenge. 

“A traitor to the crown. Sir Barnes, I will have your head,” the knight spoke. 

“Rumlow,” James grunted. 

You considered the options. There were guards closing in behind you. And the knight would not let you and James pass. They would have his head if they caught him. Maybe the knight, Rumlow, would let you pass. Maybe you could order him to let you pass. You pulled down your cloak, showing your face. 

“Knight, let us pass. You are interfering with the business of the king.”

Rumlow smiled, but it was a sickly kind of smile. “Ah, Princess. Whatever are you doing outside of the castle?” He looked over at James, then at your intertwined hands. “Ah, I see. You always wanted what you shouldn’t have, Barnes. But I think it will end tonight. I will kill you, and rescue our beautiful princess from your traitorous hands, earn some favor with the king.”

“And you think you will get away with the lie?” you scoffed. 

“Of course. You wouldn’t want the king to think you were going willingly, would you?”

“You would have to kill me first, Rumlow. And we both know you’ve never won a duel against me,” James all but growled. 

Rumlow took a defensive stance. “Yes, but you’ve never had to protect HER!” He leapt forward, and to your shock he was swinging his sword at you , not James. Wide eyed, you stumbled back as James stepped in front of you to protect you. 

Your eyes tried to keep up, the sword blows going faster than you could track. You watched as each man fought, James determined to defend you. He had taken a vow to protect you with his life…

Rumlow made a move to get around James, feigning one way then leaping the other. Towards you. You backed into a wall, breath leaving you as you made impact. James countered, but you heard him grunt out in pain, dropping to his knee. You watched in horror at the grin on Rumlow’s face. But James rose quickly, surprising Rumlow, sword moving so quickly that Rumlow didn’t have time to defend himself. 

And with a shove, James pushed his sword through Rumlow’s stomach. He fell to his knees, a shocked look on his face. 

You heard the other guards behind you, gathering around, trying to decipher the scene before them. They recognized you, you knew. They also recognized James and Rumlow. You wondered how you and James would escape now…

James turned around, eyes finding yours. He smiled at you, but it was an odd smile… It is not time to smile, my love. We have to leave, we have to get out.

The thought vanished from your mind when James again dropped to a knee, his hand finding his side. It was then that you realized what you hadn’t noticed in the dark. The blood blooming on his tunic. You rushed forward to your lover.

You pulled James into your lap, holding your cloak to his wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. He was breathing heavily, eyes unfocused. 

“James, my love. Stay with me,” you whispered. 

“My princess…” his trembling hand reached towards your face. You closed your eyes at the gentle touch, pressing your hand onto his, holding him there. 

“You are my sun, the light of my life. And I…” James trailed off, pain flashing on his face as he struggled to breathe. “I will find you in the next.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

In the 1500s, off in a foreign land 

And I was forced to marry another man 

You still would've been mine 

We would have been timeless 

I would've read your love letters every single night 

And run away and left it all behind 

You still would've been mine 

We would've been timeless 

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this 

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine 

We would've been timeless  

Chapter Text

In a Crowded Room

You’d been an Avenger for almost three months. Almost two of those had been spent out on various missions. You and Clint had just gotten back from Kazakhstan that morning after three weeks in the field gathering intel to take down a weapons syndicate. 

There was a party tonight in Avengers Tower. Tony was throwing a shebang for Natasha’s birthday, though Clint informed you that it was not, in fact, her birthday. It wasn’t the usual Stark party. Much more laid back. Avengers and SHIELD only. Which was, frankly, still a shit ton of people. 

You moved your way through the crowd, headed for the bar. You’d been up almost 22 hours at this point, but felt obligated as the newest on the team to at least show face for an hour. 

And for that, I need another drink. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised to find Tony behind the bar. 

“Ah, welcome back, Newbie! What’ll you have?” he asked, already pouring some concoction before you could even answer. Natasha was sitting at the bar, grinning. 

“Have fun with that,” she said, eyes going to the drink Tony was sliding your way. 

You raised the glass to her and said, “Happy not-Birthday.” You grimaced as you tasted the mixture. Whatever, it’ll do. I just want to sleep anyway . 

You slid away from the bar before Tony could rope you into anything else. Your eyes caught Sam’s and he waved you over. 

“Hey, lady. Fancy seeing you here. I thought you were in…” Sam trailed off.

“Some godforsaken small town that didn’t have decent coffee,” you answered. 

“Here, here,” Clint said, materializing at your size. You did not jump, having grown used to Clint’s stealth when he wanted to use it. 

“Rough. We just got back, too. Yesterday. Though, we were somewhere sunny, so. No complaints.”

“We?” you asked. 

“Me and Bucky,” Sam answered. “He’s around here, somewhere.”

“Good luck finding him. There’s about 4 dozen too many people here for his liking,” Clint smirked. 

Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The one Avenger you had yet to meet. Despite it having been three months, the two of you had somehow missed each other. Like purposefully unsynced schedules. He was on a mission when you started, you left before he got back. Then by the time you were back, he was out again. 

You’d seen him on TV and stuff, of course. He was gorgeous. And threatening. Which kind of made him more gorgeous, probably something you should talk to a therapist about honestly. And you certainly didn’t expect to become friends or anything. You’d heard of his aloofness, his distrust of people, and his downright grumpiness (if Sam was to be believed). And honestly, who blames him?

You would be cordial, as you had been with everyone else. But it had gone past that with everyone else so far, anyway. Maybe excluding Banner. But he was more of a recluse than any of them. 

You glanced over at the bar, Thor’s booming laugh echoing your way and drawing your attention. And speak of the devil, he was with Bucky. Who was actually smiling. Cliche though it sounds, you almost felt like time stopped. The room narrowed to only him, and for a second you thought your body might just pull itself over to him. To be in his orbit, to be close to him. Like you were made to be close to him and to stand over here so far away was a crime. You shook your head of the thoughts. 

But damn , you thought. Gorgeous might not be a strong enough word for him. He was wearing dark jeans and a worn henley. His hair was pulled back in a bun. He screamed strength. 

You took a sip of your drink and pulled your eyes away, trying to focus on whatever Sam and Clint were talking about. 

Throughout the night, you found yourself searching the room for Bucky. You’d mingled and so had he, always different groups, different people. Neither of you were intentionally avoiding each other, but neither willing to outright interrupt and introduce themselves. 

You heard him talking to Steve, maybe ten feet away. You glanced around, as subtle as possible, and stole a look, placing him on the mental map you had of the room. Like you were tracking him. Like somehow you were better off knowing how close he was so you could be prepared for…for what exactly?

You thought you heard him pause mid sentence. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up like you were being watched. But by the time you looked, he was back in conversation, talking low to Steve. 

You thought you’d caught him looking at you a few other times as the night went on, but were convinced you must be seeing things. What would he care about you? Well, except maybe wondering about the new Avenger who would be living a few doors down from him. 

You found yourself with Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper, laughing at something said. You were holding your side where you still had bruised ribs. 

“I’m glad you’re having a good night Nat,” Pepper said, touching Nat’s arm lightly. “I’m going to go round up Tony. He has a meeting in the morning and I don’t want to deal with him if he doesn't sleep soon.”

“Good luck,” Natasha said. Turning to you, she asked, “How’s life as a superhero, then?”

You smiled. “Not exactly a superhero, but hey. Can’t complain. Though I could use the super healing right about now.” 

Wanda smiled and held out her hand to you. You looked up at her and she nodded. As soon as your fingers touched, your side felt better. 

“Well, shit. That’s convenient.” You rolled your shoulders around and stretched a little. As you did, you spotted Bucky in the corner of the room, talking to Steve again. He was smiling and looking comfortable. Like he belonged. You felt happy at that. 

“Wanda, are you poking around in people’s thoughts again?” Clint asked, inserting himself into the group. He gave Nat a wet kiss on the cheek. Surprisingly, Nat just smiled. 

“No, Clint. Just helping,” Wanda answered. She smirked over at you. And then she did something that made you always wonder if she was reading your mind. “Steve!”

Steve looked up from where he was, smiling when his eyes found Wanda. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Wanda asked, making her way over to Steve and guiding him to the other side of the room. 

You watched Bucky raise his eyebrow. But without his conversation partner, his eyes scanned the room for a place to fit in. The party was dying down considerably, but it was still reasonably crowded. But there were quite a few of his friends in the circle with you. 

And so, Bucky Barnes made his way toward you. 

You watched as he approached, transfixed by him. Again, the room narrowed until it was just you and him. Until he was standing two feet from you. And somehow, you just knew. That whatever this was, whatever it was going to be between the two of you…it was fate. It was meant to be. You were always going to be…

“Hello.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Which brought me back to the first time I saw you 

Time stood still like somethin' in this old shop 

It was like an age-old classic 

The first time that you saw me 

The story started when you said, "Hello"  

In a crowded room a few short years ago 

And sometimes there's no proof, you just know 

You're always gonna be mine 

We're gonna be…

Chapter Text

Present Day: Part II

The first thought as you woke was that you felt the sun on your face. You stretched as much as you could in Bucky’s arms, trying not to wake him. As you opened your eyes, you blinked a few times, like you were unsure of where you would wake up. Like you weren’t positive which reality was real. 

The memories had flooded into your dreams last night. That’s what they were, what they felt like: memories. The logical side of you wanted to deny it, the impossibility of it. But it just…felt right. 

And maybe the meddlesome old woman who owned the antique shop had done something to you. Maybe you were going a little bit crazy and had imagined the whole thing. 

Or maybe, just maybe, you had gotten a glimpse into the different realities, the other timelines. Like they were visions of your existence across different parallel universes. Realities for all versions of you and every choice you had ever made. Things that have happened to you, but another you. A reality that wasn’t yours, but still was. 

And you couldn’t help but notice that there was one thing unchanged in all of them–Bucky Barnes. 

You felt Bucky stir behind you, pulling you impossibly closer. He hummed, hand moving from its place across your waist to down your thigh, squeezing gently. 

“Happy birthday, babe,” you said, kissing his arm that was under your head. 

“Best present ever,” he whispered, molding himself to you. You sank into him, feeling safe. Maybe you were going crazy, but at least you knew in every reality that Bucky was it for you. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You had made Bucky breakfast while he showered. The two of you were on the couch when you handed Bucky his presents. He smiled at you, knowing that was why you’d been gone yesterday despite you trying to hide it. 

He picked up the box with the pocket watch first, tearing away the paper. His eyes sparkled when he saw it, glancing up at you as he pulled it out of the box. 

“Did you…” he started, and you knew what he was asking. Did you get it engraved?

“No.”

He saw the note underneath, picking it up from the box next and reading it.  

We’re gonna be timeless

He grinned up at you, setting the box aside and pulling you into his lap. He buried his face into your neck, one arm running up your spine and fisting gently into your hair. The other holding you close by the waist. 

You kissed Bucky’s head. “There’s more.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled into your skin. “You’re enough.”

You laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.” You shifted around in his lap, pulling the other present to you. Bucky pressed a kiss to your neck then took the present from your hands, unwrapping it. You felt his smile in your hair and he read the title. 

“It is the east, and you are my sun,” Bucky emphasized, voice gravelly. 

“There’s…inside,” you weren’t even sure what to say. How do you say it? Hey, babe, I found these pictures and then had a complete mental break where I was so convinced that you and I lived these lives that I even dreamt about it. 

Yeah no. Probably not. 

You held your breath as Bucky opened the book. You felt him tense, sucking in a breath underneath you. You turned to look at him. He was staring at the picture, the one of the two lovers on their front porch. 

“You know, I had these dreams last night…” Bucky started. 

There’s no way…

“I think our souls find each other, they connect.” Bucky looked up at you, catching your eyes. “In every timeline.”

You felt your eyes well up, trying to understand. He had dreamt the same thing as you. He had seen it all, just like you. 

“I love you. I’m gunna love you now, then, wherever we find ourselves. Until we’re old and grey, until we have an entire box of pictures like these. Of all our lives, of every existence where I have the honor of being yours.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You're always gonna be mine 

We're gonna be…

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray 

We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made 

And you'll say, "Oh my, we really were timeless"  

We're gonna be timeless, timeless 

You still would've been mine 

We would've been 

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944 

You still would've been mine 

We would've been