[ WWII AU ] a ghost story

[from_the_outside]

It's been almost two years since she's been home, and little by little, the grief has gotten easier to live with.

It hasn't gone away. But she's able to focus on her job, watch movies, chat with friends, sleep most nights. She still dreams about him, but the dreams are tinged with wistful longing and only sometimes does she wake up with tears on her cheeks. She can't have his picture out in this apartment, Kate's apartment, but it's safe in the mountain house, along with his last letter to her, and she has a scan on her phone to look at when the long day is over and she's in bed, the stars from the lamp he'd given her filling her dark room.

Steve has helped, more than she could ever explain, and she hopes she's helped him in return. Aside from a few deeply classified missions here and there, they haven't worked together all that much, but she still sees him almost every day. In the halls, she's undercover as his mild-mannered neighbor, Kate, but in her secure apartment they can talk over anything, everything.

And it works. Every day is a little easier. They lean on each other when they need to, and they spend hours remembering and reminiscing about Bucky, talking shop, chatting about how Steve's fitting into the future. It's nice. She still misses Bucky, an ache that never really goes away, but they can both breathe through it, work through it, live through it.

She's on her way up from the basement laundry machines when she hears a familiar step in the hall, and has to smile to herself – first her own, then Kate's sweeter, more open one. "Hey, neighbor."

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[from_the_outside]

"Together," she agrees, feeling an old, old pang at the word. Together, the way they used to work through things.

[nerves_of_ice]

Something in the set of his shoulders relaxes at her acceptance. Bucky nods to her and moves to stay a little closer at her side.

[from_the_outside]

She shifts closer to him, too, unable to maintain her distance, until her hand brushes his as they walk. The memory of the kiss he gave her the night before is seared into her memory, just like the very first kiss they ever shared was.

"I never thought I'd ever get to do this again," she murmurs. "Go walking in the woods with you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It feels familiar." Just as quiet as her observation had been. He hesitates, unsure, but then reaches for her hand and takes it gently in his.

[from_the_outside]

"I'm glad." Maybe he'll never remember everything, maybe he'll never again be that brightly shining, laughing man who danced with her under the stars and swept her off her feet, but the core of him is still there, she thinks. And something in that core remembers her.

She laces her fingers with his and comes close to walk at his side, close enough she can lean her head on his shoulder a moment.

[nerves_of_ice]

His breath stops in his throat for an instant as she leans so trustingly against him. He's careful to match his steps to hers so he won't jostle her. Bucky glances ahead to where the treeline breaks, opening up into the cleared area by the house, and draws them slowly to a stop.

[from_the_outside]

Their pace, already slow, diminishes even further, and she looks up at him as he guides them to a stop, her steps carrying her just far enough to be able to turn and face him, her fingers still entwined with his.

"What?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong. Just... a moment? Before?"

Bucky glances around and leans back against the nearest tree, and tries to hint that she can lean against him again by a silent tug on her hand.

[from_the_outside]

She goes without argument, and when he leans against the tree she presses close to him, her hair brushing against his cheek while her free hand goes to his side. For a moment, she closes her eyes and breathes him in, the familiar warm scent of him.

[nerves_of_ice]

He rests his left hand at her waist with care to avoid any chance that she might feel either confined or distressed by the metal, and stays quiet. Bucky breathes, slow and deep, absorbing the sound of birds, the green scents of the world around them, and the soft feel of her.

[from_the_outside]

He feels different against her, larger and harder and with the added bulk of his metal arm, but she doesn't care. She was never going to get to lean on him like this ever again, or even see him again.

"I missed this, too," she murmurs, finally.

[nerves_of_ice]

“I just thought it would be nice.” For her. For him. A moment stolen out of the cruel madness of the world.

[from_the_outside]

"It is nice. It's really nice."

She opens her eyes and looks up at him. "I just want to hold onto you and never let go."

[nerves_of_ice]

His eyes are dark when they meet hers.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long."

[from_the_outside]

She reaches up to gently smooth back the locks of his long hair that fall into his face as he looks at her. "I'm just glad to have you back."

[nerves_of_ice]

He holds still under her touch, just watching her. He doesn't know why she would be, not with how he is now, but he doesn't see any signs that she's only saying it to try to make him feel better.

[from_the_outside]

He didn't ask her to marry him before he fell, but it doesn't matter: she'd been as committed to him as if he had, even if she'd never really thought about marriage, and she's as locked in now as she was then. If they had gotten married, it would have been 'til death,' right? And neither of them died. Not really.

Her touch is gentle at his temple, in his hair. "Sweetheart," she murmurs, remembering.

[nerves_of_ice]

He makes a small inquisitive sound in response and waits to see if she'll elaborate.

[from_the_outside]

Things really are different; how different, she's not sure she'll know for a long while yet, but it's clear they are, just from the simple fact that they're in each other's arms but not tangled up in each other so close it's impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Her throat works as she looks up at him. "I want to kiss you again," she murmurs. "Is that okay?"

For her to want it? For her to do it? Even she's not sure exactly what she's asking.

[nerves_of_ice]

Is he supposed to say no? He's not sure. Bucky nods anyway, affirming, and bends his head a little to encourage her.

[from_the_outside]

She leans up, lashes lowering as her glance falls to his mouth, but pauses a breath away, ruthlessly pulling herself back, desperate to keep from hurting him. "Would you be able to tell me 'no'?"

Weapons don't want things. They'd done their best to shock want and need out of him, and she has no idea if he even can want her anymore, the way he used to.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I don't know," he admits, barely audible. "But I--"

He swallows, trying to find the right words, to not fuck this up, to not cause her any more pain.

"--I know what it feels like to not want something. And that isn't - I'm not - you're not pushing me into anything," he settles on. "I can't-- I can't say, I can't ask, not without, like you saw, but -- "

[from_the_outside]

"Good enough," she murmurs, and pushes up the rest of the way, pressing her lips sweetly to his. Her whole body aches with it, with pure longing, though she tries to keep herself from pushing too hard.

[nerves_of_ice]

His right hand tightens a little on hers as she kisses him, and as he kisses her back his left arm wraps carefully around her waist, drawing her closer against him.

[from_the_outside]

She makes a small sound, sore and wanting, and lets go of his hand to wind her arms around his neck and press herself fully against him, chest to chest and belly to belly, her heart beating wildly like a bird trapped against her ribs.