This Town Is a Song About You
Captain America; Steve/Bucky, Rikki Barnes; pg; 12,400 words
But sometimes, when his bed feels too big and too empty, Steve wishes for someone. (If that someone happens to be named Bucky Barnes, well, at least he's consistent.)

The Steve/Bucky Gilmore Girls AU nobody but me was asking for, with highly fictionalized Port Jefferson filling in for Stars Hollow. Title from Dar Williams. Thanks to Nichole & Snacky for looking it over.

Or read it at AO3.

~*~

This Town Is a Song About You

1. Fall

Steve doesn't think much about it when Rikki comes home on the first day of school, breathless and red-cheeked from running up the driveway in the late summer heat, and says, "Miss Minnie says someone bought Lucky's."

Miss Minnie is the elementary school bus driver, and a notorious gossip in a town full of notorious gossips.

"Oh yeah?" Steve says absently, helping Rikki out of her backpack, even though she's old enough now that she bats his hands away. He misses the days when she'd let him help, but he was the same as a kid, always needed to do everything for himself. It'd driven his ma and Bucky crazy sometimes. And he didn't have nearly as many heavy textbooks as Rikki does. He's afraid sometimes that she's going to end up with scoliosis like he'd had, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"She says he's a handsome devil and he's going to reopen it as a diner."

Lucky's had been a local bar and grill that hadn't survived the recession. Steve and Rikki have only lived in town for a couple of years, so he doesn't remember it ever being open, but the place has a ramshackle look that irritates several of the town's leading citizens, who feel it doesn't fit in with the quaint seaside tone of the place. They'd given up hope on anyone local buying it, though, so it must be an out-of-towner. Steve hasn't lived there long enough to automatically be suspicious of newcomers, though. At least, not for the same reasons everyone is. And the new neighbors turned out to be HYDRA that one time, in addition to painting their house a vile green that flouted the Homeowners' Association rules, so he thinks he's justified.

"That's nice," Steve says. "How was your first day of fourth grade?"

The news about the diner is swept away by Rikki's excited chatter about her new teacher and all the books she plans to read this year. Then she asks about the book he's writing, and he doesn't think about it again until a couple of weeks later, when he walks past the newly spruced up Lucky's, which now has a large bow window in front and has been painted a warm, buttery yellow (in accordance with town regulations) on the outside. A group of men are carrying kitchen appliances into the place, under the gimlet eye of Bob Rivera, the town supervisor, who likes to supervise every detail.

"Coming to the town meeting tonight, Steve?" he asks.

Steve grins. "Wouldn't miss it, Bob." Town meetings provide excellent fodder for the webcomic he occasionally updates, though most of his drawing and writing these days goes to picture books. He'd drawn the first one for Rikki, back when he was her foster father, to help her understand what had happened to her family, and why he'd wanted to be her new dad. One of Sam's therapist friends had looked it over and said it would probably help other kids, too, and then Pepper had put him in contact with a publisher, and suddenly he had a whole new career. It's not anything he ever expected--even back when he'd worked as a sign painter in the WPA, he never thought he'd actually make a real career with art--but it lets him stay home with Rikki and it also gives him something to do between alien invasions, now that SHIELD is gone. If most of his warmup exercises still involve drawing pictures of Bucky, well, no one else needs to know that.

The meeting that night revolves around whether or not the blinking red neon sign above Lucky's is considered historical (they all surreptitiously glance at Steve when Mrs. Overton, the town historian, says it was put up in 1939), and therefore protected by the town's bylaws, or whether it has to come down because it's an eyesore and not in keeping with the town's preferred tone.

"I like it," Rikki announces when Bob opens the floor to the townspeople to speak.

"That's nice," Bob says, not unkindly, "but you're not old enough to vote."

"Hmph." Rikki sits back down in her seat with her arms folded across her chest, her chin lifted defiantly and her mouth pressed into a tight line. She's got dark red hair instead of chestnut brown, and a heavy spray of freckles across her nose, but sometimes she reminds Steve so strongly of the great-grandmother she's named for, and the great-uncle who is out there somewhere in the world, trying to make himself a person again, that he has to pinch himself. There have been several times over the past few years when, if he hadn't had Rikki to look after, he'd have gone back on that endless road trip to find Bucky, following along behind if Bucky didn't let Steve walk beside him, no matter what he'd promised the last time they saw each other, when Bucky had practically begged to be left to go it alone. The one or two postcards a year he sends to Steve at Stark Tower let Steve know he's alive, and Steve tells himself over and over that that has to be enough.

To distract himself, he leans in and whispers, "Maybe the next book should be about voting?"

"Yeah," she says. "Write a book where all the kids get to vote."

He's storyboarding it out in his head, so Rikki's nudge to his ribs when Bob calls for the vote takes him by surprise. He votes to keep the sign--it reminds him of Times Square back when he was young--but he's in the minority. Apparently it's an eyesore and will have to be taken down.

"Where's the new owner? Doesn't he get a say?" Steve asks.

"He had a prior engagement," Bob says with a miffed little sniff.

"I wouldn't mind engaging with him," Miss Bonnie says, and Steve bites back a smile.

"Three husbands weren't enough?" he murmurs, and she gives him a small, sly grin.

"I'm just getting started, honey. You're welcome to be number four."

"That's all right, Bonnie. You're a little too much for me to handle."

She lets out a husky laugh. "You got that right."

"And anyway, if he's gonna marry one of us, it's gonna be me," Miss Minnie says. Minnie and Bonnie are twins, and though they were born a couple of decades after Steve went into the ice, they always remind him of the kind of dames Rosalind Russell or Claudette Colbert played--sharp as a knife and twice as bright as everyone else around them.

Laughing helplessly, Steve says, "There's no way I could choose, ladies, and bigamy is still against the law. It's my loss." Rikki makes a gagging sound and he tugs her ponytail gently. "None of that, young lady."

She's said repeatedly that she doesn't need a mother (or another father, but Steve doesn't like thinking about that conversation, though he'd been more embarrassed about it than Rikki had, since she already knew kids who had two dads or two moms), but sometimes he wishes there were someone like that in his life. Not enough to let Natasha do more matchmaking, though, because he also doesn't really want to date, and not just because he's never been very good at it. He doesn't want to get attached--he's never been good at casual and he doesn't think that's changed now--and he doesn't want Rikki to get attached, and then have something go wrong, the way these things seem to do for him. She's--they've both--lost so much. He doesn't want to put either of them through that again. But sometimes, when his bed feels too big and too empty, and Rikki's at a sleepover with her best friend, he wishes for someone. (If that someone happens to be named Bucky Barnes, well, at least he's consistent.)

"Ice cream?" she asks, pouting up at him, and since he wants to change the subject and escape the Moore sisters, he answers, "Yes, please," and takes her off to the ice cream parlor for banana splits.

His editor is excited about the new book idea, though she makes a case for a broader story about how democracy works, and Steve and Rikki end up in a YouTube spiral after Googling Schoolhouse Rock after she mentions "I'm Just a Bill," and neither of them is familiar with it.

He finds the DVDs on Amazon, and for the next couple of weeks, he and Rikki both can't stop singing the various songs. He's humming the adverb song the day of the town apple festival, and by the time they're done apple picking, he's got the rest of the kids singing along with him, which makes the bus ride back noisy enough to make even the most patient of adults wince.

After apple picking, there's a promenade through town and then an apple pie eating contest, in which Steve is no longer allowed to participate after having won three years in a row.

"Let's go have lunch at Lucky's instead," she says, heading across the town square without looking both ways. There's no traffic today--the streets are closed down for the promenade--but it still makes Steve's heart leap in his chest. "It's the grand opening."

Steve looks at the red, white, and blue bunting that proclaims "Grand Opening!" hanging from the front of the building and says, "I see that."

A bell rings over the door when Rikki pushes it open, and most of the tables and booths are already full, because everyone wants to be able to say they ate there the day it opened. One of the waiters, a high school kid named Stacy, who occasionally babysits for Rikki, points them at a booth near the back but Rikki says, "I wanna sit at the counter."

"Be my guest," Stacy says. She puts two menus on the counter while Rikki hops up onto one of the stools.

There's a guy standing behind the counter with his back to them, fiddling with the coffee machine. He looks like he's close to Steve's height and he has a nice pair of shoulders. He's wearing a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt that looks like it might be too warm to wear in a kitchen, but what does Steve know? The first half of his life he was always too cold and now he's usually too hot. The guy's jeans are a lighter blue and they fit really well. Steve tries not to stare at his ass, but he thinks Miss Minnie wasn't wrong when she called him a handsome devil, though he's also wearing a baseball cap backwards, which is one of the things about the future Steve just can't get behind.

He turns then and asks, "What can I get you folks?" and Steve thinks his heart might literally stop for a second.

"Bucky?"

Bucky's gaze jerks up from his notepad and his eyes widen. "Steve?" And then he looks at Rikki and his forehead furrows in confusion. "Becca?"

"Rikki," she says, holding out a hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. I think you're my great-uncle but I'm not calling you Uncle Bucky because that sounds stupid. I'm nine."

Steve laughs, because it's either laugh or cry at this point, and he feels like he's done enough crying for all of them. "Remind you of anyone?"

"She's the spitting image of Becca," Bucky says, and he laughs too, though Steve can see the sheen of tears in his eyes. He holds out a hand. "Nice to meet you too, Rikki. You're a lot like your great-grandma."

"That's what Daddy says, too." Bucky gives Steve a surprised look when she calls him 'daddy,' but she doesn't seem to notice. She gives them both a winsome smile. "Can I have blueberry pancakes and bacon?"

"You can have whatever you want, sweetheart," Bucky says. "On the house." Steve opens his mouth, but Bucky anticipates him. "Family discount." He grins at Steve and Steve's stomach flips over, the way it always did when Bucky looked at him like that. "You can pay. I remember how much you can eat."

Steve laughs again, though it's a little watery this time, and says, "Then I'll have pancakes, too, and a side of bacon, and some hash browns, to start."

"Coming right up." Bucky disappears into the kitchen, the doors swinging behind him, and Steve turns to Rikki, who's swinging her feet and humming the adverb song to herself.

"That just happened, right?" he asks her.

"Yeah. It really did." She reaches out and he thinks she's going to pinch him--it wouldn't be the first time--but she lays her hand on top of his and squeezes. "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that. It's not every day you meet a long-lost relative."

She shrugs. "I never knew him. You did." She gives him a small smile. "I think my mom looked like him a little."

"Yeah," Steve says, remembering the pictures of her in Rikki's bedroom. "She did."

Even with the whole town watching, Steve can't keep himself from gazing at Bucky whenever he comes out of the kitchen to top up someone's coffee or take orders at the counter. He's charming and funny, though he doesn't laugh as readily as the Bucky Steve remembers from before the war, but he also doesn't look anything like the confused, dead-eyed version who asked Steve to let him go. Steve's dying to know what changed, and how he wound up here, and he really hopes Bucky's willing to tell him.

They linger over their pancakes as long as they can, and Steve drinks three cups of coffee and eats two pieces of apple pie before Bucky comes back with their check and says, "Listen, why don't you come back just before closing and we can catch up. I'm staying open until eleven tonight because of the festival."

"That's past Rikki's bedtime," Steve says automatically, even though it's a Saturday night.

"But Dad--"

Bucky raises an eyebrow and gives him a sly half-grin. "I think she can stay up late just this once, don't you?"

"I do," she says immediately.

Steve laughs. "Yeah, okay. We'll see you then."

Rikki takes his hand and leads him home, and he's pretty sure he does things the rest of the afternoon and evening, but afterwards he couldn't tell you what they were.

There are still a few townsfolk lingering in the diner when Steve and Rikki return, even though Stacy and the other waitstaff are gone and Bucky's clearly getting ready to close.

Finally, old Mrs. Kosciuszko leaves, after patting Bucky on the cheek and thanking him for the best burger she'd had since the old diner closed. He locks the door behind her and flips the open sign to closed.

"Well," he says, with a big sigh of relief, "that was a pretty good first day." He moves behind the counter. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Rikki says.

"Not until you're thirteen," Steve says. He's still all a-tizzy about Bucky's appearance, but he hasn't completely lost the plot, and this has been an ongoing argument since she was seven. "I'll have coffee, though, and some milk for Miss Rikki."

She pouts until she sees the glass of chocolate milk Bucky sets down in front of her, along with a piece of cherry pie. Steve gets another piece of apple, and Bucky waves him off when he asks why Bucky doesn't have his own piece, but Steve's wise to his tricks. "Because I'm not sharing with you, mister."

"Uh huh," Bucky says, his fork slicing into the crimped, wide end of the crust while Steve naturally starts at the point.

It's so familiar and so strange at the same time, and Steve has to close his eyes, and take a deep breath. Rikki kicks his ankle, a quick, sharp pain, reminding him that he's awake and this is real. He opens his eyes and he grins at her.

"So," he says, turning to Bucky. "How'd you end up here?"

Bucky shrugs a shoulder and grimaces. "I wandered for a while after the last time you saw me, and washed up at a truck stop outside of Little Rock. They let me bus tables off the books, no questions asked, so I stayed for a few months, got my head together. Your friend the Black Widow found me, so I moved on."

"I didn't--" Steve starts, but Bucky holds up a hand.

"I know that now. But I didn't know then that she wasn't there for you, or SHIELD, or whoever." He takes another bite of Steve's pie and then sets his fork on the plate, tines down, and leans back in his chair. "Luckily, being a bus boy is a marketable skill, and also a lot easier than killing people." Steve flinches but Bucky doesn't appear to notice. "So I worked my way around the country, clearing off tables and pocketing my share of tips. By that point, I didn't even need to lie about my experience. Couldn't really put my two years waiting tables at Delmonico's on the resume," he tells Rikki. "Used to have dress sharp to be a waiter, and I was good at it."

"He made a lot in tips," Steve adds, nodding.

Bucky gives him a quick, pleased grin. "Anyway, one night outside Flagstaff, the night shift cook didn't show. I could remember how to make scrambled eggs by then, and toast and bacon, so I got bumped up the ladder. I was always a quick learner, and it's not like there were life or death consequences if someone's burger was too well-done, so I didn't even have to worry about the chair or the tank."

Steve reaches out and touches Bucky's wrist. Bucky covers Steve's fingers with his briefly, and continues telling his story.

"I was on the grill about six months when Natasha comes in and sits at the counter. Before I could decide whether to sneak out the back or try to kill her, she orders the Reuben on rye and tells me she's not there to take me out, or report back to anyone. She just wanted to make sure I wasn't killing anyone or thinking of killing anyone, but especially not you or her or myself."

"Buck--"

"So I say, I just want to flip burgers and be left in peace, though if any of those Hydra assholes come after me, they're gonna get more than food poisoning."

Steve huffs out a laugh in unison with Rikki, who looks enthralled, the last of her pie forgotten. "He said 'asshole,'" she says, looking at Steve with her eyes round with glee. "That's fifty cents for the swear jar."

Bucky snorts but reaches into his pocket and sets a dollar on the table, which Rikki takes with great solemnity. Steve doesn't want to interrupt his story so he lets the fact that she also said it pass.

"She came back a few days later with a set of papers, so I could be legal if I wanted, at the next job. I learned a lot there, enough to get a better paying job in a nicer joint in Santa Fe. About nine months ago, the building got bought and the rent went up, and the owner couldn't afford to pay it. So I was out of a job. I picked up work here and there, and then Natasha suggested I take a look at this place, and here I am. From bus boy to fry cook to diner owner." He gives Steve a rueful half-grin. "Not exactly where either of us expected to wind up, huh."

"Not bad for a jerk from Brooklyn, though," Steve says. He doesn't ask where Bucky got the money to buy the place. He has a pretty good idea, based on Natasha's involvement. "There's worse things than slinging hash for a living."

Bucky's mouth tightens just a little and Steve wants to kick himself, but all Bucky says is, "Don't I know it, brother."

"Your pancakes are better than Al's," Rikki says, defusing the moment. "Aunt Natasha doesn't like Al's pancakes at all."

"Aunt Natasha has very high standards," Steve says. Bucky mouths Aunt Natasha and Steve grins. "She's also very particular about the things a young girl should know."

"I can only imagine." Bucky's voice is desert-dry.

Steve wants to ask a million questions, but he doesn't want to pry. Still, there are a couple of things he can't help wondering. "Do you have somewhere to live? Because we have a couple of spare bedrooms. The house is huge."

"There's an apartment upstairs," Bucky says, "but thanks. If I get tired of smelling like grease all the time, I may take you up on that."

"Oh," Steve says. "That's great."

"Now tell me how you ended up with Rikki here. I knew this is where you were living, but nobody mentioned," he waves a hand at Rikki, "her."

"I never could resist a Barnes in trouble," Steve says, with a rueful half-shrug and a tip of his fork in Bucky's direction. "I still do appearances at hospitals and stuff." Bucky nods. "I met Miss Rikki at a group home in Williamsburg and I recognized her right away. I was stunned by how much she resembled Becca." He reaches out and takes her hand. She rolls her eyes but lets him. "She'd lost her mom and her grandmother in a car accident, and there wasn't anyone else left, so I applied to foster her, and once we knew we got along, we made it official."

"You should read the book," Rikki says. "It tells the story way better."

"There's a book?"

"Yeah." Steve ducks his head and rubs his free hand over the nape of his neck. "I, uh, write children's books now."

"With pictures?"

"Yeah, right at your reading level," Steve answers automatically and then bites his lip. "I mean, um--"

But Bucky waves his apology off with a laugh and a fond look. "I think it's great you're finally getting to do art."

"It's not exactly museum-level stuff."

"It's better," Rikki puts in. "Everything looks like something. Not like those weird paintings where people have three eyes and two noses."

"She's not a fan of Picasso," Steve says.

"Yeah, me neither," Bucky answers, and they high five each other. It's a little surreal. "Does he still get all nuts over bowls of fruit and girls in tutus?" He leans in conspiratorially. "He once kept me at the Met for five hours and we didn't even stop to eat."

"Couldn't afford to eat," Steve says mildly. "I don't remember you complaining at the time."

"Because it was twenty degrees out and snowing, and the museum was heated way better than our apartment." Bucky gives him a fond look. "I would have spent a hundred hours there if it kept you from getting pneumonia again."

Rikki opens her mouth to say something and then yawns widely.

"Okay," Steve says, glancing at his watch, "I think it's time for us to head home."

Bucky glances around the diner. "Yeah, I've gotta clean up and get ready for tomorrow. We'll be open at six."

"We'll be here," Rikki says. "Probably not at six though." She frowns up at Steve. "Well, maybe him. He's a freakish morning person."

"Yeah," Bucky says with a delighted laugh, "I remember." He ruffles her hair and bends down to give her a hug.

Steve tries not to hope that he'll get a hug, too, but he does, Bucky's arms warm and strong around him, and the dear, familiar smell of his skin beneath the scent of grease clinging to him. "We'll be here," Steve repeats.

"Great. Have a good night."

"You, too."

Steve's head is in the clouds on the walk home, and he absently hums in the pauses in Rikki's chatter about what they're going to have for breakfast, and how good the pie was, and how Miss Minnie was right when she called him a handsome devil, and it's only when she mentions coffee that he tunes back in, just before she cajoles him into promising to let her have some in the morning.

She laughs when he says no--"It was worth a shot. I've never seen you so distracted."--and gives him a goodnight hug and kiss when they get home. She runs up the stairs to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and Steve thinks he's going to sleep, too. He suddenly feels drained and heavy, like the earth's gravity has suddenly increased.

He follows Rikki up the stairs and after he tucks her in (she says she's too old for that, but she doesn't tell him to stop, so he'll do it as long as she lets him), he gets himself ready for bed too. Then he pulls out his sketchbook and draws Bucky not as he was in the 40s, and not as he was on the helicarrier, but the way he looked tonight--hair tied up under a ball cap, face covered in dark scruff, but smiling, laughing, his eyes bright and clear and present in the moment. There's a mobility to his mouth that Steve's never quite been able to capture, and he doesn't capture it now either, but it's a pretty good effort for a quick sketch. He'll color it in the morning.

But after he's turned the lights out, he finds he can't sleep. He can't help thinking about how Bucky's sleeping a few blocks away, just like he did when they were growing up. Each time he starts to doze, he wakes himself up again, thinking of things he wants share with Bucky. He picks up his phone off the night table, and then realizes he doesn't have Bucky's number. And even if he did, he doesn't know if Bucky's awake--he must have to get up really early to open the diner at six--or even interested.

He puts his phone down, chastising himself for expecting too much too quickly, and it buzzes. Hey it's me, the text says. It's from an unknown number but it's not Natasha--no smiley face. You awake?

Yeah, Steve texts back. I was just thinking about you. He hits send and refuses to feel embarrassed, even though his cheeks heat.

Yeah? Bucky answers. Me too. Then, I had fun tonight.

So did I.

See you in the morning? Bucky asks.

Steve grins down at his phone and types, Bright and early. Have the coffee on.

Freak, Bucky replies. Looking forward to it.

Steve puts the phone down and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

*

2. Winter

Halloween follows quickly on the heels of the apple festival, and there are pumpkins to carve and costumes to make, and sick kids to visit at Mather and Good Samaritan, with Rikki at his side dressed like the Black Widow.

They become regulars at the diner, so much so that Miss Minnie even lets Rikki off the bus there sometimes instead of at home, when she can see Steve in his usual spot in the corner booth, pencils and paper spread out in front of him as he draws, or typing with surprising speed on his laptop, for all that he still isn't much of a touch-typist. Sometimes he shows up right after the school bus picks Rikki up, and he doesn't leave until it drops her off again. Bucky's always there to fill up his coffee cup and shove some kind of breakfast and lunch under his nose, usually sneaking in the leafy greens Steve can't be bothered to order himself, or some kind of vegetable anyway.

"You're breaking my heart here, Rogers," Bucky says one afternoon when Steve's in the zone on a drawing and hasn't touched the bowl of soup Bucky put in front of him earlier. "That soup is a masterpiece of tomato-y goodness, and you've ignored it for the last half hour. At least eat a grilled cheese." And he sets a plate with a steaming hot grilled cheese sandwich on it on the table.

Steve looks up in surprise, and realizes his stomach's been rumbling while he's been lost in making sure the voting booths look realistic. "Oh, yeah," he says. "Thanks, Buck." He takes a bite and burns the roof of his mouth, but he still gives Bucky a wide, cheesy smile. "It's delicious."

"The soup, Steve. Eat the soup."

Steve gives him a quick salute and trades his pencil in for a spoon.

The soup is excellent, and when Steve's done with it, he picks up his pencil again. Instead of going back to the voting booths of Tiny Town, though, he draws Bucky the way he'd looked in the summer of 1927, all dirty knees and wiseacre grins, when they'd raided Mrs. DiAngelo's garden for squash and tomatoes. Steve's mother had marched them right back over there when she'd found them in the kitchen, trying to make tomato sauce, and Mrs. DiAngelo spent the rest of the afternoon teaching them how it was made. Not that Steve remembers the recipe, but his mother had enjoyed making it when there were fresh tomatoes to be had, and they'd eaten it with gusto.

When the Halloween decorations come down, the Thanksgiving decorations go up, and Steve and Rikki add their handprint turkeys to the ones Bucky got from the kindergarten classes at the elementary school.

"Do you want to go into the city for Thanksgiving again this year?" Steve asks Rikki as the holiday approaches. She hesitates, which is unlike her--she loves Tony and Pepper and Jarvis and the bots, and usually the rest of the team shows up, too--so he says, "I was thinking of asking Bucky if he wants to come with us."

"Yeah," she says. "Let's ask Bucky to come too."

The next morning, Steve sits at the counter instead of in his usual booth, and leans on his elbows as he sips his coffee. The caffeine doesn't do anything for him anymore, but he still loves the smell and the taste of it, hot enough to blister, poured over two packets of sugar (so he doesn't have to wait for it to melt).

"You're not open on Thanksgiving, are you?" he asks the next time Bucky stops by to top him off.

"Nah. The Seaside does a brunch and then a dinner, so I'm taking the day off."

"Good," Steve says, leaning back and smiling. "You should come have Thanksgiving with us. Let us feed you for once."

Bucky looks surprised and pleased. "Really?"

"Yeah, though by 'us,' I mean Sam and Natasha and the team at Stark Tower, as well as me and Rikki."

"So when you said you'd be cooking you really meant--"

"Tony and Pepper will be having it catered by a four-star chef."

"Whew, okay, I'm in then. I was afraid it'd be rubbery chicken and undercooked rice with you at the stove."

Steve says, "Hey!" but Bucky levels a knowing look at him and he has to laugh. "I'm great at heating up leftovers. And believe me, we'll be taking plenty home with us."

About a week before Thanksgiving, Steve gets the call to assemble shortly after Rikki leaves for school. He calls Bucky as he pulls on his uniform.

"Lucky's. Can I take your order?"

"Listen, I have to go to Latveria--something about killer robots? I don't know. Can you watch Rikki? I'd usually ask Bonnie and Minnie, but they're leaf-peeping up in Maine." And then, because he didn't mean to be rude, "It's me, Steve."

Bucky laughs softly. "Yeah, I know." There's a rustling sound and he can hear Bucky's muffled voice saying, "Sit anywhere. I'll be right with you." And then, "Leaf-peeping?"

Steve lets out a frustrated huff, trying to get his zippers zipped and his buckles buckled. "And antiquing. I think it's just an excuse for them to drink mulled cider and take selfies."

"I can't wait to see them. Hold on, kid, I'll be with you in a minute." Steve can hear the bustle of the diner in the background. "Yeah, sure, she can stay with me. You need anything else?"

"No, that's it. She's got a go bag in the hall closet with everything she needs for an overnight stay. Stacy knows where it is."

"I'll send her and Rikki over for it after school."

"Great. I'll call the school and let them know she's to be dropped off by you." He grabs the shield and heads outside to the driveway, where a black SUV waits for him. "No TV before she does her homework, and make sure she remembers to eat something. Sometimes she gets so caught up in reading she forgets. Don't let her have coffee, but if she wheedles some out of you, make sure it's mostly milk, and definitely not at night before bed."

Bucky laughs. "Got it."

"Okay, I shouldn't be gone more than a day or two. I'll let you know if it's going to take longer. Oh, and she won't admit it, because she's nine now, but she prefers to sleep with a nightlight, if you have one. I should probably add that to the go bag."

"I got it, Steve. She'll be fine. You make sure you come home in one piece, now, since I won't be there to watch your six."

"Yeah, Buck. I will. Talk to you soon."

"Be careful."

"I always am."

"Liar."

Steve laughs softly and listens to Bucky breathe on the other end of the line, over the clatter and noise of the diner. "I'll see you soon."

"You better."

Steve realizes they could go on like this for the whole ride to Republic, so he says, "I'll call as soon as I can," and hangs up before Bucky can answer. He calls the school, as well, and texts Rikki, who promises to be good for Bucky and tells him to come home safe. Even though he knows he shouldn't, he promises he will.

In the quinjet on the way to Latveria, it's the first time he's seen Natasha since the diner opened, so the first thing he says is, "Thank you."

She raises an eyebrow at him.

"For looking out for him."

"He does a great Reuben," she answers, glancing away, but he can see the pleased look on her face anyway. "I just wanted to make sure I could always get one the way I like it."

"Uh huh," Steve says. He puts his earbud in and says, "Thank Pepper for me, too, Tony."

"You can thank her yourself at Thanksgiving," Tony answers. "That's why we have it, right?"

"Okay," Steve says. "Let's get to work."

*

"If you had told me punching giant robots would get tiresome back in 1938, I wouldn't have believed you," Steve says, sinking down onto a stool and flopping forward to press his cheek against the counter. The Formica is cool and smells faintly of lemon dish soap.

"Yeah?" Bucky says. He ruffles Steve's hair but his hand is gone before Steve can press up into the touch.

"Yeah." He can hear Bucky set down a mug of coffee with a precise click. He raises his head, wraps his hands around the mug, and takes a long sip. He might moan a little, but since it's only 5:45 in the morning, there's no one else in the diner yet, so it can't be proved. "S'good."

"Black with two sugars," Bucky says with a small smile. "Just like you like it."

"You always did make the best coffee."

"Rough fight?"

Steve opens his mouth to answer but it turns into a huge yawn. "Just physically," he finally manages.

"Why don't you go upstairs and have a nap?" Bucky looks down at the glass he's cleaning, then sets it on a shelf. "Rikki's still asleep--you can surprise her."

Steve's mouth curves into a wide smile before he yawns again. "That's--Thanks, Buck. That's perfect."

Bucky shows him the door at the end of the counter that leads upstairs, and says, "Top left-hand drawer of the dresser--feel free to grab a T-shirt and some sweats. No need to sleep in your uniform. I remember how much you hated that."

"Thanks," Steve repeats, before trudging up the stairs.

The apartment is small and sparsely furnished. There's a plaid sofa that looks like its seen better days across from a television that even Steve knows is obsolete. There are a few framed movie posters on the walls--The Godfather, Raging Bull, Chinatown--and Steve realizes that it all probably came with the apartment. Rikki is sacked out on a folded-out futon in front of the couch. There's a nightlight in the shape of his shield plugged into the baseboard beside it. He stops for a moment to watch her breathe, and then heads into the bedroom.

He grabs the first t-shirt and pair of sweats he finds in the dresser and goes to the bathroom to change and wash some of the dried sweat off his face. He can shower later. Bucky's bed is a mess but Steve doesn't care. He drops face down onto it and inhales the scent of Bucky's shampoo from the pillows before he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He wakes to the sound of Rikki sneaking into the bedroom and bouncing on the bed. He snags her mid-bounce and pulls her into a hug while she giggles. He blows a raspberry against her cheek and she shrieks with laughter. He can hear a sudden rush up the stairs, and then Bucky bursts in, dish towel still in his hands.

"Go for his ribs," Bucky says when he figures out what's happening. "He's always been ticklish there."

"Hey," Steve says. "Don't go giving away all my secrets." He lets Rikki go with one last squeeze and she sits up and bounces again.

"Secrets?"

"I know all the nonsense he used to get up to," Bucky says.

Steve sputters a laugh. "She doesn't need to hear those stories, Buck."

"I think she does."

"I think I do!" Rikki pounces on him again, fingers seeking his ticklish places, and he leaps out of bed.

"Oh, is that how it is?"

Bucky grins. "You know it." He snaps the dish towel at them. "Now stop making a ruckus. You're scaring my customers." He turns to leave. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. Be there or be square."

As much as Steve would like to spend more time in the shower, he and Rikki are both dressed and ready in ten minutes. He's telling her about the latest variation on Doombots that they fought when they walk into the diner. He's not expecting everyone to go silent and stare. Dave from the hardware store even winks. He's never personally done the walk of shame, though he's heard Sam and Clint and Tony talk about it, and he wonders if this is what it feels like. He's awkward, vaguely grumpy that he didn't even get to have any of the fun they're speculating he had, and hungry. His stomach rumbles at the smell of food, so he lets hungry win out, and seats himself at the counter just as Bucky slides a gigantic western omelet and a side of bacon in front of him.

"Perfect timing," Rikki says, sipping her orange juice and digging into her pancakes.

"Yeah," Bucky says. "We're getting better at that."

"Listen," Steve says when he's finished his omelet and the lunch rush has dissipated, "we normally take the railroad into the city on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but I can drive if you'd prefer it."

"And get stuck in traffic? Nah." Bucky gives Rikki a conspiratorial look. "Does he still have a lead foot?"

She nods a little too enthusiastically. "And he says when I'm a little older, he'll take me on his motorcycle."

"A lot older," Steve says, pointing his fork at her. "Like when you're thirty. Maybe."

"Thirteen," she says.

He grunts noncommittally and Bucky laughs.

On the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, Steve has the nightmare again, the one where Bucky falls and Steve can't reach him. He wakes up gasping, his face wet with tears. He grabs his phone and looks at the time, a little after two, and decides to text Bucky, on the off-chance he's still awake.

You up?

He's ready to give up on getting a response (though it's been less than five minutes) when his phone buzzes. Yeah. What's wrong?

Nothing. I just. We don't have to take the train tomorrow. I can drive.

Don't be ridiculous. The train is fine.

Steve glares at the phone but he doesn't want to explain, doesn't want to bring it up if Bucky's not already thinking about it. So he says, Fine. See you in the morning.

Bucky meets them on the platform at 2:35 on Wednesday afternoon, baseball cap pulled down low over his face to keep off the rain, and his phone glued to his ear. "Yes, Micah, have Mrs. Kosciuszko's food ready for pickup at seven, and you can close early if no one comes in after eight. Call me if you need anything." He hangs up and wrinkles his nose. "This is the first time I'm leaving him alone for the dinner rush. I hope it goes okay."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Steve says. He's more concerned about the train ride. "We can drive in tonight, after dinner, if you want. We're not going to see the floats inflated because of the weather, so there's no need to get there so early."

"The weather's disgusting," Bucky agrees, "so I'd rather not drive in it. And the train is already here. Come on."

The train to Huntington is a diesel double-decker and Bucky leads them to the upper level. They find an open two-seater that faces forward for Steve and Rikki, and Bucky sits across the aisle.

"I can't ride backwards," Rikki confides, settling into the window seat. "It makes me sick."

"Yeah, I remember Steve used to get motion sickness a lot." He looks at Steve. "You're looked a little peaked now, too, pal. Don't tell me that super-soldier stomach is acting funny. So what's up?"

Steve pushes a hand through his hair and looks down at his lap. "It's just--The last time you and I were on a train together--"

Bucky reaches out and wraps his fingers around Steve's wrist. "Okay," he says, low and serious. Steve should have known he wouldn't laugh this off. "The difference is this time, we're riding inside, we're not in the Alps, and hopefully nobody on board is HYDRA."

"And we can take 'em if they are," Rikki says, taking Steve's other hand.

"Okay," Steve says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Okay."

They switch trains in Huntington, and the rest of the ride is long but uneventful, and too crowded to talk about anything serious, which Steve is kind of grateful for. He feels a little stupid for making a fuss. The weather is still gross when they hit the city, so they take the 1 up to Times Square and the shuttle across to Grand Central, and they make it to the Tower in time for pizza.

Tony, Pepper, Bruce, and Rhodey are all gathered in the kitchen in the penthouse when they get there, and Sam arrives shortly after. There's a lot of hugging and handshaking and exclaiming over how tall Rikki's gotten, and Steve can't help but notice how Bucky hangs back, though there's warmth in his eyes and a half-smile on his face.

Steve's just opened his mouth to introduce him when Rikki slips her arm through the crook of Bucky's elbow and says, "And you all need to meet my Uncle Bucky." She wrinkles her nose. "I knew there was a good reason I didn't call you that." She introduces the others. "Aunt Pepper, Uncle Tony, Uncle Bruce, and Uncle Jim, and you already know Uncle Sam, right?"

Bucky shakes hands with all of them and Steve watches closely, ready to--he doesn't even know what, intervene somehow just in case there's some tension--but while Pepper and Bruce are reserved, Rhodey and Sam smile genuinely and Sam says, "I'd heard you were doing well, but it's nice to see it with you my own eyes."

"Thanks," Bucky says. "Did I ever apologize for--"

"Nah, man. Bygones. I got me a whole new set of wings out of it, so let's just call it even."

Bucky laughs. "Okay then."

"How's the arm holding up?" Tony asks.

"It's fine," Bucky says. "I'll let you know if it gives me any trouble."

Before Steve can ask what that's about, Pepper says, "Jane and Thor will join us tomorrow, but they're spending tonight with Darcy's family in Philadelphia. And Natasha said she and Clint will be here in time for the parade."

"Good," Steve says. "That's good."

The night is full of laughter and the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special and then Miracle on 34th Street, because Pepper says it's a Thanksgiving tradition, and Rhodey and Sam will insist on watching football after the parade instead.

Rikki falls asleep on the couch after the movie, and Steve carries her to his suite, Bucky following quietly behind them. She wakes up long enough to change into pajamas and brush her teeth, but she only hums when he tucks her in and asks if she has any Christmas wishes this year.

He turns to look at Bucky as he closes the door to her room. "How 'bout you? Any Christmas wishes?" he adds off Bucky's puzzled look.

"Ah." Bucky smiles softly. "I'm working on that. You?"

"Me, too."

Steve falls asleep quickly, and he doesn't dream.

Thanksgiving Day is a blur of noise and food and shenanigans. Even with the caterers handling the turkey and trimmings, there's still chaos in the kitchen when Tony swears he's found a way to make biscuits light and airy without baking powder, and ends up with dough exploding out of the food processor. Bruce can't stop laughing at Tony's flour covered face, and Rhodey insists on pictures before Bucky shoos them all out of the kitchen and takes over.

"But it's your day off!" Rikki says.

"Someone's gotta make edible biscuits, kid," he answers and boops her nose. "You can help." The parade is over and football has started, so she doesn't complain. Steve thinks she enjoys being the center of Bucky's attention, though he could be projecting.

Since Bucky's got Rikki's attention, Steve sits down with Pepper on the sofa and starts telling her about his latest book. He pulls out his tablet to show her the drawings of the kids in Tiny Town voting, and then the various branches of government at work.

"This is great, Steve. It kind of reminds me of--I don't know if you're familiar with Schoolhouse Rock?"

"Yes!" he replies, excited. "That's exactly what I'm going for. It was Rikki's idea."

"What was?" Sam asks, peering over Steve's shoulder to look at the drawings.

"A book about voting and government for kids," Pepper says.

"I'm just a Bill, yeah, I'm only a Bill, and I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill," Steve warbles, off-key, and Sam and Pepper laugh.

"'Conjunction Junction' was my favorite," Sam says, and then he sings a few bars, with Steve and Pepper joining in.

"I always liked 'Figure 8,'" Bruce admits with a shy smile and a bob of his head.

"That's the figure-skating one, right?" Natasha says, slipping into the living room to sit beside Steve. Clint perches on the arm of the couch next to her. "I like 'Unpack Your Adjectives.'"

"What is this?" Thor asks.

"They were educational cartoons when we were kids," Pepper says. "I think everyone who was a kid in the seventies and eighties can still recite the preamble to the Constitution because of Schoolhouse Rock."

"That one's Pepper's favorite," Tony says. "Jarvis, cue up some Schoolhouse Rock for us."

"'Interplanet Janet' is part of why I became an astrophysicist," Jane says.

"Really?" Steve asks. He'd liked that one, too.

"No, but it's a good story." She laughs. "It was always my favorite, though, so I guess it could have had some influence."

Bucky and Rikki return during "Mother Necessity," and Rikki says, "Oh, play the adverbs one."

They've turned back to watching football by the time dinner is announced, but Steve can hear Bucky humming the adverb song when they sit down at the table, and it makes him ridiculously, unaccountably pleased.

*

December starts with snow flurries, the first snow of the season, and it's still magical to Rikki, even if Steve has never really warmed to it again. After the serum, he'd loved the snow for a while, loved not feeling the cold rattling his bones from October to May, loved not running out of breath when he tried to participate in a snowball fight with Bucky and the Commandos, loved not getting pneumonia from getting tossed into a snowdrift during said snowball fight. Then Bucky'd fallen and he'd frozen and now, he doesn't much care for snow, except when Rikki's face lights up at the sight of it.

But the winter wonderland aspect doesn't last long. There's only slush and ice left on the ground the morning Steve comes into the diner and one of the high school kids is behind the counter instead of Bucky. Steve knows Bucky can't get sick, but he worries--the weather has been frigid, and the ground is covered in ice--but he also doesn't want to pry. Instead, after he eats his ham, egg, and cheese on a roll, he gets out his poster paints and starts working on the window. When he's done, three hours later, the window is decorated with delicate white snowflakes that mimic the now-serious snowfall outside.

He texts Bucky, You okay?

His phone buzzes almost immediately with a response. Bad day. See you tomorrow?

Yeah, Steve answers without hesitating. Of course.

Without Bucky around wiping down tables and manning the grill, Steve decides to head home after lunch, and get a fire going in the ridiculously large fireplace in the living room, so Rikki can warm up after spending an afternoon out in the snow. Somehow, despite the gray slush and black ice, she still loves being out in it, going sledding down the hills with her friends, or having snowball fights in front of the house. It's one of the few times the kids actually play out in the street now, which is another thing Steve's had to get used to.

He and Bucky had practically lived in the street when they were kids, playing stickball and running bases (on the rare occasions Steve was healthy enough to run), or skelsie on a board spray-painted on the asphalt. They'd played tag and ringolevio and Johnny on a pony, and a dozen other games whose rules lived only in their imaginations, and they'd done it all on the sidewalk or in the street, all day during the summer, and as long as there was light out in the winter (which might have been a contributing factor in Steve being sick all the time), with no adult supervision at all.

Rikki has sleepovers and goes to her friends' houses after school to play, and it's good, but Steve wonders sometimes if she's missing out a little. Days like this give her a little taste of the freedom he and Bucky'd had as kids (at least as long as he wasn't stuck home, sick), and that makes him like them more than he had before.

The next morning is clear and crisp, and the weather report promises the temperature will rise enough to melt some of the snow. Steve makes his way over to the diner just as Bucky unlocks the door and flips the sign to "Open."

"You okay?" he asks.

Bucky gives him a half-grin. "Yeah. I just--"

"Had a bad day." Steve nods. "Happens to the best of us."

"Yeah." Bucky gestures towards the window. "Thanks for the decorations. Asif said you spent a few hours on them."

Steve shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, feeling the tips of his ears burn. "It was something to do, since I'm kind of blocked on the book." He'd sent the voting one off to his editor and started a new one about the secret lives of the Thanksgiving Day Parade floats during the rest of the year. Macy's was excited about the tie-in possibilities, and all proceeds would go to charity. If he could figure out how to write the damn thing. All he has so far is a few rough images.

"Yeah?" Bucky gives him an interested look as he pours the coffee. "I remember you sometimes got frustrated when your drawings didn't live up to your imagination, but I don't remember you ever being blocked."

"It's not the art," Steve admits. "The art is easy. I have so many ideas, it's just a question of having the time to draw them all. It's the writing." He takes a long sip of coffee and sighs, wrapping his hands around the mug. "Writing is hard. You always made up the best stories, and I never realized how hard it was until I started doing it myself."

Bucky shrugs a shoulder. "You always said I had the gift of gab."

Steve smiles. "Yeah. Hey, maybe you could help me out."

Bucky purses his lips. "I'm pretty sure that's not one of the things I got back," he says apologetically.

Steve's throat goes a little tight, and his voice is gentle when he says, "Just having someone to talk to helps." He pulls his sketchbook out and flips it open to the first page of the story. "Here's the new float, learning the ropes after the parade is over."

Bucky looks down, and his mouth curves in a grin. "You really think they'd let a Bucky Bear float into the parade?"

"Why not?" Steve replies. "Spider-Man's there every year, and the Bugle hates him."

He spends a few minutes explaining the idea, and Bucky says, "Isn't it a little weird to keep them inflated the whole time?"

"I can't write a story about deflated floats, Buck. That's too depressing even for me." He huffs softly. "It's easy enough to send them off to a pocket dimension where they live the rest of the time, but what exactly do they do there?"

"Well, if they're from another dimension, maybe they just travel through the multiverse and visit all the different parades," Bucky says. "Maybe Bucky Bear gets lost in one of them and they have to rescue him, and they almost don't make it back in time for the parade in our dimension."

"I can work with that," Steve says, smiling again. "See, you did help."

"I guess." The door opens and another customer comes in. Bucky moves down the counter to serve him. "Hey, Mike, what'll it be?"

Steve scribbles down some notes about the story--instead of Bucky Bear getting lost, he'll have it be one of the other floats--Tinker Bell, maybe--and Bucky Bear can be the one to rescue her, and that's why he's almost late to the parade.

He gets so caught up in drawing the new book that he's surprised when Rikki comes home with the instructional flyers and permission slips for the Dickens Festival. "I need a new white shirt for chorus," she says. "Last year's doesn't fit anymore."

"Okay, yeah," he says, "we'll go shopping tomorrow after school."

"Rikki's singing in the choir at the festival," he tells Bucky the next morning at breakfast.

"I know. I've already arranged to have Asif take over when she's on." Bucky wipes the counter down. "Anyone else coming?"

"Sam and Natasha. I think this year they're bringing Clint and his dog."

"No Stark or Potts?"

Steve laughs. "Tony doesn't set foot on any part of Long Island that's east of Brooklyn Heights or west of the Hamptons." Bucky raises an eyebrow and Steve gives him a one-shouldered shrug. "Said he grew up out here and doesn't need to come back ever again." He takes a sip of coffee. "Also, he set Queens on fire a few years ago, so I'm not sure they want him to come back."

Bucky snorts. "Yeah, that guy's a real menace."

"You're just saying that because he keeps trying to upgrade your arm."

"That, too."

The festival kicks off on a cold, clear Friday afternoon with Bob Rivera ringing the old bell in front of the town hall and welcoming everyone to the Victorian Village of Port Jefferson. The chorus sings "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and then the conductor points the way to the theater, where the first of their several concerts will happen over the next three days. Rikki waves at Steve and he gives her the thumbs up as the kids march back to school. The streets are crowded, and even after four years, Steve can't tell the difference between the actors and the cosplayers once they're all walking around dressed like it's 1888.

"I'm surprised you don't dress up," Clint says. "You're as old as the dickens."

"I'm not that old," Steve says, turning to Sam for support.

"Don't look at me," Sam says. "I think you'd look great in a top hat."

"Is that how it's gonna be?"

Sam grins. "Looks like."

Steve turns back to Clint, jaw thrust out pugnaciously. "And that's not an expression. People don't say that."

"I say that and I'm people," Natasha replies.

"Good people," Steve agrees, not able to keep up even the façade of annoyance. He's going to say more but then the gazebo explodes.

Town hall is next, the big bay windows spitting shards of glass into the street. The crowd screams and runs, and the billowing smoke makes it hard to see what's happening.

Steve doesn't have his shield, but Natasha hands him a gun (he's never been more grateful for her ability to be prepared for anything), and draws her own. Clint's snapping together his bow and pulling arrows out of the lining of his coat. Bucky's already got a gun in one hand and knife in the other.

Steve doesn't even think about it. "Bucky, head to the elementary school to see if Rikki and the kids all right. Sam, try to corral civilians and start triaging the injured. Nat and Clint, you're here with me."

Bucky's face twists with indecision. "If they're here for me, I don't want to lead them to the school." But he wants to check on Rikki as much as Steve does. Steve can see it in his eyes.

"We don't know who they are or what they're here for," Steve answers, "and someone's got to look after the kids."

"I'll go," Clint says, taking off towards the school at a dead run.

There's another explosion from the opposite direction, and then the men with guns start appearing out of the smoke. They look like a STRIKE team, though their uniforms bear HYDRA's insignia instead of SHIELD's, and Steve wonders once again how it took them all so long to notice the similarities. He and Bucky exchange a glance and Bucky gives him an almost imperceptible shake--Rumlow isn't there. Too bad. Steve thinks about how good it would feel to punch him in the face. A lot. Then he pushes that down and gives himself over to the fight. Everything is crystal clear while it's happening--shoot, duck, cover, shoot--even if he can only remember snapshots afterwards: the one whose jaw breaks under his fist; the one who goes down with Bucky's knife in his throat; the one who twitches on the asphalt because of Natasha's Widow's Bite.

Sirens wail as police cordon off the town square and Sam rejoins them, gun in hand. "Miss Minnie's coordinating with the EMTs," he says, "and Stark's on his way."

Steve nods and grunts in acknowledgement, and then shoots another HYDRA asshole before the guy shoots Bucky.

It's only a twenty-five minute flight in the Iron Man suit, but the action is over by the time Tony arrives. Rhodey is with him, which is good, because it means the local police can pester him about jurisdiction while Steve and Bucky check each other and Rikki over for injuries.

"Oh my god," she repeats as they cradle her between them and she clutches at them. "Are you all right?"

"We're fine," Steve says. His split lip stings a little in the cold, but he can already feel it healing, and Bucky doesn't appear to have a scratch on him, though his face is sooty and his jeans are ripped. Bucky nods vehemently and digs his metal fingers into Steve's arm, hard enough to leave bruises that won't fade immediately. Steve understands. He's squeezing Bucky's shoulder exactly the same way.

"This is why I don't come out here," Tony says gesturing at the destruction as if it's their fault. "We're definitely doing Christmas dinner at the Tower."

Steve laughs, but he doesn't disagree.

*

3. Spring

Miss Bonnie stands and taps her fork against her water glass. "I'd like to make a toast."

"I thought toasts were for weddings, not rehearsal dinners," Miss Minnie says, but she's beaming mistily, looking as beautiful as any bride-to-be ever has (not that Steve's known many, but he she looks great).

"Hush, you. Only the best man gets to give a toast tomorrow," Miss Bonnie replies, the way only an older sibling (even if she's only older by eleven minutes) can. She raises her wine glass. "To Minnie and Maury, who found love thirty years after they thought they'd lost it forever."

"Hear, hear," Steve calls out with the rest of the people at the table.

"Amazing story," Natasha says. Ostensibly, she's Bucky's plus-one, but she's really there for security reasons. Since the attack in December, all the Avengers (except Tony) have spent some time in town, though whether they're acting as bait or protection, Steve still isn't sure. "Did you know Minnie'd dated the choirmaster when they were young?"

"No," Steve says, taking a sip of wine. "I didn't even know he was from here originally until they told me."

Maury Zimmerman had come back to Port Jeff the previous year to bury his mother, and ended up staying on as the music teacher/choirmaster at the elementary school. Clint said he'd been a rock under the pressure of the attack, and Minnie must have thought so too, because they'd rekindled their romance shortly after, and they're getting married in the morning. Steve's walking Minnie down the aisle and Rikki's preceding them as a flower girl in a dress the color of new spring leaves. Steve gets a little choked up just thinking about it, so he's glad Natasha's there to distract him.

"Guess you lost your chance, huh?" Natasha says, grinning and nudging him. "Bonnie's still available, though. She's a real firecracker." She glances over at Bucky, who's letting Rikki drink his coffee like they think Steve won't notice. Hopefully it's mostly milk. "Though Barnes might snatch her away. Maybe then you'd appreciate my matchmaking efforts."

Steve laughs weakly but keeps watching Bucky. He's so handsome in the golden light of the dining room, his mouth soft and smiling as he teases Rikki, who looks at him like he's hung the moon. Steve's familiar with that look; he's probably wearing it right now. Bucky catches him and shrugs a rueful shoulder, and something in Steve's chest clenches like it's 1937 and he's still got a heart condition. He doesn't know what he's going to do when it's his turn to stand up and give the best man's toast at Bucky's wedding, and he's suddenly afraid that's going to happen sooner than he'd like. (If he's being honest, never would be too soon, and maybe it's time to spread some of that honesty around. For someone as supposedly brave as he is, he's been an awful coward about his feelings for more than seventy years.)

The party breaks up early--they all have a wedding to be at in the morning, after all--but Steve is awake long after Rikki goes to bed. He rummages through the house, looking for all the drawings he'd casually tossed off over the years, and when he can't find them all, he draws feverishly, less worried about words for this story, since it's got an intended audience of one.

He doesn't fall into bed until after five, his fingers aching and his heart and mind racing, trying to not to think of all the ways it could end badly and failing. He knows that Bucky would never stop being friends with him even if he doesn't feel the same way, but he also knows how awkward he could be making things if that's the case. He doesn't want awkwardness, but he also doesn't want to live with himself if he doesn't finally take the chance that Bucky does love him back.

It's a good thing he's a supersoldier and doesn't need much sleep, because he doesn't get much that night, and he still has to be at Miss Minnie's for pictures by nine. Even though it's right next door, he and Rikki turn up slightly early and let her fuss over them while Bonnie fusses over her.

She looks even more radiant in her petal pink gown, and while she's putting the finishing touches on her makeup she calls Steve over to sit next to her.

"How are you doing?" he asks. His own palms are sweaty and he's more nervous than he was taking down SHIELD, and there's still an hour and a half to go before they leave for the church.

She gives him a brilliant smile. "Wonderful. Maury and I both decided that since we were lucky enough to get a second chance, we were going to take it, instead of letting little things drive us apart again." She pats his hand gently. "Take it from me, Steve. Grab onto that second chance with both hands." She tips him a wink and then shoos him away.

He hadn't thought he'd been that obvious, but at least this way maybe Bucky's prepared? He doesn't know what to think, and then the photographer is there and he doesn't really have time to think. The book he drew for Bucky is folded and tucked into the inside pocket of his morning coat, close to his heart.

*

The ceremony is beautiful, and Steve tears up once or twice, but then it's off to the Seaside Inn for more pictures. He doesn't have to be in as many as Rikki does, though, so he gets to sample most of the hors d'oeurves during the cocktail hour. He dances the first dance with Rikki--she's too old to want to stand on his feet anymore while they shuffle back and forth to "At Last," and he gets a little teary about that, too.

"Everything okay?" she asks.

He smiles down at her. "Yeah. I was thinking, though. I think I'm going to talk to Bucky today."

"You talk to Bucky every day," she says, and then her eyes go wide. "Oh. Oh. Finally!"

"You're okay with it?"

"Yes!" She's practically jumping up and down now. Luckily, the other people on the dance floor seem to think it's cute. "I think he will be, too."

"Really?"

"Yes." She gives him a huge smile. "Is that why your hands are so sweaty?"

"Yes."

"It'll be okay," she says. "And if it's not, we can always start eating at Al's every night."

"Okay," he says, relieved at her easy acceptance, but then, Bucky does let her stay up past curfew and gives her coffee on the sly.

But he doesn't manage to get Bucky to himself until sometime after the main course is served. Bucky steps outside to the terrace to take a call and Steve follows discreetly, hovering just out of earshot, or what would be if he didn't have enhanced hearing. He's too nervous to pay attention to Bucky's call, anyway.

Bucky turns when he's done and smiles. "What's on your mind?"

Steve rubs his palms on his thighs. "That obvious?"

"Only because I've known you forever."

Steve huffs a nervous little laugh. "Yeah, about that." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little book of drawings. "I made this for you." He hands it over before he can change his mind, and it's in Bucky's hands by the time he's decided this was all a terrible idea and he's going to have to move to Patagonia and change his name to avoid the awkwardness he's sure is coming.

"Wow," Bucky says, slowly paging through the drawings.

They're not the most polished things Steve's ever done, but they're certainly the most heartfelt. The first one is of them as little boys, all skinned knees and missing front teeth. Then the one in Mrs. DiAngelo's garden, tomatoes bursting vibrantly red off the page. There's one of the two of them at Bucky's high school graduation, one of Bucky in his waiter's uniform from when he worked at Delmonico's, shoes shined and hair slicked back neatly. There's one of the two of them standing in front of Ebbets Field with Bucky's arm around his shoulders. Next is Bucky in his service uniform the night he shipped out for Europe, then one of Steve rescuing him from Zola, and one of him as the Winter Soldier, pulling Steve out of the Potomac. Finally, there's a picture of Bucky behind the counter at Lucky's with Steve and Rikki sitting on stools and drinking milkshakes.

Bucky looks up, forehead creased in confusion. "What--"

"Wherever you go," Steve says, reaching out to curl his fingers around Bucky's wrist, "whatever you do, I want to be there with you. Like I've always been."

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Yeah, Steve, of course."

"No, I mean--" Steve runs his other hand through his hair, frustrated at his inability to talk about feelings when it really matters. "I want to be with you."

Bucky gives him a searching look.

"If you don't want that--me--it's okay. I'll always be your friend. And you can still see Rikki whenever you want." He swallows hard, his throat dry. "Though we'll probably eat at Al's more often."

Bucky's eyebrows go up. "Really? Al's?"

"Please don't make me eat at Al's every night." Steve can't help letting some of his desperation shine through.

"That'd just be cruel," Bucky agrees. He curls his fingers in the lapel of Steve's jacket and tugs him close. "I'd never do that to you."

Behind them, in the dining room, the music has stopped for a moment and the sound of spoons clinking against glasses rings out.

"I think that's our cue," Bucky says and tips his face up when Steve leans down to kiss him.

It's tentative at first, a soft brush of lips, until Bucky sucks Steve's lower lip into his mouth and Steve gasps at the wave of heat sweeping through him. The kisses become more urgent after that, hotter, messier. Bucky's hand combs through Steve's hair and then tugs. Steve tips his head back and Bucky bites at the hinge of his jaw. Steve lets out a low grunt, trying to get closer to Bucky and getting frustrated at the amount of clothing in his way.

"There you are." Natasha sounds amused, but she's got Rikki with her, so at least the teasing will stay PG. "It's time for your dance with Minnie."

Steve still can't dance very well, which hadn't mattered much with Rikki, and doesn't seem to matter with Minnie either. She's perfectly willing to shuffle in place with him to "That's What Friends Are For," happy smile on her face.

"You and Bucky get everything straightened out?"

"What? How?"

"Oh, please," she says, giving him a knowing look. "Dave from the hardware store's been running a pool since Christmas. Close your mouth or you'll catch flies." He snaps his mouth shut. "I'm just glad you decided to take my advice and do it on my wedding day. I'm considering my winnings an extra wedding gift."

He finally manages to get his voice to work. "Minnie!" He sounds scandalized, but also amused. He can't think of anything that would ruin his mood right now.

"I'm so happy right now," she says as the song ends. "I just want you to be happy too."

He leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek. "Thanks, Minnie."

He doesn't dance again, but Bucky holds his hand for the rest of the afternoon, and Steve's the happiest he's been in a long time.

*

4. Summer

Rikki drops her stuff on the blanket they've spread out and says, "I'm going to go find Anya."

"Okay," Steve says. He sits down on the blanket and starts unpacking the picnic basket. They've set up in the back of the park, though it's no guarantee of privacy.

"They just saw each other at practice," Bucky says. Anya is the shortstop and Rikki is the second baseman on their Little League team.

Steve shrugs. "We were always together at that age."

"True." There's not many people in the park yet, so Steve lets himself be pulled into a hot open-mouthed kiss. He's pretty sure he walks around looking perpetually goofy these days, but when he says as much to Bucky, Bucky just laughs and says, "So like usual then?" and Steve has to give him another kiss.

The park fills up as the summer twilight deepens, lawn chairs and blankets taking up every inch of the newly mown grass, and once it's full dark, Bob Rivera, the town supervisor, stands up where the movie screen is usually located, and says, "Tonight, we're celebrating not just Independence Day, but the 101st birthday of Captain America, our very own Steve Rogers!"

Steve grins sheepishly and waves at the crowd, which roars when Bucky kisses him. Rikki rolls her eyes and calls them mushy, but Steve wouldn't have it any other way.

end

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Note: the Port Jeff in this story bears little resemblance to reality, but at least I've actually been there a few times, and they do actually have a Dickens Festival every December, and they do show movies in the harbor park in the summer.

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Feedback is adored.

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